#details of their faces. i did get pretty bogged at some points but i still like how these came out

[ph-cutie]

top 10 reasons you should NEVER visit revachol

#gah i tried to draw them more small and bitsy so i could focus more on vibe and shape instead of getting bogged down in the little #details of their faces. i did get pretty bogged at some points but i still like how these came out #ok i wanted to draw the faction leaders and the cops and maybe the churchpeople too but i just dont. feel like it rn #so maybe ill do a part two some day #disco elysium #my art #extravagances #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #cuno #ruby the instigator #klaasje amandou #elizabeth beaufort #ikk rubys hair is supposed to just be red but it just looks nicer with brown in it </3

[maridotnet]

Hi!! I was just thinking about your Very Sad piece for day 23 and wondering about your drawing process, particularly because of the complexity of the water - do you sketch in pencil first? If you have the chance and feel comfortable, do you think you could share a couple of in progress shots of your beautiful art? <3

ARGHRHGH okay i had MOST of this answered and then my page suddenly crashed, so I'm very frustrated, but I'm DETERMINED to type it all up again! First of all thank you for the ask! :D I don't usually take very many in-process photos, although I might do that for today's so I can give you a better look. :) For this piece, I started off filming myself dragging around a body pillow as reference footage for the pose. Meet Chat Noir!

(My room's a mess because I still haven't finished unpacking, don't mind it lol) If the poses I want are very simple, or don't interact with each other, or I've drawn similar ones, I don't always need a reference. In most cases though, I'll either spend some time on Google Images or photograph myself to help. I went through my footage and found some frames that I liked, and sketched some of them out in a different sketchbook. It's bigger and I like using it for planning and reference practice. Here's that page!

Because I draw with traditional media, and I'm trying to do all of these pictures back to back in one sketchbook, I try to plan it out in a fair amount of detail before starting on the actual page. Once I get going, it can be tricky to shift things around, especially because I always sketch in colored pencil. (I think it looks nice, it's not as messy as graphite, and it also has a subtle bearing on the mood of the final piece. This one is a dark blue-green because I wanted it to look really waterlogged, but I've used pink, purple, or yellow for a lot of Marichats so far.) The pose here was something I put a lot of thought into because I wanted it to be close enough to show how protective and intense Marinette was, but also with enough distance that I could clearly show the strain on her body and his weight in her arms. The story is also important to all of this, especially in the sketching stage. I knew Chat would be floating partially, so that would affect his weight. I knew Marinette had been looking for him for a while, so her hair was plastered to her face - and she'd gone out in a hurry, so her raincoat was unbuttoned. Chat had been slumped in an alleyway for a while as the rain fell, so the blood was diluted and darkened. etc etc I picked the Place des Vosges for the background because a) it was simple b) trees and fences are pretty easy to wreak havoc on! (this is so long sorry) I sketched the people first, to make sure the pose fit into the frame, then added in some background markers, and a few directional lines to remind me of the water flow direction (I knew I wanted her fighting against the current to bring him home). I lined the people first too, leaving out the pupils and mouths til later, because those are the main indicators of emotion, and I wanted to make sure they would still work if the mood of the piece shifted. From there I lined the people in ink, added more detail to the background sketch to make sure it fit around them well and was still clearly readable, and then inked that. For the water...idk what to tell you, I was winging it which is funny because that's the part everyone's commented on the most sdflkjdf I did use some references (I googled like, "water moving past rocks") to see how water responds to obstacles, but water is really difficult to draw, so I just kinda...wung it and tried to create something genre-appropriate! I steered clear of realism bc I knew I wouldn't be able to pull it off very convincingly and would get bogged down in all the deatil it's possible to include. (@davey-in-a-minivan of the very big brain pointed out that the water looks like peacock feathers) After that, I think I lightly colored the people first, then the background, so I could keep a handle on how they affected each other. Again, the story is important here too, because it makes the clothes shiny, and darker if they're absorbent, and the water darker and with more debris because of the turbulence. I do have a picture I sent to a friend part way through:

After that, I just kept going until I was happy! I like dramatic shading, so I added in a bit more as I went, but because light on a foggy day is pretty diffused, I didn't do as much as usual with that. I added more detail to the trees and sky behind because it didn't fit well with the rest of the piece, and eventually I got here!

And voila!! I hope that offers some insight hahaha - thanks again for the ask :))) (I might take more progress pictures of today's project for the future)

#viv talks #ask #lad-bug-and-chad-noir #mari.net art #art process

[yazthebookish]

Hi Yaz!! I jus wanted to let you know that you were the first tumblr account I’d ever found and I’ve loved it ever since! 💕

I wanted to ask, what do you think about the Gwyn lightsinger theory?

Also what do you think the main plot point will be for Azriels book?

Thank you my love Sue🤍 it means a lot x

As for the Lightsinger theory, I made this post before that goes into more details.

I read some of the "Gwyn is a Lightsinger" theories before which to me can come off very convincing to readers that haven't reread ACOSF, but plenty of the *evidence* is manipulated to imply something that isn't really... there.

Can I say Gwyn is not a Lightsinger 100%? No and neither can I say Elain is not suspicious at all because I can come up with evidence to prove otherwise. But all are weak pieces of evidence.

Lightsingers are mentioned in one chapter out of 80. The context of when they are brought up is important because they never get mentioned until the trio went to the Bog. Cassian explains to Nesta what kind of creatures dwell in the bog and that's when he mentions Lightsingers.

It's been established that Gwyn is a quarter River Nymph and that Lightsingers drown their victims. Both River Nymphs and Lightsingers are aquatic creatures I guess?

But it's been clear Lightsingers appear as a friendly face to lure their victims and then drown them. That's only it. They do not glow. They do not sing. They do not push a random image into someone's mind, if they could do that which is close to a Daemati's power, they wouldn't need to change their physical now do they?

It's pretty easy to frame the evidence in the text as if it's indicating Gwyn is a Lightsinger:

"Nesta's powers react to hers!" maybe to hint on her possible Autumn Court flame powers? Because Lucien can detect Nesta's silver flames and Eris even senses there is flame in the dagger forged by Nesta which surprises Feyre as they offered it to him as a family heirloom. She isn't the first nor the last person where characters' magic and powers react to each other.

"She planted her image in Azriel's mind and her singing drew him to the library" one, he would need to hear the actual singing for it to work on him, which he did not hear—and two, the image came to his mind when Clotho specifically thanks him for the gift as it will bring joy to Gwyn, the mention of Gwyn's joy by Clotho is what made him imagine it.

"His shadows sing and dance for her!" that's a good sign though because we have seen the shadows recoil from three things: the cauldron, Koschei, and Elain. Skitter means a quick movement and they moved back quickly from her, that to me is them recoiling.

As I said, it's easy to manipulate evidence and pass it as fact because for some weird reason, I'm seeing many people speak of it as a fact rather than a theory and accept no other possibilities. And come on people? Shadowsinger x Lightsinger?

I think at this stage it's hard to know predict what will be the plot of Azriel's book (ACOTAR5) because it depends on how CC3 will play out. I still stand by what I said before: Illyria and the Autumn Court are going to be very important in the next book.

Hope these answers are the answers you were looking for🤍 and good timing because I just got me iced coffee 🤣

#asks #gwyneth berdara #azriel

[maddie-grove]

Little Book Review: YA/Children's Literature Round-Up (May-December 2022)

Dear Mr. Henshaw by Beverly Cleary (1983): Leigh Botts keeps up a years-long correspondence with children's author Mr. Henshaw, which becomes an important outlet after his parents divorce and he has to move to a new town with his mother. This is the book that won Beverly Cleary the Newberry Award, and frankly it's like when Leonardo DiCaprio won Best Actor for The Revenant instead of The Wolf of Wall Street. Cleary was a legend, but she excelled most at lower-stakes childhood (and sometimes adolescent) drama, like being bad at cursive, not owning enough cashmere sweaters, or (at worst) worrying because your father lost his job. This is still a sweet, sensitive problem novel, yet I feel like Judy Blume or Betsy Byars would've pushed it to the next level.

The Snow Angel by Suzanne Weyn (1996): In the eighth volume of a middle-grade series about four girls who are friends with angels, rich girl Molly is devastated when her boyfriend dumps her for hippie-dippy Christina. She distances herself from her loved ones, almost relapses in her recovery from anorexia, and ignores the gigantic snow-angel-turned-tourist-trap on her other friend Ashley's horse farm. Luckily, her dad just brought a catatonic Irish boy into their house! Can Molly help herself by helping him? I bought this book for a dime because it looked completely ridiculous, and it delivered on that front. I really didn't like any of the girls except for Molly, and with her it was mostly just the sympathy I'd have for any troubled teenager.

The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew by Margaret Sidney (1881): In a small New England town, widowed Mrs. Pepper and her five kids (Ben, Polly, Joel, Davie, and Phronsie) must work hard to keep their spirits up in the face of grinding poverty, measles, and monkey-related shenanigans. I made several gos at reading this book as a child, but always lost steam after the Peppers made friends with the wealthy King family. Little Emily was right on the money, because this classic is just not very good, especially after the rich folks start helping out. It's beyond treacly and only a few of the episodic chapters have a good amount of tension. Polly's almost-going-blind-from-measles-and-eldest-daughter-syndrome arc is still great, though.

Afternoon of the Elves by Janet Taylor Lisle (1989): Sheltered fourth-grader Hillary forms an unlikely friendship with her neighbor, outcast sixth-grader Sara-Kate, after the older girl claims to have elves in her backyard. I had to read this book for school in fourth grade and I did not like it. I felt like it was trying to lure me in with something fun (magic, miniatures), only to never deliver and hit me with the actual sad topic (poverty and mental illness of a parent) instead. I stand by my elementary-school opinion. The good version of this novel is Daphne's Book by Mary Downing Hahn (if you want to read about an average girl befriending the class outcast before losing her to Social Services) or Lucie Babbidge's House by Sylvia Cassedy (if you want to read about a troubled girl getting lost in the arguably magical miniatures sauce).

Ten Cents a Dance by Christine Fletcher (2008): Working at a meatpacking plant to support her arthritic widowed mother and little sister in early-1940s Chicago, pretty, scrappy teenager Ruby Jelinski takes a chance and becomes a dime-a-dance girl at the recommendation of a handsome neighborhood hoodlum. I read this book at some point in high school and vaguely remembered liking it, but this time I was blown away. Fletcher packs a mind-bogging amount of character development and historical detail into a fast-paced story that ventures into some unexpected territory. It's maybe one of the best historical novels I've ever read.

