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kmclaude · 3 years

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Forgive me Father, I have no awful headcanons for you, only a general question on comic making. How do you do it, writing-wise/how do you decide what points go where, how do you plot it out (or do you have any resources on the writing aspect that you find useful?) Not to get too bogged down in details, but I attended a writer’s workshop and the author in residence suggested I transfer my wordy sci-fi WIP into graphic novel script, as it might work better. (I do draw, but I don’t know if I have it in me to draw a whole comic—characters in motion? Doing things? With backgrounds? How dare, why can’t everyone just stand around looking pretty)

I was interested but it quickly turned into a lot of internal screaming as I tried to figure out how to compress the hell out of it, since novels are free to do a lot more internal monologuing and such compared to a comic format (to say nothing of trying to write a script without seeing how the panels lay out—just for my own sake, I might have to do both concurrently.)

As an aside, to get a feel for graphic novels I was rereading 99RM and was reminded of how great it was—tightly plotted, intriguing, and anything to do with Ashmedai was just beautifully drawn. I need more Monsignor Tiefer and something something there are parallels between Jehan and Daniel in my head and I don’t know if they make sense but it works for me. (As an aside, I liked the emphasis on atonement being more than just the word sorry, but acknowledgment you did wrong and an attempt to remedy it—I don’t know why that spoke to me the way that it did.)

I thought Tumblr had a word count limit for asks but so far it has offered zero resistance, oh well. I don’t have much else to say but on the topic of 99RM, Adam getting under Monsignor’s skin is amazing, 10/10 (about the Pride picture earlier)

wow tumblr got rid of the markdown editor! or at least in asks which means the new editor probably has no markdown....god i hate this site! anyway...

Totally! So first, giant thank you for the compliments! Second, I have a few questions in turn for you before I dive into a sort of answer, since I can give some advice to your questions in general but it also sounds like you have a specific conundrum on your hands.

My questions to your specific situation are:

did the author give any reason for recommending a, in your words, "wordy" story be turned into a graphic novel?

is the story you're writing more, like you said, "internal monologuing"? action packed? where do the visuals come from?

do you WANT it to be a comic? furthermore, do you want it to be a comic you then must turn around and draw? or would you be interested in writing for comics as a comic writer to have your words turned into art?

With those questions in mind, let me jump into the questions you posed me!

Let me start with a confession...

I've said this before but let me say it again: Ninety-Nine Righteous Men was not originally a comic — it was a feature-length screenplay! And furthermore, it was written for a class so it got workshopped again and again to tighten the plot by a classroom of other nerds — so as kind as your compliments are, I'm giving credit where credit is due as that was not just a solo ship sailing on the sea. On top of that, it got adapted (by me) into a comic for my thesis, so my advisor also helped me make it translate or "read" well given I was director, actor, set designer, writer, editor, SFX guy, etc. all in one. And it was a huge help to have someone say "there is no way you can go blow by blow from script to comic: you need to make edits!" For instance, two scenes got compressed to simple dialogue overlaid on the splashpage of Ashmedai raping Caleb (with an insert panel of Adam and Daniel talking the next day.) What had been probably at least 5 pages became 1.

Additionally, I don't consider myself a strong plotter. That said, I found learning to write for film made the plotting process finally make some damn sense since the old plot diagram we all got taught in grammar school English never made sense as a reader and definitely made 0 sense as a writer — for me, for some reason, the breakdown of 25-50-25 (approx. 25 pages for act 1, 50 for act 2 split into 2 parts of 25 each, 25 pages for act 3) and the breaking down of the beats (the act turning points, the mid points, the low point) helped give me a structure that just "draw a mountain, rising action, climax is there, figure it out" never did. Maybe the plot diagram is visually too linear when stories have ebb and flow? I don't know. But it never clicked until screenwriting. So that's where I am coming from. YMMV.

I should also state that there's Official Ways To Write Comic Scripts to Be Drawn By An Artist (Especially If You Work For A Real Publisher As a Writer) and there's What Works For You/Your Team. I don't give a rat's ass about the former (and as an artist, I kind of hate panel by panel breakdowns like you see there) so I'm pretty much entirely writing on the latter here. I don't give a good god damn about official ways of doing anything: what works for you to get it done is what matters.

What Goes Where?

Like I said, 99RM was a screenplay so it follows, beat-wise, the 3-act screenplay structure (hell, it's probably more accurate to say it follows the act 1/act 2A/act 2B/act 3 structure.) So there was the story idea or concept that then got applied to those story beats associated with the structure, and from there came the Scene-by-scene Breakdown (or Expanded Scene Breakdown) which basically is an outline of beats broken down into individual scenes in short prose form so you get an overview of what happens, can see pacing, etc. In the resources at the end I put some links that give information on the whole story beat thing.

(As an aside: for all my short comics, I don't bother with all that, frankly. I usually have an image or a concept or a bit of writing — usually dialogue or monologue, sometimes a concrete scene — that I pick at and pick at in a little sketchbook, going back and forth between writing and thumbnail sketches of the page. Or I just go by the seat of my pants and bullshit my way through. Either or. Those in many ways are a bit more like poems, in my mind: they are images, they are snapshots, they are feelings that I'm capturing in a few panels. Think doing mental math rather than writing out geometric proofs, yanno?)

Personally, I tend to lean on dialogue as it comes easier for me (it's probably why I'm so drawn to screenwriting!) so for me, if I were to do another longform GN, I'd probably take my general "uhhhhhh I have an idea and some beats maybe so I guess this should happen this way?" outline and start breaking it down scene by scene (I tend to write down scenes or scene sketches in that "uhhhh?" outline anyway LOL) and then figure out basic dialogue and action beats — in short, I'd kind of do the work of writing a screenplay without necessarily going full screenplay format (though I did find the format gave me an idea of timing/pacing, as 1 page of formatted script is about equal to 1 minute of screentime, and gave me room to sketch thumbnails or make edits on the large margins!) If you're not a monologue/soliloque/dialogue/speech person and more an image and description person, you may lean more into visuals and scenes that cut to each other.

Either way this of course introduces the elephant in the panel: art! How do you choose what to draw?

The answer is, well, it depends! The freedom of comics is if you can imagine it, you can make it happen. You have the freedoms (and audio limitations) of a truly silent film with none of the physical limitations. Your words can move in real time with the images or they can be a narrative related to the scene or they could be nonsequitors entirely! The better question is how do you think? Do you need all the words and action written first before you break down the visuals? Do you need a panel by panel breakdown to be happy, or can you freewheel and translate from word and general outlines to thumbnails? What suits you? I really cannot answer this because I think when it comes to what goes where with regard to art, it's a bit of "how do you process visuals" and also a bit of "who's drawing this?" — effectively, who is the interpreter for the exact thing you are writing? Is it you or someone else? If it's you, would you benefit from a barebones script alongside thumbnailed paneling? Would you be served by a barebones script, then thumbnails, then a new script that includes panel and page breakdowns? What frees you up to do what you need to do to tell your story?

If I'm being honest, I don't necessarily worry about panels or what something will look like necessarily until I'm done writing. I may have an image that I clearly state needs to happen. I may even have a sequence of panels that I want to see and I do indeed sketch that out and make note of it in my script. But exactly how things will be laid out, paneled, situated? That could change up until I've sketched my final pencils in CSP (but I am writer and artist so admittedly I get that luxury.)

How do I compress from novel to comic?

Honest answer? You don't. Not really. You adapt from one to another. It's more a translation. Something that would take forever to write may take 1 page in a comic or may take a whole issue.

I'm going to pick on Victor Hugo. Victor Hugo spent a whole-ass book in Notre-Dame de Paris talking about a bird's eye view of Paris and other medieval architecture boring stuff, with I guess some foreshadowing with Montfaucon. Who cares. Not me. I like story. Anyway. When we translate that book to a movie any of the billion times someone's done that, we don't spend a billion years talking at length about medieval Paris. There's no great monologuing about the gibbet or whatever: you get to have some establishing shots, maybe a musical number, and then you move tf on. Because it's a movie, right? Your visuals are right there. We can see medieval Paris. We can see the cathedral. We can see the gibbet. We don't need a whole book: it's visually right there. Same with a comic: you may need many paragraphs to describe, say, a space station off of Sirius and one panel to show it.

On the flip side, you may take one line, maybe two, to say a character keyed in the special code to activate the holodeck; depending on the visual pacing, that could be a whole page of panels (are we trying to stretch time? slow it down? what are we emphasizing?) A character gives a sigh of relief — one line of text, yeah? That could be a frozen panel while a conversation continues on or that could be two (or more!) panels, similar to the direction [a beat] in screenwriting.

Sorry there's not a super easy answer there to the question of compression: it's a lot more of a tug, a push-pull, that depends on what you're conveying.

So Do I Have It In Me to Write & Draw a GN?

The only way you'll know is by doing. Scary, right? The thing is, you don't necessarily need to be an animation king or God's gift to background artists to draw a comic.

Hell, I hate backgrounds. I still remember sitting across from my friend who said "Claude you really need to draw an establishing exterior of the church at some point" and me being like "why do you hate me specifically" because drawing architecture? Again? I already drew the interior of the church altar ONCE, that should be enough, right? But I did draw an exterior of the church. Sorta. More like the top steeple. Enough to suggest what I needed to suggest to give the audience a better sense of place without me absolutely losing my gourd trying to render something out of my wheelhouse at the time.

And that's kinda the ticket, I think. Not everyone's a master draftsman. Not everyone has all the skills in every area. And regardless, from page one to page one hundred, your skills will improve. That's all part of it — and in the meantime, you should lean into your strengths and cheat where you can.

Do you need to lovingly render a background every single panel? Christ no! Does every little detail need to be drawn out? Sure if you want your hand to fall off. Cheat! Use Sketchup to build models! Use Blender to sculpt forms to paint over! Use CSP Assets for prebuilt models and brushes if you use CSP! Take photographs and manip them! Cheat! Do what you need to do to convey what you need to convey!

For instance, a tip/axiom/"rule" I've seen is one establishing shot per scene minimum and a corollary to that has been include a background once per page minimum as grounding (no we cannot all have eternal floating heads and characters in the void. Unless your comic is set in the void. In which case, you do you.) People ain't out here drawing hyper detailed backgrounds per each tiny panel. The people who DO do that are insane. Or stupid. Or both. Or have no deadline? Either way, someone's gonna have a repetitive stress injury... Save yourself the pain and the headache. Take shortcuts. Save your punches for the big K.O. moments.

Start small. Make an 8-page zine. Tell a beginning, a middle, an end in comic form. Bring a scene to life in a few pages. See what you're comfortable drawing and where you struggle. See where you can lean heavily into your comfort zones. Learn how to lean out of your comfort zone. Learn when it's worth it to do the latter.

Or start large. Technically my first finished comic (that wasn't "a dumb pencil thing I drew in elementary school" or "that 13 volume manga I outlined and only penciled, what, 7 pages of in sixth grade" or "random one page things I draw about my characters on throw up on the interwebz") was 99RM so what do I know. I'm just some guy on the internet.

(That's not self-deprecating, I literally am some guy on the internet talking about my path. A lot of this is gonna come down to you and what vibes with you.)

Resources on writing

Some of these are things that help me and some are things that I crowd-sourced from others. Some of these are going to be screenwriting based, some will be comic based.

Making Comics by Scott McCloud: I think everyone recommends this but I think it is a useful book if you're like "ahh!!! christ!! where do I start!!!???" It very much breaks down the elements of comics and the world they exist in and the principles involved, with the caveat that there are no rules! In fact, I need to re-read it.

Comic Book Design: I picked this up at B&N on a whim and in terms of just getting a bird's eye view of varied ways to tackle layout and paneling? It's such a great resource and reference! I personally recommend it as a way to really get a feel for what can be done.

the screenwriter's bible: this is a book that was used in my class. we also used another book that's escaping me but to be honest, I never read anything in school and that's why I'm so stupid. anyway, I'd say check it out if you want, especially if you start googling screenwriting stuff and it's like 20 billion pieces of advice that make 0 sense -- get the core advice from one place and then go from there.

Drawing Words & Writing Pictures: many people I know recommended this. I think I have it? It may be in storage. So frankly, I'd already read a bunch of books on comics before grabbing this that it kind of felt like a rehash. Which isn't shade on the authors — I personally was just a sort of "girl, I don't need comics 101!!!"

Invisible Ink: A Practical Guide to Building Stories that Resonate: this has been recommended so many times to me. I cannot personally speak on it but I can say I do trust those who rec'd it to me so I am passing it along

the story circle: this is pretty much the hero's journey. a useful way to think of journeys! a homie pretty much swears by it

a primer on beats: quick google search got me this that outlines storybeats

save the cat!: what the above refers to, this gives a more genre-specific breakdown. also wants to sell you on the software but you don't need that.

I hope this helps and please feel free to touch base with more info about your specific situation and hopefully I'll have more applicable answers.

#writing #making a graphic novel #writing a graphic novel #tutorial #writing tutorial

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criminalmindzjunkie · 3 years

Text

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Prologue)

Summary: When your college roommate asks you to be a bridesmaid at her wedding, you pack your bags and jump on a flight to Montana. What was supposed to be a relaxing week on the husband-to-be’s ranch is turned upside down when an old flame decides to make an appearance. Mix in lingering feelings, a meddling bride, and the mother of all misunderstandings, and your week out west turns out to be a whole lot more than you bargained for.

series masterlist

playlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2.5k

Spencer gets the email on a Tuesday.

He’s fresh off of a quick trip to a nearby café that sells the most delectable scones, and he’s eagerly unwrapping one and lifting it to his mouth when he gets the notification. The quiet ping is enough to make him pause with the scone midway to its destination.

Because the thing is, Spencer Reid doesn’t get a lot of emails. In fact, there are approximately ten people that even know his email address, and seven of them are currently in the same room as him. Spencer peers over the top of his monitor and scans the room. No one is doing anything indicative of having sent Spencer yet another prank email (thanks a lot, Luke), so he deems it safe and clicks on the email icon.

As it boots up, Spencer takes a bite of his scone. The warm, sugary dough tastes like heaven in his mouth, once again proving to Spencer that the fifteen-minute walk there is more than worth his time. He’s mid-swallow when his inbox pops up on the screen, and when he sees the all too familiar name on the sender’s address, he inhales a sharp breath that leaves him choking on his pastry.

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Melville

Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Sewell

Joyfully request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their children

Cassidy and Mason

Saturday, the twenty-seventh of May

Two thousand nine-teen

His choking fit garners the attention of every one of his colleagues, but Spencer can’t bring himself to care. All he can focus on is sucking in as much air as possible in between coughs. It doesn’t help that his oxygen deprived brain is currently reeling. Long suppressed memories are fighting their way to the surface, and now it’s not only his lungs that are engulfed in a searing heat, but his heart, too.

Cassidy Sewell. A fiery, opinionated redhead that Spencer hasn’t thought of in nearly fifteen years. But Cassidy isn’t the reason that he feels like a knife has been thrust into his ribcage, nor is she the reason he is currently aspirating his scone. The basis of his distress is another woman entirely.

Spencer eventually regains control of his windpipe and when he does, he rereads the email several times. It’s wonderful news - really, it is. And he’s happy for Cassidy. His memories of her are plentiful and he thinks back on them fondly. The only problem is that he knows wherever Cassidy is, you’ll be there, too.

He really should just delete the email and go on about his business - that would be the smart thing to do. But Spencer’s never really been smart when it comes to you, so he does the worst thing possible and clicks on the ‘view recipients’ button.

And sure enough, your name falls just above his on the list.

Which brings up another issue entirely; why is he receiving this email? And, more importantly, do you know that he’s been invited? Spencer can only come up with two possible answers to that question, and both are equally heartbreaking. Either you know he’s been invited and you’re indifferent to the fact, or you haven’t a clue and his showing up would be entirely inappropriate.

He briefly entertains the possibility of a third option; one in which you knew he’d received an invitation and were hopeful that he might show up. Spencer allows this possibility to live in his mind for approximately two seconds before he’s stomping it out and killing it. That’s just… unlikely.

“Ooh! Who’s getting married?”

Spencer quickly exits out of his email and spins around in his chair to find Penelope pouting her lip out at him.

“No one. Just a spam email,” Spencer lies. His efforts are in vain, however, because Penelope fixes him with an unimpressed glare.

“I’m going to save you and I both the trouble of me hacking into your computer and offer you the opportunity to try that again.”

Spencer visibly deflates and mentally curses the creators of the interconnected computer networks. He weighs his options. He could be completely honest and be subjected Penelope’s endearing, yet suffocating enthusiasm, or he could skim a little bit off the top and hope she doesn’t pump him for information.

Spencer decides on the latter.

“An old friend.”

Penelope narrows her eyes at him and he shrinks under her gaze. She might not be a profiler, but she damn sure could be.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to hurl?”

“No reason.”

They’ve reached a stalemate, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to do with that. Usually, if this were a chest match, Spencer would already have the upper hand. He’s not used to being backed into a corner. At first, Spencer’s sure that he can outlast Penelope’s inquisition, but the longer those seemingly omniscient eyes of hers bore into his own, he can feel his resolve crumbling into nothing. All it takes is her lifting one perfectly plucked eyebrow in challenge for him to break.

“An ex-girlfriend of mine will be in attendance.”

Spencer knows he’s fucked from the way Penelope’s entire face lights up upon hearing that little tidbit of information. In a flash Penelope’s dragging over an empty chair and seating herself directly in front of Spencer, eyes shining excitedly.

“Tell me everything.”

So, he does.

And an hour later, Penelope is booking him a flight to Montana.

“I cannot believe you did this to me,” you murmur into the receiver as you stare at your computer screen. Your eyes are zeroed in on the email, but all the words are blurring together into an intelligible mess. All except two.

Spencer Reid

“Correction; I did this for you,” Cassidy replies, sounding awfully pleased with herself. If you could see her, you were certain she’d be grinning ear to ear. “You can’t tell me that you’re not the least bit excited at the possibility of seeing him again.”

“That is exactly what I’m telling you!” you groan as you throw your head against the back of your chair. “Fifteen years is a long time, Cass. I’ve moved on, and I’m sure he has, too. That door is closed.”

Cassidy snorts, “Well open that sucker back up, because I just got an RSVP from one Doctor Spencer Reid who, and I quote, ‘cannot wait to see everyone.’ This RSVP came without a plus one, might I add.”

You jolt up in your seat and instantly regret it when your stomach churns painfully as a result. Suddenly, your decision to place your waste basket on the opposite side of the room seems awfully ill advised. The only thing keeping you from lunging for it and expelling the contents of your stomach is the fact that he isn’t bringing anyone with him, which is… something.

“He’s coming?” you squeak out. “Why would he do that?”

Another laugh from Cassidy floats out through the speaker.

“Well, I’d like to think he might be going to see one of his oldest and dearest friends get married, but I think we both know that this has nothing to do with me, and a whole lot to do with you.”

You’re just about to open your mouth to protest when a head of long, blonde hair peeks through the crack of your door. You only know one man with a head of hair like that, and that man just so happens to be the only other person in your life that lives for taking the piss at your expense. You can’t help but think that you must’ve done something terrible in a past life to be subjected to all of this before noon on a Tuesday morning.

You wave Damien in, because why the hell not? He’d be hearing about it over one or several bottles of wine this evening, anyways. What was one more spectator to the worst moment of your entire adult life?

As he takes his seat in a chair in front of your desk, you flash him a tight smile and turn your attention back to Cassidy.

“You’re reading way too much into this. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

“You know that boy does not forget anything,” Cassidy points out.

Yeah, you think, and that’s what makes not hearing from him for fifteen years even worse. That means the radio silence was a choice.

“Doesn’t matter. You need to uninvite him. I’m being so serious right now.”

“I absolutely will not. That’d be terribly rude of me,” Cassidy sniffs. “And you obviously have no choice but to attend, Miss Maid of Honor, so consider this your warning. I was going to keep this a secret, but Mason said that would be cruel. So.”

You want to argue that the entire thing is cruel, but Cassidy’s indifference to your plight leads you to believe that your protest would fall on deaf ears. To make matters worse, Damien looks positively delighted at the prospect of something exciting happening. He’s literally sitting on the edge of his seat, leaning forward in an attempt to hear Cassidy’s end of the conversation.

You really needed to pick more sympathetic friends.

“I’m going to hang up now, because I physically cannot handle being a part of this conversation any longer.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cassidy trills. “Trust me, you’re going to thank me for this later. Oh, and do yourself a favor and Google search him. You will not be disappointed!”

At that, the line goes dead. You don’t even have the chance to say something embarrassing like too late, I already do that like twice a year, which is probably a good thing.

You slam down the phone and let your head fall into your hands, adding in a dramatic groan for good measure. Usually, you like to think you’re a little more level headed, but the Spencer Reid sized hole in your heart that you’d been trying to mend for the last decade and a half was just ripped wide open, so you figure you deserve a moment to panic.

Damien, however, doesn’t share that same belief.

“I get that you’re trying to have a moment, and I respect that, but you know how impatient I get and I haven’t seen you this upset since One Direction split up. Color me intrigued. What did dear Cassidy do to get your knickers in such a twist?”

You lift your head and fix him with a withering look.

“She invited Spencer.”

That wipes the smile right off of Damien’s face.

“Oh, fuck,” Damien swears. Finally, someone understands how extremely not okay this situation is. You let out another despairing groan. “What are the chances he’s actually going to show up?”

You chuckle bitterly, “Pretty fucking high, if you consider the fact that he already RSVP’d any indication.” You push away from your desk and begin to pace around the room, all while fanning your shirt out because holy hell did it get hot in here, or is it just you? “I mean, I could always back out. It’s Cassidy’s fault anyways. It’s not like she could hold that against me. She’s the one who did this, after all.”

“Oh, she most certainly would. And you’re not going to going to skip out on the wedding - quit being so dramatic.”

You snap your head to where he sits and narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, I’m not? Who’s gonna stop me?” you challenge.