Mitch and Amy by Beverly Cleary (1967): Nine-year-old twins Mitch and Amy don't always get along, but, if an outsider messes with one of them, he better be prepared for double trouble. Class bully Alan Hibbler learns this to his sorrow. This is the kind of cute slice-of-life story that was right in Cleary's wheelhouse, although it's not her most memorable. There are lots of sweet moments between the twins; for example, Amy gets Mitch an exciting book from the library when he's sick because she senses it'll help him with his reading struggles, and Mitch goes to bat for her when the dreaded Alan spits in her hair. I do think it would've been ideal if Mitch had also done something to help Amy with multiplication, for the symmetry. Also, I can't believe I missed the beginning-of-the-late-1960s California setting. These are some Joan Didion babies.

Cleopatra: Daughter of the Nile by Kristiana Gregory (1999): Her older sister wants to kill her, her father is a severe alcoholic, and she's stuck living in Rome with a bunch of gross old men who don't take her seriously, but teenage Cleopatra doesn't let that keep her from learning and adapting. This is one of the Royal Diaries I didn't read as a kid, and I really enjoyed the characterization of Cleopatra, who's resilient, clever, curious, and conflicted about her thorny family relationships.

(The Snow Angel, The Five Little Peppers and How They Grew, and Cleopatra: Daughter of the Nile were all first-time reads; the rest were rereads.)

#little book review #dear mr. henshawe #mitch and amy #beverly cleary #the snow angel #suzanne weyn #the five little peppers and how they grew #margaret sidney #afternoon of the elves #janet taylor lisle #ten cents a dance #christine fletcher #cleopatra: daughter of the nile #kristiana gregory #eating disorder mention tw

[rocorambles]

Set My Heart Ablaze

Pairing: Matsukawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Creepy Matsukawa, Obsessive Behavior, Public Train Sex

Prompt: Chikan/Trains/Public Sex

Summary: Neither of you can deny the mutual spark of interest between the two of you, but Matsukawa takes the matter of turning that spark into a fire into his own hands. Only time will tell if that fire will provide you warmth and comfort or burn you alive.

A/N: This is my submission for the HQHQ NSFW Collab! Masterlist can be found here. Be sure to check everyone’s content once the masterlist goes live tomorrow night~

The train doors open and Matsukawa briefly glances up, smiling to himself as you step onboard, looking left and right for an open spot despite how you always end up in the same corner of the moving vehicle. He doesn’t know anything about you, not even your name. Yet he finds himself drawn to the normalcy you bring, the comfort of knowing you’re a clockwork fixture of his everyday life.

It hadn’t always been like this.

Matsukawa is just a man at the end of the day and he doesn’t deny that he took note of you long before you became so ingrained in his life. But it had been no more than a man observing an attractive woman and he doesn’t give you another passing thought as he returns to gazing out the train windows.

But working with death on a daily basis makes you look at life differently.

He prides himself on being a practical and level-headed man and despite the heavy nature of his profession, he never thought he’d get too bogged down by the environment, by the grimness of his business. Sure, maybe someone like Oikawa would freak out within hours, if not minutes, of being in a funeral home surrounded by corpses and coffins. But he’s not Oikawa (thank God for that). It’s just a job to help keep a roof over his head and food on the table.

But the longer he’s surrounded by caskets, the more grieving and sobbing families and friends he has to comfort yet professionally guide through catalogs and brochures and price tags, he can slowly but surely feel the weight of his daily work resting heavy on his shoulders, digging deeper into him with every corpse and tragic story he reluctantly becomes privy to. Matsukawa finds a new appreciation for life, for every tiny and minute detail, and suddenly you aren’t just another stranger who happens to share his train route.

You’re a reminder that he’s still alive, that despite the curveballs life throws at some, he’s still blessed to enjoy the routine and monotony of it. Life looks different, clearer, as he begins to really pay attention, appreciating every moment he has.

Maybe he’s paying too much attention. He doesn’t know when he begins to focus so intently on you, shocking himself with the realization that he’s observed you so closely when he nonchalantly notices that you’re using a different tote bag than your usual one. When did Matsukawa Issei become someone who notices the details of a woman’s outfit and accessories?

He knows it’s not right, knows even Hanamaki would crinkle his nose in distaste if he found out Matsukawa was creepily studying a random unknown female on a daily basis. But he can’t help himself, his realization only seeming to make him unconsciously focus on you even more. He notices what hand you use to hold your phone. He memorizes every expression you make as your mind drifts off, lulled by the machinery of the train.

But looking from afar only satisfies him for so long and he finds himself creeping closer to you, adjusting where he sits to be closer to your preferred corner of the train. He always tells himself just a little closer, but it’s never enough. And although he’s now standing right beside you, close enough to see every eyelash, every pore of your skin, it’s still not enough. He needs to hear your voice, feel your body against his, know everything about you inside and out.

He understands the irony of the situation he’s found himself in, reminiscing on how Hanamaki and him had gagged at how disgusting men could be as they watched older businessmen grope and grab at poor unwilling female passengers on their way to and from school. He knows how wrong it is, how like an uninspired porno this is, but when the train conveniently rattles, he jostles his body into yours, “accidentally” bumping into you.

Acting isn’t Matsukawa’s forte, but he thinks he damn well deserves an award for the performance he’s putting on as he profusely apologizes to you, hiding the groan of satisfaction he feels from the brief contact he’d had with you, from the way your attention is solely focused on him, from the way your voice seeps into his ears like the loveliest melody he’s ever heard. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying, meaningless small and polite talk leaving his lips as his mind focuses on what’s more important, mentally recording every syllable and movement you make as you continue conversing with him. But whatever words are spilling out of him seem to be working and something hungry and possessive stirs in him when your face lights up as you board the train the next day, making a beeline towards where he stands as you cheerfully greet him.

Maybe it’s foolish of you to so easily trust and warm up to a complete stranger. But he’s tall, attractive, and interesting, which is more than you can say for most of the men you’ve met and your friends and family are always telling you to put yourself out there more. Is there really much of a difference between finding a random stranger on the countless dating apps you’ve installed versus connecting with one in person? You’d even argue that there’s something whimsically romantic about how the two of you met, even though you don’t know for sure if this is really going to lead to anything. But at the very least, your daily commute becomes more exciting.

You’re everything and more compared to what Matsukawa had imagined and if he thought he was infatuated with you before, he’s completely and utterly obsessed with you now. You’re all he can think of, all he can see in his mind’s eye, even hours after you’ve parted ways on your morning commute, even as he lays in bed in the middle of the night. And as his hand slips underneath the hem of his boxers, wrapping around his aching cock to his imaginations of what you’d look like writhing underneath him, how you’d sound moaning his name, he knows he needs to have you.

After all, as pretty as a meal can be, it’s ultimate purpose is to be devoured.

You giggle when the train shakes and you feel a long toned body shift into yours, squishing you against the wall you’re leaning against, sighing in bliss at how right, how good it feels to be in Matsukawa’s embrace even if it is just for a fleeting moment, a little accident all too common on jam packed trains. But your face heats when you continue feeling his warmth, when his body seems to press even further into you until you can feel the expanse of his body against yours, not even an inch of space left between you.

“Matsukawa-”

Your words are caught off by a gasp as Matsukawa buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, lips and tongue mouthing and licking the sensitive skin there. You’re confused, scared, and aroused, hands reaching up to clutch at the lapels of Matsukawa’s suit, unsure whether to hold him tight to you or push him away. And your humiliation only increases when a nearby elderly couple scowls at the two of you in disdain, clearly unamused by the scandalous gestures of what they believe to be a young couple in love.

Yet you can’t help how your heart beats faster, wondering if this is proof of Matsukawa’s attraction to you, wondering if your hidden feelings for him are returned. But this isn’t the time or place for that conversation and you fervently whisper in his ear, begging him to stop, telling him people are watching.

“Is that the only reason you want me to stop? Because people are watching?”

You grow flustered at the implied meaning of his words, shame filling you at how much you’re enjoying this, hating how your neck arches for more attention as he straightens up once more, his body hiding yours from view as he stands in front of you, still pinning you to the wall.

“Better be as still and quiet as you can, sweetheart.”

You don’t have time to register his words before your mouth opens in a pathetic whine as a calloused hand trails under the hem of your shirt, sliding across the stretch of your stomach, mapping your torso before finally shoving your bra above the swell of your breasts, kneading one of your mounds, tweaking and swirling around your hardening nipple. It feels so good and you almost succumb right then and there, lost in the predatory lustful gaze he pins you with.

But when the train makes its next stop, the conductor’s voice jars you from your trance and you clutch at Matsukawa’s forearm, silently pleading for him to stop with desperate eyes despite the way you quietly mewl when he just quirks an eyebrow and pinches your nipple in retaliation.

“We can’t- We shouldn’t-”

Your hand trembles, jaw going slack when he slides one thigh between your legs, digging his hard muscles into that already dripping hole only protected by the fabric of your pants.

“You’re not very convincing. How about we play a game? If you can tell me you don’t want this without moaning like a bitch in heat, I’ll stop.”

There’s no room for disagreement as he abruptly begins grinding his thigh into your aching cunt, flexing and relaxing his muscle in a pattern and rhythm you can’t keep up with. It takes every last bit of will power in you to not wantonly ride his leg and hump against him like the lewd slut he had just accused you of being.

“I don’t want-”

You cry out in agonized pleasure as his fingers still hovering near your breasts begin to roll your nipples between calloused tips, his thigh never losing its momentum. And under the dual points of attack, your resistance crumbles. Matsukawa’s eyes widen in awe as you bounce and roll your hips against his leg, hiding your face in his chest as you try to muffle the lewd sounds slipping past your lips in the fabric of his jacket.

You’re gorgeous like this, a needy, lustful mess. But as much as he loves to see you suffer so beautifully, there’s only so much time before your stop and he decides to have mercy on you, to reward you for being so honest, so good for him. Your face snaps up to stare at him with pupils blown wide as his hand reaches underneath the waistband of your pants and panties. He groans when his fingers are instantly soaked in your arousal, your panties sticky with your fluids and his digits slip inside of your tight wet heat with no resistance at all.

He wants nothing more than to push the pesky fabric out of the way and lay you bare for his viewing pleasure, to have easy access to thrust in and out of you. But he’ll save that for another day. Instead his fingers slip out of you, tips circling your swollen clit, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves as you resume humping his leg, body trembling, drool beginning to trickle from your lips as you frantically chase your end. And as the train stops once more, passengers trickling in and out, you silently scream, body convulsing as he brings you over the edge, pleasure washing over you and leaving you exhausted as you shiver and slump in his arms that are quick to embrace you and hold you steady as the train begins to move again.

You submissively let his fingers coated in your essence enter your mouth, obediently sucking and licking him clean, finding strange comfort in the action as you remain rested against him. But you keen in confusion, cheeks still hollowed as you mindlessly continue sucking while he guides one of your hands to the bulge in his pants.

But although Matsukawa is a man of few words, his desire is clear despite the silence and your face heats in embarrassment as he unbuttons his trousers, bringing your hand to the waistband of his boxers, dark eyes expectantly staring down at you. You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. Not when you can literally hear the other passengers surrounding the two of you, only Matsukawa’s tall frame hiding your illicit activity. But your body has a mind of its own and you greedily slip under the fabric barrier, moaning around his fingers at how large, hot, and heavy he is in your hands.

You hate how badly you want to see it, to feel it inside you, splitting you apart. Your pussy clenches, leaking in interest once again despite having just found blissful release mere minutes ago as your hands curiously trail up and down the shaft, trying to memorize how every bit of it feels against your skin, trying to visualize what it looks like. But you whimper as Matsukawa finally pulls his fingers free from your mouth, squeezing your jaw and giving you a warning look.

“Don’t tease me, doll.”

Your fingers wrap around the length and it’s your turn to stare up at Matsukawa with eyes full of hunger and awe as you watch his Adam’s apple swallow, as you feel a pleased groan reverberate in his chest with every stroke of your hand. Up and down. Up and down. Your hands are slick with pre-cum and you know it’s just your imagination, but you swear you can hear the lewd wet sounds of his sticky essence coating his shaft with every movement of your palm against the velvety skin. You’re so mesmerized, so lost in the experience that you startle when something hot and thick spurts onto your hand, mixing with his pre-cum, making an even bigger mess of his boxers and you.

You stare stunned at the hand you pull out from between his legs, gazing at the white and transparent fluids that coat your flesh. But before you can even think about wiping it off or scavenging around for a spare napkin or paper in your bag, a large hand grabs your wrist and brings your stained fingers to your mouth. You try to resist him, the spell he had you under broken now that the haze of lust isn’t blinding you. But his grip tightens until you wince and finally relent, stomach churning in disgust and shame as you tentatively lick at the bitter liquid.

He doesn’t release you, not until every last drop is coating the inside of your mouth, his taste heavy in your mouth, seemingly in every crevice of your orifice, your hand completely clean and void of your sinful interaction.

You want to hate him. You want to wipe the smug satisfied look clean off his face. But as you readjust your disheveled clothing, you’re reminded of your own body’s betrayal, your own carnal desire and pleasure, by the uncomfortable mess in between your legs. And all you can do is silently stand there and pretend that nothing has happened as Matsukawa nonchalantly tucks himself in and checks his phone.

There’s an uncomfortable silence as you wait for him to acknowledge what has just happened, only to be disappointed as he doesn’t even spare you another glance, too observed in the glowing screen in his hand. You wonder if this was just a one time thing, if he had been stringing you along all this time for one quick public tryst. And you hate the way that thought makes your chest hurt, hate how much you dislike the idea of never seeing him again, never talking to him again, never feeling and tasting him again.

But as the train pulls into his stop, your eyes widen when his face hovers by your ear, lips grazing your lobe as his voice melts into your soul.

“Wear a dress or skirt tomorrow. No panties or bra.”

He laughs as surprise turns into an endearing scowl that barely hides the apparent relief in your eyes and he just casually waves farewell as you send him on his way with a tirade of angry words about his fucking audacity. But it’s all empty heat and he chuckles at the self-conscious embarrassment written all over your face when he sees you the next morning, a pretty dress fluttering around your knees.

There’s no preamble, no pretense of what’s about to happen and he smirks in appreciation at the unobstructed feeling of skin against skin as he slips his hand under your skirt, not an inch of fabric covering the treasure at the apex of your thighs.

#haikyuu smut #matsukawa smut #yandere matsukawa #yandere haikyuu #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu x reader #tw: yandere #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Business Exhibition Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 企展之约, which has not been released in EN 🍒

[ This date was released on 16 July 2021 ]

After a meal on this weekend afternoon, I’m nestled on the sofa, watching a new episode of an anime.

MC: Hahahaha!

Watching the comical antics of the main character on-screen, I can’t help but laugh out loud.

“Whoosh--”

Hearing the rustling of papers from behind, I subconsciously shut my mouth, my line of sight flitting past the sofa and landing on Victor.

He’s sitting at the dining table, a look of concentration on his face while he reads a report. The small dining table is full of documents.

I had initially planned to watch movies with Victor at my place today. I didn’t expect him to be so bogged down with work lately, and unable to relax over the weekend.

MC: Victor, am I disturbing you? Why don’t you use the study room or my bedroom instead?

Without lifting his head, he props up the spectacles on the bridge of his nose.

Victor: Who was the one who wanted to “stick” together with me over the weekend?

MC: ...that’s true, but you’re focusing on work now.

He has no intention of continuing the conversation. Rubbing my nose guiltily, I head into the kitchen quietly. After cutting some fruits, I bring them over to the dining table.

MC: In that case, I’ll apologise to CEO Victor~

Sticking a toothpick into an apple slice, I bring it to him. He tilts his head up slightly, taking a bite from the apple in my hand.

From my peripheral vision, I spot an invitation card with the words “Elementary and Middle School Students” on it. Curious, I take a closer look.

MC: “Corporate Culture Exhibition for Elementary and Middle School Students”? Is LFG participating in the Corporate Culture Exhibition?

Victor: We received the invitation and haven’t decided if we’re participating.

MC: I see... I’ve never heard of this exhibition.

Victor: The government organised it this year. 

Victor: The officials said that it’s meant to introduce elementary and middle school students to outstanding occupations and various career paths to help them establish their aspirations.

MC: This exhibition seems pretty meaningful. It’s beneficial to LFG’s business image too.

MC: Come to think of it, I wonder if little kids have an understanding of LFG, and what kind of impression they have of LFG?

MC: Oh yes! There was a news report on elementary and middle schoolers going on company tours. Does LFG want to organise a similar activity?

Ideas come one after another in my mind. I rattle on about my opinions, but Victor doesn’t express anything.

When I start making an inventory of the company tour for students, the pen in his hand pauses, and he lifts his eyes slowly.

Victor: I can consider the exhibition, but not the company tour.

MC: Why not?

His deep eyes sweep over the anime on the television screen before landing on me.

Victor: There’s already one very noisy kid in LFG.

-

In the end, Victor accepts the invitation to the Corporate Culture Exhibition. The exhibition commences as scheduled.

Out of interest, I offer my services to Victor. I become a volunteer responsible for decorations at the venue.

Seeing the detailed and vivid posters introducing various occupations  in the exhibition hall, the LFG employees next to me are slightly awed.

LFG Employee A: It’s really nice that we have the chance to understand different occupations. When I was young, I thought there were only astronauts and scientists in the world.

LFG Employee B: Even if you only knew of those careers when you were young and decided on an aspiration, it might not become reality when you grow up. I wanted to be a dancer, but I’m doing something completely unrelated to the arts now.

LFG Employee A: That’s true. If it weren’t for the excellent pay in LFG, I’d probably be at my old home opening a second-hand bookshop and retiring early. Oh yes, MC, what did you want to do when you were young?

Getting pointed out suddenly while engrossed in their discussion causes me to be stunned momentarily.

MC: When I was young...

I blink, recalling somewhat faraway memories. Before I can ponder deeply, my phone rings - it’s a call from Victor.

Victor: Come to the café near the entrance of the exhibition hall.

MC: Now? What for?

Victor: ...what else can you do in a café? Play golf, amend proposals, go horse riding, drink coffee - which one do you think is the most suitable?

MC: ...to be honest, I can’t decide between the two options of “amend proposals” and “drink coffee”.

Victor: I ordered a custard cake. If you don’t come over, I’ll take it that you’re not interested.

MC: I’ll be there immediately!

After notifying those LFG employees, I turn around and head towards the café.

MC: Is this really okay? The others are still busy.

Victor: When did you have such a high sense of awareness? Who was the person who painstakingly learnt “Slacking Hacks” on the internet a few days ago?

MC: I was reading that for fun... I wasn’t planning to put it into practice.

Lifting my phone as I squeeze into the packed café, I notice that most of the people here are parents who are preparing to accompany their kids to the exhibition.

Victor: There’s still an hour till the exhibition begins. I’ve already told Goldman to inform everyone to take a break. In short, there’s no need to feel guilty, because...

Taking two steps into the café, I spot Victor at a glance as he sits at a table near the window calmly.

Seeing that I’m walking towards him, he puts down his phone gently, lifting his head to meet my eyes.

Victor: Aside from you, there’s another person who’s “slacking”.

Taken aback for a moment, I quickly react to the meaning in his words. My brows arch upwards as I take a seat.

MC: I didn’t expect to ever “slack” together with CEO Victor.

Elated, I pick up a fork and try a bite of the dessert in front of me. The custard melts in my mouth instantly, and it’s sweet and smooth.

MC: Delicious! As expected of CEO Victor’s pick~

Victor: Even delicious food can’t stop you from being talkative.

Right after saying this, he seems to stare at me fixedly, his expression slightly strange.

Just as I’m about to ask why he’s looking at me that way, he lifts up his coffee, his lowered eyelashes covering the smile in his eyes.

...am I overthinking things? Why do I feel as if he’s making a joke out of me?

Feeling puzzled, I notice a pen and a post-it booklet at the edge of the table.

MC: This is...?

A staff who is passing by takes a step forward, smiling as he explains.

Staff: This is a small event by our shop. You can write your hopes or suggestions for the children, then hang it on the “Hope Tree” near the door of the shop.

Struck with an idea, I pick up the pen and a post-it note.

MC: Victor, shall we write a few suggestions for the children too?

I tear a post-it note and give it to him. After staring at me in silence for a while, he suddenly reaches out his hand.

Victor: Give me one more.

MC: ?

MC: Does CEO Victor want to write a mini essay?

Ignoring my joke, he writes a sentence on each of the two post-it notes. He hands one to the staff, and stuffs the other one to me.

Bewildered, I sweep a glance at the post-it note given to the staff. The words “You only have one life” are written on it.

Lowering my head, I stare at the post-it note in my own hand. In an instant, I realise why he displayed such a strange smile earlier. There’s a short sentence written on the post-it note:

“Dummy, there’s custard on your cheek.”

??: Hello, could I trouble the two of you to help me with something?

My face reddens. After wiping the custard off my cheek with a tissue, I hear an unfamiliar female voice next to me.