You can practically see the light bulb go on inside that blonde head of his. Damien gives you a saccharine smile and claps his hands together.

“I am. Because I’m going to go with you,” he announces excitedly. You’d think he just came up with a way to end world hunger from the pride that’s practically radiating off of him in waves.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “You’re going to come with me? To Montana? Have you ever even been outside of New York?”

Damien shrugs his shoulders.

“No, but that’s about to change. Plus, weddings are fun,” Damien pauses, before tacking on, “-bridesmaids are fun.”

If he weren’t such a damn good friend, you’d throw him out of your office.

His proposition was tempting. Being in close proximity with Spencer for almost an entire week was going to be harrowing as it was, but add to that the inevitable sight of Spencer in a suit and harrowing graduates to fucking excruciating. Having Damien in your corner to keep you sane was more of a necessity than a want.

But still, you hesitate, because the idea of both Cassidy and Damien conspiring against you for an entire week sounds like the undiscovered tenth circle of hell.

Damien apparently senses your apprehension. He lets out an exasperated sigh and pushes up from his seat, walking over to where you stand and placing his hands on your shoulders.

“I solemnly swear to be on my best behavior. You have my permission to fire me if I act up, Boss Lady.”

Your shoulders slump under the weight of his hands.

“You know I can’t fire you,” you grumble, pouting out your lip for dramatic effect. “If I fire you, then I’m stuck with fucking Brenda. And I doubt she’d be as agreeable a drinking partner as you.”

Damien lets out a loud laugh and pulls you into his arms. You melt into his embrace, sighing in resignation. Might as well bring him along for the ride. It’s not like the situation could get any worse than it already is, right?

“Brenda is the worst,” Damien agrees as he places a kiss to the top of your head. After basking in his warm embrace for several moments, you pull away and run a hand through your hair.

“Okay. Okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Damien. “I can do this. Worst comes to worst; I can just avoid him. Five days isn’t that long. I can do five days.”

Damien leans up against your desk and nods in agreeance.

“Exactly. Five days, in and out – no big deal,” he breezes. Like the absolute bastard he is, he waits until you’re taking a sip from your travel mug before continuing. “And who knows? Maybe the two of you will pick up where you left off and have some slutty wedding sex.”

Now, there’s coffee all over your white blouse and Damien’s laughing obnoxiously at your expense.

“You did not just quote One Tree Hill at me,” you choke out between ragged breaths.

Damien doesn’t waver under the weight of your death glare.

“I so did. Best show of our time, truly. Chase hit the nail on the head with that one. Weddings are always an absolute bone fest - trust me. Something about all the proclamations of love and eternal commitment gets everyone all hot and bothered.”

“There will be no slutty wedding sex,” you mutter as you dab at the coffee stain.

“There will be if I’m going,” Damien trills as he pushes off of your desk and saunters to the door. “Don’t rule it out, babe. No need to miss out on all the fun!”

You roll your eyes and toss the wadded-up paper towel at him. Damien is quick to shut the door, resulting in the paper towel hitting it with a wet plop.

Damien’s absence leaves the room uncomfortably silent, save for the sound of your heart nearly beating out of your chest. You hesitantly lift your eyes back to your computer screen, and as irrational as it is, you pray that you’ll see that something has changed in the past ten minutes. Unsurprisingly, his name is still there, just below your own.

You silently curse the tiny twinge of excitement you feel from seeing his name and exit out of the email.

Five days, in and out. No big deal.

taglist: @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck @m0rce1ddd @bauhousewife @whxt-to-write @spencerwaltergubler @lovesicksofi @idgafayiowf @shadyladyperfection @mercy-burning @sapphic-prentiss

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queenlua · 3 years

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Last week you mentioned GPG has really serious problems. Could you tell me more about them? I can't find much of anything online.

first, thanks for your patience with this appallingly late reply! september hit me like a truck :P

second: huh, wow, okay, a cursory google search really failed to turn up much stuff, huh. depressing!

i'm-a talk about the summer 2019 keyserver attack, not because that's the only issue / security vuln / fuck-up the project has ever had, but because it's (1) a hilariously bad fuck-up, and (2) generally reflective of how the project deals with security concerns, and thus demonstrates that the project is fundamentally pretty unserious

so.

this gist, by one of GnuPG's maintainers, does an okay job of summarizing the problem. a brief summary:

* one of the putative purposes of OpenPGP is to provide a "web of trust" via keyservers. i know Jane Doe, i meet her in person, i verify she is who she says she is, and i sign her key; that signature gets reflected in some keyserver, which acts like a big phone book. now, in the future, if you can't personally go verify Jane Doe's trustworthiness, but you do trust me, you can trust communications from Jane Doe, and you looked all this info up in the keyserver

* "what if a malicious actor tried to overload the keyserver?!?!" e.g. what if i spam ~150k signatures on some dude's key just to fuck with the network

* the answer, in the case of GnuPG, is, "this software is shitty and bad and can't deal with that volume so it just grinds to a fucking halt"

* ...and also most the keyservers try to copy their data from each other so you can have a ~web of trust~ throughout the network, which means, these malicious keys quickly perpetuate through the entire nnetwork

* which means anyone who receives the Forbidden Key Data TM, in practical terms, has broken their fucking GnuPG install, and that whole ~web of trust~ thing we built up is now unusable

technically speaking, this is not a security lapse per se! no cryptography has been broken; no secret data has been leaked. it is, however, a fairly straightforward denial of service attack, and is probably kind of disappointing if you wanted your security software to, you know, do software things

and look, anyone can be bitten by a nasty bug. you'll never see me being like "WOW WHAT DUMBFUCKS, HOW COULD ANYONE WRITE SUCH A STUPID BUG," because, y'know, there but for the grace of god i go, and all that. if anyone tells you they're smart enough to never write a bug, they're a fucking liar. (my full-time job for a while was literally proving those people liars, and i never fucking failed, not because i am brilliant, but because all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of god. [sorry for all the god stuff; my long-abandoned southern baptist heritage comes through when i'm talking security for some reason])

however! the manner in which you respond to such a vulnerability matters:

* let's say i had discovered this bug in GnuPG. the industry standard, if i'm kind and polite, is: i disclose the bug privately to the maintainers, and they have a 90-day window during which to fix it. if they still haven't fixed the problem at the end of the 90 days, that's fine, that's their prerogative, but *i* also get to announce to the world "hey there's this bad bug, here's how i found it, and here's how to exploit it."

this is done to keep The World In General TM safer. see, i'm just some rando. if *i'm* able to find a bug in your shitty software, then it's guaranteed the NSA or Unit 8200 or some-other-super-secret-government-agency absolutely has the resources and wherewithal to find the same bug. and also, some slimy just-in-it-for-the-money hacker gang probably also has the resources to find it. by telling the company "hey, i will go public with this in 90 days," i'm lighting a fire under their ass to actually fix the problem, rather than just letting them pretend security by obscurity will save them, and if they don't fix it by then, then at least users have a prayer of finding out, hey, these dudes do not take security problems seriously, and making informed choices based on that.

there is some wiggle room in this. for instance, the fuck are cloud vendors supposed to do about something like Spectre/Meltdown? there were some shitty, not-100%-effective mitigations that could be done in software, but fundamentally the only real fix was getting new hardware, and tragically, we cannot redesign, manufacture, and ship brand new CPUs to everybody who might be affected within a 90-day timeframe. ergo, Google Project Zero pushed their disclosure deadline way out on that. but, crucially: they still went public at some point, and Intel did not cry "wah" or "no fair" or anything like that. they worked with researchers as best as they could, and once the cat was out of the bag, they offered public resources to help developers understand how their software might be affected. that's the rules of the game.

compare this to, uh, GnuPG's outrageously shitty response (from the previously-linked gist), which can basically be summarized as:

* "wah ocaml is complicated and we don't know how to maintain our own fucking software wah"

* "ten years [?!?!?!] wasn't enough time for us to fix the problem wah"

* "whoever did this attack is a hater :((((("

which. what. what the actual fuck. those are not actual reasons to not fix your sofwtare.

also, the way in which you present your software matters:

* i've thrown up shitty hobby projects on github before. if someone came to me all earnest with a CVE against them, i'd laugh, append the README to say "yo i threw this together on a weekend while i was buzzed, you should absolutely not be relying on this for anything that matters, xoxo lua." that is 100% fine! advertising THIS SOFTWARE IS NOT NECESSARILY SECURE and thus electing not to give a shit about security problems is fine.

* i've been a part of things that are... somewhere between a hobby project and Real Software TM. e.g., research prototypes that you're hoping will be widely used so you can get a better sense of desired use cases and unexpected constraints, but which you hope will be used primarily by "power users" or others who are interested in that project's specific goals.

such a project may not be able to offer the same kinds of security guarantees as Fancy Corporate Software, and that's fine, so long as they're open and honest about stuff like: what the goals of the project are, what we're sure of and what we're less sure of, how we're vetting our stuff, what our policies are when someone does report a security issue, stuff like that. there's plenty of stuff maintained on a volunteer basis that i'd generally trust because, i expect they'll notify me if there is a serious security concern to be worried about, or they have a long track record of excellence in a narrowly-tailored space, etc. that's all good.

* what you cannot, cannot, cannot do, is: claim to offer some kind of robust security solution to people in actually-precarious situations, and then not actually act like a steward of those person's interests. if you're, oh, telling Venezeulan dissidents "our [shitty hobby] software [with gaping, well-known vulnerabilities that haven't been exploited yet ONLY because no major nation-state entity has felt threatened by our code yet, but if they were so threatened, they could trivially wreck the entire project using a well-documented years-old vulnerability we can't be assed to fix because ocaml is hard i guess] is safe and reliable to use!"

...if you're telling political dissidents that? and then you get over-the-top pissed off at someone pointing out the fucking problem you refuse to fix? and somehow make it all about mememe? then fuck you, sincerely. the threat those dissidents face is not someone breaking the fucking key network. the threat is you, you personally, because you are fucking lying to them about what your software is able to do.

GOD. sorry, just. i reread that link and got so pissed again. fuck that attitude entirely. if you let people down, fucking just sit with that for a bit, okay? sit and think and do better next time. christ.

anyway.

this is a particularly gratuitous example of GnuPG maintainers being little shits, but in general they've been lackadaisical and dismissive some other times in the past when people have brought them real security problems, and then act all pissy if, y'know, people go public with said security problems. i haven't kept up with their work lately (i think maybe the community got kind of annihilated by this keyserver thing?) & i have other bones to pick with any project of that type (it's kind of taking the wrong tack entirely imho), but like, yeah, in general if a software community's response to security bugs is "oh gosh that's hard maybe we'll get to it someday," you should not be trusting that software lol

#filthy hacker shit #LONG post #honestly it took me like three times to keep this from spiraling into a fucking novel so #here's the shortest version i could manage.#hit me up for pissy computer security rants: if you really want to know #also this tone is like... probably more pissy than necessary sorry #there is some more nuance that could be had here but i just get kinda miffed when people claim to do A Security and then do the opposite

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asthmark · 4 years

Text

❝ not alone ❞, l.ty

synopsis → “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

word count → 2.5k

warnings → angsty!!! the plot may not make sense since it’s literally 1 in the morning oops

a/n → i hope this concept makes sense and it isn’t too confusing or messy!! if it is just shoot me an ask i would be more than happy to clarify :] anyway i actually like the outcome of this but i am too tired to go back and reread it all for any mistakes so i just hope google docs has my back lol gn everyone

7:00 A.M.

the alarm you set for every year at the exact hour goes off at its appointed time, much to your dismay. the mere sound of your phone beeping has a knot forming in your stomach. you wished it would stop, that everything would just stop but that was beyond unrealistic. in fact, you felt foolish for even letting yourself think like that. no matter how badly you wanted things to change, they never would. you would have to endure the same things every year.

you had struggled to fall asleep the night before, that exact thought on your mind and the dread of facing the following day eating away at you. you had only managed to get some rest because of taeyong, who held onto you tightly and caressed your hair as he whispered sweet words to ease you into much needed sleep.

but the day was here now and there was no amount of romantic words or tender touches that would change that. there was absolutely nothing either of you could do about it.

you lean over towards your nightstand to turn off the alarm and taeyong stirs when he feels you begin to shift around in his arms. you lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling as he slowly begins to wake up. he yawns and stretches his limbs out on the mattress which was routinely for him. this would usually be followed by him trying to give you a smooch only for you to squirm away, giggling as you complained about his morning breath.

it is not one of those mornings.

8:09 A.M.

you end up having cereal for breakfast, another big switch up from your routine. normally, you two would browse the internet in search of a recipe that looked promising and try your best to recreate it. you would end up with flour, sugar and dirty dishes all over the place but you never cared. then you would sit at the couch, happily enjoying the finished product and chatting with the tv playing softly in the background.

that morning you sit at the dinner table silently, the cereal in your bowls going soggy before either of you had made a dent in it. you had lost any appetite and from the looks of it so has taeyong.

“you should eat.”

you glance up at your boyfriend. he isn’t eating either, instead he focuses on dipping his spoon into his cereal, bringing it above the bowl only to let it fall back in again. you put your silverware down. “i don’t think i can.”

he hums softly, agreeing with you. “are you nervous?”

it went without saying that you were both terrified. but you know he’s just trying to make conversation. you just nod your head anyway.

10:31 A.M.

you and taeyong move to sit on the couch, turning on the tv so you don’t have to bear anymore uncomfortable silences.

even the newscaster looks down in the dumps, as expected. her voice lacks emotion as she speaks about the forecast, knowing nobody would be taking genuine interest unless it was to get their mind off of the current situation.

what did she expect? the world was restarting, people weren’t going to care about the weather.

“now, for the ongoing events,” says another news anchor. “as we are all well aware of, today is the annual reset. businesses worldwide have closed, most people opting to spend the day with their friends and family and we advise any viewers to do the same. talk to your loved ones about the memories you’ve made in the past year and write down the things and people you do not want to forget.”

you turn to taeyong only to find his gaze is already focused on you. you don’t hesitate to grab the hand that rests in his lap and intertwined his fingers with yours. neither of you say a word as you go back to watching the television, taeyong giving your hand a reassuring squeeze every so often.

12:46 P.M.

by noon, you and taeyong had begun cleaning your apartment, making sure it was well organized so that the next day you could focus only on getting settled in to your, essentially, new lives. you do the standard dusting and vacuuming along with similar around-the-house chores. while going through the closet, taeyong finds a shoe box full of polaroids you two had taken throughout the years. there are dates and other additional notes scribbled in sharpie on every single picture so your post-reset selves could read about the details of each photo since you would not be able to remember it. he calls out your name, smiling brightly when he sees your face light up as you fondly look over your shared moments.

“i’m so glad we got that camera,” you say, shifting through a stack of the photographs.

he nods. “probably your best idea yet.”

you find a picture of him giving you a piggyback ride and coo. it’s quite blurry but you can clearly see the huge grins on your faces. “look at us.” you hand him the photo. “we look so happy.”

he makes a noise of agreement, staring lovingly at the image. “you know, every reset we’re supposed to forget everyone and everything but no matter what i can never seem to forget how happy you make me.”

“quit it.” you shove his shoulder, smiling sadly as you attempt to blink away the tears forming in your eyes. “i don’t want to cry right now, there’s still so much work to do.”

“it can wait.” he opens his arms and that’s all it takes for you to break. you crawl into his embrace, sobbing softly into his chest. it tugs at his heart strings. he tucks his chin above your head but you still notice how his shoulders shake and quiet hiccups escape his lips.

3:28 P.M.

once you and taeyong get tired of being confined to your apartment, you decide to go out for a breath of fresh air. you walk around aimlessly and your final destination turns out to be olympic park. as expected, it’s quite empty since as you had heard on the news, everyone was spending their last couple hours with those they loved in private.

you take in the beautiful scenery and if either you catch sight of a pretty rock or blooming flower, you will stop to pick it up and carefully place it in your pockets for safe keeping. you had found that they served as good reminders of all the time you spent together. in fact, there are many more of these mini souvenirs in your home, decorating your shelves.

“hold up,” says taeyong suddenly.

when you look at him his eyes have zeroed in on something on the ground. he kneels down and picks up a smooth rock. you can’t help but notice the familiarity of it’s color.

“pretty, right?” he says, dropping the item in the palm of your hand. “it matches your eyes.”

you smile at him, finding his attention to detail incredibly endearing. you hold on to the rock, feeling its curves with your fingers until a cluster of chrysanthemums catches your attention and you have to free up your hands to pick one. you decide on a yellow one and present it to your boyfriend.

“here,” you say. “for you.”

“hey, aren’t i supposed to be the one giving you flowers?” taeyong asks but he takes it from you anyway.

“you’re supposed to give flowers to people you like,” you say. “and i like you.”

“you like me?” he asks, gasping softly. “how embarrassing.”

you go along with his joke. “don’t you like me too?”

he shakes his head and makes a face. “no way... i love you.”

you shove his shoulder. “so cheesy.”

he can’t argue with that so he just nods and chuckles as he tucks the chrysanthemum into his dark locks of hair. at seeing this, you raise the polaroid camera round your neck toward taeyong and he, already used to it, automatically poses for you. he puts his arms over his head, curving them into a kind of crooked heart. he gives an open mouthed smile only resuming to his normal position when he hears the click of the camera. you and him share a laugh once the polaroid picture develops completely.

“oh god, i look ridiculous,” he comments. “please get rid of that.”

you only give him a sarcastic, “yeah sure” and continue walking.

you two never got rid of pictures, no matter how ridiculous or unflattering they were. you agreed that every moment you shared counted and deserved to be remembered.

although, they never would be.

5:45 P.M.

you chew on the cap of your pen, massaging your aching hand. you had been writing for almost an hour and you had your cramping fingers to prove it. despite the discomfort, you aren’t one to break tradition. the ‘things i love about you’ list was an ongoing thing you and taeyong had been doing for... ever. they definitely came in handy if either if you wanted to read about what the other was like in past years.

“everything good over there?” taeyong asks, from the other side of the couch.

you shake your head. “this is too hard. i have no idea how i’ve kept this up for four years.”

he puts a hand over his heart. “wow, i’m that hard to love, huh?”

“you know that’s not what i meant,” you say, glaring. “i just have so much stuff to say about you, so much stuff i want future me to know.”

he nods, solemnly. “i get it. i don’t want to leave out a thing but it’s kinda hard to fit a year’s worth of feelings and emotions into a couple pages.”

your let your head fall onto the couch. “why do you have to be so lovable?”

taeyong points an accusing finger at you. “i could ask you the same thing! you’re the most wonderful human being on the planet, if i try to write everything i love about you my hand will fall off!”

you sit up to stare at him. he looks genuinely offended by your ‘wonderfulness’. you pick up your pen and paper.

adorably dramatic, you write.

he scoots closer to you, exclaiming, “hey, what did you just put!”

you hug your notepad tightly to your chest. “no peeking!”

7:12 P.M.

your boyfriend hands you his letter with hopeful eyes. unlike the lists that had been made hours earlier, these writings had been in the works for quite some time. there are letters you and taeyong had written for each other dated all the way from 2016. that was also the year the first polaroids you owned were from so you both assumed it was when you had begun dating. if you ever want to have a good cry, all you have to do is find those letters.

in them, there are heartfelt words for the other person’s eyes only describing how they felt around them, why they were so special, among other sentiments. most importantly, though, you always included why you would never forget the other person. of course, one could say how ironic this was considering that forgetting was what the reset was all about but nevertheless, it was reassuring to read. it made your love seem unbreakable; something so strong it defied the impossible.

you give taeyong your letter, feeling somewhat nervous. he doesn’t hesitate to open the envelope carefully. he slowly removes your letter from inside and you mirror his delicacy. the pair of you sit in absolute silence as you read the words off the pages.

my y/n,

what an amazing year it’s been with you. i know i say that in every letter i write but it’s really true. i never wrote things like this before you came along. only the basics—my name, who my parents were, my birthday, etc. you know, things like that. frankly, i had nothing else worth remembering. but now i do. you’re my whole world, the only thing i truly know and i am convinced i could not be any happier or luckier.

i don’t know what a life without you is like literally but i wouldn’t have it any other way. the situation the world faces with this whole reset mess isn’t ideal and i’ll oftentimes think of what a normal life would be like. even then, in this perfect universe, you’re still by my side.

i still wake up next to you.

i still spend every waking moment with you.

i still fall asleep with you in my arms.

you are still my everything. i am convinced you always will be.

many people avoid love or close relationships nowadays knowing that at the end of the year it’ll all be erased no matter what. how dumb is that? they don’t know what they’re missing out on. having a partner is nothing short of a blessing and you’ve taught me that by being with me every step of the way. sure, forgetting our past together doesn’t get any easier and neither does writing these letters but i’d write a million of them if that’s what it took to have you by my side.

i can only hope you’ll continue being there for me and give me something worth remembering in future years.

you are the light of my life and i can’t wait to fall in love with you again.

yours truly,

taeyong

the tears stroll down your cheeks and drip down on to the paper in your shaky hands. you use your sleeve to try and wipe them away to the best of your ability without smudging the ink. taeyong finishes reading your letter moments later, placing on the coffee table and only staring at you with a distant look in his eyes.

your voice comes out in a whisper. “are you okay?”

he nods, sniffling but his shiny eyes say otherwise. “can you maybe just... hold me?” his voice cracks along with your heart.

he ends up with his head in your lap, your fingers pulling and tugging at his soft hair. you have a couple hours left but you wouldn’t be opposed to leaving the year in this exact position.

11:59 P.M.

taeyong has made it clear he wants you to be the first thing he sees when you enter the new year. so, you spend your last minute getting into a position that will allow that.

you end up sitting sit cross-legged across from him. he’s in the same position and in the small distance between you, your fingers meet. the hold he has on your hands is so tight his knuckles have turned white. his eyes bore into yours and although he doesn’t say a word, his hazel orbs let you know it’s all going to be okay. you repeat those words to yourself.

it’s going to be okay.

“i love you,” you blurt.

he only has a couple seconds to respond.

“i love you, too. if you’re going to remember one thing, let it be that.”

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secret-time-is-here · 3 years

Text

An Error's Journey

Chapter 25

Previous - First - Next

He expected to wake up to a mattress on the floor again, the line between dreams and reality blurring. It was hard to tell how much he was going to remember, how long he felt like he was reliving his memories, and when he would return to being the feared destroyer of worlds.

“Error? Are you coming to?” Nightmare’s deep voice spoke softly.

“Weird way ta refer to wakin’ up, ‘Mare.” The glitch slurred, his eyes heavy, body warm and comfortable.

“Error...” Nightmare started, sighing, “I… You…” The other tried again, “...There was a reboot bar above your head all night.” The guardian deadpanned.

Error slowly opened his eyes to Nightmare’s concerned face, a rare occurrence to see even by the gang. Then again, the two of them always kept each other a little closer than they kept the gang.

The negative offered a hand and helped Error slowly sit up-easing the old scared and injured bones into a better position. “It wasn’t exactly a reboot bar, however… it took some time to discern exactly what it said-written in binary rather than letters-but it does confirm some things.”

“Night, you don’t gotta beat around the bush for me.”

“The bar said it was recovering lost data… so those for sure are your memories, but this brings worries to the table. These...” Nightmare gestured with his hands for a moment, “...recoveries could happen any time-they aren’t dreams. They could happen during battle for all we know. It doesn’t help you don’t get any rest during them-so you could start passing out during the day too, and sleeping seems to-”

“Woah, slow down.” Nightmare finally stopped, a frown engraved into his expression, “Worrying ain’t gonna help us.”

“How are you not worried about this?”

“I am… for now though, it seems like I just have to wait things out. Core will tell me everything in due time, and for now, we are safe from whatever shared enemy we have.”

“But how long do we have?”

“Well, Core ain’t rushing me to find my team yet, and they’re the one that wants us to beat this person the most so I think it’s safe to say we have a good amount of time.”

-----

Thanks to Core’s little news drops on his ex, he can find a good time frame on how long ago he’s remembering-and can finally estimate how much longer he has to remember. Unfortunately, it’ll take some good digging in the more off-limits area of the Omegatimeline’s library, but he has a few ways he can get in there. Who knew his side hobby of studying religion would become so useful?

Slipping into the Omegatimeline was easy as per usual, stepping into the back office of his small studio apartment-sized workshop. On his desk still lay his latest commission, as well as the files for a new shop somewhere in the main square of Omega-one specific location incredibly close to the grand library Omega boasted. It would be a wise choice since he would likely need to verify when he’s remembering often.

Pushing the document off to the side, he made his way out of the building, weaving through mid-day traffic and making it to the ancient mansion that is the Omega Library. Being there often enough, he made his way to the back sections easily, even greeting the workers that saw him so often along the way. It’s amazing how much a mask can let you relax and give you a chance to start over.

The security guard recognized him, nodding their head and letting him pass through to the old tomes that record the centuries of history and precious information. The room was hardly lit, a space rarely ventured with sparse armchairs and a simple few couches surrounding a coffee table in the middle. Stairs reaching high and low, making it one of the tallest towers as well as the longest basements in the Omegatimeline.

“Oh! Hiya Mr.M!” Ink’s cheerful voice chirped from the center couches, “Didn’t expect to see you here!”

“Nor did I.” Error tried to calm himself, battle instincts raging inside of him, but poker face set in stone. “Not to overstep, my divine, but I didn’t think you’d spend your free time in a library-much less the more forbidden sections.”

“My divine-? Oh yeah, I’m a God.” The creator chuckled to himself, “Honestly, you live so long you forget sometimes. I like brushing up on Omega history every now and again-since it existed for a good, I dunno, at least a good couple centuries before I did.”

“You… weren’t one of the first timelines?”

“Uh...” Ink pulled out his personal tome-the same as the last time he saw it, faintly fizzling with traces of his magic-and flicked to a page, “Nope! Ya would think they’d have that written down-pretty sure they still have a book on me somewhere in here.”

Ink got up from his seat, looking over the ledge down to the lower levels and up above. “Think it’s… eh I can’t even make a guess.” He shrugged, “Anyhow, yeah. Omega’s older than me.”

“I had always thought you were one of the oldest in the multiverse-reaching to Core’s age...”

“Nah, there’s a good handful here in Omega that can say they’re older than me-and plenty of people out there in the multiverse that are older too. There’s the basic names: Classic, Fell, Cobalt, and Hearts-although he’s left the council now...”

There’s a boast, being older than the God of Creation. Classic and Fell were easy enough to know, and if you did your research, Cobalt was too. He came to be a part of Omega after Blue, so he ended up with a different name-but he is from the original Underswap timeline, although the timeline has long since been abandoned. The whole place corrupted and destroyed. Blue would be up there on the list too, but he’s far more recognized for being a part of the Star Sans’ than being the second Underswap timeline.

Silence stretched for a moment, “Oh right-why are you here? Sorry, still trying to keep up with proper manners and all that, Dream’s been getting on my spine about it.”

“I came to brush up on my history as well, although it's for a more recent project of mine rather than fun.” He spoke confidently, the twist of words no lie. Technically, it was a project to find out what he was remembering, it doesn’t matter if Ink thinks it's a project for his Divine research.

“Well, any project can be for fun!” Ink’s voice picked up again, a wide smile stretched on his face, “I assume you mostly know the divine area-so I can lead you over to the older history sections.” Ink began to walk away, gesturing for Error to follow, “Takes forever to get to it if you don’t know where it starts.” Ink commented, making his way down the stairs.

“Wouldn't it start at the bottom?”

“I don’t know what system they use-can’t judge though, I have zero organizing skills-what was I saying? Right-don’t know how they arrange things, but it actually starts three floors down-not the full eleven or so. I think they just expand the basement for each new century.” Ink shrugged, weaving through towers of books and bookshelves like they were attacks on a battlefield.

Error quickly followed, not with nearly as much grace as the shorter God, but still making his way through. “Anyway, the first one starts here, simple enough.” Ink turned towards him, “I should be heading back up-hope to see ya again buddy.”

“Any time, my divine.”

“Eh, no need for those fancy-schmancy titles, fuck, even Ink is more than enough. Besides, anyone can become a God-look at me!” He gestured to himself, “Haha, for all I know you could be a God! So no point in those formalities.”

“Alright... Ink.”

The other only nodded and casually walked off back towards the stairs. It’s almost funny how different he is normally compared to in battle.

In the back of his mind, he can feel a cloud of memories-of unrecovered data that would make this moment nostalgic. That could connect to that tome. That could connect to those little blurs of moments he can see in his inner eye. That could connect him and Ink somewhere in the past.

It didn’t even take a moment for him to accept he won’t remember what that connection is for a good while.

He looked around for a moment, reaching out with his magic to see if any soul was nearby before pulling up his panels. The basic timeline beginning to fall into place in his mind as he reread through his notes.

He’s nearly as old as the recorded history of the multiverse, which is roughly just over one thousand years-and with Core’s hint about the balance of the multiverse, he can guess that around the time Ink was created he was turned into a God. He knows that the antivoid turned him into the error he is now, and therefore, also gave him the Godly powers he has. How he got into the antivoid, he can’t pinpoint-but he can find exactly where he is in his memories.

Hearts, or Lust at the time, had become a member of the council about two decades after the recorded history of the multiverse. However, Ink is only a few centuries younger than the multiverse, so that still leaves several centuries' worth of memories before he became an error, and there are plenty of centuries of being an error that he still doesn’t remember.

Small details kept itching at the back of his mind, the saved news articles having small things that just left him on edge. How Core would disappear and reappear in Omega… how Core reappeared in Omega not long after Lust joined the council.

He was stunned to find other details, like how Death had been a part of the council for a time, disappearing sometime after Core reappeared. His sudden disappearance reminded him of his most recent memories...

“I would not be surprised if he started to pay more attention to you from now on.”

What could have happened-what did happen that would cause Reaper to completely disappear from the council like that? Disappear from Omega entirely? What tragedy or paradise awaited him the next time he was to recover his lost data?

Core has already confirmed that they somewhat guided or helped his team-did Core direct Death to stay by his side for a time? A buddy to help him while Core attended to other responsibilities? Or was it to help each other out?

“With the way I’ve directed them, and the way I’m directing you, any of you should be able to help each other and be able to pull the other back if anything does go wrong.”

The latter seems most likely, and with only the two of them existing at the time-as far as his confirmed team goes-it would be an easy way for Core to keep an eye on them. To make sure nothing decides to suddenly go off track.

He continued to read through the different accounts and newspaper clippings, finding that Death had come back for about a century at some point before officially leaving the council. Even more accounts saying that he completely disappeared from the Omegatimeline again not long after that. Although from personally knowing the God, Error knew well Death still has access to Omega, and visits often for coffee-and probably to visit Ink now too.

By the time he had finished up his notes, the Library was near closing, and he headed back to his workshop, creating a portal to a random AU in the safety of the back of his workshop.

The random AU thankfully was abandoned, and he allowed himself to relax under the stars of the world’s night sky. Enjoying the feeling of anonymity amongst the tall grasses of the wide plains.

He thought back to the first time he saw the stars, helping Hearts to the surface of his AU...

...He didn’t know how to feel about that memory anymore.

“Error…?” Dream’s voice was cautious, rightfully so. Error grunted as polite of a greeting he could offer to his enemy, “I do hope you aren’t destroying this AU...”

“I’m not allowed to relax somewhere?” He asked sarcastically, silence following suit. He scoffed, “Ya’know what? Don’t bother answerin’ that. I’m not destroying it right now and that’s all ya need ta know.”

He could hear the faint rustling of Dream sitting down, the subtleties of the long blades of grass parting for the younger as loud as cannons to his keen hearing. He could hardly relax with the other so close by, too focused on trying to pick up any quiet warp of a portal or ping of Dream making an arrow. The creak of his bow pulling back-ready to strike Error down once and for all.

“Error… we may be enemies, but it does not take a friend to tell that you’ve been off lately.” Dream spoke lightly, concern dripping through his even tone.

“I’m not talking about this with you. Fuck off.”

“Does this change mean you will quit destroying?”

“Stars if I know, you’re acting like ya want to be my friend or some mushy shit like that.”

“The multiverse comes first before everything else for me, but I can not deny that much like Ink… you do pique my curiosity.” Error huffed, still tense, but the easy banter relaxing him somewhat, “If things were different, I’ll admit I would give you a chance.”

Error burst out laughing at that, thinking back to his conversation with Ink earlier that day, how easily he wore the mask of Lapse D. Mode. How the other didn’t even think he was accidentally giving the Destroyer a second chance. Now he wants to copy the same with Dream just to see what would happen.

Dream happened to give him the perfect idea for a cover, “Why the laughter? I am sure you know I try my best to speak with honesty.”

“You’re an idiot to be honest with ya enemy-and givin’ me of all people a second chance? Ya really think I’d believe that?” He spoke with great confidence, acting out a mockery of his insane days with ease.

“It’s not being an idiot, it’s called living by my morals.” Dream glared, his facade of positivity falling with no one else nearby-just like their last battle.

“Morals are easily corrupted,” Error challenged, standing up, his form towering over Dream, “People are easily corrupted, the world as we know it is easily corrupted.”

“Must you think the dark of everything?” Dream stood up, one hand ready to grab his bow if need be.

“Must you see the good in everything?” Error mocked, Dream’s glare dropped.

“...Error, why are you covering? You do know I can read your emotions just like Nightmare, do you not-? I can tell when you’re faking or not.”

Just like Nightmare? Could Dream be one of the other two? Could he come from the same place as Nightmare?

“Ya really think I’d tell ya?”

“I think you are hiding something,” Dream seemed to be trying to read past his poker face, “I think you want to talk about it, but for some reason, you can not.”

“Ya’know, if ya think about it, everyone’s hidin’ somethin’. Some of us just got more ta hide than others.”

“So you do not deny having a secret?”

“Nope. No point, ya can probably tell if I’m lying or not.” He shrugged, “Do you have a secret? We can trade...”

“I am sorry to say, but I have nothing to hide.”

“Not even ya past? Not a secret ‘bout where ya came from? Not a secret of that precious Omega ya hold so dearly?”

“Unlike you, Error, I live openly. I come from Dreamtale, was held in stone for a century, and had to adjust to life on the run until Ink found me. I live in safety in Omega, and fight anyone who threatens the health of the multiverse.”

“Safety? Haha, you call Omega safe?”

“That I do… If not trade a secret, may we have a trade of information? I am sure you were unaware of at least one thing I listed.”

“Hmm, I dunno, I’m pretty sure I knew all of what ya listed. Isn’t it written down in a book ‘bout ya in the back of the forbidden area of the grand Omega Library...? Written by an old professor at the local college?�� Dream’s expression paled with shock, “Not so safe, is it?”

Error walked around Dream until they were back to back, “I’ll still take a secret for a secret...”

The other went silent, and Error’s poker face dropped, now unseen by the other. “Time’s a tickin’-I’m a very busy skeleton Dream.”

“...I was not born a God.” Dream muttered darkly as if reliving the experience that turned him into one-which Error was sure was not happy.

Dream turned around, and so did Error. The positive offered his hand to shake, “A secret for a secret.”

“...Are you sure?” He smirked, Dream nodded, “You do know, no matter what I tell ya, it can’t be confirmed? As far as I know, there isn’t a single book out there written on me, not a single piece of information unless it’s in the memories of the monster I know-which all are bound to secrecy if they do know me.”

Dream nodded again, “Fine then… it’s not really a secret-but something that no one else knows about… I have a secret life outside the battlefield.”

“Wha-How?!”

“Does it matter? I gotta have a safe place of my own pretty boy.” The hint of yellow on Dream’s cheekbones momentarily reminded him of someone else…

“...Then why keep destroying? If you managed to make a life of your own elsewhere-”

Error didn’t have an answer.

All characters belong to their respected creators

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bellaslilpapercut · 3 years

Text

Eclipse reread part 3 bewr bewr bewrrr! Covering the entire rest of the book in ONE post so buckle on in baybee:

1. Absolutely everything about chapter 15 (wager) is disgusting. To a certain extent I appreciate how successfully meyer captures how frustrating assault is as a woman, how futile it feels to fight against it. But at the same time the way she handles the aftermath is unbelievably disappointing and infuriating. Charlie doesn't get up to help his own daughter, Jake trails after Bella into the house and sticks around, there's just no relief or reflection that feels satisfying. Bella can ask where the justice is when she finds out Jake isn't aging but just ignores Charlie defending her assailant? And to some extent I get it, I've shut down after assault before to the point where it took years to recognize that some of the things that happened even were assault. But when there's a pattern within the series of men being narratively rewarded for assault and abuse and women being punished for reacting to abuse it feels like the narrative is reinforcing the status quo of women<men. I'm not stupid, I understand when a book is trying to make me uncomfortable and I don't need villains to be punished to know that they're villainous. This doesn't come across that way at all. Meyers handling of misogynistic abuse and violence lack the nuance to make me believe that she sees this violence as something to be critical of rather than something that just happens to women. And again, because it's a pattern in her writing, women getting no reprieve from gendered harm, I don't believe she's making a statement. There's just no self awareness and that's the key difference between a story like Brave New World or Lolita and Twilight.

2. Also this quote that precedes the assault is just so so frustrating:

Bella is not mean for setting boundaries! She isn't stringing you along! I would love to hit meyer in the head with a rolled up newspaper. Anyway.

3. Bella keeps saying things like "this would be annoying if it weren't so scary" in regards to having her clothes stolen by vampires that want her dead and having to lie to people around her, again because dozens of vampires want her dead. And y'know after the third time she said she would be annoyed if she weren't scared I'm just left to believe she isn't scared at all. I don't feel rising tension, the newborn army feels like a minor nuisance and even after they connect it to victoria (who still hasn't shown up at all) I'm just like...okay well get on with it then! Meyer makes bella "shudder" (I'm still tempted to make a comp of every time she shudders in this fucking book lol) instead of showing us her actual fear. I don't believe she's scared, I don't care about the "threat," and I don't believe anything bad will happen to Bella. There are Literally No Stakes here. I'm not invested in this story at all.

4. Alice is a bad friend lmfao

Girl, you're psychic you know she wanted to wear red why are you just dressing her up for your brother.

5. Okay returning to point 3 because I read chapter 17 and had an epiphany: Bella says she isn't scared for herself and I get that I do. But smeyer also hasn't shown us that she's selfless- just that she doesn't care if she dies. If bella actually cared for her human friends, in any way, I would believe that the newborn army was a scary threat because the people she loves might get hurt. But I don't believe that she cares about that I only believe that she- like Edward- has a weird martyr complex.

6. The Mirror chapter also reinforces this. I can’t stop thinking about how much more impactful it would have been narratively if it had been Angela in Bree’s position (because she’s the only human friend Bella seems fond of but if Bella showed interest in any of the other humans, honestly any of them would do). Imagine the moment where the newborn vampire first lifts her head to look into Bella’s eyes and it’s someone she knows. Someone she cares for. There should have been consequences for Bella beyond “Jake got some bones broken and now I feel bad :(” which was also a shitty punishment because smeyer is inflicting physical trauma on an indigenous character just to make Bella feel bad. Okay. Anyway, it would have built the tension I was missing for- quite literally- over 300 pages of this book if Bella’s friends and classmates and Fork’s residents had been going missing the whole time. Suddenly, at the end of the battle, there’s Angela. Or Jess. Or Katie fucking Marshall. Someone Bella knew should have been there and maybe I would have cared about this book at all.

7. Going back in time to this quote which comes before the battle:

UGH!!! SHUT UP SMEYER! She literally poisoned Jake’s character from the moment she made him a main character and she has zero self reflection to see the damage that she’s causing here. I’ve said before that I don’t think Jake’s actions were a romantic deal breaker and that stands out now more than ever after reading Eclipse. THIS is the moment that Bella realizes she’s in love with Jake too. Smeyer not only sees abuse and aggression as romantic, she also lacks the braincells and reflection to see that she’s playing directly into racist stereotypes. Edward got to grow up- marginally- but Jake had to remain aggressive. I still don’t think she ever once meant to villify Jake- I think that there was no way in a hell a racist woman could ever successfully portray an indigenous character. His tenderness is tainted by the aggression she forces on his character and in the end he never had a chance because- again- he was being written by a racist woman with fucked up views of indigenous people.

8. Okay, I get it. They’re like Cathy and Heathcliff. Fine. I buy it.

This isn’t even the last time she compares them to Cathy and Heathcliff. Kate Bush isn’t gonna write a song about you, meyer! Give it a rest! (Also lol at “like wuthering heights”)

9. Jumping right to the end here because to be completely honest the only actual event in the entire book was the newborn battle. Jane was a bitch, fine. Edward talked at Victoria and bored her to death (presumably) and the action never felt very action heavy. I knew if from the “best friend (and werewolf)” line that this book was presumably written for idiots given how little is left to the imagination at any given time. I can’t stand when books treat the audience like dummies and I especially can’t handle YA books that do this. Teenagers aren’t stupid!! Young adults can pick up on subtlety in literature!! AND young adults can handle suspense and action. smeyer doesn’t do either well and the editors never once said “hey you know teens aren’t stupid right? like your audience will pick up on hints that you scatter you don’t have to forcefully explain everything?”

10. Smeyer can’t stop interrupting herself even in the very last sentence of the book proper:

What, pray tell, is wrong with “Where it would stay for the rest of eternity.” Why did you have to sow doubt in the sentiment right after Bella made her For Real Final Decision???? And why the em-dash!? Again: the editors of the twilight saga are my nemeses but also my favorite conmen. What were they paid for?

11. Back to the editors real quick: if i was given a draft of eclipse I would instantly say: this story is almost 400 pages of nothing, you need to play with the structure of the story. You need to build suspense and if that means playing with POV like you randomly start doing in the epilogue, then do that. Or you can play with the plot. Nothing happens for 300 pages. It takes 300 pages to get to the newborn battle and nothing that happens before the newborn battle makes me feel worried about it. Again, kill off some humans, raise the stakes, do SOMETHING. This was so painfully slow to read because meyer tried to center this book on a love triangle that I didn’t even believe in myself. And even then, it took 14 chapters for the love triangle to get real action (as in an Event, not necessarily physical action).

12. The epilogue. Oh man. Was the r-slur really so acceptable in 2007 that not one single editor questioned its use? I won’t type the quote in full but Jake refers to his fake arm sling as r-word. Like??? What? And THEN smeyer has him call Leah a “bitter harpy.” Shut up.

In conclusion, nothing felt like a bigger waste of time than Eclipse. Genuinely, to be completely honest. Two (2) important things happened, at least in Bella’s narrative (I agree with Vinelle that the Volturi debacle was important from Carlisle’s perspective, it adds nothing to Bellas and Bella learns nothing important from it.): 1. Bella made a decision, she chose Edward. Who could have seen that coming? Whaaaat? 2. Rosalie told Bella her backstory. Not that Bella even used that to reflect on her decision to become a vampire but hey, at least it felt like an important moment. Jasper’s backstory only mattered for the newborn battle which didn’t matter at all (and it never informed his character and no one ever brings up that the confederacy was a terrible dark stain on US history (along with the rest of US history but that’s a full dissertation or two on its own)). I can’t imagine a way to improve this book as a standalone book. You could split up the plot (using that term loosely) so that New Moon and BD are both a little longer and BD a little more organized. But without completely changing the plot beats in Eclipse, its just pointless.

#eclipse reread #saga reread #long post #very very long sorry lolol

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eveningcatcher · 4 years

Text

Courtiers when MC goes on a long trip

Volta

“So, I’m off to travel,” MC stated once again as they took their bags off the floor, walking to the carriage.

“Did you pack enough food?” Volta asked as they tried to put in a sandwich in Mc’s bag.