Turning towards the sound, I see a lady standing beside me with two small boys.

Woman: I need to use the washroom, but bringing two boys with me isn’t really convenient. Could I trouble the both of you to take care of them for a while?

I ask for Victor’s opinion with my gaze, and he responds with a slight nod. Understanding this, I nod at the mother.

MC: Of course we can.

While thanking us, she gets the two children to sit at both ends of the table before hurrying off.

The table now comprises of the four of us - two adults and two children. The air gets filled with an inexplicable, thick awkwardness.

Victor looks at me. I look at the kids. The kids look at Victor... Clearing my throat, I decide to break this strange atmosphere.

MC: Kids, how old are the both of you?

Kid A: Mommy said that we can’t give personal information to strangers!

MC: ...

I didn’t expect to be given the cold shoulder the moment I opened my mouth. I release an embarrassed laugh.

MC: Personal information... You can use such advanced terms. You’re so smart haha.

A soft and low chuckle drifts to my ears. I glance at Victor as he picks up his coffee with a blank expression, staying uninvolved in the matter.

The other boy suddenly widens his eyes and leans towards me, pointing at my volunteer name tag and reading it aloud.

Kid B: L! F! G! Do you two work in LFG?

MC: Well...

I ponder over this. LFG is the investor of my company, and Victor is the CEO of LFG. So...

MC: I guess so.

Kid B: In that case, what are the two of you doing here? Did you sneak away?

MC: ...

Although these are unintentional words from a child, I avert my eyes guiltily. At this point, the kid who behaves like an adult speaks loudly.

Kid A: That’s impossible! Mommy said that everyone who works at LFG are really incredible people! They won’t sneak away!

Victor: Cough...

Victor pauses his sampling of the coffee. As though he choked on something, he clears his throat.

Kid B: Really?

The kid blinks his eyes as he waits for our response.

Victor’s expression is a little unnatural. He picks up a newspaper from a rack near the window, immersing himself in it.

Seeing him like this, he probably recalled the earlier conversation we had on “slacking” as well.

It’s rare to see Victor being choked up by someone. A little demon with horns suddenly appears in my heart.

I can’t help but laugh inwardly while turning to the kids.

MC: You’re correct. The employees from LFG never sneak away. We were talking about work-

MC: Right, Vic?

[Note] In CN, MC calls Victor “小李” (“xiao li”, which translates directly to Little Li).

Saying this, I wink at the person opposite me.

Victor arches his brows, astonishment in his eyes. Without waiting for him to speak, I immediately do a “stop” gesture with my hands.

MC: The previous proposal for the show is too conservative. There aren’t any highlights, and it isn’t clear who the target audience is. It might be a waste to show it during prime time.

Adjusting my posture, I clasp my fingers on the table, mimicking VIctor’s tone and expression.

MC: When will you be submitting the new proposal? Tomorrow is the deadline.

Kid A and B: Wow...

Awed gasps from the kids drift to my ears. I straighten up with pride, tilting my chin towards Victor.

He stares at me with a calm gaze, his eyes gradually illuminated with an unreadable, dense light.

He lowers the newspaper slightly, blowing the coffee in his hand gently and unhurriedly.

Victor: Are you sure these are the only problems, Miss CEO? 

Victor: I've also “reflected” much on that proposal, and there are some problems I haven’t had the chance to tell you about. 

Victor: Since you brought it up, I have no choice but to do a “self-reflection” here.

Victor’s tone is composed, and there isn’t a ripple in his expression. As compared to my pretentious posture, he’s laid-back and natural.

Victor: The theme of the show is too general and lacks a segment which stirs the audience. 

Victor: The structure also has the shadow of previous shows. A change in form but not substance - it’s a little unoriginal. 

Victor: A scandal broke out yesterday involving one of the guests for the show. A replacement guest has not been decided upon.

Victor: Also...

MC: Stop! I... I get it!

He leans against the back of the chair, a teasing glint in the depths of his eyes.

Victor: When will you be submitting the new proposal? Tomorrow is the deadline.

MC Tonight, tonight! I’ll definitely submit it tonight!

I reply instantly, my voice carrying with it some alarm. The corners of his lips hook upwards, and he retracts his “overbearing” aura.

Victor: I’ll wait and see.

I heave a sigh of relief, then feel a dryness in my mouth. Lowering my head to take a sip of coffee, I see the disappointed gazes of the two kids.

My cheeks flush. Just as I’m about to say something to salvage some pride, their mother returns, thanking us while taking them away.

I glare at Victor indignantly. He chuckles softly, then clasps his fingers together on the table just like I did earlier.

Victor: I look forward to your next “challenge”.

-

After the exhibition ends, Victor and I leave work early.

The weather is really nice today. We pick a restaurant nearby, planning to head there on foot.

Dusk hangs low, and a misty pink evening mist smudges the sky.

Perhaps due to how smoothly the exhibition went, little emotions surface in my heart. 

Beneath this beautiful sky, how many young aspirations and lives took flight earlier?

Victor: Why are you just standing there in a silly daze? Aren’t you hungry?

Retracting my thoughts, I see that Victor has stopped in front of me, his body turned to the side as he looks at me.

I hurriedly catch up to him, pulling on his arm.

MC: Victor, why did you write “You only have one life” on the post-it note today?

Victor: It’s true that you only have one life. Even an elementary student knows this principle.

MC: ...that’s not what I meant. I’m asking about what’s implied in it. For instance, are you asking the kids to seize the day and work their hardest?

His gaze lands on me. Seeing how serious I look, he slows down his pace slightly.

Victor: If you were to meet your childhood self, would you tell her to work her hardest?

MC: Mm... it’s difficult to say. I might tell her what to do in order for the current me to be even happier?

Victor: And that the reason why you can’t use an overly objective and rational principle to teach others. 

Victor: It’s a desirable trait to work their hardest so that there won't be any excuses to stop in their footsteps. 

Victor: But this doesn’t mean that everyone must have the goal of working their hardest.

Victor: After all, every person expects different things from themselves. 

Victor: Not everyone wants to stand at the peak. 

Victor: As compared to looking down from a mountaintop, there are some people who wish to happily and simply appreciate the scenery along the way. 

Victor: This might sound simple, but being an ordinary person isn’t easy.

Victor: “You only have one life” - this phrase has many meanings in different contexts.

I’m stunned for a moment. I initially thought that Victor’s words were meant to be a motivational quote, and didn’t expect for him to have such thoughts.

Even when he’s faced with young children, he doesn’t wish to give a fixed answer on the basis that he’s a mature adult.

My lips curl upwards, and I can’t help but stick a little closer to him.

MC: You’re right. After all, aside from people who stand at the peak, there are even more ordinary people.

MC: Ordinary people have one life too. They need to cherish it properly, and do what they want to do.

MC: CEO Victor, I’ve learnt something from you!

Clasping my hands together, I bow in mock seriousness. An almost indiscernible smile lifts the corners of his lips.

MC: Come to think of it, I had so many aspirations when I was young. Lawyer, teacher, police officer, judge... I didn’t expect to become a producer in the end. Perhaps in a parallel universe, there’s a me who became a lawyer, teacher or judge!

The scene from the café flashes across my mind, and I burst into laughter.

MC: I might even be a CEO! What do you think?

After I say this, Victor turns his head and gives me an amused glance.

Victor: I think you do behave like a CEO.

MC: It’s because I’ve been influenced after spending such a long time by your side~ Returning to the topic - what was your aspiration when you were young? To become a powerful business tycoon?

Victor: ...have you ever heard of a child having such a pragmatic dream?

MC: In that case, tell me about it?

He doesn’t respond, and simply keeps his eyes faced front. No matter how much I probe, he doesn’t speak.

The sweet fragrance of desserts wafts into my nose. Following the scent and turning to the bakery near the roadside, I’m struck with an idea.

Since I can’t crack this difficult question in a straightforward manner, I decide to adopt the process of elimination.

MC: A baker?

Victor: ...

A signboard with the words “Watchmaker Shop” enters my vision, and I immediately look at him.

MC: A watchmaker?

MC: The boss of a lottery shop?

MC: ...director of a zoo?

Throughout the journey, I rack my brain and ask him about all sorts of occupations. However, it’s clear that none of them are correct.

Finally, we stop in front of a crosswalk, waiting for the red light.

Looks like I won’t be able to get any answers from him today. Disappointed, I let go of Victor’s arm, releasing a soft “hmph”.

MC: Aren’t you curious if there was a choice and you weren’t the CEO of LFG, and if I weren’t a producer...

MC: What would our identities be? Would we meet? And what kind of a relationship would we have?

The red man at the other end of the road suddenly turns green, signalling for us to move forward.

My hand, which had drooped to the side, is lifted up gently by someone. His broad palm conveys a comforting temperature.

Victor: There’s nothing to be curious about.

The crowd flows past in an endless stream on the crosswalk. Their footsteps are hurried, and the tips of their feet point in different directions.

I look at the person beside me. His gaze is resolute as he holds my hand, taking large strides towards the restless crowd.

He seems to sense my gaze. Lowering his head slightly, the light in his eyes is deep and scorching.

Victor: The life that I want to choose most is already in my hand.

-

[ MOMENTS ]

Victor's Post: Turns out someone could still go to work normally after staying up to watch anime last night.

MC: Could we cancel tonight’s reservation at the restaurant? I really want to go straight home to sleep...

Victor: Eating is a necessity. The location will be changed to your home.

-

Victor's Post: Turns out someone could still go to work normally after staying up to watch anime last night.

MC: As long as I’m hardworking enough, nothing’s impossible!

Victor: Working hard to make yourself even more stupid?

-

Victor's Post: Turns out someone could still go to work normally after staying up to watch anime last night.

MC: I solemnly vow not to do such things again.

Victor: This vow better count before you start on the next anime.

🍰 Call: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor #hNNGHGH MY HEART

[onceupona-chaos]

Elain's trauma + (another) lightsinger theory

(This theory is about Elain)

This post was supposed to be just about Elain's trauma, but I decided to use it to share with you one of my theories. So, buckled up, because this will be long!

Warning: This post will be a little about Elriel, but my focus is Elain. If that's not your cup of tea, be warned! Also, as usual, English is not my first language, so forgive for any mistakes. Be kind always!!

So... since I was reading ACOSF for the very first time I noticed how many times Elain's trauma was brought up, especially that time when the Cauldron kidnapped her. I strongly believe that we have enough textual evidence that points to the next book being about her, so I want to talk a little about that trauma and then share my theorie.

Childhood

I'm not going to talk much about it because there is this incredible post right here where the author did an amazing job. But I’ll briefly talk about it just to make sense.