“I did Volta,” MC reassured them, “We’ve packed it together, remember?”

“But, but,” Volta looked at them in disbelief, “That can’t be all you’re taking, right, right?”

“Trust me, it’s enough,” they reassured her as they gave her a quick peck on the lips, “Will you be fine without me around?”

“Oh, of course!” Volta smiled as she hugged MC one last time, “Volta has been alone for so long, she’ll be fine!”

“Alright,” MC returned the hug as they let their hand pet Volta’s hair one last time,” I’ll send you letters.”

“Oh, please do,” she said with a smile, “Take care!”

Once MC was out of sight Volta let out a sigh and went back to her estate. Happily, she started eating her food as if nothing happened. It was only the next week when she didn’t find MC that she started to panic. Oh, they’re gone, right. When did they say they’ll return? Two months, right. That’s no big deal to her. She is 100 years old! She can survive a few months…

“Um, sir,” one of the servants said as they carried an envelope, “You have a letter.”

“From whom?” she asked, curious. Does Nadia want to hold another meeting?

“MC, si-” as soon as he said MC’s name Volta jumped at him, snatching the envelope. With her tiny hands, she tried her best to open it but to no avail. Frustrated, she tore the envelope, taking out a parchment of paper.

My dearest Volta,

After a whole week of being bored to death, I finally got to Nevivon. Unfortunately, I haven’t visited any interesting place, so I have nothing to write about.

I truly wish that you could write me a letter telling me about how you’ve been, but I have no clue where I might end up by the time you receive this letter.

Take care,

Volta reread the letter a couple of times, wishing she was with MC, but oh well, it can’t be helped. The most important thing is that they are safe and sound now. Feeling the warmth from MC’s kind words fill her heart, she put the letter on her desk and went to have dinner, thinking about MC the whole time. As she finished her 4th dinner she started to worry. MC never said if they had enough food. What if they’re hungry? Oh, poor little MC… she can’t do anything for them. The whole night was spent with zero sleep, Volta just couldn’t rest at the thought of MC being hungry.

Worry was eating her out, clouding her mind, not being able to do anything but think about the worst scenarios that could happen to MC. Frantically, she walked through her mansion, falling over many of her antiques that were collecting dust. As she stared at her scratched wrist, she started to panic more. If a demon like her could get hurt in the comfort of her home then who knows what could happen to MC! She bit her nails from stress until she felt the blood run down her fingers.

Just before she was about to ask for help, the servant came by and, with clear worry, helped poor Volta with the wounds. After he was done with bandaging the arm, he pulled out an envelope from his pocket, helping Volta open it. He put down the piece of paper on her lap and left the room.

She quickly took the paper, then immediately stopped from the pain on her fingertips. After taking a deep breath, she read the letter. There wasn’t anything that could interest Volta, MC talked about the beaches, different people they met as well as the food they tried. Food! So, they are eating well. Volta let out a loud sigh, happy that none of her worries was true.

Happy with the letter, she went downstairs, eating the food she didn’t eat this morning, knowing that everything is fine. MC is doing great and, by the looks of it, Volta will get their letters daily.

The next day passed and the sky has already started to darken. Volta didn’t receive any letters from MC that day. She bit on the bandages in worry. What happened? She would have pondered on the topic a bit more, had Vulgora not entered the room.

“Tiny one, what are you doing in here?!?” they asked, as they picked tiny Volta up, “You’re late and Nadia’s fucking pissed!” they mumbled as they left Volta’s mansion with her on their shoulder like some sort of bag.

Not much time has passed and the two of them were sitting in one of Nadia’s meetings with Volta barely visible behind the food. Much to everyone’s surprise, she didn’t take a bite.

After a while, Nadia asked, “Dear Volta, is something the matter?”

As soon as she heard Nadia’s gentle words, Volta didn’t know what to do other than crying. Through sobs and shaky breaths, she confessed about all of her worries for MC. Valdemar and Valerius rolled their eyes, not giving a damn about Volta’s feelings while Vlastomil listened carefully, knowing that this will be a great topic to gossip about. Vulgora, on the other hand, was just annoyed.

“Just grow some balls, Volta.”

“But, but,” she said through sobs, “What if MC died?” just the thought of it made her cry even more.

“I can assure you they’re alive,” Valdemar simply stated, hoping that Volta will calm down soon.

“How can I know if you’re lying?” she asked bitterly as she stared at the courtiers, “All you ever do is lie to me and throw me around. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it!” she shouted as she left the court meeting making everyone feel uncomfortable.

Vulgora stared at tiny Volta leave feeling only pity for her. Sure, they are a cold-blooded soldier, but Volta is like a child to them and out of all of the courtiers she is the most bearable one. They didn’t want to ruin their reputation by comforting tiny Volta, but they also didn’t want to see her cry. Then, it hit them. They won’t fix this, MC will!

On the other side of the sea, MC was taking a walk in an abandoned street, feeling a bit uneasy. Once they felt someone throw them over their shoulder, they started screaming and punching for their dear life.

“Calm down pipsqueak!” Vulgora shouted, “I’m just bringing you back to Vesuvia.”

“What?”MC said as they calmed down a bit. They didn’t even hear Vulgora coming,” But… how? Why?” they kept on asking.

“Because tiny Volta is crying like a baby and I’m sick of it! So you’re coming with me to fix that!”

“But why did you come all the way here? Couldn’t you just comfort Volta on your own?” MC asked, still not understanding a thing going on.

“Stop asking unnecessary questions!” they shouted, “Just do your thing and make her stop crying!”

Mc nodded, going back to their dearest Volta.

In Vesuvia, Volta was lamenting in her misery, not even wanting to talk with Nadia. She still bit onto her bandages, making her fingertips bleed once more. She wished so badly that MC could be there with her, but she knew that won't happen anytime soon. She started crying once more, secretly being surprised at how much she was capable of crying. Just when she was about to stop her session, MC gave them a huge hug.

"Sh, Volta," MC said as they kissed her forehead, "Everything will be fine."

"MC," she said through her sobs, hugging them as tightly as she could, "Oh, you've finally returned! Volta was so, so worried. Please don't leave her like that ever again!"

MC smiled as they watched Vulgora happily leaving the two of them alone, "Alright, next time, I'm bringing you with me."

"Promise?" she asked, her eyes getting glossy from tears of joy.

"Promise."

Vlastomil

“Vlasty, don’t you think you’ve forgotten something?” MC asked as they stood in front of the doors of his living room.

He stared at MC for a moment, thinking about that statement, “No, why?”

“I’m travelling today.” They simply stated, a bit disappointed that he forgot about it.

“WHAT? Aren’t you supposed to go next week?” he stared at them. He was so busy taking care of the worms, especially the pregnant ones that he completely forgot.

“No, it’s today. I have to leave soon.”

“No, no,” he tried to quickly come up with an excuse to make them stay a bit longer,” But you didn’t say bye to the worms…”

“I know,” MC said, thinking about how they’d rather not do that, “But I have no time to say goodbye to all of them. Do you want to go with me to the docks?”

He quickly picked up Wriggler and left with MC to the docks. The two of them got there just in time before the ship sailed off. Vlastomil stayed on the docks far longer than he should, almost as if he was waiting for the ship to return. Who knows how much longer he would have stayed there had Wriggler not started to get nervous around so many unknown people.

Once he got back to his mansion he noticed that something was missing. Yes, his many children were there with him but the mansion still felt empty and cold. Vlastomil wished he could have properly said goodbye to MC. But nothing can be done now. He brushed off that miserable feeling and went back to taking care of the worms.

Days passed by and the feeling of needing something that was just out of his grasp didn’t go away. Not even the labour of one of his worms made him feel better. He hated this feeling. He is a demon and yet, he had to go through the feeling process. Of course, he did feel something for MC and he knew that it was love, but he hated all of these miserable feelings. It made him feel small and helpless and he hated that.

The next day he couldn’t run away from his job as a Praetor anymore so he had to drag himself to the Colosseum to attend the trial. Anything that both the prosecution and defence said seemed to go through one then the other ear. Valstomil just didn’t give a damn about that person. He didn’t like the way the person looked at him.

“I have made my decision,” he abruptly said, “You are… guilty! Oh yes, very guilty indeed.”

“But your honour,” the defence started talking, “It’s obvious that…”

“How dare you question my decision!” Vlastomil said, getting offended more and more.

It seemed that was enough to make everyone shut up with a few mutterings of apologies from the defence. Once the whole ordeal was done, Valerius approached him, “Praetor, what is the meaning of all of this?”

“What do you mean by that?” Praetor asked, playing dumb, “I’ve just said my verdict. That’s what judges do, right?”

Valerius stared at him in disbelief, wanting to say something, but deciding not to. He let Vlastomil get off the hook this time, but if something like this were to repeat, there would be consequences.

And so it repeated. Each time Vlastomil got tipsier and tipsier, declaring everyone guilty and demanding that the ‘guilty’ gets hanged. Valerius decided that enough was enough and, no matter how terrifying Vlastomil seemed at the moment, someone must stop him.

“Praetor, don’t you think there was enough hanged for this month?” Valerius asked after one of the trials where another person was, surprisingly proclaimed guilty.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Vlastomil simply stated, feeling his patience run thin.

“You know very well what I’m trying to say,” Valerius responded with bitterness, his patience slipping away from him, “Your witch would have made better verdicts for God’s sake!”

As soon as Vlastomil heard the mention of MC he couldn’t help but burst into tears. Valerius stared at him crying like a little child with no sympathy, realizing why Vlastomil was acting this way, “So, the two of you broke up.”

“WHAT? No!” Vlastomil said, mortified by just the thought of it. He returned to crying and said through tears, “MC is travelling.”

“Mhm,” Valerius nodded, not giving a damn about Vlastomil’s feelings, “And when will they return?”

“In five months.”

“Five months?” Valerius said, mortified. He can’t bear Vlastomil’s behaviour for five whole months. He’ll kill half of the Vesuvia by the time MC returns! “And where did they go?”

“They went to Prakra to finish some of their business,” Vlastomil still explained, not even thinking about stopping with the crying.

Valerius left Vlastomil in his misery, trying to think of what sort of important business a witch would have. They probably wanted a break from the Praetor and, for a moment, Valerius seemed to agree with that. But alas, he knew that he had to cut MC’s ‘vacation’ short, so he went to Prakra to look for them. As soon as he got to the Prakra’s docks, he tried to think where would witches be. Luckily, he didn’t need to think long as they saw MC walking nearby.

“Witch,” he simply called out to them, not even bothering to call them by the name.

MC recognized the voice immediately, “Consul,” they said, surprised, “What a coincidence!”

“No, it’s not,” he simply stated, “I’ve come to you because of the Praetor.”

“What happened?” they asked, worried.

“He’s getting insane!” he wanted to mention how he proclaims everyone guilty, but he decided not to. He doesn’t want MC and Vlastomil breaking up, who knows how much worse it could be then, “You have to return.”

“But-”

“Now!”

MC thought for a moment. Is Vlastomil in that terrible state? In the end, they decided that their love’swell being was much more important than their business. They quickly nodded, returning to the Vesuvia with the consul.

Vlastomil was in his mansion, taking care of the newborn worms. Even though they were the most adorable little things (to a person with Vlastomil’s standards) Vlastomil didn’t feel any joy when he looked at them. He was even debating about rehoming those worms! He would have thought a bit more about it hadn’t MC opened the door and went inside the room.

“MC!” he said happily as he ran to them, nearly dropping worms off his lap, “Oh, you’ve returned! I’ve missed you so,” he kissed their left cheek, “So,” he kissed the other cheek, ”So,” finally, he kissed their forehead, “Very much!”

It was MC’s turn to shower Vlastomil in kisses. Once they were done, they said with a smile, “I’ve missed you too,” they took out of their bag a small box, “I wanted to buy you souvenirs, but didn’t have enough time to do so,” they started explaining as they opened the box, “But I knew that Squiggle was pregnant, so I bought these mini sweaters for the children!”

He stared at the small pieces of fabric, melting at the sight. He knew that his dear children would look dazzling in them. Once he was done kissing his love all over again, he picked the box and went on to put the clothes on the newborns, deciding that those babies will stay where they are.

Vulgora

"What do you mean by you don't need an axe?!?" they asked as they held their most prized possession, wanting to give it to MC as a parting gift.

"Exactly what you said," MC started as they raised their hands, refusing to take Vulgora's weapon, "Everything will be fine, besides, I'm not travelling alone," they gestured at another group of magicians who looked at least a bit experienced in battling off anyone dangerous.

"Fine," Vulgora huffed, feeling a bit frustrated, "But don't come crying to me if some bandits steal your stuff!"

"I won't," MC said as they gave Vulgora a small peck on the cheeks, "I promise."

"You'll be fine without me?" MC asked, knowing well how short-tempered Vulgora is when they're not around.

"Of course I will, now go on and don't die on me!" they exclaimed as they helped MC put their stuff in the carriage.

"Bye!" MC waved to them as they disappeared out of Vulgora's sight.

With a somewhat disappointed huff, Vulgora went back to their mansion, getting on with their usual business. It was only a few weeks later that everything went downhill. They were preparing for their usual hunt. Going to a forest with nothing but a sword as they rode their favourite horse they couldn’t help but think about MC.

They'll be away for quite some time, but that shouldn't bother them! They are a strong, mighty, independent demon. They can keep their shit somewhat cool until then, right? They nodded to themselves, being pretty confident with that reasoning. Their mind trailed off to those magicians, they seemed rather... annoying to say the least. No, they were dangerous! What could they possibly do to small MC! What if they, they didn't want to even think about it. And MC was so stubborn, they didn't even take Vulgora's weapons with themselves. Those pesky magicians could do just about anything to MC! Immediately at the thought, he started seeing red, wanting to beat the life out of those magicians. However, they weren't there, so they took their anger upon the poor animals living in the forest. But then, after they killed the second rabbit, they stopped. Didn't they talk about keeping their shit together? Why aren't they doing that? They should be doing that. They took a deep breath in and out, doing exactly as many as MC told them... fuck that! They're pissed and they're gonna show it. MC isn't here anyway, so who gives a fuck?

They kept on hunting and hunting and, once they've decided it was enough (at that point they killed around half a dozen of poor animals) they took the kill and went back home, demanding from servants to barbecue it for them.

The next weeks passed about the same, Vulgora would wake up, remember that MC left, groan in annoyance and went hunting. This time, they killed so many animals that they couldn’t carry them back to their estate. They thought and thought about what they should do with all of this, but then they felt the familiar presence of death. Valdemar most likely wanted to dissect the animals, but Vulgora didn’t give much of a damn. They can do whatever they want.

Over time, instead of calming down like they expected they would, Vulgora just became more and more aggressive. It happened both during and after the hunt. They showed violent behaviour to both animals and people. They started destroying shops, especially the ones with goods that are easy to break, they destroyed furniture in their estate, argued and got into the fights with just about anyone and so on. People were terrified, but nobody did anything about it. It was only when Vulgora destroyed the red market that a certain plague doctor decided to take action.

“Wake up MC,” Valdemar said as they towered over MC’s bed.

MC screeched at the sight of Valdemar’s red eyes staring into their soul. Still a bit sleepy, they moved away from Valdemar until they didn’t bump into the wall.

“How did you get into my room?” MC asked as they looked for the candle, “Why did you come all the way here? What’s going on?”

“Vulgora turned into a maniac who started destroying anything and everything,” they started explaining nonchalantly, “At first, everything was fine. They just killed some animals in the forest, giving me more specimen to dissect. But then, they started destroying other people’s property. You see how that is a problem, no?”

MC rubbed their eyes, nodding.

“Great! Now return to Vesuvia and talk some sense into them,” after they’ve seen MC not responding to anything, they continued talking in a much darker tone, “It wasn’t a question.”

Rowdy raven was another place that Vulgora was about to destroy. They could have destroyed this property like any other, had the barman not stood up to them. Vulgora stared at the man, their left eye visibly twitching. Who does this brat think he is?!?!

Just when they were about to cut open the man, they felt someone hug them from behind. Thinking it was a tactic to take them down, they quickly turned, ready to cut open whoever it was, but they stopped their blade as soon as they saw it was MC.

They stared at MC for a moment, not knowing what to say. Should they start with how much they’ve missed them, wished they would have gone with them to that trip? No, that’s something weaklings would say.

“It was about damn time you’ve returned,” despite the harsh words, MC could see that Vulgora was happy that they were finally beside them.

They gently kissed their cheek, nuzzling their head to Vulgora’s neck, “I’ve missed you too.”

Valerius

“Take care, my little witch,” Valerius said as he gently kissed MC’s forehead before they went inside the carriage, leaving for Karnassos.

“If I see some interdimensional monsters coming to Vesuvia, I’m blaming you,” Val said through a joke, even though he kinda meant what he said.

“But what if the monsters aren’t violent?” MC joked for a moment.

“I don’t care,” he said calmly, “I don’t want to see anything of the sort.”

“You’re no fun,” MC said just before the carriage went off, leaving Valerius alone.

He waved a bit and, once the carriage left, went to his mansion, enjoying the rest of the day with wine. When he went to bed, he pondered for a moment about what was wrong with it. Sheets were changed and everything seemed like it was in its place. Except for MC. He brushed the thought off. He’s not a toddler that needs to sleep beside someone, but then again, it would be nice if he could feel MC’s head on his chest as they are slowly breathing in and out.

The next morning came and Valerius didn’t sleep at all. He just couldn’t and that was pissing him off. The next night came and he hoped that, because he didn’t sleep even a bit last night, he could sleep now. And it went like that, making him rather happy. However, as soon as the third night came, he couldn’t sleep again, and so the cycle repeated. How is he supposed to go to the court meeting now? He is a mess!

But then yet again, all of his colleagues are a bunch of nobodies, so does it matter how he looks?

He just arrived at the meeting, feeling more irritated than usual. It just seemed like all of them did something just to piss him off. Valdemar’s posture was annoying, Vlastomil’s same talk about his worms made Valerius roll his eyes, Vulgora’s shouting was giving him a headache but, without a doubt, the worst of them all was Volta. She was munching on her food with an open mouth, not even thinking about stopping any time soon.

“Volta, could you please act like a civilized person for a moment?” Valerius asked with a frown, “It is rather impolite to act the way you do. Don’t you want to act a bit more like the rest of the civilized world?”

Volta was surprised and rather hurt by his words. She stopped eating for a moment, feeling shame when she had to swallow the food that was in her mouth. She stared for a moment at all of the empty plates in front of her. Consul was right, she is terrible.

“I, I’m sorry,” she said as her eyes started to get glossy.

“Don’t just apologise,” Valerius said, rolling his eyes at Volta who was just about to burst into tears, “Do something about it!” he was running out of patience. Volta was acting like a little kid even though she could be Valerius’ grand grandma.

As the days passed by with Consul always visiting the palace, having the conversation with the rest of the courtiers about the measures that should be taken with the Flooded District. Every time Valerius was tired from spending the whole night without sleeping, he would take out his anger on poor Volta. His acts made her so confused. One day he’ll shout at her for accidentally dropping a parchment of paper, the other time he wouldn’t seem to care that she accidentally ate three golden plates. A whole month passed by and Volta decided that she had enough! She didn’t have the guts to confront Valerius herself, but she knew he had a soft spot for MC who was away at the moment.

She went to Karnassos, finding MC with ease. For a moment, she wanted to reasonably explain how Valerius was lashing out on her for no reason, but as soon as MC asked her what she was doing all the way here, she burst into tears, explaining in great detail how Valerius was treating her.

The two of them went back to Vesuvia, paying Consul a little visit. Volta decided to stay outside of his mansion, scared that Valerius might shout at her again.

MC went inside his bedroom, greeted by the sight of him finishing the second bottle of wine.

“Enjoying yourself, Consul?” MC asked as they leaned on the doors, enjoying the sight of Valerius in a loosened shirt with his hair let loose.

He nearly dropped his glass as he turned his head, seeing MC, “You, you’re back!” he walked up to them, hugging them as tight as he could.

“Say, Val,” MC said as they returned the hug, “What were you doing to Volta?”

It was that moment he knew, he fucked up.

Valdemar

Valdemar has been reading a centuries-old research paper, trying to correct their past self as their mind wandered, thinking about MC for a moment. It’s been 2 whole weeks that they haven’t heard a thing from them. For a moment they focused on finding MC’s soul, sensing that it was somewhere in the middle of the sea. That explains it. But still, couldn’t they at least try to send them a letter? Humans have progressed so much for the millennial of their existence that they were sure they have come up with some way MC could send them a letter. How rude of them, making them worry about their safety…

They would have been petty a bit longer had Vlastomil not went all the way to them.

“You haven’t gone out of this place,” he gestured at the dungeon, “For weeks!”

“So? I don’t see a problem,” Valdemar simply stated, wanting to end this conversation as soon as possible.

“Nadia is pissed, you missed four of our meetings!”

“It’s not my first, nor my last time,” Valdemar said, trying to remember where they left their ink and quill.

“You should come outside for a bit to reassure Nadia that you’re alive.”

Valdemar thought about his words for a moment. There was some hypothesis in their old research that they needed to check once more.

“Very well then. I’ll grace all of you with my presence,” they said with a grin.

Three people went missing that day.

Valdemar found themselves in their dungeons once again, checking their hypothesis. They couldn’t enjoy it as much as they wished they could since the thought of MC plagued their mind. Did they leave just so that they could take a break off of them? Deep down, they knew that wasn’t true but just the thought of it enraged them.

Vlastomil came to the dungeons once again, which was disturbing Valdemar’s peace once again.

“Nadia wants to see you at the court meeting immediately,” he said as he remembered Countesses pissed off face.

“Oh, Countesses mailman is back,” they said bitterly, “Sharing Countesses demands which he cares so deeply about,” they turned to Vlastomil, ignoring his terrified expression as he saw blood on them, “Very well then, I’ll greet the Countess since she obviously doesn’t know what to do without me.”

And so they went along with Vlastomil, sitting right next to Volta as they completely ignored the stares of horror from their freshly bloodied clothes. They got even more irritated once they saw that there was no need for them to be here at all. Out of spite, they didn’t come to the next few meetings where their presence was necessary, so every time Vlastomil came down, they would be greeted by the sight of bloody Valdemar, having more malice in their eyes each time he visited them.

It was all because Valdemar got a bit irritated over time with MC. Sure, they finally received MC’s letter, but why did they have to make it so short? For the first time in a while, they genuinely cared about how MC spent their day, who they’ve seen, what food they ate, what they dreamed about two days ago. No matter how many letters MC could send them, it just never seemed to be enough.

They were frustrated by the thought, feeling like they might explode at any moment. As on cue, Vlastomil came downstair again.

“Valdemar-”

“Shut up,” Valdemar said, knowing they have no patience left, “Go back upstairs and don’t return or else I’ll put your baby Wiggler on this,” they slammed their hand on the dissection table, “Got it?”

Vlastomil ran upstairs, screaming like a little girl, deciding to find any way he could protect his beloved children. Through the gossips, Vlastomil finally concluded what was going on with Valdemar. With the help of his little children, he had no problem with finding MC’s whereabouts.

“MC,” he shouted as he tried his best to get to them, “MC you need to return to Vesuvia immediately!”

“Why?” they asked concerned, “Did something terrible happen?”

“Oh yes, it is terrible indeed!” Vlastomil said dramatically, “Valdemar has been spending days in their dungeons, cutting open whatever they could find!”

MC rolled their eyes, angry that Vlastomil made them worry over nothing, “Sounds to me like they were just acting like themselves.”

“You don’t understand! It’s far, far worse!”

“Right…” MC sighed, going away from Vlastomil but he grabbed their hand.

“They won’t be satisfied with dead bodies any longer! Think about my poor worms! Who knows what they could do to my poor children!” Vlastomil said, trying his best to explain to MC how the matter was serious.

“I don’t think about your worms. Ever,” MC sighed, hoping that Vlastomil would just shut up, “But I guess you won’t calm down unless I confront Valdemar…”

Valdemar heard someone go downstairs and, assuming that person was Vlastomil, they said, pissed, “Praetor, how many times do I have to tell you-” they stopped midsentence once they saw MC in front of them.

Even though MC couldn’t see it because of Valdemar’s surgical mask they were grinning from ear to ear. They’re finally back.

MC wanted to exult on Valdemar, to tell them how they were right. They can’t take care of themselves without MC, and they know it, but they decided not to say that. The last thing they need is for Valdemar to get petty.

“Were you mean to others while I was away?” MC asked as they hugged Valdemar, tracing their spine with their fingertips, something they knew Valdemar loved.

“No,” they said as they ran their hands through MC’s hair, enjoying the scent of sea salt.

“Are you lying to me?” MC asked, looking at Valdemar straight in the eyes.

“Perhaps~,” they said with a mischievous grin.

124 notes · View notes

goldenraeofsun · 3 years

Text

just say yes

The latest installment of this verse... or 5 times Dean tries to propose to Cas.

Dean bites his lip as he scans the menu. What the hell is branzino, and where the fuck are the prices? He flips the flimsy piece of cream-colored paper over, but no dice.

Thank god there’s a steak listed among the five lone entrees. It’s probably five times his normal dinner price tag, but Dean already made peace with putting off buying that 30 year anniversary Rush album. It’ll still be there after his next pay check.

Cas eyes him over the top of his own menu. “What are you thinking?”

Marry me.

Dean doesn’t say that, though. He has plans. Keep his trap shut until dessert. Tell Cas he’s going to hit the head. Pull a waiter aside and ask for two glasses of champagne. Return to Cas. Hopefully not shit his pants as he proposes. Drink champagne. Go home and have fantastic engaged sex.

Dean has high hopes for the last part of the plan.

“Dean?”

Belatedly, he says, “The steak.”

Cas hums. “That does look good.” He ducks back behind his menu. “I was thinking of getting that too. But maybe not.”

Dean takes a hasty sip of water. “Get the steak if you want it, man. We don’t go to places like this often.”

“I think I’ll get the honey glazed salmon.”

“Sounds good,” Dean says lamely. He drinks more water. At this rate, he won’t have to fake the bathroom run.

Aren’t they supposed to have alcohol by this point? They’ve been sitting at their fancy-ass table in this fancy-ass restaurant for nearly fifteen minutes.

Maybe he shouldn’t have picked the newest five-star restaurant to propose to Cas. He’s already on edge from the pressure, and the pristine white tablecloth isn’t helping. He can already see five ways he’s gonna stain it. There are several forks in front of him. For fuck’s sake, this place has an actual chandelier. Dean hadn’t honestly thought they existed outside of billionaire mansions and Disney movies.

The live music is nice, though. A sedate piano tinkles in the background, barely audible over the buzz of polite dinner conversation.

Dean catches a glimpse of himself reflected in the dark windows to the street. He looks a little sweaty, but not as nervous as he feels, thank god.

This is stupid. He shouldn’t even be nervous.

They’ve talked about marriage before. They’re adults in an adult relationship, so popping the question out of the blue would go down like the time Dean swept Cas away for a surprise camping trip. Turns out, Cas did not like camping. Which Dean would have known if he had asked anytime in the past four years.

But… that marriage conversation was two years ago. Dean wasn’t ready then; they both weren’t. Cas was still in a bad place with Jimmy and Claire, and Bobby had just died, so they weren’t about to roadtrip to Vegas anytime soon.

Now, Claire can have a civil dinner with her parents, and the hole Bobby left in Dean’s life can go unnoticed some days.

The deal is, Dean can’t chicken out tonight. He already told Claire to make herself scarce. She can sleep at her parents’ or at Krissy’s, Dean doesn’t care, as long as she is not crashing on their sofa when they get back from dinner.

Dean would rather read a hundred plagarized student essays on The Very Hungry Caterpillar than admit to Claire he failed to ask Cas to marry him.

So, proposal time.

The waiter comes by with their drinks and takes their orders. Conversation is a little stilted, but hopefully Cas chalks it up to Dean being outside his comfort zone in this fancy-ass place. There’s no steady thunk of darts hitting a board or clack of pool balls in the background to put him at ease. Just that lame piano.

Cas makes porn noises over his salmon at first bite, which Dean totally doesn’t get. It’s fish.

“How’s your steak?” Cas asks as he surfaces and dabs his mouth with his cloth napkin.

Dean belatedly slices off a piece of his meal and pops it in his mouth. A generically bland compliment dies on his tongue. Jesus Christ - that’s some good cow. It practically disintegrates before he can chew. “Great,” he tells Cas honestly.

Cas hums in contentment.

“And since you’re practically at third base with that salmon,” Dean starts, “I take it-”

“Oh my god!” a woman’s voice squeals behind them.

Dean reflexively turns his head in the direction of the commotion. A few tables over, near the center of the restaurant, a man is down on one knee, and - son of a bitch.

Dean watches, his mouth hanging open, as the woman shouts, “Yes, of course, yes!” Waiters walk past their table with a whole fucking bottle of champagne. People at nearby tables fucking clap.

Dean resolutely turns back around to face Cas, at a loss for words that aren’t extremely loud swears.

“Isn’t that nice?” Cas says mildly.

“Yeah, very nice for them,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Of all the goddamn nights. Of all the goddamn restaurants. What are the goddamn chances?

Dean slices into his steak with extreme prejudice. If he could murder the happy couple, he would. With zero regrets.

Fuck it all, Claire’s gonna be insufferable.

A CHARMING B&B IN VERMONT

Dean wakes up delightfully cozy with Cas spooning him from behind. No memory foam, but the bed is delightfully springy anyway. It was definitely what they needed after a full school day and a nine-hour road trip. Luckily, the owner of the bed and breakfast, a charming older woman actually named Mrs. Butters, was happy to wait up for their late check-in last night. She even had hot cocoa waiting.

Dean had held out a slight hope they could christen their room before they turned in for the night, but Cas passed right out before Dean turned on the lights. Poor guy had to deal with three sets of angry parents, and it was only the second week of school. Something about how their supposed-genius kids should be in AP Latin instead of the Fun Latin class - aka the one for dumbass seniors.

The mid-morning sunlight filtering in from behind the plaid curtains casts everything in a warm glow. The room itself is beyond charming. There’s a legit fireplace next to the bed, and they’re currently nestled under a patchwork quilt. The wood panelled walls give a distinctly rustic feel to the place, despite the reasonably sized television screen mounted on the far wall.

Dean turns over in bed so he’s facing Cas instead of the door. He resists the urge to poke him awake, and instead prods with a gentle, “Cas.”

Cas grumbles wordlessly. Fucker doesn’t even open his eyes, although Dean can tell from how his breathing changes that he’s awake.

“Cas.”

Cas wrinkles his nose and shoves his face into the pillow. “What, Dean?”

Dean can barely make out the words, but he gets the gist from the million times Cas has done the exact same thing. “I smell bacon.”

Cas’s eyes slit open. “So?”

“Don’t you want bacon?”

Cas huffs, and Dean can tell the exact moment he resigns to waking up. “Then go get the bacon. Nobody’s stopping you, Meat Man.”

Dean wiggles in bed, jostling the whole mattress. “Come on, babe.”

“I was sleeping.” Cas raises his head to look squint out the window. “It has to be before ten am. Since when are you a morning person?”

Since today is the day Dean is going to propose.

Instead, Dean reminds him pointedly, “Bacon.”

“Ugh,” Cas groans as he sits up. “I expect at least a blow job after breakfast if we’re leaving bed this early.”

Dean slaps his ass and jumps out of bed before Cas can retaliate. “Up and at ‘em!”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, Cas.”

* * *

Claire 11:02 Did you ask him yet? If he said no I’ve got chunky monkey waiting

Claire 11:31 That was a joke Uncle Cas will say yes Theres no way he wont

Claire 11:40 If you’re not answering because of sex don’t tell me

Dean sighs as his phone lights up with Claire’s latest text. In the bathroom, Cas hurls again.

Dean 11:41 No proposal

The bubbles showing Claire’s typing start almost immediately.

Claire 11:41 Are you serious? He’s not goin to turn you down!!!

Dean 11:41 Food poisoning

Claire 11:42 HAHAHAHA

Dean scowls at his phone.

Dean 11:44 Not now, Claire.

Claire 11:44 Wait Seriously?

Dean 11:44 We think it was something he ate at breakfast

Claire 11:44 Oh fuck I’m sorry for laughing

Dean rereads her text. He hasn’t ever received a straight-up apology from Claire before. Unsure of how to respond, he sets down his phone and gently pushes open the bathroom door. “How’re you doing, babe?”

Cas, slumped over the toilet and looking like death warmed over, raises his head an inch. “It seems to be easing up.”

“Really?”

Cas vomits into the toilet again. He groans.

“Shit,” Dean mutters as he crouches next to Cas. He rubs his back with one hand. “Do you think you can get some water down?”

Cas nods, so Dean straightens and fills a glass next to the sink.

As Cas drinks, Dean runs a hand through Cas’s sweaty hair. His forehead has a sickly sheen to it, and the back of his neck feels hot.

“Dean -” Cas breaks off to cough the water right back up into the toilet. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no,” Dean says quickly as he refills the glass. “Don’t be sorry. This isn’t your fault.”

“But you had all these plans,” Cas moans as he takes the water to try again.

“We’ll do ‘em some other time.” He wets a washcloth and wipes down Cas’s forehead.

“Before Thanksgiving,” Cas rasps, “we’ll come back. I don’t want to miss the leaves changing.”

“Of course,” Dean says soothingly. He moves the washcloth to the nape of Cas’s neck. “On the bright side, you’ve been puking for, like, an hour. There can’t be much left.”

Cas, the dramatic bastard, nearly brains himself on the toilet seat with the force of his next hurl.

HOMEMADE DINNER

After the disastrous fancy restaurant and B&B, a homemade dinner has to be the way to go. They’ll be in their own goddamn house - that has to cut down on the number of things that can go wrong.

Dean spends a whole week deliberating on what to make. He could do his usual burgers and fries routine, Cas’s favorite, but it should be special.

He settles on beef wellington. Pie for beef!

It’s a bitch to make - both because puff pastry from scratch is no joke, and hiding his first experiments from Cas means inventing increasingly convoluted reasons to get him out of the house. And, sure, every Youtube chef and Great British Bake off contestant has said store-bought puff pastry is fine, but Dean doesn’t want fine, he needs perfect.

Dean picks a day when Cas has Model UN afterschool. It’s in the middle of the week, but at least Cas is guaranteed out of the house until six at night.

By 5:58, Dean is ready. The Wellington is cooling on the counter; the red wine has been breathing (whatever the hell that does) for the better part of an hour; and he’s showered and made himself presentable.

His phone pings at six pm on the dot.

Heart sinking with foreboding, Dean taps the screen.

Cas 6:00 I’m going to be late for dinner. There was an accident with chemistry club a few minutes ago. The building had to be evacuated.

Dean 6:00 Are you OK?

Dean takes a moment to hammer the heel of his hand against his forehead. One fucking break. That’s all he’s asking for. One goddamn evening to go right.

Cas 6:00 Yes, and the kids are too. They’re airing out the halls now, but we won’t be let in for another half hour.

Dean picks up the wine with the hand not holding his phone.

Dean 6:01 What time do you think you’ll be home?

Cas 6:01 7:30 maybe? I’ll keep you updated.

Dean swigs back a gulp straight from the bottle before he can answer. Fuck this.

Dean 6:02 Great! I’ll order pizza when you’re on your way back

Cas 6:02 Meatlovers?

Dean 6:02 Unless you’d like something else

Cas 6:02 No thank you :)

Dean flips on a recorded Jeopardy! episode as he cleans up the kitchen and texts Charlie. He has a free dinner waiting for her if she can hightail it to his place in the next hour and never speak of it again.

HOMEMADE DINNER #2

If Dean is anything, he’s stubborn. John Winchester raised no quitter. Try, try, and try again. And try a fourth time, when the first three go sideways.

Burgers, this time. They don’t need a days’ worth of prep. And they’ll go over well.

“Dig in,” Dean says as he sets the plate down in front of Cas.

“This looks delicious, Dean,” Cas says sincerely as he picks up his burger.

Dean waits, and he can see the moment Cas tastes the molten cheese stuffed in the middle of the patty. His eyes go wide with surprise.

“Like it?”

Cas nods vigorously and inhales the rest of his burger in record time.

“There’s enough for us to have thirds,” Dean says smugly.

Cas smears ketchup all over patty number two, and beams at him. “These make me very happy.”

Dean laughs. “That’s the goal-”

Cas’s phone rings.

Dean falters.

Cas stares at him expectantly, waiting for Dean to continue.

“You should get that,” Dean says, his shoulders slumping as he sets his burger down. It’s probably a bad sign he was already half-expecting things to go south. “It’s probably important, or whoever it is would’ve texted.”

“We’re in the middle of dinner,” Cas protests even as he reaches in his pocket to pull his phone out. “It’s Claire,” he says, baffled, before he picks up. “Hello?”

Cas sets down his half-eaten burger. He listens, his brows slamming down forbiddingly as Claire’s voice gets louder and louder, but still not loud enough for Dean to make out actual words. Silently, Cas takes his napkin off his lap and pushes his half-empty beer in Dean’s direction. Finally Cas says, “Yes, of course, Claire.”

Dean frowns as Cas lifts his gaze up to meet his. “Jimmy and Amelia?” he mouths.

Cas shakes his head, speaking into his phone, “Does Kaia need a pick up from the hospital?”

Dean goes cold. Kaia was actually one of his favorite students. While she was in his class, she won a Scholastic Gold Key and honorable mention for two of her horror novellas and always did the reading. But Dean and Cas haven’t seen her since she broke up with Claire the summer before college.

“Is she okay?” Dean asks quietly.

Cas’s mouth thins. He gives a short nod.

Dean sighs and picks up the plate uneaten burgers. He can probably reheat the patties. The fries won’t keep, though, so he leaves the plate in front of Cas. He shoves a few in his mouth and gets to his feet.

He’s halfway through cleaning the frying pan when Cas gets off the phone with Claire.

“Are you heading out?” Dean asks gruffly while he gives the iron a particularly hard scrub.

“Yes,” Cas rumbles as he wraps an arm around Dean’s waist. “I’m sorry to cut dinner short.”

“Hey, it’s Kaia. ’Course we gotta help.” Dean forces an understanding smile on his face. “I’ll make up the couch while you pick her up?”

Cas squeezes him gently before moving away. “Thank you.”

“You got time for the cliff notes on what happened? Why’d you get the call?”

Cas leans against the counter next to the sink. “Kaia was in a car accident. She’s a little banged up, but mostly fine. A few bruised ribs and a possible concussion.” He shakes his head, disbelieving. “You know Kaia was never especially close with her foster family, so Claire got the emergency call.”

“Huh.” Dean grabs a plate to clean. “It’s been two years since the split.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure what their situation is. I know Claire was surprised. She’s already in her car, and she should be here by midnight. Hopefully she recognizes Kaia’s injuries,” he frowns, “and they won’t try any… any ‘hanky panky’ tonight.”

Dean laughs, and if it’s slightly higher than normal, Cas doesn’t seem to pick up on it. He grabs Cas and kisses him square on the mouth. “You are ridiculous. Nobody says hanky panky. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Cas scowls. “They have to be well past kissing at this point.”

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, that ship has long sailed, dude.”

Cas throws his hands in the air. “We don’t have enough sleeping surfaces to separate them.”

Dean sets the dirty plate down to face Cas fully. “Do you really think they’ll get back together? Kaia broke Claire’s heart not too long ago.”

Cas throws him a look like he wonders where the hell Dean’s logical brain has flown to. “Are you asking if I think couples can get back together after a harrowing break up?”

“… no.”

Cas shakes his head ruefully. “You’re more like Claire than I ever was, and you took me back.”

“Huh,” Dean wipes his hands off on a dishtowel, “you might have something there.”

“You do call me the smart one,” Cas says as he pushes off the counter and heads to the doorway. “It has been known to happen.”

“Smartass,” Dean corrects loudly as Cas grabs his coat and keys.

“Semantics.” Cas doubles back to kiss Dean a proper goodbye, and it’s just as electric as it was when they were seventeen. Cas tastes like Dean’s cooking, and he’s been letting his stubble grow out, the short hairs rasping against Dean’s palm as he cups Cas’s cheek.

“I love you, Dean,” Cas says as he draws away.

Dean grins. “I know.”

Cas huffs an almost-laugh as he heads back towards the door. “Now who’s the smartass?”

IN BED

Cas, the son of a bitch, falls asleep before Dean can wring out a second orgasm out of him. Such a godamn shame. Just goes to show, they really aren’t teenagers anymore. At least Dean got to use the new vibrator he bought for the occasion and the edible panties.

Dean flops back in bed. Maybe he should put the proposals on pause. Clearly, marriage isn’t in the cards. He can be a bit dense when it comes to Cas and him, but there’s dense and there’s denial.

It’s been two and a half months. Five proposal attempts. They’re nearly halfway through October, and he’s no closer to getting a ring on Cas’s finger than he was in late August, sweating bullets in that stupid fancy restaurant.

He can’t keep planning and failing to propose to Cas every other week. One, he can’t handle the stress and constant brainstorming. And B, he’s way behind in writing college recommendations and grading his freshman’s essays on Animal Farm.

Cas isn’t going anywhere. Dean isn’t going anywhere. So Dean can cool the proposals for now and start fresh in January.

SCHOOL ASSEMBLY

“I hate these,” Dean mutters to Benny. He frowns across the top rows of the bleachers where the seniors are supposed to sit. There are a few notable faces missing, but nobody that belongs to Dean’s homeroom, so he couldn’t give less of a shit. Below them, sit most of the juniors, and pretty much all of the sophomores and freshmen.

“It’s thirty minutes, brother,” Benny says, patting his arm. “You’ll live.”

“Shows what you know,” Dean grumbles back as Jody strides to the middle of the gym, microphone in hand. He asks Benny, “Do you know what this one’s about? Bullying? Cliques? Hugs not drugs?”

Benny shakes his head.

Jody sighs loudly into the mike. Clearly, she wants to be here just as much as he does. “Thank you all for coming,” she starts like any of them had a real choice. “First things first, Halloween is in two days, and while costumes are allowed and encouraged, don’t be racist.” She grimaces. “God help me, I don’t know why I still have to say that. If you are unsure if your costume is racist, it probably is. Wear something else. Secondly…”

Dean tunes her out. Instead, he scans the bleachers again, this time looking for Cas. He should be with the other sophomore homeroom teachers, but there’s no sign of him. Dean frowns. He can’t remember the last time Cas played hooky. And never without Dean. Dick move, Cas.

Movement at the edge of the gym catches Dean’s eye, and he watches, puzzled, as two students roll out one of the old projectors. The overhead lights turn off.

Is Jody seriously going to make him sit through a slide show? They’re wasting a prefectly good Friday morning on a goddamn PowerPoint?

The projector flips on, and the first photo is… of Dean.

What the fuck? His mouth drops open in horror. In the picture, he’s in his junior year of high school - he can tell from the hair - with a bunch of people he hasn’t seen in fifteen years. Plus Cas, who’s at the next table over in the cafeteria, head bowed over a book and slightly out of focus.

There’s a click, and text scrawls along the bottom of the screen, Destiel Met in Edlund High School Fifteen Years Ago!

The projector flips to the next photo, this time showing Dean’s senior yearbook picture.

More than a handful of students peer excitedly in his direction, undoubtedly hoping for a reaction.

Scowling, Dean cranes his neck to search the crowd for Charlie’s flaming red hair. She’s the only one who refers to the two of them as “Destiel”. Everyone else uses their names like sane people.

But the projector clicks to a photo of Cas, and Dean can’t help getting distracted. In the picture, Cas is alone at a table in the library. God, he was cute back then. His cheeks were a little fuller, and his hair was curlier. He still had the same intense blue-eyed stare, though. Patented Cas.