If Nesta was raised to use her "maneuverings", her talents, her dance, Elain was not raised in the same way (not that was good for Nesta, I'm not saying that).

Elain was raised to look pretty, to please others, to not speak up, to get marry using her pretty face, to be a proper lady: a perfect doll.

So she acted like one.

It simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty.

Elain would put on a hat and gloves and kneel in the dirt, weeding. She acted like a purebred lady in every regard but that.

Her mother raised her like that until she was at least eleven years old. This is enough time for her to internalize how she should behave.

This is what SJM is trying to tell about Elain:

"I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she'd disappoint you all"

(Again, check this post for more details, this is just a scratch in comparison)

How this childhood reflects on Elain

Strength:

So, Elain was raised to be passive.

I'm not trying to justify her neglect towards Feyre. Elain has flaws just like any other character. But there's a reason why Feyre and Nesta was filled with rage when they lived in the cottage, and Elain look at it in a different way:

"A shelter from a world that had possessed so little good, but she tried to find it anyway, even if it had seemed foolish and useless to me. She had looked at it that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger."

Since Elain was raised to be passive, her strength is different from her sisters. Her strength comes from her heart, from her kindness. But mostly from her hope. The book tell us that:

"Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind."

My point is: her strength is different, not weaker. She is a different type of character, one that a lot of women relate to. Her strength isn't brutal. Her strength is hope. In her book, she will look at an indescribable horrible situation that seems to have no way out and will choose not to despair.

Beauty

She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers.

Elain's mother saw her for her beauty and only that. Now look at this:

Elain had gone from lovely to devastatingly beautiful. Elain never seemed to realize it.

She was several years older, and I’d never done anything to provoke her hatred, but I think …”

“She was jealous of your beauty,” Amren said, an amused smile on her red lips.

Elain blushed. “Perhaps.”

In my opinion, Elain has been seen as beautiful and only beautiful her entire life. It's not that she doesn't realize it, but she doesn't want to be reduced to that.

“Pity you didn’t bring the other sister. I hear our little brother’s mate is quite the beauty"

"They say your sister Elain is the beauty."

"They." Elain's beauty is known across Prythian, Eris said that twice in the series. She is so beautiful, that it seems like this is the first thing everyone will say about her.

That's why she wishes to be seen:

"No one ever looked —not really.” A bramble of words. Her voice strained to a whisper. “He did. He saw me. He will not now."

She is described as the most beautiful among the sisters, and one of them is High Lady. So everyone looks at her. However, she wants more than that.

For her, it's vital to be seen.

She wants someone who loves her for who she is. That's why she hoped Graysen would still love her even after she turned Fae.

Trauma

Now that we understand what it means for Elain to be seen, to be loved, can we please stop reducing her trauma to a breakup?

She was: kidnapped from her bed, throw into the Cauldron (we saw what a nice experience that is), changed into something she feared, exposed to all the guards laugh at her and mated to a male who conspired to all of that happen.

Not only that: for months she was lost in her own visions. She didn't even know what was reality anymore:

“I think I was dreaming,” she murmured. “I think I’m always dreaming these days.”

"I hear her—her screaming. With rage. Utter rage…” She shuddered.

And when she was able to understand what she was, a Seer, and "wake up" from whatever "murky realm" she had been, the Wall came down. Which means she faced the Graysen.

Elain genuinely hoped he would love her for who she was despite being Fae. She looked at that situation with the same hope she used to look at the cottage. And how that turned out:

“You belong to him.”

“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

Graysen’s face hardened. “I don’t want it.”

He would have been better off hitting her, that’s how deep the hurt in her eyes went.

And then she was kidnapped.

Elain is captured by the Cauldron

SJM used ACOSF to remind us of events that are going to be relevant for the next books and Elain's trauma was repeatedly brought up in ACOSF:

But Elain said, “I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

“Elain was right. We’ve become so focused on how her trauma impacted us that we forget she was the one who experienced it.”

(...) he understood that Elain had spoken true, claiming the trauma of that memory.

Now, look at how many times Elain being captured by the Cauldron came up.

Elain had been stolen. By Hybern. By the Cauldron, which had seen Nesta watching it and watched her in turn.

Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern’s camp?

The Cauldron looked at her. And then took Elain.

“Bad things happened the last time. The Cauldron looked at me. And took Elain.

“I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.

He’d gone with Feyre into the heart of Hybern’s camp to save Elain—he knew the risk.

These are just a few examples to say: Sarah is setting up her next book by remind us again and again how deep her trauma is.

Now, how did the Cauldron kidnapped her in the first place?

Nesta was already moving, sprinting for where we’d heard that voice. Luring Elain out.

I knew how it had done it.

I’d dreamed of it.

Graysen standing on the edge of camp, calling to her, promising her love and healing.

Graysen promising love and healing: everything she had hope for.

Now, who rescued her?

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

And we have this reaction:

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

I don't believe it's coincidence that the Cauldron used Graysen's image to lure Elain out, and Azriel was the one who got her back. (I'm dying to get into her head and see her feelings about all of this)

And ACOSF reminded us of this as well:

Azriel stiffened. "I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.

Repeatedly. We don't know how this characters felt at that moment, we don't have their POV's, but after ACOSF I do think this was a crucial moment for both of them: Elain and Azriel.

Lightsingers

“There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost. Only when you’re in their arms will you see their true faces, and they aren’t fair at all. The horror of it is the last thing you see before they drown you in the bog. But they kill for sport, not food.”

"Hunt the kelpies or lightsingers without provocation and you might find yourself trapped here.”

When Cassian explains what is a lightsinger, the book has already remind us again and again the Cauldron took Elain.

We know Nesta fought a kelpie. But what if the reason why we didn't see a lightsinger is because Elain will be the one who will face one?

Lightsingers lure people, appearing as a friendly face: this is exactly what happened when Elain was captured by the Cauldron, when she saw Graysen. We know that was very traumatic for her - she told us that herself.

Elain already experienced what is to be lured, so if anyone could face a lightsinger and survive is her. She wouldn't make the same "mistake" twice.

Graysen standing on the edge of camp, calling to her, promising her love and healing.

There are lightsingers: lovely, ethereal beings who will lure you, appearing as friendly faces when you are lost.

Elain was lost, the last thread that connected her to her humanity had been cut off. The Cauldron used her love for Graysen, her deepest wishes, her hope for a future and turned it all against her.

But when a character is developed, they learn with their mistakes, they get stronger. What it was once a weakness might become their greatest strength, which is something very present in SJM books (The Nephelle Philosophy?) .

Elain's strength comes from her hope, she looks at the darkness of the world and sees the light. If the Cauldron used it once against her, maybe that hope would be precisely how she could break through whatever luring spells lightsinger cast.

There's a reason why SJM remind us again and again about that specific moment, which was without a doubt one of the most important ones between Elain and Azriel, and possibly because we are going to see Elain dealing with her struggles.

But what if there's more? What if that trauma would be the reason why Elain can face a lightsinger and survive?

What if what was once a weakness may become... her strength, her survival?

#pro elain #acotar theory #pro elain archeron

[hypmicawoou]

Werewolf Powers: Gifts

So if you’ve been reading Hunter’s Moon you’ve probably noticed that the Hypmic boys have some abilities that are not traditionally associated with werewolves. What’s up with that? Well, while I’ve called it wolf-magic in the story, in the actual games they’re called Gifts. The Uremehir word for them is Alathru, capitalized as it’s a proper noun. I could talk about them for a while since they’re a really interesting bit of game design both in terms of mechanics and story utility so let’s get started! I'll put this below a cut to save the tags.

(Also mandatory note: I got bogged down in finals but I've mostly pulled myself out of them! I have another major writing obligation to work with but I'm closing in on finishing the next three chapters so I'll have a buffer again -v-b So I'm hoping to have the next BAT interlude up over the weekend.)

All werewolves start with a Gift associated with the moon phase they First Changed under. As that ties into their role in a pack, it just makes them better at the stuff they’re supposed to do and what that face of Mother Moon represents. Rahu get to be better fighters, Cahalith more inspiring, Elodoth better at social matters, Ithaeur better at dealing with spirit-matters, and Irraka better at being underhanded and sneaky.

You may notice my wording is a little floaty, which is deliberate. Mother Moon is the goddess of change and has many facets, so even an Auspice can assert itself in many ways. Both Rosho and Samatoki are Rahu, but they’re very different kinds of Rahu. Rosho operates more like a tactician— his Full Moon Gifts focus on being able to read the flow of battle well and direct his allies. Samatoki is just incredibly good at breaking shit.

Unlike the Auspice itself, you can try to shift yourself onto a different path if you want, it just takes effort, training, and convincing Mother Moon (usually through talking to her moon-spirit children) that’s what you really want. Jakurai did just this. His original Crescent Moon Gift was the Witch’s Moon which is particularly nasty. Lots of curses and generally being scary as shit. Now he’s more of a healer.

Wonder why he changed. It’s probably nothing to worry about. ;>

(In-game, it takes experience and gets really expensive. It’s frequently worth it though since Moon Gifts get incredibly strong.)

Now…I did say they start with it. I’ll go more into this when I discuss the Pure Tribes in detail, but as part of their initiation rites, the Pure go through a particularly nasty ritual where they carve away Mother Moon’s influence on them physically and metaphysically. After that, your Moon Gift is gone. Forever. Even if you try to abandon ship and switch sides, there is no known way to restore it. I’ve heard people say that the Pure Tribes would sort of treat Forsaken Tribes like they’re slasher movie villains and honestly this is pretty accurate. The Pure are basically trading off a better relationship with the spirit world and a few other bits-and-bobs for the backing of a goddess.

Alright, but there’s more than that. When you join a Tribe and swear an oath to the Firstborn, you can get even more stuff! Each Firstborn is aligned with some vague elemental forces appropriate to their purview as demigods. So, Winter Wolf grants some control over the weather, Ravening Wolf over decay, Silver Wolf over pain, etc. This is one reason that werewolves tend to align themselves with Tribes. The Gifts they grant tend to help with hunting down whatever chosen prey that Firstborn picked out, so from a mechanical point it’s trying to point you in the direction of a certain playstyle. So, Blood Talons go in a very toe-to-toe sustained conflict, Bone Shadows are very indirect in the way they fight and are actually less likely to go in for a kill, Hunters in Darkness are focused on skulking around and then doing one very quick kill, and so on. There’s still some flexibility, but there’s a good amount of focus for each! This usually means that a balanced pack is a good idea (which is true for Forsaken, mixed-Tribe packs are very common, while the Pure tend to group up in single-Tribe packs since they don’t hunt a specific species of prey so much as a general philosophical category they see as transgressing against the ideals of Taga Dam.)