It all started with a tutoring session. Young Mr. W needed help in Latin, and our future Latin teacher, Mr. N, was up to the task!

Dean is going to kill Charlie. He tries to get to his feet - maybe she’s hiding behind Jo or something. But Benny’s hand grips his upper arm, holding him in place. “Don’t,” Benny says softly.

“What?” Dean demands as he tries to shake Benny off and fails. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

“Stay.” The corners of Benny’s mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Watch.”

Dean huffs a breath and turns back around. If it was anyone else, Jo or Charlie, he wouldn’t trust a word out of their mouths. Benny, though, he’s not the type to make Dean sit through this without a good reason.

But that’s all ancient history. Destiel really got started five years ago, in this very gym.

The projector shows a picture of their class reunion, when Dean met Cas after ten years of no contact. They’re standing pretty close together (but that doesn’t mean much with Castiel What-Is-Personal-Space Novak), and they appear deep in conversation.

Since then, they have been inseparable.

Dean and Cas at a softball game. Dean and Cas at homecoming. Dean and Cas at GSA’s pride party.

Here’s to fifteen more years of Destiel!

The students clap and cheer with more than a few laughs.

Musical Interlude! flashes in front of a picture of Dean playing guitar to a group of pajama-clad students at last year’s Senior Lock-In.

The lights flip back on, and Dean blinks as his eyes adjust. By the time the spots have cleared from his vision, the projector has been wheeled away, leaving the main floor of the gym empty.

A staticky crackle echoes around the gym. And - is that Def Leppard playing on the speakers?

As the intro to Rock of Ages plays, the cheerleading team troops out from the locker rooms.

They start a routine Dean’s never seen before. To Rock of fucking Ages.

The cheerleaders sings along with Joe Elliot, “What do you want?”

Dean’s mouth falls open as the entire high school chants back, “I want rock and roll. Long live rock and roll!”

By the time they get to the “Rock of Ages” chant, all the students are on their feet, clapping along with the beat and cheering.

The song dies down soon after, and Dean, a broad smile on his face, turns to Benny. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I dig it.”

Benny laughs. “Good. He’ll be pleased.”

Dean’s just about to ask who he is (he’s 99% he knows), when Cas walks out from behind the bleachers.

Cas takes the microphone from Jody. He coughs nervously, waiting for the students to settle back down. “Thank you,” he says to the cheerleading team. “That was... awesome.” He glances up at the assembled students and teachers. “Dean-” he pauses as the cheers and clapping start up in earnest “-can you please come down here?”

But Dean’s frozen to the spot.

Benny gives him a not-so-light jab with his elbow. “Go on.”

Dean shakily gets to his feet and makes his way to the gym floor, and he swears his legs are about to give out from under him.

“Alright, you got my attention,” Dean says with forced bravado. “What’s up, Cas?”

The students hoot and holler.

Cas reddens as they die down again. Clutching the microphone in a death grip, he says, “Dean, we have been together for a number of years.”

Dean grins, a wonderful, all-consuming giddiness filling him the longer he stands in front of Cas. “I know, dude. I was there.”

The students laugh and someone, probably Jo, wolf whistles.

Cas swallows. “I wanted to do this here, where we first met, where you first asked me out on a date, where we had our first kiss.”

“Don’t tell ‘em about all our firsts on school property,” Dean says in a stage-whisper, “or Jody’s gonna have an aneurysm.”

Over a fresh round of student laughter, Jody puts her head in her hands. Donna, the school guidance counselor, pats her a few times on the back.

“Dean Winchester,” Cas says, and, shit, his hands are shaking. “I have loved you for more than half my life, and I look forward to far more than fifteen years by your side. Will you marry me?’

Dean’s not stupid. He had a strong hunch, ever since Rock of Ages played - aka the cassette he put in the Impala the first time he took Cas for a drive fifteen years and a lifetime ago - that this was what Cas was leading up to.

He’s mostly surprised Cas had the guts to pop the question this way. There was a reason Dean tried to keep his proposal plans mostly to the two of them. One of them is practically a social hermit, and it’s sure as shit not Dean.

“Just say yes, jerk!”

Dean spins around, nearly tripping over his own feet in surprise. Fuck, that’s Sam. His giant of a brother is hovering right outside the gym’s double doors, beaming at the pair of them. Claire gives a little wave from where she’s half-hiding behind him.

Dean turns back to Cas. He can’t think about Sam right now. Or Claire. Or the five hundred students with their eyes on them.

Only Cas.

“Cas,” he says, and it feels like the whole room is holding their collective breath, none more so than Cas, who looks like he’s about to pass out. “Man, I’ve loved you since I was seventeen. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Cas lets out a shaky exhale of relief, and Dean laughs. He takes the microphone from Cas’s now slack grip, steps all the way into Cas’s personal space, and kisses him.

The cheers from the assembled students are nearly deafening.

#destiel fanfic #fanfic #destiel #teacher dean #teachers au #teacher castiel #profoundnet #established relationship #fluff #the story of us verse #5+1 fic #rae writes fic

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mahou-furbies · 3 years

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It is time for

Last year the Dazzling Pink Precure were supposed to host the event but were unavailable due to being redesigned, but this time they are ready for the job!

Here is the magical girl (and related) media consumed on this blog this year:

(you can read my closing thoughts on them here)

Anime: Kaitou Tenshi Twin Angel & the 2 OVAs, Twin Angel Break, Pretear, Happy Seven, Ojamajo Doremi (started), Healin’ Good Precure (most of it that’s out now), Magia Record (also following the game news though I don’t play), Myriad Colors Phantom World, Re:Creators, Concrete Revolutio)

Movies: Fresh, DokiDoki, Happiness Charge, Go! Princess, KiraKira & Star Twinkle Precure season movies, Spring Carnival & Miracle Universe crossover movies, Magical Sisters Yoyo and Nene)

Manga: Magical Girl Site (finished), Zodiac P.I. (reread), Sugar Sugar Rune (reread), Nogi Wakaba is a Hero, Puella Magi Suzune Magica (reread), Puella Magi Tart Magica (reread), Can You Become A Magical Girl, Colourful Macchiato)

(revisits to old familiar stuff don’t qualify for an award unless I had forgotten everything about it, Doremi is ineligible since I've only seen 1/5th so far)

Unexpectedly I managed to finish quite a lot of stuff on my last year's "plans for 2020 list".

As for blog stuff, this year the Precure Chibi Project was concluded for the designs that exists so far, but obviously it will continue when more are released and I'd also like to draw some more of the civilian clothes too. But this year over 400 chibis were drawn...

Then we of course had the Precure Dress Tournament, with Cure Magical emerging as the winner. Hosting it was a lot of fun since I like graphs and numbers, as the fact that I keep a google sheet that documents the dates when I draw the chibis (it also calculates useful data such as how many percent I've finished).

(Also Megumi's heart dress should totally have won the tournament)

The Precure positivity posts were also a thing this year. Usually the franchise is bitched at here at Mahou-Furbies so I tried to say something nice about each Cure that I had seen. Which was a major struggle in some cases but hopefully they don't come across as too much damning with faint praise. I plan on writing similar posts for the Cures from the other seasons too as I watch them, but also because I managed to write an entire post about Mana without complaining I take that as justification that I get to write a huge bitchy "the flaws of the Precure franchise" post later.

And then now at the end of the year the Dazzling Pink Precure finally managed to emerge again with their new designs. I hope I'll be able to post more about them in 2021!

And now, the Mahou-Furbies 2020 magical girl awards!

Let's start with Best Henshin Design: Megumi Moka from Magia Record! I always love a good sweets theme and I can't get over how cute she is.

(Kikko from Concrete Revolutio was also a strong contender)

Best Team Design goes to Nogi Wakaba Is a Hero, I've always loved the YuYuYu henshin outfit design.

The Best Powerup Look award goes to Lala's Cancer form in the Star Twinkle Precure movie! I just really like the fresh colour palette...

Runner-up is Nagisa's MagiReco Valentine's outfit which I like for being sweets themed but I guess it's more like an alternate form than a powerup?

There weren’t that many contenders for Best Civilian Design but let’s say that since I like the casual outfits in KiraKira Precure in general, The Movie was also good at this. So let’s reward Ciel’s look, it’s nice to see a more muted colour palette in Precure every now and then!

Oh, right! Also everyone from the Star Twinkle Precure movie! Love all their outfits.

Best School Uniform is the one from Sukoyaka Middle School, from Healin' Good Precure! I like the colour palette, and the cut of the dress.

The uniforms from the Twin Angel franchise are also fun with their cherry ribbon.

Best Hair award goes to Kikko, from Concrete Revolutio! The "rectangular" cut ends are fun.

Best Magical Item is Mamika's wand from Re:Creators! There's really nothing special about it, I just think it looked nice enough with the candy cane and the heart crystal (and also not so merchandise driven since this isn't a kid show).

The Best Henshin Scene award goes to Sudachi from MagiReco! I don’t like how detailed all the body curves are drawn in the few seconds before her outfit appears, but otherwise there’s great backgrounds in this, starting from the space theme, twinkling stars, beautiful blue sky and then ending with cute hearts.

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Best Fan Creation award goes to Marighoul’s comic “First Hunt”! (read it here) It was a fun little story and the colours were amazing!

Best Relationship is Hikaru and Lala with the alien in the Star Twinkle movie! I would never have guessed that I’d enjoy Precures raising a “baby” mascot this much, but it is true! I love how much role their bond had in the story, and the conclusion was more epic than anything Precure has managed to offer elsewhere.

The Best Mascot of 2020 is... the aforementioned alien UMA! Unusual design for a girl show, doesn’t have an annoying voice or speech pattern (or in fact doesn’t talk at all), and has an interesting role in the story.

Second place is Nyatoran from Healin' Good Precure, he pairs well with Hinata and I love the scene where she records cat videos of him with her phone.

As for Best Supporting Character, this is a joke character, but I have to say Mayune from Pretear. I'm sorry I just like this kind of dumb diva characters (with the o-ho-ho laugh!) and always had a good time when she was on screen.

Discount Tuxedo Mask from the Twin Angel franchise was also fun, he had nice chaotic energy to him.

Best Visual goes to Kikko's magical effects from Concrete Revolutio! We always get the standard sparkles so I was so happy to see something different for once.

Best Audio award goes to Pretear OP! The song feels a bit dated but in a good way, this is just the kind of music I like.

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The Best Scene award goes to Healin' Good Precure attack!

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Usually in Precure I really don't care for the stock attack animation and instead just focus on the henshins, but in this one I really like the bit where the giant hands rip the element spirit out of the enemy. The music is so good in that part, and the huge hands compared to the tiny spirit feel majestic.

I also liked Re:Creators scene where the (in-story) writers create a powerup for their character by getting their audience excited about it by tweeting. It was dumb how a tweet from some ranobe author goes viral in a matter of seconds, but I still thought the scene was fun and worked well.

The Innovation Award for doing something magical girl related I haven't seen dozens of times already goes to Happy Seven! I thought it was fun how the main character wasn't on the magical girl team at all and instead was practically the Muggle friend for most of the story!

Re:creators is the runner up here with its "fictive characters show up in our world" story, but I think it could have done more with the idea, and I think Happy Seven is commendable for doing something that feels refreshing without having to be all smart and self-aware about it.

Then the Golden Mana Award for one thing that I really didn't like this year.

The questionable honour goes to Meguru's unbearable behaviour at the start of Twin Angel Break, when she keeps pushing her friendship on the blue girl who has made it very clear that she'd rather be left alone. And of course the blue girl is secretly lonely and ultimately caves in so Meguru faces no consequences for being selfish and entitled and having zero respect for other people's boundaries. Stuff like this fuels my rage at the Friendly-And-Energetic-Stock-Magical-Girl-Heroines.

For Best Character I want to pick Lala from the Star Twinkle movie but she won Best Character last year so let’s pick someone else. To be fair nobody (else) this year made me super excited, but leaving such a broad category as this completely empty would be really stupid, so the winner is Himeno, from Pretear!

She had a lot more multifaceted personality than I initially predicted, had interesting and different relationships with many different characters, and of course had many unique henshin!

And finally, Best Work of the year... I know I picked Star Twinkle as the best series last year (award has been renamed now) so this feels somehow redundant, but I still can't get over how enjoyable their film was and as you may have noticed it has been mentioned in plenty of other awards already so it deserves the spot. On principle I liked that it wasn't centered around the pink Cure for once, and additionally it was about Lala who is my favourite Cure, and also since there wasn't really a villain the plot was more interesting than the same old "bad guy wants to take over the world". Also great visuals.

And that’s it for 2020! It has been a weird year, but that didn’t really show on this blog.

Plans for 2021:

Also once I finish drawing the chibis for the Madoka girls, expect a Madoka themed character tournament in 2021!

#blog stuff #annual wrap up

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carriagelamp · 4 years

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September Book Roundup, back-to-school edition aka The Season Of Red apparently?

Here is a selection of the books I’ve read this month. Summer is over, so the little bit of brain power I had managed to scrape together is quickly disintegrating, so enjoying the hodge podge of stories.

Binti

This was probably my favourite book that I read this month. It’s a novella I first heard about hear on tumblr and went to find a copy in my library. I have since bought the collected trilogy so I can read book two and three at my leisure because it was honestly just that friggin cool. This is exactly my flavour of scifi and I tend to be very very picky about the scifi I consume. It’s about a girl named Binti, a member of the Himba people (a real group of indigenous people from Namibia). They are a people well known for their mathematical and technical prowess, but due to their strong connection to their homeland and the earth they choose not to travel through space like so many other humans do. However, when Binti secures a position at Oomza University, the greatest university in the galaxy, she chooses to go against her family’s wishes and traditions in order to set out into space to attend. Everything is ruined though when her spaceship is attacked by a hostile alien race and everyone is killed but Binti, who must rely on all her intellect and abilities if she wants any chance at survival.

A seriously cool book with great world building – it really successfully introduces readers not only to the fictional scifi world and races of the novel but also to the culture and traditions of the Himba people. It’s a quick read, and feels like a cross between Dead Space and Tamora Pierce. Would totally recommend a read.

Fake Blood

A Canadian graphic novel. It was a goofy cute read. It’s about an awkward group of friends in middle school, and one boy with a crush on one of the girls in his class. Knowing her love for vampire stories, AJ decides, like any self-respecting middle schooler, to try to pretend he’s a vampire. Naturally nothing goes right and some things go wrong in unexpected ways. It’s funny and cute. Nothing amazing but it was a cozy evening read.

The Last Book On The Left

I’ve been listening to this podcast a lot since my friend recommended it to me and finally decided to read their book. For those that don’t know, The Last Podcast On The Left is a immaculately researched comedy podcast that’s hosted by Ben Kissel, Marcus Parks, and Henry Zebrowski, and explores the darker realms of human nature. Ghosts, paranormal, aliens, cults, and of course serial killers. In this book they collected several of their biggest name serial killer series, did some renewed research, and put together a book that is both informative, irreverent, gross, and very funny, complete with some really amazing illustrations by Tom Neely. A very cool read (and listen, if you decide to check out the podcast instead), I really love how they tell these stories without idolizing or romanticizing the people they talk about. Their humour always makes sure you know exactly how much of a pathetic loser these people are. Fantastic true crime, from someone who has never really felt the need to read about true crime before.

Midnight Sun

I won’t harp on this one, everyone is already going to firmly have their opinions here. I grew up on Twilight, I was reading them as they came out, and I still love them. Were they dumb? Oh my god yes. Did they have problems? Sure, they came out in 2005 it was part and parcel. Were they also a really fun for a thirteen year old to read? Absolutely, I don’t regret it. Sometimes teenage girls should just to get like things without being mocked.

Anyway, I am off my soapbox now (can you tell this is still a raw spot for me?) I unironically loved this book! Getting to see Edward’s perspective was really cool, and since he can read minds it essentially let you get the perspective of everyone else around him too. The Cullens family is a great set of characters so it was really cool to see more of them, and I was very impressed by how Stephenie Meyers took a YA romance she wrote in 2005 and was able to make it feel updated and more appropriate for a 2020 audience even though she couldn’t actually change any of the events themselves. So fans of Twilight, don’t be ashamed, go read Midnight Sun and have the shameless fun you deserve. Is there anymore appropriate book for the bizarre ass year that was 2020 than a return to this goofy nonsense?

The Paperbag Princess

(and Up, Up, Down, and Robert Munsch in general)

I’m back in schools so I’m back to reading children’s book! And honestly, and of you that don’t occasionally sit down and read a kids book out loud don’t know what you’re missing. Anyway, Robert Munsch is a Canadian author, and one of my all-time favourite children’s authors. It surprised me to learn he isn’t as well known in the States apparently? I don’t know if that’s changed or not, but he is a Canadian staple for a good reason, his books have ridiculous premises, are specifically written to be fun to read out loud, and have beautiful, involved, and hilarious illustrations. The Paperbag Princess is one of my absolute favourites, and as a kid it was one of the first stories I had ever read where a princess is the one saving the prince… and then telling the prince to piss off when it turns out he’s a jerk. Up, Up, Down is another favourite I reread this month, because it’s just hilarious funny and makes a fantastic read aloud with kids. Some other Robert Munsch I reread this month include: Mmm, Cookies, More Pies, Ribbon Rescue, Just One Goal, and Andrew’s Loose Tooth. You just cannot go wrong, for kids or adults.

Pit Pony

Another Canadian staple while I was growing up. If you’re a young adult know who went through the Canadian elementary school system, you probably had your entire heart ripped out and stepped on by this chapter book. It’s a historical fiction that looks at the economic hardship, debt slavery, child labour, and animal abuse that was tied to coal mining in the Maritimes. Finding a copy was harder than I would have expected give how pervasive it was a decade or so back, but reading it again was a pure shot of nostalgia.

Seeking Refuge

A graphic novel written by a German-born Canadian about a Jewish girl who flees Nazi-occupied Austria by way of Kindertransport to become a child refuge in England. It follows her as she is moved from host family to host family as the war continues to pick up and gradually makes it’s way to the United Kingdom as well. It’s very poignant and the pencil-sketch illustrations are an interesting change to a lot of the graphic novels that are out right now. This story is still aimed at a younger audience, so it never gets too brutal but it still is a hard hitting story, especially with everything else going on right now.

Silver Spoon #9/10

I know I’ve talked about these books before, but my library got some more since I last read them, so I’m continuing my way through the series. It’s about a teenaged boy who, after having a breakdown from the pressure he was feeling to study and succeeded, decided not to attend an academic, urban high school, but rather to apply for an agricultural high school so he could live in the dorms, far away from his parents. The series just gets more and more heartwarming as it continues. It’s all about failure and overcoming and how worth can be measured in different ways, and about family and understanding each other and coming together… but also about the realities of farming which aren’t always very nice, especially when it comes to finances and survival. It’s written by the mangaka behind Fullmetal Alchemist but I’ll be honest… I think I like this series more. It is honestly one of my all time favourite manga series, it just has so much heart.

Ruby Finds A Worry

aka Ruby’s Worry apparently? I can’t figure out why this has more than one title. I actually read it in French not English, so for me it was Le Souci de Calie. Regardless, this was a nice little picture book for talking about worries and anxieties with children… especially with the amount of Covid stress a lot of kids are dealing with. It explains in a really nice way how talking about anxieties are often the best way to make them more manageable, and how pretending nothing is wrong can just let it grow bigger and bigger. A good explanation for kids and possible a good reminder for adults.

War of the Realms: Journey Into Mystery

I read this because the Mcelroy family wrote it so I figured Hey! Why not give it a go! And I’m glad I did. Their brand of humour was all over it, and it made the story a delight to read. I don’t follow all of Marvel’s weirdness, so I didn’t actually know most of the characters (Miles and Kate were actually the only two I was familiar with) but they do a great job of introducing the characters and making them all feel distinct and interesting. I absolutely adore the Dog of Gods (God of Dogs) who is a very very good boy. And Miles is absolutely always a delight so you can’t really lose. It’s a single book that I think is a part of a larger plotline that I have zero interest in. This book is a fine one to read though if you don’t mind jumping into the middle of the action and just getting swept along for the ride. Also Mcelroys!

Witcher Omnibus

Bleh. Absolutely not worth it. All the misogyny and Dumb Bullshit that I hate in the original books and from video games in general. Honestly, Witcher III did way better by its characters than most of these short stories. The only one worth reading in it is Curse Of Crows – that one was actually really enjoyable, probably because it was about Ciri and had an actual fucking woman on the writing team. (Seriously guys what were you thinking with Fox Children that’s literally just a story from Season of Storms but done worse. Fuck off.) If you like The Witcher, go read Curse of Crows and skip every other story in this book.

Billy Stuart: Les Zintrépides #1

Another French (Quebecois) book I read, though I believe you can get it in English as well (Billy Stuart and the Zintrepids). It’s a chapter book / graphic novel hybrid, and was honestly a fairly fun little read. It’s in a similar vein to Geronimo Stilton but done much better in my opinion. The humour was funnier, the characters felt less like caricatures, and while it still used stylized fonts it was also less intrusive and eye-strainy than the Stilton books. Also when the story suddenly pivots into the main adventure and mystery of the series? Fantastic. Was not expecting a hell-beast to appear part way through the story. Very interested in reading more.

Over all, it was cute and funny, and I can see it being a good next step when children have read their fill of the Stilton series and want something similar but possibly a bit more involved and coherent.

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whoslaurapalmer · 3 years

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okay, final rule of wolves thoughts, clearly very spoilery, also literally just me talking about writing --

-there was a LOT going on plot wise but I feel like it was all paced pretty well, but at the end it did fall apart a little? mayu's pov just drops out?? (that's the book you should write next leighb not more crows as much as I love the crows but I'll get to that) zoya being queen is like phenomenal but also is really rushed?? same with nina and hanne?? they all become rulers completely unchallenged, without any difficulty? -again, phenomenal moments and rightfully so and I'm glad they happen and they SHOULD, that difficulty shouldn’t always be there, nina calling it a beautiful dream but it being real matters so much, but it just doesn't feel.......narratively well done idk idk -i think it is just that it feels really rushed in some way -like i don’t want them to have to work harder for that. but it IS really, really rushed

-captain inej. my whole heart -kaz and jesper and wylan..........also my whole heart -kaz. my boy. the light of my fucking life. -l o v e h i m

-i loved seeing zoya and genya and alina hang out at the very very end and wish there'd been moreeeeee

-ONCAT’S STILL ALIVE, THERE IS A GOD -misha.......... :(

-david's death -- on one hand, the cruel casualties of war, even when you think nothing can go wrong, the contrast in it happening right after the wedding, war and life can turn on a dime and that’s just, how it happens -- but, ugggg. It hurts bc there was so much of david and genya being precious and that shouldn't be the slap in the face it is when you read it again because then it's not sweet it's just foreshadowing loss and that's actually aggravating to think about. because we got so MUCH of it in rule of wolves. -especially bc david is THE ONLY casuality of the cast in this book????? literally the only one?????? unless i forgot someone???? -not that I WANTED more cast to die but. big casualties in alina's story and one (1) here. yes they've already lost a lot and zoya's garden shows that but, then especially why kill david

-i don't know if I think the darkling gets redeemed -- I think it's a little funny that he brings together the starless one worshippers and he super hates them bc they aren't what he thinks he deserves and he can't completely manipulate them -- and I think him being resurrected in yuri in king of scars was a FASCINATING twist. because you read that and you think, oh my god, how are they going to handle that??????

-but, that's the thing, in writing -- it's not enough to write something that's a fascinating twist, you need to follow through with the right consequences of that twist. which means, you have the darkling again. what happens with him? he’s killed again -- but if immediately, why bring him back? if they wait to kill him, what is his worth to the plot that he lives longer? (and then he manages to manipulate them again!! as much as i wanted to see alina, i was really surprised that they actually, legitimately put them in the same room, that they even considered it, that they even asked alina!!! yes, nikolai will expend any avenue to help ravka -- but put alina and the darkling in the same room??????????)

-he’s not killed again, or right away -- then he has to hang around. what does he do? does he try to regain his followers? he can’t because they aren’t who he wants. he has no one to go to. he doesn’t even go to alina again even if he knows where she is. does he immediately plot against nikolai? but even the darkling admitted he can’t, but, since he did keep his powers, he’s clearly capable of it, actually. so then he’s just, trying to get the worshippers together and it just keeps going wrong for him like a sitcom plot? if he has to live -- is he redeemed? not every character can be redeemed. not every character DESERVES to be redeemed. does he hide and we never see him for the rest of the book? then that leaves an unresolved plot thread to be brought back later, and why? and then why not just kill him? -then does he become a bigger plot problem for the characters that’s kind of unnecessary?

-so it brings me back to, again -- as fascinating a twist as it was, was it necessary? does the act of following through with the consequences come to outweigh the power of the twist, because those consequences cause more problems? -and in general i think leighb is really good at working with ‘x happens -- there are consequences’ in her plots, so that’s why i’m so concerned about picking them apart

-i’m sorry to make this like all about lulu talks about writing semantics but i respect leighb a lot as a writer particularly in her worldbuilding and characters which is why i want to think about this on a technical level -so in the end -- is it a good twist??? or does it only harm or reduce the narrative that came before (he had to die and that was okay!!!!) and add an unnecessary additional plot problem to the narrative now??

-but -the darkling having to be the one in the thornwood, and finally stop the spread of the fold, what he himself was responsible for, that he deserves to finally suffer for because the darkling is a fuckwad and I hold like zero sympathy for him????? beautiful beautiful beautiful. (-but, again, it felt kind of too convenient, to have that be the answer to the blight.) (what should be the answer? i don’t know. it makes me wonder if the blight was something else unnecessary) -but then genya forgiving him, for knowingly giving her to the king??? (not everyone has to be forgiven. not everyone can be forgiven.) zoya fulfilling his wish to be a saint???? which she did not have to do???? (guess it would appease the followers though??) giving him a pov???? like we need to know where he is, and it's funny that he's pissed off at the followers, but also maybe shouldn't be funny??? -oh what would've been fun (the good fun. not funny fun) was him wrestling with yuri more

-SPEAKING OF WRESTLING i know nikolai has to come to terms with the demon somehow and the failed obisbaya apparently helped but the demon was in the back quite a bit, I thought, even for as much as he shows up -maybe it’s just because it’s been like a year since i read king of scars

-okay so the ending -i know leighb said she wanted this to be like the grand finale of grishaverse but that she was still open to more and like i completely understand that but -knowing when to end something is important, too. -every story has a natural conclusion. I think, yeah, there’s always, some piece that could probably still be talked about, BUT – you can’t just keep going back to a story or a world and try to draw more out of it, keep pushing something in it so you can push your characters and your story more and more. eventually it won’t feel the same. it won’t be a natural ending anymore, it will be, here is an end, OH LOOK HERE’S A NEW THING, here is an end, OH LOOK HERE’S ANOTHER NEW THING, and that’s already happening a little here. (-i don’t think it was bad that it happened with nikolai at the end of ruin and rising -- that’s leighb addressing the consequences of something that she set up, and why i think king of scars was necesary.) -stories end. character arcs, as we know them, come to an end. if not, then they are just mined for content, usually angst and drama, and that’s especially not good writing. you risk stopping creating something that feels genuine. -so yeah i think king of scars was necessary to talk about the aftereffects of nikolai’s demon and where ravka is going. but i don’t know if i think it was successful. -what bothered me about king of scars, even with the parts i did like, was actually nikolai and zoya meeting elizabeta and juris and grigori -i don’t know if i just thought it was unexpected and i’d feel differently if i read it again?? but i never forget reading it last year and feeling just, weird about it, like it was too out of left field, idk -i think the connection between saints = grisha is important. but again it’s all just, execution stuff

-i don’t think she should’ve set up a whole new adventure in the last like four pages, if it’s supposed to also have the ability to be a contained end to the story -i don’t think it make sense to tease a new story!! i don’t think it’s needed!! i think it should have just had a plain happy ending with zoya taking the crown and being with nikolai!! i don’t think that’s bad!!!! -i know the big thing is that, the downfall of grisha is the desire for power, and that’s what got alina (at least she got better. like the one time where ‘character lost powers’ is okay) and especially the darkling, but zoya has come really far in these two books in how she sees other people and working on relying on them as people she loves and i liked her chapters the best and they were what hit me the hardest, and i know it’s going to be a worry for her but i don’t think the idea of her becoming the darkling is something that should be given that weight -ESPECIALLY IF IT WAS ONLY FOR FOUR PAGES

-so yeah i think the logical next book would be a place leighb hasn’t explored, like with six of crows. -there’s a lot to do with the shu and the kerghud that she could do and as much as i love kaz and think another heist would be cool, a heist has already been done and i think it would be a wasted opportunity to do that without doing something new in the grishaverse

-it honestly really made me want to reread six of crows because i missed the crows a lot -and i think it says a lot that so many people liked the chapters with kaz and jesper and wylan so much in rule of wolves -that was why i caved and bought rule of wolves right away!!! because i wanted to see the boy!!!!!! but i did also care about nikolai and zoya. -personally i do think six of crows are the best books in grishaverse. i think they’re the most tightly plotted and have the best characters and are the most CONTAINED and the most compelling (even if i can’t always follow kaz’s implied background machinations) (i can’t always keep track of all the politics either!!) (not that big of a deal for me, though.) -that duology is close to perfect. i think everything wraps up almost completely neatly (although i will, actually, be wondering now, about how death is handled in a narrative, re: matthias, because when i was reading them i thought, well, someone has to die in crooked kingdom, but, why? but anyway), and i love that the ending of it all is 1) characters continuing to change, and showing they will continue to change 2) inej reuniting with her parents aaaaaaa (-worth noting though that the epilogue of ruin and rising is indeed one of my favorite things as well, too.)

-i did still enjoy rule of wolves, though!!! a lot of little moments i really really liked, and nikolai and zoya were beautiful and delightful and i love them too, and i do kind of want to reread king of scars and this one again to see if my opinion has changed when i read them closer together but -i also do really just want to reread six of crows, again.

#i don't know what this is. i really went off here #just about a lot of things about. putting together a story

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drilovskyclan · 3 years

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I'm gonna repost my Operation TOMMY thoughts cuz I reread them on Facebook and bless lol

Operation TOMMY Thoughts:

Ewwww, the Common Cold and his nasty radioactive slime!

Decongestants of that strength are a controlled substance, believe me, I work at a pharmacy.

Nigel ran so freaking slow right there the actual hell...?

Kuki giving zero craps, as per usual.

Mr. Warburton says Op PINKEYE was the most disgusting thing ever but I actually think the Common Cold is worse...

I feel so bad for Tommy...either his parents are recently divorced, or his parents got divorced when he was too little to remember them together. On top of that his brother won't spend any time with him, poor bby 😟.

Tommy screams but doesn't run away, oh what character development this child goes through! 😙

Why are you screaming Hoagie? You knew Tommy was behind you, you couldn't have been that scared...

The look Tommy just had is your first sign that this is gonna be bad.

"Tommy Gilligan-man to the rescue!"

Damn Hoagie, from what I've seen the KND are practically superheroes.

Tommy just friggin stands there while a wad of snot flies at him...

I think the bigger problem here is that you got hit in the face with snot, not that you're sick.

"Hey Hoagie! You wanna hang out!? I wanna hang out!"

"You always wanna hang out Tommy."

Tommy: 🤪

Hoagie: 😑

At least your brother loves you Hoagie.

"Go get some of your own friends!" You expect me to believe that besides living in the same (albeit, large) town and presumably going to the same school and being the same age, Tommy doesn't know the future sector W?

Idk Tommy, considering that you probably hang out at sector W's treehouse and obviously sectors V and W are *such* good friends...I'm gonna say that Hoagie probably won't be asking to hang out in your treehouse.

A 7 year old in his underwear can be picked up by the bus...oh the magic of cartoons.

Wally, you already did fight an ice cream monster, that already happened, that episode was before this one.

Oh no! 😧 Giant robot tentacles just broke through our ceiling 😱 what should we do?! 😪 Sadly our movement and reaction speed is compromised by this cold.

This is probably the most cardio Hoagie has gotten in his entire life...

Tommy was destined for greatness when we realized he could build a giant robot for the Common Cold but not a ship with brakes.

Tommy just openly admits "Oh yeah, I totally helped this bad guy."

"You know what mom says about making weapons for supervillains!"

"You told me to go get friends of my own!" So I didn't make friends with people my own age who I go to school with like Lee, Sonya, Harvey, or Paddy. Na na na I made friends with the Common Cold, the grossest KND villain.

Friggin Hoagie "MOOOOOOM!"

"Moooom! Meandmyfriendswe'refightingthisguybutTommymadeamachineforhimandhecapturedmyfriendsanddoublecrossedTommyandthenIranoutofammoandhe'saftermeHELLLP!"

Bless Betty Gilligan btw 💕

#codename kids next door #knd #tommy gilligan #numbuh t

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thenovelartist · 5 years

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Kitty’s Key, set 1

I’m not gonna do Marichat May. I’m not gonna do Marichat May. I’m not gonna do...

I’m gonna do it. XD Here’s the first set.

Next>

1. No Powers

This was probably considered a gross misuse of his powers. Honestly, he should be going through this without the help of Plagg. But the fact was that he did have Plagg and he did have powers and it would be a shame not to use them if he was ever in trouble.

And Adrien Agreste counted being the prize for some contest that would give the winner a photoshoot and a date with him “being in trouble”.

“This is a really bad idea.”

“Well, it’s either this or subjecting myself to my father’s will,” Adrien countered.

“Yeah,” Plagg moaned. “But did you have to get me involved.”

“You can stand it.”

“But I don’t want to have to help you run from rabid fangirls.”

“You’ll live.”

He pouted.

“I’ll give you the extra good camembert for a solid month.”

Plagg froze mid-air, like Adrien knew he would. “The really good stuff?”

“For the entire month of the contest,” Adrien repeated.

Again, Plagg paused, likely pretending to mull it over when Adrien already knew the answer.

“Fine. But for the record, I still think it’s a really stupid idea.”

…

Marinette had to reread the post several times over. The Agrestes were hosting a contest that would give the winner a date with Adrien Agreste. Meaning Marinette had to win. Except…

The contest was… odd.

Attention fans! Do you want to win a date with Adrien Agreste? This month, you’ll be given the chance to! Adrien has paired up with renowned superhero Chat Noir to hold the “key to his heart” on a chain around his neck. The first to get the key will be crowned the winner of this contest. Chat Noir will be posting clues to his whereabouts daily on social media for the next month. It will be your job to convince him to give you the key! Best of luck everyone!

Marinette really couldn’t believe this.

Her partner was an idiot.

“Tikki, as a superhero constantly battling a supervillain, in what world is posting your location daily a good idea?”

“I’m more shocked Plagg agreed to it,” Tikki deadpanned.

Marinette groaned. “I swear, next time I see that cat, I’ll… I’ll…” Marinette growled. “I don’t know, but he better watch it because the best way to skin a cat, as I see it, is to strip the idiot of his powers until he can use them responsibly.”

2. Greek

It was five days into the contest, and Marinette got a sick and twisted sort of satisfaction out of watching Chat run from packs of rabid fangirls (and fanboys). It was like karma coming back to bite him. And Ladybug was perfectly content to watch Chat suffer for his stupidity.

Chat was offended at her enjoyment. She didn’t particularly care.

However, with Ladybug being completely supportive of his choice and staying out of his way and offering zero help to him, he turned to the next best option. Which, apparently, was Marinette.

“Marinette, princess, please, I beg of you. Let me stay here for the next bit. I need a break.”

Marinette wanted to tell him no. She wanted to watch him suffer. Honestly, she should ask why he didn’t just detransform in the nearest free spot, but as she looked at that gaudy gold key he held around his neck, she thought of what a golden opportunity she’d been presented with. “All right, kitty. I’ll let you in this once.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

She let him in her room with the warning, “touch anything and your dead.”

“How about ‘break anything, and it will be replaced’?”

Marinette leveled him with a flat look.

“No touch. Okay.”

With a roll of her eyes, Marinette headed back to her desk to work. “You know,” she said, picking up her knitting and starting in on it again. “I have to wonder just what possessed you to pull this off in the first place. Like… you are the superhero of Paris. Why are you doing this?”

Chat’s lips pursed tightly, his ears pinning flat back on his head. For a moment, it looked like Chat wasn’t going to tell her.

“Let’s just say… I know Adrien. And I’ve been in his shoes more than once. So when he told me about this contest his father was making him do and how he didn’t want to do it, I thought I could help him out a bit. You know, distract his fans and keep the “key of his heart” away from the masses instead of it going out to some random fan he’d have to suffer through a date with, you know?”

Marinette grew somber at that realization. “I guess I never thought of that.”

Chat nodded. “So I know it’s stupid of me—Ladybug’s given me nothing but crap about it, though I’m starting to agree with her—but I did it to help him out, ok?”

The only thing Marinette could do was nod in understanding. Yes, she still thought it stupid, but… when he put it that way, she could understand why he was pulling this stupid stunt. “So,” she began, “You’re close to Adrien?”

Chat stiffened. “Well,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I mean… we actually, I guess… in a way… kinda close.”

Marinette quirked a brow. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

His ear twitched and his lips pursed. And then he shot her a smile she knew was practiced. “You know, Hades, I come to your realm to get away from people, not to face an inquisition.”

Marinette had to blink a few times; partly at the sudden change in subject, partly because, “Hades?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, you’re obviously Hades because I’m Persephone hiding away in your realm because you love me so much—”

“I will kick you out; watch me.”

3. Kittens

“Hey Marinette.”

“Yeah, Chat?”

“Have you ever thought about what you want for the future?”

Marinette froze. This was the fourth time that she’d let him in to escape the pack of feral fans ravaging the city for him. Sure, he was kinda close to Marinette. Even before this contest, this wasn’t the first time she’d let him in to hang out. Not by a longshot. But the question still surprised her. “What brought that on?”

“I’m curious.”

“As to what my future entails?”

“Kinda.”

“Why?”

“Because…” He paused winding the ball of yarn—she had to keep him busy somehow and he was surprisingly good at it—and looked at her. “Because I’ve been thinking over my own future a lot lately. And not fantasizing, but actually, really, realistically thinking—”

“That’s trouble,” Marinette quipped, mostly because she wasn’t sure how to handle just how serious Chat was.

He glared at her. Considering he didn’t crack a smile, this was a very serious topic he was approaching.

Blushing, she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. Continue.”

He sighed. “No, Forget it. It’s—”

“Chat, I was kidding,” Marinette said, now regretting teasing him at all. “Tell me.”

He regarded her for a moment. “I’ve been really thinking about the future and all it entails. And just…wondering if I’m thinking about the right things or thinking about enough.”

And that’s why he wanted to know mine. To compare. Marinette realized. She looked back down at the project in her hands. “Yeah, I’ve thought it over. A lot. I’ve known what I’ve wanted for the past three—or is it four?—four years.”

She had to pause. Had it really been four years since she decided she was going to marry Adrien? She was seventeen now, so she supposed so. “I want to be a fashion designer. I want to get married—even have a guy in mind—and have two or three kids. Two boys, one girl, preferably. I have the names picked out. And a hamster. I want a hamster.”

Chat looked at her wide-eyed, the yarn forgotten in his hands. “You’ve really thought this through.”

“Yeah,” she said, giving him a smile. “I have.”

Chat turned back to winding the yarn. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”

Marinette cringed. “Well… I said in mind. I’m not… really seeing him.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Its… complicated.” And the most complicated thing about it was that she didn’t know how Chat kept sneaking into her mind and heart and challenging if Adrien was truly the man for her. “So,” she began, desperate to direct the conversation away from her, “what do you want for the future, Chat?”

Chat paused, and his expression fell. “You know, I sometimes think that I’m not asking for too much, and then other times, I feel like I’m asking the world.”

“Why?” she pressed. “What do you want?”

“A lot,” he said. “Hawkmoth to be defeated.”

Yeah. You, me, and everyone in Paris. “He will be; don’t worry. You and Ladybug will catch him.”

“Hopefully,” Chat said. “I want to catch him soon so that there won’t be any villain for me and Ladybug to fight. My fingers are crossed that when that happens, she’ll allow a reveal and then we’ll start dating and get married and have a house full of kids. More than one, at least. And… I kinda want a hamster, too.”

She froze, but her heart was skipping like a schoolgirl. Knock it off! “W-what’s wrong with that?” Marinette asked, hoping her voice came out steadily. “Wanting to be married and settle down and have kittens?”

“Because… I don’t know what she wants. “

It’s exactly what she wants, her traitorous mind thought. And then somewhere in the back of her mind chimed up a little, excited will you give it to me?

She barely resisted the urge to slap her cheeks. Remember Adrien!

“Like, does she want kids at all? Because that’s really important to me and I don’t know what I’ll do if she doesn’t,” Chat continued, oblivious to Marinette’s inner turmoil. “But if she does—and I hope she does—does she want to be a stay-at-home mom? Meaning that it will be on me to fully provide for my family. Don’t get me wrong; I have no issue whatsoever in doing that. But I have to plan ahead to make sure I chose a career that will provide well for them as well as allow me to be with them as much as I can because I want to be a dad who’s involved and all. But what if Ladybug wants to have a career and work? Which my guess is she would because of her personality, but I don’t want to assume or anything. Then I’m allowed to choose a job that will let me be home with my kids more and help them with homework and take them to sports and events and all that.”

To say Marinette was speechless was an understatement. “You…” she swallowed, trying to get her mouth to work again. “It sounds like you’ve thought a lot about the future and, well, your little kittens.”

He gave a bittersweet smile. “I want to be a dad,” he said. “And I want to be a good one.”

“You will be,” Marinette said. She felt confident in that statement. “I can tell. From the sounds of it, you’ll have a pretty good future ahead of you.”

His shoulders relaxed, and his smile turned genuine. “Thanks, Marinette. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, kitty.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #marichat may 2019 #marichat #chat noir #Marinette #plagg #in which Adrien has a 'Brilliant Plan'#and Marinette mocks his pain

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lovelahela · 4 years

Text

❛ it lives in the woods ❜ ─ prologue

⇢ masterlist ; check masterlist for fancast!

⇢ pairing: noah marshall x f!mc (marisol reyes)

⇢ genre: horror

⇢ chapter: zero (prologue)

⇢ words: 2687

⇢ description: something old and powerful lives in the woods surrounding the small town of westchester... something that knows their names. tensions flare, old wounds are reopened, and lives hang in the balance of one, very important question: are you scared?

⇢ notes + warning: this story will include disturbing scenes, potentially dark/triggering subjects (including but not limited to underage substance/alcohol abuse, depression, anxiety) and strong language. reader discretion is advised.

Tonight, the moon is playing peek-a-boo, weaving in and out of ribbons of black clouds scudding across the sky. Accompanying the flickering radiance of lampposts scattered across the small town of Westchester, the light of the moon stretched across the vast cluster of trees that surrounded it and to a cosy, modern house far away from said lampposts that stood out significantly next to the worn-out, withering shack that stood meters away from it. The town was characteristically quiet, its folk invested in whatever dream of winning the lottery and marrying the most good-looking Hollywood actor they were having. It was almost peaceful.

The functioning word here being almost.

Inside that modern little house lay a young teenage girl, fast asleep in the comfort of her mattress and scented candles. Marisol Reyes tried very hard to be normal, thank you very much. She ran two clubs, maintained outstanding grades, and managed Westchester High's successful swimming team as an efficient captain. Some might even say she was one of the "popular kids," but she was no where near that (proven by the constant degradation courtesy of Britney and her posse), and preferred to keep it that way. All Marisol wanted was to blend, to be away from the spotlight - she had enough of it after being drowned in all the wrong kinds of attention when one of her best friends perished a decade ago. Being pointed at by judgemental kids and gossiping parents took a toll on her, and she swore to go out of her way to erase the devastating, untimely death of Jane Marshall from her life - she would never be the "best friend of that girl who died" ever again.