One last detail: Gifts get more powerful as a werewolf gets stronger, of course, but what actually makes them stronger is performing deeds resonant with various werewolf virtues. I’ll have to do an entire post just on these, but the five virtues are Cunning, Glory, Honor, Purity, and Wisdom.

So! Since I’ve cleared up that bit, I think it’s about time I make posts about the character builds I made for everyone. And yes…they all have character sheets. ;> It just helps me visualize what they're capable of. Not all of them are totally finished but gimme a break, I got a lot of characters to go through. I tried to communicate the team dynamics and reflect their canon style in rap battles through their abilities. For a little preview: given Jakurai’s ability to heal his team in canon, I decided that fighting Matenrou is (as in canon) mostly a completely miserable battle of attrition. There’s lots of damage reduction and “if you move, you lose” powers like Poison Essence.

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #werewolf au #werewolf the forsaken

[wicked-jade]

For the meta ask: 4, 11, and 22. :)

Thanks again, Mel! 🥰

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

Okay, this is from Ch. 11 of "If It Wasn't For Bad Luck" aka the Nightmare chapter. I basically winged that whole chapter (it wasn't in the original plan at all, I was just desperately trying to write myself out of a corner) but I really liked how it turned out in the end. There's a genuinely creepy, unsettling aura to that whole chapter. It's very different tonally from most of my work (and most of that fic) but I'm very proud of it.

Hot breath tickled his nape, making the hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck stand on end. He startled, darting away from that smooth voice, from the mocking laughter in his ear. He leapt to his feet and spun around in a fighting stance, his heart jackhammering away at his ribs. Instinctively, Daniel took half a step back, only to collide with the half-open locker behind him. He flinched as the door clanged shut, the sound rattling off of hard concrete and slick tile, echoing like a gunshot in a desolate valley. The locker’s cold metal handle dug into his bruised spine as he backed into it, cornered. The hunted fawn, wide-eyed and staring, frozen in the hunter’s sights. How had Daniel not known he was there? How had he let him get so close? (How, how had he ever let him get so close? How had he not seen him? How had he not sensed him?) Swallowing down a wave of nausea, he looked up, and up, and up some more, into that grinning face. It was a bear trap of a smile, steel-jawed and serrated. It didn’t reach those cold blue eyes. But then it never had; Daniel had only realized that when it was too late, after he’d already been caught in the snare.

11. What do you envy in other writers?

Brevity. The ability to get to the point and keep a story moving. I get too bogged down in the details. My style is far too meandering and internalized, emotional stuff more suited to character studies that actual plot. I often feel like nothing really happens in my stories, lol. I admire (and am deeply fucking jealous of) anyone who can write fun, well-paced and plotted action or suspense.

22. Do you reread your old works? How do you feel about them?

Well, most of my CK fics have a bad habit of bleeding into each other and becoming series. There are very few standalones, between the 'Bad Luck' 'verse and my ongoing Dutch/Johnny series. So I do end up going back to re-read my own stuff a lot, for continuity purposes. I almost always find something I could improve on, but generally I'm happy with them.

Okay, happy might be the wrong word, but there are plenty of moments I'm proud of and genuinely enjoy. If I can still laugh at some of my own dialogue or tear up at a scene after proofreading it 50 fucking times, I figure maybe I'm doing something right.

If we're talking pre-CK fandoms, stuff I wrote a decade ago before I gave up writing... I did go back to read some of that recently. It was depressing. Not because those works sucked, but because they were actually pretty good. Probably better than my writing now. And I remember how effortless (comparatively, of course) it used to be. So yeah, I don't really like looking at my pre-CK works, because reading that stuff just makes me feel really dejected. Like, it's all downhill from there.

Here are the rest of the questions, if anyone else wants to send an ask!

#ask game

[returnsandreturns]

im so sorry you're not feeling well, hope it clears up soon!! just wanted to pop by and say that I'm rereading hurry up now (it's only getting colder) for the xth time and it's SO GOOD, I'm headcanoning that they start dating after this and Foggy moves in within six months (for the heating ofc) and they're stupidly in love and happy for the rest of their lives together :D

OKAY, i wasn’t planning on writing anything more for this fic because i’m still spinning it off into a novel that’s, like, 100k of slow burn romance at this point but YES, they would be the EXACT opposite of that FOR SURE

Foggy wakes up to the feeling of Matt’s hand brushing hair away from his face, to Matt’s smile when he opens his eyes to see him hovering over him hesitantly.

“Hey,” Foggy says, smiling back.

“Hi,” Matt says. “Did I spoon you so you couldn’t leave last night?” 

“I really wasn’t considering meeting someone like you when I set the alarm to sneak out early,” Foggy says. “I would’ve spooned you first if you tried to make me leave.” 

“Someone like me?” Matt asks, completely adorably reaching for a compliment that Foggy was gonna give him regardless, both because it’s true and it’s just polite when someone puts you up for the night and also fucks you, like, exceptionally well. 

“Well, you surpassed my standards of having a working heater by a lot,” he says, reaching up to curve his hand around the back of Matt’s head to pull him down into a kiss, punctuating each word with another as he continues, “You’re smart. . .and funny. . .and you seem like a functional adult which is just. . .wow.” 

“Functional is generous but I’ll take it,” Matt says, kissing him one more time before he gets out of bed and finds his underwear. “Do you want breakfast?” 

“See? Functional! The only thing I have in my refrigerator is, like, one egg,” Foggy says, sitting up and stretching his arms out. “If that. Maybe half an egg--anyway, yes, I would love breakfast.”

“Grab a shower if you want,” Matt says, standing mostly naked in front of Foggy in the morning sunlight like some kind of ridiculous fantasy of a person. “I’ve got not only heat and food but also pretty decent water pressure.” 

“That’s perfect,” Foggy says, a little too earnestly. “Can I just move in?” 

Matt looks surprised for a second before he laughs, scrubbing a hand over his face. His hair is a mess and his face is a little red when he says, shrugging before he walks out of the room, “Play your cards right.”

“Are you implying I can continue trading sex for a roof over my head?” Foggy calls after him. 

“I think that’s technically prostitution!” Matt calls back. 

“Let’s not get bogged down in the legal details, Matt!” 

Matt’s laugh makes Foggy want to be the one making breakfast for him.

Maybe he can get a date out of this, at least.

#i don't want to write a sequel to this but also i want to write a sequel to this lollll #my fic #daredevil #mattfoggy #Anonymous

[bloodletterepicness]

Blood, sweat and soul...

Time could be a trick of the mind...I stood there inside the Pit, a clear thought in my head and yet, I was still just standing right here doing nothing but thinking. There were moments that I preferred not to be up in my own head and now was one of those. I had been fully back in the fold of all things Brotherhood for a month now, thirty one days and yet there was one place I still had yet to go to...How long has it been? Maybe a year...or fuck, so much longer. I dragged a hand down my face, groaning not so quietly and then I did a whole mental cuss out session. There were components of oneself that were always within you...I could run, get bogged down with all the insanity of life and yet, parts of me would always be just that, a part of me.

I let my arm fall to my side, shutting down any further stalling and left the Pit, going outside to stand under the humid night sky. I let one more fleeting thought slide through the inside of my mind and I dematted, leaving the grounds of the compound and coming to form on the balcony at my Penthouse. My hand gripped the railing, not in fear of anything but more as a response to my own stupidity for denying myself and now coming face to face with that decision...It was a hard fucking pill to swallow.

“Alright fuckwad...Suck it the fuck up and lets get this show on the motherfucking road.”

The right side of my mouth came up in a smirk and I was letting go of the steel banister while using my swifty nifty powers and had the glass doors opening, giving me full fucking entrance. Instead of how things used to be, pillared candles would come to life the moment my presence was inside, now there was only the low dim lighting of the fixtures buzzing to life. There was nothing inside, no furniture, not a single paddle or whip...but the scents of the past clung to the foundation of this place. I easily inhaled the aroma of wax and it stirred more than just my senses. My diamond eyes blaze with a low burning flame, making them look more crystalized to the point they were like prisms bouncing off the purely black walls. I did a walk through of the place that was more a part of me, then even I was aware until I crossed that threshold and we came back together again… Whole.

I cracked my neck and let my leather slide down my arms. It was going to be a long motherfucking night and I planned on enjoying every second of it. I tossed my jacket on the bar counter, grinning like the sick fuck that I am and assisted the front door in opening with just a thought. A solitary beep alerted me that my personal elevator had reached my Penthouse level. From that moment on, it was a constant parade of males that I hired to move all the crates in and I stood back, drinking some Goose, watching until the last box was placed with the rest.

I grabbed the crowbar, going around to the crates and popping the tops off each one... I had some OCD issues, there was order to my chaos and ninety nine percent of the time, only I understood it. I cleaned as I created a mess. I cursed as I cheered myself on. I was just glad as fuck that no one was here to witness my rise and fall as I tore into every containing. At times I was battling the pieces to go together, other times I was counting down until I put it all to use. But through it all, I had many bottles of Goose to enjoy and a fuck load of blunts rolled up...To say it was an epic as fuck evening, was putting that shit mildly.

It was going pretty damn good if I did say so myself, all the big pieces of furniture were put together. I went at my leisure, placing things where I wanted them. There was no rush as I went around moving the massive four poster bed with compartments built in and the cages to the desired locations. Okay so I might have moved them three or four fucking times before finally settling on the original place I had them at... Next on the agenda was going to require the ladder. I stripped down to only my leathers, kicking my boots off and in seconds I was carrying up materials I needed and attaching the rigs from the exposed, reinforced ceiling joists. I climbed up there, easily walking across and stopping in designated spots to attach the chain links. When I came to the middle of the room, I sat my ass down on the joist and pulled a smoke out from my behind my ear, flicking my zippo to life and taking in one deep as fuck pull off of it. I let my legs hang off the joist as I looked around below.

“Well Fuck…”

There was still much to be done, all the little details and more but fuckkkkk...My icy gaze landed on the new table down below and I had to shove the back of my palm against my hardening cock...That fucking table was going to be my undoing. It didn’t take much for my mind to create exactly what I wanted and would have...over and over.

Male or female, it didn’t matter… It never has. Stripped naked, no barriers. Laid out, stretched with legs locked in place by leather straps wrapped around the thick wooden legs of the table and biting into their flesh. Arms pulled upwards, tight and all of that laid there for me to do exactly as I pleased.

“Motherfuckcocksuckingfuckinghellsonofbitch…”

Every bit of that slid out, mingling with massive smoke rings that rolled off my tongue. I lay back on the beam and stretch my long legs out, resting up there as comfortably as I would in a bed and let my eyes slide close while I let the myriad of sounds that would fill these walls up...Pleas that would turn into moans or straight to screams and moans...Some would be masked behind obstacles and only mere gurgles or gasp would be heard. My imagination created them all, stopping on certain ones to explore them deeper but never lingering too long. I decided then and there that it was a good thing I was off patrol for the next few nights. I didn’t want to leave it unfinished and one night was not enough time to put my blood sweat and soul back into this place.

#BDB #Vishous #V #RP #3

[beevean]

Ok let's do this: your top Metroid games (counting only the ones you've played of course)?

Prefacing that there is no Metroid that I’ve played that I would say is bad... from least favorite to favorite:

Prime 2: sorry bud. I didn’t like much the gimmick of retrieving all the keys (especially near the end, which is the main reason I dropped it just before the final boss lol), I got bored with the switching between the Light World and the Dark World relatively soon, and a couple of bosses drained my will to live (motherfucking spider ball guardian on the gamecube version killed all the fun of being in morph ball mode for the rest of the game). On the upside, it has some great tracks, two memorable locations in the form of Torvus Bog and Sanctuary Fortress, other memorable bosses for the right reasons (mainly Cykka and Quadraxis, but all bosses are generally a step up compared to the standard), and the weapon system was pretty interesting compared to the usual set Samus has.

Zero Mission: it will probably go higher if I manage to replay it, but aside from the super cool Metal Gear Samus sequence, it didn’t impress me as much as its older brother Fusion did, despite being now the prototypical 2D Metroid game. Nothing wrong it with, but I feel it was slightly held back by the flaws of the game it’s a remake of, both in design (only 2 big areas + the new part at the end) and presentation (the locations are... there? and with weird setpieces that were directly translated from the NES version, like those cloud rocks in Norfair; the music is a big improvement over the original for obvious reasons, but some tracks are still weird). It’s probably much more entertaining if you’re a 100% completionist, lol. (also fuck mother brain in this version how are you harder here than in the original)

Samus Returns: I couldn’t finish this one and I’m still angry because it was just getting to the good part :( so I don’t feel like I can judge it, because this game has one hell of a steep learning curve. It will kick your ass at the beginning and it will be frustrating and everything hates you, but the more upgrades you find, the more you’ll feel like you’re turning into the legendary Bounty Hunter, and I guess YMMV if it’s a good design choice. I also like how it upgraded some of the M2 mechanics, like the statue that tells you where the last Metroids are if you can backtrack, or how unique each form is. Sadly, I can’t say much about the presentation and music, with the exception of Area 5 that looks super pretty with all its vegetation and the couple of remixes of old music.

Fusion: I can see how it split the fanbase at the time, as it’s very different from the Metroid people were waiting for for 8 years, but being my second Metroid game (and not much of a game breaker) I kinda liked its structure and what it tried to do with the plot. Prime 2 is also rather plot heavy, but in this game it’s one of the factors that make you feel trapped and powerless until the very end, and it’s glorious when you discover a new area or go in places you’re not supposed to go. And what can I say about the legendary SA-X? Super fun game, although a big step in difficulty compared to SM, with much better controls (love how SA-X can’t climb ledges because you in SM couldn’t, but now you can lol), many areas to explore, and a memorably creepy atmosphere.

Prime 1: I don’t really know what to say about this game, because it’s one of the most famous and beloved Metroids. The idea of being first person was genius because the whole point of the series is to make you feel alone in a dangerous place, not to mention the little details like being able to see Samus’ eyes when the screen flashes; almost all of its locations are so good looking for their time, with fun platforming, and the music! I can’t gush enough about tracks like Phendrana Drifts/Depths and Wrecked Ship! Even the menu theme sounds badass! The story is simple but you will become addicted to Scan every pixel you see! It’s a really long game but I had tons of fun. Its only flaw would be, again, having to collect all those artifacts near the game, but hey, at least I don’t have to switch between dimensions.

AM2R: This is genuinely the best fangame I’ve played in my life, and yes I’m including Mania. It takes everything good from M2, SM, and Zero Mission but still manages to feel fresh. Absolutely genius level design, each location is memorable, with the help of some great tracks that won’t leave my head (they remixed Brinstar Green! The absolute madlads!), and it’s also genuinely creepy when you least expect it - the dead researchers got me, yeah. Also, those Metroids may not be tanks of destructions like in SR, but I never got bored of missiling them to death (although I admit I had to cheat a little with the Zetas and the Omegas because boi).

Super Metroid: yeah. yeah i’m predictable. sue me. Everything they say about this game, I agree 100%. It is simply brilliant in its level design, in how it guides the first-time players and how it allows experts to break it in half and cut down time, in how it portrays a story without a single word after the recap intro, in how it tugs at your heartstrings because of a little parasite. Sure the controls have aged a bit, and 3 of the 5 bosses aren’t nothing special, but SM is just fun, the kind of game you just pop in to explore not a game, but a real planet with its own life. I have played this game just a few months ago, and Brinstar Green still puts a smile on my face like the theme of the game of my childhood.

#metroid #spinningbuster98

[rowaning]

The Complete Fiction of HP Lovecraft rated by me, someone who read them all* but has a terrible memory

The Beast in The Cave: uh a guy goes on a cave tour and finds a creature that was like a human that got lost and adapted to its surroundings. 0/10 just because im pretty sure there was another one with this exact premise and neither of them were memorable at all.

The Alchemist: dude achieves immortality and lives in the narrators basement and has pledged to murder his entire lineage or something. 4/10 the alchemy stuff was actually kind of interesting

The Tomb: im pretty sure this is the one where a guy starts hanging out in a tomb and like travels back in time/becomes one of his ancestors? 5/10 if its the one im thinking of i did enjoy reading it

Dagon: guy lands on a mysterious island with signs of a long dead civilization. 1/10 i do not remember what happened in it

A Reminiscence of Dr. Samuel Johnson: 0/10 i have no memory of this

Polaris: also 0/10 i forgot all about it

Beyond the Wall of Sleep: could be any of the dream focused ones. if its the one about the dude sailing into the void or whatever than 4/10 not too bad

Memory: ironically, i dont remember it. 0/10

Old Bugs: 1/10 for the title god i wish i remembered this one

The Transition of Juan Romero: i got nothing. 0/10

The White Ship: this might also be the one about the dude sailing into the void? i liked that one he lived in a lighthouse and boarded a dream ship and just fucking left it was fun. 4/10

The Street: uh i think really steep street that didnt actually exist. 3/10

The Doom that Came to Sarnath: i wanna say another one of the dream centered ones where a town discovers some old relics and blatantly disrespects them and gets exactly whats coming to it. 5/10 they deserved what they got

The Statement of Randolph Carter: ok this dude shows up several times. i think this one is about how he returns to his childhood home then travels back in time and creates a time loop paradox thing. 1/10 meh

The Terrible Old Man: uh some thieves harrass a weird old guy and get got. 5/10

The Cats of Ulthar: someone is mean to a cat in a dream city, all of the rest of the cats get revenge and are revered for the rest of time. 2/10 (-3 because lovecraft has a specific name he gives to apparently every fictional and real cat he encounters and wow i wish he hadn't)

The Tree: i feel like this is something to do with a person becoming a tree but i cant actually remember. 0/10

Celephais: yeah no i got nothing 0/10

The Picture in the House: also nothing 0/10

The Temple: nope 0/10

Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and his Family: is this the one where the dude's great grandfather married an ape? i dont think so but im not sure. 0/10, -5/10 if it is that one cause that one was especially shitty

From Beyond: nope 0/10

Nyarlathotep: charismatic dude shows up and is like get in bitches we're going to the void. i love nyarlathotep cause hes the one who directly interacts with humanity and like wears a human suit or whatever so hes just some dude whos like hey im gonna feed you to azathoth 5/0

The Quest of Iranon: got nothing 0/10

The Music of Erich Zann: narrator makes friends with an old musician whos being hunted by supernatural forces. 2/10 because i remember it but it was just ok

Ex Oblivione: 1/10 for the title but i have no clue what it was about

Sweet Ermengarde: lovecraft's sole attempt at comedy. not to my taste like at all 0/10

The Nameless city: nope 0/10

The Outsider: also nope 0/10

The Moon-Bog: sounds cool, dont remember it. 0/10

The Other Gods: dude tries to find the gods of humanity where they live on a big mountain, actually finds them, is immediately smited by the Other Gods who protect the gods of humanity. 3/10 he deserved it

Azathoth: dont recall, 0/10

Herbert West- Reanimator: Arkham man Herbert West and his assistant ressurect the dead with little thought to the consequences, then get murdered by a band of said resurrected dead. 5/10

Hypnos: nope 0/10

What the Moon Brings: also nope 0/10

The Hound: still nope 0/10

The Lurking Fear: again, nope 0/10

The Rats in the Walls: dude returns to his ancestral home, hears rats, excavates the basement and finds out that his ancestors ate human flesh, eats his friend. 1/10 it was an interesting read but can lovecraft please stop calling cats that.

The Unnameable: no clue 0/10

The Festival: nope 0/10

*Under the Pyramids: ok im pretty sure this is the one with houdini which is the only one i could not read. i went into this mentally prepared for lovecraft's bigotry but i was not mentally prepared for him dropping harry houdini, avid skeptic who absolutely would have beat the shit out of him for this, into the middle of his super racist paranormal horror. -1000/10

The Shunned House: nope 0/10

The Horror at Red Hook: also nope 0/10

He: cool title, no memory of the story. 0/10

In the Vault: wow im bad at this. 0/10

Cool Air: still no 0/10

The Call of Cthulhu: kind of all over the place, there was a thing about artists and then a thing about a cop investigating a cult. 3/10 meh but ill give it a bonus for being a staple of horror fiction.