Although Marisol strongly refused her mother Soledad's advice to see a child psychologist and cope with the horrible trauma that cost her her childhood, she insisted that she was able to, get over it. She pushed aside the recurrent nightmares and the obsession with self-defense and martial arts classes, plastered on a smile, and said she was fine - every single time, all through the ten years of looking over shoulder and denying just how damaged she really was.

The sound of violent vibrations against a wooden surface startled Marisol Reyes out of her uncharacteristically peaceful slumber. She jumped out of her bed and grabbed the kitchen knife that always lied stoically on her bedside table like a war veteran, hair frazzled and muscles tense. The focus of her almond-shaped eyes darted around the room frantically, fingers tightening around the hilt of the knife as her heart beat wildly in her chest. Once she could not make out an outline of an intruder in the darkness that enveloped the area, she realized the vibrations were coming from her phone, buzzing enthusiastically with text notifications. She groaned at her overreaction to such a harmless event while rubbing the sleep from her eyes and picked up the small electronic device in her tense hands.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:12 AM

UNKNOWN NUMBER

marisol, you there?

it's dan.

i messed up. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry

Mark as spam?

Block number?

"Oh my God..." whispered Marisol, rereading that one text over and over again to make sure she didn't imagine it.

it's dan.

Those two words stole the breath and heat from her very skin. Suddenly her defenses are like paper, paper being soaked by rapidly falling rain drops. Dan Pierce. They hadn't spoken since the tragic incident a decade prior - after the funeral, the eight children went their separate ways, determined carry the truth behind that catastrophe with them to the grave no matter how deep they buried it inside of them. She debated replying - she hadn't so much as greeted him in so many years, and suddenly he bombards her phone with frantic messages in the middle of the night? Something seemed off. Marisol could practically feel danger creeping up slowly but surely behind her.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:15 AM

DAN PIERCE

marisol?

MARISOL

dan, hey.

it's been a while, u okay? what's up?

DAN PIERCE

i went into the woods.

i had to be sure, i had to prove to myself that he wasn't real.

that it was all in our heads.

but he is, mari. he's real. it was all real.

read 3:16 AM

Marisol's previously tense hands began shivering vigorously along with the rest of her limbs, all of them weakening by the second. She closed her eyes and drew in long, deep breaths, attempting to calm down and muster up whatever courage she had left. She wasn't sure if the texts she responded with were an attempt to convince Dan, or herself.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:17 AM

MARISOL

hey man, u sure ure not drunk?

DAN PIERCE

he was whispering, just like when we were kids.

MARISOL

dan, please stop.

we made all that stuff up, we were kids.

mr red was just a dumb game that spun out of control.

we made it all up.

DAN PIERCE

he does. he's with me right now.

MARISOL

for fuck's sake dan

if ure in the woods get out NOW

it's not safe in the dark

DAN PIERCE

i can hear him in the trees.

i can hear him whispering...

read 3:18 AM

Marisol hissed a long string of curse words, fumbling around in the dark for her jacket. It didn't matter that they lost touch with each other, she couldn't bear the thought of losing him - of losing someone else in the disbanded group that she once would have said she trusted with her life. Maybe, if you dug deep enough through the traumatic, emotional baggage she lugged around every waking moment, she still would.

Just as she snatched the keys to her mother's car (which she was only allowed to use in the case of an emergency, much to her dismay), someone rapped the window harshly, startling a shriek out of her. Her phone slipped out of her hands and landed on the wooden floorboard with an upsetting thud, just barely illuminating the room with a disturbing glow.

With the manner of a paranoid animal about to get preyed on viciously, Marisol snuck a peek at the window. Her blood ran cold when she made out the shape of what she was hoping was a human. Wasting no time, she jumped towards her lamp and turned it on. A yellow light filled just enough of the vicinity - enough to see that the man waiting outside her window was none other than Dan. She heaved out a relieved sigh and opened the window (reluctantly so), ushering him inside outside of the chilly embrace of the crisp night.

He climbed into his former friend's bedroom, hoodie dirtied by mud and hints of dead leaves. His long hair was unkempt, his eyes were accompanied by worrying and prominent bruises under them, and what used to be his beautifully tanned skin was then pale and sickly as though he was near death itself. Dan sat hunched over on the floor like a frail puppet being held up by a single fraying string. It was horribly peculiar to see him like this - he always held himself with confidence, tall and muscular frame towering over even those taller than him. To see him lying on her floor, so vulnerable and beaten down, it was heartbreaking to say the least.

"God, Dan, what happened to you?" asked Marisol, eyes softened with concern as she scanned his body for the injuries littered on his skin and mud staining his clothes. He looked up at her, expression shallow, striking a faint but growing fear inside of her. "How... how did you even get here? We're on the second floor."

"I climbed." His answer was curt and simple, no emotion to his voice at all. Nothing in his eyes or the tone of his voice supported the signs of terrifying struggle that blemished him. Marisol gulped.

"Oooookay, Spider-Man!" Nervous laughter cut through the uncomfortable silence choking them. She frowned and took small, careful steps forward as to not startle him. She crouched down to look him in the eyes as calmly as she should, slowly pulling down the zipper of his hoodie.

"Listen, bud, why don't you take a shower? I'll wash your clothes, give you some of my dad's, and you can tell me happened, yeah?" Her voice was low and soft, as though she was consoling a frightened child. Peeling the hoodie off his slouched shoulders, she avoided his eyes, which were - very creepily - trained on her paling face. She sighed, visibly relieved when he decided to focus on the string of Polaroid pictures and what looked like dozens of framed award certificates hung up on her wall, suddenly completely neglecting her physical existence next to his enfeebled body.

"I'm fine." His words resembled that of an accused, soulless criminal awaiting his punishment in court, perfectly trained to deny his guilt to his grave no matter what the situation was — it seemed to rehearsed. Then, abruptly, his head snapped in her direction and he grabbed her forearms tightly, staring at her with wide, crazed eyes. She could have sworn she felt all of her internal organs cease functioning for a split second and yelped pathetically. "Come on! We need to get the others!"

Her breath hitched in her throat. She searched and searched her brain for the proper response, hyper-aware of the growing madness that distorted his handsome face. When she spoke, the pitch of her voice was a bit too high for her liking. "What — What others?"

Dan's hold on her tightened noticeably, causing her to flinch and whimper involuntarily. A curt, mad laugh that sounded like one the Joker himself would utter left his lips. "Our friends, of course! Noah, Lily, Ava, Lucas, Andy, Stacy — the whole gang!" Another laugh that deepened the pit in her stomach, a laugh that would haunt her for days.

Suddenly, Marisol regretted turning away psychological help. The rate of her breathing quickened anxiously as she felt a gate in her mind burst open, letting unwanted memories flood it mercilessly at the mention of their names. She could not see Dan anymore, only flashing images of ruins, of an eerie forest, and of nine children irresponsibly skipping through the trees, on their way to revisit the entity that would then change their lives forever. Her eyes were coated with a glossy sheen of tears that were more than ready to flow down her cheeks against her weakening will. When she finally mustered the courage to speak again, she whispered: "I've barely spoken to them for years, Dan. Not since Jane — "

Before she could register what was happening, Dan stood up and pulled her with him with an unimaginable force that was sure to leave bruises. Their faces were uncomfortably close, so close she could smell the scent of blood and dirt that replaced his usual cologne. He stared at her like an enraged panther, tiny bubbles of froth forming at the corners of his mouth and face contorted with a venomous outburst. Fear was struck inside her that she felt in her very core — she almost thought he would kill her right then and there. "They have to come. Everyone has to be there. That's the rule."

She could feel the sweat trickle down her neck, the throbbing of her tear-filled eyes, the ringing screaming of a little girl in her ears, and the thumping of her horror-stricken heart against her chest. "Rule?"

The world stilled around them. Suddenly, she could not hear a single thing, not even her own breathing — only the awfully familiar words that the boy hissed: "Everyone plays together."

Marisol could not have been more thankful for the sound of her phone buzzing yet again against the floorboards. She took that as an excuse to gingerly wiggle out of his loosened grip and, with shaking legs, approached her cell and picked it up. A crack tarnished the previously pristine screen, but she decided to worry about that later when it was a more appropriate time to fret over a slightly broken phone.

But what she saw was her breaking point. Her free hand reached up to cover her mouth and stifle a sob threatening to spill out of her quivering lips and before she could control it a steady flow of salty tears coated her cheeks.

TEXT MESSAGE

3:26 AM

DAN PIERCE

are you still there?

i think i'm lost

marisol? my battery's almost dead, please help me!!

read 3:26 AM

The shock ricocheted up her skeleton; an enormous engulfing terror made her feel so, so sick in her mind and body. She's seen darkness before, the kind that makes an empty street look like an old-fashioned photograph, but this was different — this was the kin of darkness that robbed her of her common sense and replaced it with a paralyzing fear. By her genes, she is a predator with the intelligence and perceptive eyes to hunt, but in that moment, she felt like a helpless prey. Marisol slowly rose from the illuminating screen of her phone, her wide, suspicious eyes meeting his.

"Dan?" She sniffled weakly.

Although his eyes were cold an empty, right underneath them a grin stretched his lips impossibly from one ear to the other, radiating clear indications of raging madness.

"Marisol."

She lunged for the knife on her bedside table yet again, shrieking as he took large and quick steps towards her violently shaking form. She searched desperately for an escape route that wasn't blocked by the towering body of the intruder in front of her but to no avail. He grabbed her wrist with a bone-crushing hold, squeezing yet another helpless screech out of her. Her voice broke when she cried out: "Dan, please! Don't make me do this!"

And he did nothing but widen the frightening smile that would permanently etch itself into her retinas, haunting her every time she closed her eyes.

So Marisol did the only logical thing her frantic brain could come up with — with a heart-wrenching scream, pained by having to inflict pain on a friend who was once very dear to her, she drove the blade of the knife into his abdomen. Much to her increasing horror, he did not so much as flinch at the pain, only tightened the hold around her throbbing wrist. He merely growled like a feral animal, burning holes into her with his enraged gaze. "Wrong move."

Dan tackled her effortlessly to the floor, straddling her hips and forcing her into a cage that she would never break out of in her wildest dreams. He smashed her head against the rough surface underneath her, darkening her fading vision. "We all have to go back, remember?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE! GET — OFF — ME!" She thrashed in his hold, no longer attempting to swallow the sobs. Finally, after agonizing attempts to kick and thrash and flail, she was able to free one of her hands and in result scraped her previously perfectly manicured fingernails down the skin of his face.

A cry of disgust and disbelief bounced off the walls of the room when it peeled right off, revealing putrid flesh under it. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, leaving her to stare into milky whiteness while the stink of stale dirt burned the insides of her nostrils. His long, skinny fingers curled around her neck, pressing, closing with a lack of mercy or remorse, feeling like tendrils wound around her oxygen supply. Despite her lungs blazing with agony, Marisol continued to fight fruitlessly until her energy started to dissipate like water going down a drain. Her hands fell to her side and her body grew limp, using her last breath to scream for help that, somewhere in the back of her min, she knew would never come. The last thing she saw before she embraced the coming blackness of unconsciousness was the ghastly monster that rendered her powerless and savagely tore open her old wounds.

#it lives in the woods #it lives anthology #it lives choices #pb choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #ilitw #noah marshall #noah x mc #jane marshall #dan pierce #lily ortiz #ava cunningham #andy kang #stacy greene #connor greene #lucas thomas #choices fanfiction

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makeste · 5 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 238: Shigaraki Tomura: Tattered Goth Remix

Previously on BnHA: Young Shimura Tenko killed his whole family, as angsty young misguided antagonist characters sometimes do, and then proceeded to wander the streets feeling all sad about it until All for One just happened!! to come across him and was all “oh you poor thing it looks like you killed your whole family by accident, let me just adopt you and raise you to be my own personal killing machine.” We got some more flashbacks showing just how this transformation took place, plus some answers about the hands that kind of just raised more questions though tbh, and watched as little Tenko made his first premeditated kill after a number of effed up AFO pep talks. AFO then rechristened him “Shigaraki Tomura”, and we learned that Shigaraki is actually AFO’s own last name. The chapter ended back in the present day, with Tomura reflecting on how his family’s death wasn’t really a tragedy after all and ended up setting him free. We’ll have to agree to disagree, kid, but in the meantime have fun fucking up Re-Destro and dealing with Gigantomachia’s rampage!

Today on BnHA: Re-Destro tries to smash Tomura at 100% and absolutely nothing happens. So then he summons a bunch of robot armor bits like fucking Iron Man, and levels up to 150%! Tomura could not care less, because he’s leveled up to be one of those “yawn, is that all you got?” bad guys now, and while RD desperately tries to intimidate him, we briefly check in with the rest of the League. Everyone is freaking out at how quickly Machia is destroying the Liberation Army, and Compress calls Ujiko and frantically begs him to warp them all to safety. But Ujiko is all “nah” and says he wants to drive Tomura into a corner. Meanwhile Gigantomachia finally takes out Dairy Queen, since Dabi was doing fuckall, and the chapter ends with Tomura possibly killing Re-Destro?? To be honest it’s really unclear. For all I know the dude just dropped dead of a heart attack from all that stress. In fact, now that I’ve typed that, I kind of think that’s what did happen. Anyway! The point is I’m pretty sure the battle is finally over.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added one or two ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

so I mentioned this in an ask post a couple days ago, but this recap is a day late because I was out of town this week. consequently I’m behind on my asks and other things as well (I know, what else is new), so I’m sorry about that!

also! @temperatezone informed me that there’s yet another BnHA spinoff coming out, and that the preview chapter debuted last week! so I went to check it out, and holy shit, it’s a manga all about the U.A. kids teaming up with various pro heroes!!!!??!! between this and the new anime season coming up in just two months (it’ll fly by) and BakuDeku: Heroes Rising coming out in December, I feel like I’m being fucking spoiled with BnHA content. and I didn’t even mention the 2nd light novel which just had its official English translation released last month! so all in all it’s a lot of good stuff, and I desperately want to recap chapter 0 of the new spinoff as soon as possible, but it’ll probably be a few days unfortunately, unless I decide to be very irresponsible and do that instead of the piles of work I should actually be doing. we’ll see which impulses actually win out sob

fortunately Jump is on a break next week if I recall, so that’ll give me some time to catch up. anyway let’s start this thing before I manage to procrastinate anymore! so the new chapter is called “Liberation”, probably after a certain army

and the chapter is picking up where we left off before, with Tomura taking his Father Hand out of his pocket and saying he doesn’t need it or any of his other hands

ooooooh

maybe the title isn’t referring to the Liberation Army after all! or just one of those cool double meaning things

oooh man

god but that is satisfying. is there anything more satisfying than seeing a character you’ve been rooting for finally reach out and take control of their own destiny? ahhhh yessss that’s the good shounen shit right there

lol Re-Destro

he finally scared you into using your ~full power~, huh? punk

don’t mind me I’m just appreciating how much of a total badass my boy here is

your move, RD. personally if it were me, I wouldn’t want to fuck with him anymore! but hey your funeral bud

hmmm

the last few chapters have been so well-drawn that I’m starting to think I was maybe getting spoiled. I wonder if Horikoshi will re-do these later for the volume release

anyway so it seems like what’s happening is that RD is trying to hit Tomura with another Almighty Bitchslap and Tomura is not having any of it, basically

oh wow

and this isn’t even the Gigantomachia damage. will there be any pieces of this town left larger than a toothpick once all is said and done here?? stay tuned! but the answer is no

so the rest of this two page spread is just more panels showing vague high-contrast images of the destruction. we’re also briefly cutting to Gigantomachia! and to Dabi, who is still fighting Pinkberry, and like, dude, come on. finish him off already

and now the dust is clearing after that latest clash, and would you guys fucking look at this dramatic bitch though omfg

Shigaraki Tomura: Tattered Goth Remix. you look like the cover of a Bauhaus album. thank god this arc isn’t set somewhere stupidly dark, like, say, a basement

lmao Re-Destro is so mad

once again I would like to point out that you invited him here, you overconfident dishrag

so now Tomura is casually conversing with him

Tomura did you burn one right before this battle. you’re so fucking chill all of a sudden. gotta say that if someone had asked me “what do you think it would take to get Shigaraki Tomura to mellow out” before this arc, I probably would not have answered, “hmm, well maybe flashbacks to his horrific childhood and the violent deaths of all of his loved ones”

well at any rate, watching Re-Destro progressively freak out while Tomura makes more (ﾟ⊿ﾟ) faces is my new form of sustenance, guys

“you seem a bit rattled. a bit ill at ease. perturbed. something’s got you in a tizzy, huh.” ⊂( ・ ̫・)⊃

(ETA: okay but rereading this here, he keeps talking about his heart pounding, and then he goes and summons a fucking robot suit that actually raises his stress on purpose. so like, I don’t know? but I vaguely recall reading a theory on reddit a few weeks ago that RD was going to have a heart attack and it looks like it could really be the case. or not! that last page is really inconclusive.)

and now the Re-Destro flashbacks that absolutely no one asked for! of course!!

-- OH MY GOD

I’M DYING I CAN’T. SEND HELP

Iida I’m so sorry. all this time I have been teasing you and calling you a 40-year-old man, when this whole time it was actually Re-Destro who Benjamin Buttoned his way from his mother’s womb

is he related to the Alpha Kid from the adventures of the Babysitter’s Club? he can’t not be, right? what else could it be? two characters just happening to vaguely resemble one another in a purely coincidental manner?? are you even hearing yourself?! get out!!

um hey, so what the actual fuck is happening

...Krestro??

lol what. Horikoshi Muriel Kouhei, did you seriously just give this fucker Hulkbuster armor. do you just have a list of Marvel comics tribute shit that you check off as you go

so apparently this suit jacks his power up to one hundred and fifty percent! wowwwwwwww

but meanwhile Tomura is all just

what would it take to faze new Toked Goth Remix Tomura, I wonder

sob omg

goddammit now he’s going to want one. Ujiko you’d better get on it

oh my god you guys

I’m starting to feel really bad about all of these nice Twice clones who are being so helpful and are just going to end up dying in the end omg

also, if someone ever asks you, “should I read BnHA,” you can say, “well that depends, how much do you like scenes of characters with two broken arms getting piggyback rides from other characters?” and they’ll be like, “that’s really specific, does that... happen often,” and you can be like, “well it’s officially happened more than once, so”

like, it’s a whole thing now I guess. also, ouch

anyway so Real!Twice is concerned that Machia is having far too easy of a time kicking names and taking ass, and he’s trying to regroup with the rest of the League

oh my god Compress, seriously?

League of Ungrateful Sods, is what you guys are. he’s trying to help you guys out!!

lol Dabi you fucking liar

no you fucking weren’t, you were going to keep fighting him for a million more years. your fight was going to make Goku VS Frieza look like a 15-second Youtube ad. once again, you guys should really be more grateful here

(ETA: why did they even invite Dabi lol. all he did was fight offscreen and have zero (0) flashbacks. fucking tease.)

so now Compress is calling Ujiko and asking him to warp them out of there

what...?

he’s absolutely 100% making this up, right?

lol yeah now even Compress is calling him on it

right, Compress??

okay now Ujiko is straight up telling him no

oh, this is good you guys

Ujiko, I don’t know how to tell you this but while you weren’t looking, the dude hopped on a fucking golf cart and drove his own damn self. and now appears to have made himself pretty damn comfortable in that corner too

oh is Halo Top finally about to fucking die??

the cornerstone?? really?? holy shit, it really is remarkable how thoroughly unprepared these guys actually were in the end

anyway so now more action panels are happening

did Machia kill him? it looks like he survived but just went flying

and what the hell does Hanabata think he’s actually going to be able to do. drive his van at him? give him encouragement??

anyway I guess we’re wrapping this up now, and we’re cutting back to Tomura who’s saying something extremely cool

it is kind of like that. except that it’s bullshit

anyway so it looks like he’s touching the ground and using his decay again and holy shit is this it???

!!!!!

YOU GUYS DID HE JUST DISINTEGRATE RE-DESTRO OH MY GOD. JUST LIKE THAT!!??!

YOU GUYS I HONESTLY CAN’T TELL, ALL I KNOW IS TOMURA TAPPED THE GROUND, AND RE-DESTRO HAD A WEIRD PANEL WHERE YOU COULDN’T SEE WHAT WAS HAPPENING, AND HE HAD A THOUGHT AND IT WAS SUDDENLY CUT OFF, AND THEN WE CUT TO GIGANTOMACHIA WATCHING AND WE COULDN’T REALLY SEE ANYTHING OMG

but can you imagine, though?? “one single strike”?! like oh my god, there wasn’t even any fanfare? if he really did just kill him that is pretty much exactly how I would have wanted it to go down tbh

at any rate, it’s safe to say life just got a hell of a lot more dangerous for our Actual Protagonist with this new power-up. shit. oh my god

well I guess that’s it! does that mean this arc is gonna wrap up next chapter. because I’m also going to be away the 16th, so I’ll be a day late in doing that chapter too. I s2g Horikoshi, if you finally cut back to U.A. on a day that I’m not able to read the chapter right away, I will... well actually I’ll be pretty happy regardless, but secretly I will also believe it’s some sort of conspiracy against me. so just know that

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 238 #shigaraki tomura #re-destro #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #dabi I can't believe you abandoned your boyfriend for this #just left him hanging there with a severed head in his backpack #on the plus side this really gives me hope for hawks's ability to fool the league in the future #apparently you don't actually have to kill anyone or do anything remotely useful and your fellow league members will still be fine with it #tomura and twice out here carrying the entire organization #twice buddy #they're not paying you enough

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