Pickman's Model: uh artist sees some wild shit and draws it and then it eats him. 2/10 i forget the details

The Strange High House in the Mist: if this is the one im thinking of, dude does a dangerous climb to find a mysterious house and meet the inhabitant who is kind of interdimensional and also being hunted by interdimensional things. also maybe the house eats people? 2/10

The Silver Key: another Randolph Carter one, and i think this is actually the one about him travelling back in time so idk what the other one was. 3/10

The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath: randolph carter goes on a quest in the dream world to find the gods of humanity and ask why they wont let him check out this cool city he can see from his window. lots of action and very wordy and went a lot of different places. 4/10 good read but extremely xenophobic

The Case of Charles Dexter Ward: guy investigates his ancestor who looks disturbingly like him, ancestor comes back to life and kills him and takes his place and a bunch of other stuff happens. mostly a dramatized genealogical study. 3/10 not bad, very suspenseful

The Colour Out Of Space: meteor lands on a farm, scientists get weirded out by it, everything in the area gets weird then dead, alien thing gets enough power from draining nearby life-forms to escape earth. fun twist ending. 4/10 bonus for being one of the better ones, detraction for writing out a 'rural accent'

The Descendant: nope, 0/10

The Very Old Folk: nope again, 0/10

History of the Necronomicon: very dry. fake history of lovecraft's fake book thats super important to a lot of the stories. 0/10

The Dunwich Horror: isolated witchy family has a kid who no one likes that grows up real fast. graphic descriptions of renovation. a horror gets unleashed on the area and the local folklore scholars have to deal with it. 1/10 nothing good enough to counter the xenophobia

Ibid: i remember this one. no idea what it's deal was. pseudo-bibliography? it was weird. 0/10

The Whisperer in Darkness: guy has a correspondance with another guy about local folk legends based on evil crab things. other guy gets straight up replaced by an evil crab thing and first guy doesnt even notice. imagine if you followed up on a scam email and didnt realize anything was up until you saw that the face of the dude you were talking to in person was a mask. 4/10 for the comedy this guy would not last in the internet age at all

At The Mountains of Madness: guy whines about penguins and how awful it would be if there were civilizations that predated humanity. also commits grave desecration. i get hit by the realization that if lovecraft was less of a racist coward he wouldve made a great speculative sci fi author. 3/10 i would love to watch that old asshole get absolutely torn to shreds by the monster fucker community

The Shadow over Innsmouth: Fish People! Leave Them Alone! Or Else! 5/10 the protagonist gets to live the dream by escaping human society and becoming an immortal fish person

The Dreams in the Witch House: dude rents an objectively haunted room, doesnt listen to people trying to help him, gets murdered by a weird rat. later they find a shit ton of bones in the attic. 2/10 meh

Through The Gates of the Silver Key: Randolph Carter transcends time and space, then de-transcends time and space and immediately gets stuck on another planet in the distant past, makes a long and difficult journey back to earth to find that his estate is being divided amongst his heirs. the comedy potential of a man stuck in an alien body dealing with a legal system that has declared him dead is not examined. 2/10

The Thing on the Doorstep: narrator's good friend marries a fish person witch who steals his body. thats basically it. 3/10. at this point im like wow these narrators really refuse to believe the heavily foreshadowed supernatural explanations that turn out to be correct huh.

The Evil Clergyman: dude is in a room. some ghosts (?) show up. dude has a UV light for some reason. Gets his face stolen i guess and just has to live with it. 5/10 for being absolutely buck wild and refusing to explain anything

The Book: nope 0/10

The Shadow Out Of Time: dude gets his body stolen by ancient scholar species. agonizes about it for a while. finds archaeological evidence of said species. finds a book he wrote while living with said species. almost gets eaten by something. 3/10 more cool speculative sci fi but lame protagonist

The Haunter of the Dark: you'd think id remember it bc this was the last one and i read it last night. oh wait, nvm i do remember it. dude finds an old box in a run down culty church and unleashes a horror that then comes and fucks him up. 1/10 meh.

#tw lovecraft #i have forgotten more than i can remember #which is on par for me

[calligraphist-artemisia]

16 | Will-o’-the-Wisp

Written for Kidgetober 2020. Week 2 Theme: Myths & Magic. Day 16: Will-o’-the-Wisp.

Summary: Set in the Harry Potter universe.  Pidge finds herself lost in the woods on a dark, moonless night. She'd given up hope on getting home before sunrise when suddenly a light appeared between the trees to lure her deeper into the forest. Luckily, a handsome stranger is around to save her.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune. Titled as “Magic of the Season”.

- - - - -

16 | Will-o'-the-Wisp

Pidge trudged through the undergrowth, cursing herself for deciding to take a stroll through the woods on a dark, moonless night. Why did she think it was such a good idea? She hated the woods! And nature in general.

Yes, she was definitely the indoors-y type, best suited to viewing the world from a screen and the comfort of her home.

She shivered and hugged herself, rubbing her arms with the hope of creating enough friction to generate warmth. She glanced up to try and see the stars but the canopy of trees completely blocked her view and the only thing that greeted her was more darkness. Her breath came in tiny pants as she looked around, barely able to make out the thick trunks, and it sank in just how well and truly lost she was.

Someone once told her: “the best thing to do when you're lost is to stay where you are”. But did that really apply when no one knew she was out there?

Pidge stopped and took a deep breath to try and calm down. What she needed to do was take a moment to think logically about the situation, highlighting all of the details she knew, and then come up with a workable plan from there.

So.

She was lost in the woods and it was too dark to see anything past a few inches from her face.

Her cell phone was very dead, though she did have a charging cable if she could find a place to use it.

She had no real way of navigating her way back to civilization.

Pidge reached out until she felt the bark of the nearest tree and used it as a way to ground herself. She briefly considered climbing up as high as she could go and hope it would be enough to get a look at the stars, which she could then use to get her bearings, but dismissed the idea as being potentially too dangerous.

There was nothing she could do but wait out the night and find her way once the sun rose once again.

She leaned against the tree and tilted her head back, wishing she could see something. Even the smallest pinprick of light would give her hope.

Pidge wasn't sure how long she stood there, her mind whirling through all of the different possibilities of how and when she would make it back to civilization and even entertaining the idea of someone heroically swooping in with a flashlight to save her. It was fun to imagine, though she knew it wasn't something that was going to happen.

She lowered her eyes and that was when she saw it: something glowing in the distance, lighting up the trunks of trees around it. Pidge held her breath in surprise. Surely she was hallucinating, right?

“Hello?” she called out.

She didn't get a response, but the light bobbed around a bit, as though whoever was holding it was trying to draw her in closer.

Or lead her out of the forest.

Pidge pushed away from the tree and began walking towards the light, praying that she wouldn't snag her foot on the undergrowth. To her confusion, the closer she got, the farther away the light seemed to move, occasionally stopping to sway and let her get a little more caught up before moving away again.

“Who's there? Can you slow down a bit?” Pidge called out, frustration bleeding into her voice.

And just like that, the light stopped. It hovered there in place, growing larger and larger as she approached. It pulsed in a mesmerizing pattern as it appeared the drift in the air, but Pidge didn't take any notice of how odd the whole thing was as she continued to follow it even as she sank to her ankles in cold, muddy water.

She shivered but kept going, the light too entrancing to stop. It would lead her to safety. She knew it.

The water lapped at her calves as the mud clung tightly to her feet, making any movement difficult, but she had to keep going. She was going to get out of the woods and make it back to her safe and warm home before the sunrise and a little bit of water and mud wasn't going to stop her.

Nothing could stop her.

A jet of crackling red energy shot past her shoulder and collided with the bobbing light, which emitted an inhuman screech as it skipped backwards over the water. Pidge watched, dazed, as two additional red jets shot out from behind her, colliding twice more with the light until the screeching stopped.

And then, suddenly, the water moved away from her legs and Pidge swayed, thankfully prevented from falling over into the deep mud by a pair of hands on her shoulders.

There was someone there speaking to her, but their words were so muffled that she couldn't make out what they were saying. Nothing made much sense. Her thoughts were so discombobulated that she couldn't keep anything straight and when the heavy fog clouding her mind finally lifted enough for her to think straight, she was sitting on a soft couch in an unfamiliar room with a warm blanket wrapped around her and a man with dark hair kneeling in front of her, holding up a mug for her to take.

“Drink this. It should help clear the rest of your shock,” he told her gently.

Pidge's hands were shaking so badly that she wasn't sure if she'd be able to hold onto the mug without spilling the drink everywhere, but she gave it a try anyway, choosing to rest it on the top of her legs until she was sure she could lift it high enough to drink.

“W-what happened?” she asked.

There was a moment of silence that stretched on for long enough that she wondered if she needed to repeat herself.

“The forest around here is dangerous at night, but especially during the new moon. Usually it isn't a problem since most people stay away once night starts to fall. They find it unsettling,” he said. “That light you encountered was something most folks would call a 'will-o'-the-wisp'.”

Pidge's brow furrowed in confusion. “But that's... that's not real. That's just a fairytale.”

“They're real and very dangerous. Their only goal is to lead people astray, typically into bogs or marshes, and... Well, those people don't come back.”

Pidge shivered at the implication.

“You were trapped pretty deeply into its thrall when I showed up, but you'll be okay now,” he continued. “Drink that. I need to finish preparing the spare room for you.”

“Spare room?” Pidge questioned.

He shrugged a little and then stood up. “I thought you'd prefer the privacy while you sleep.”

A flash of alarm shot through Pidge and she fought not to spill her drink. “I'm staying here? But why? I mean, don't you have a car or something? You could take me back into town!”

“Any other night, maybe, but... not tonight. And not when the most important thing is you getting rest. An encounter with a will-o'-the-wisp is draining even for people who know what they're doing and I want to make sure you're really alright before I send you away,” he explained.

Pidge watched him walk away without another word and she sat there by herself for several long minutes before remembering she had a drink in her hands. She took a sip and was pleased by the rich taste of hot chocolate, which warmed her down to her core and helped chase away the last traces of fogginess in her head.

And that was when she noticed how exhausted she felt.

Maybe there was something to what the strange man said.

The strange man whose house she was expected to sleep in.

Pidge sat up a little straighter and took a suspicious look around. Wherever she was, it had the appearance of a cozy little cabin with hardwood floors and a real stone fireplace tucked away in the corner. If she craned her head a little she could see directly into the kitchen behind her. There were six other doors that she could see, three of which was closed. The other appeared to be a bathroom and the third was the room the stranger had gone into, so Pidge assumed that was the spare room he mentioned. The final two closed doors led out the front and the back.

It would be easy to get up and leave. There was nothing stopping her.

But... there was also no reason she shouldn't stay. It was still dark out and she had no idea which direction to go in order to get back to an area she recognized. Plus, the stranger (who still hadn't given her his name) didn't seem like a bad guy. Maybe he was a bit weird, going on about a creature that didn't exist as though it were a real thing that people worried about, but that seemed like more of a quirky character trait rather than something to be concerned about.

Okay, maybe she'd be locking the bedroom door before she went to sleep. And moving something in front of it so he couldn't get in until she was ready to get up. And double-checking the windows. Maybe there was a closet she could sleep in?

There was nothing wrong with erring on the side of caution.

Pidge drank more of the hot chocolate while she waited for the stranger to come back and when he did, she blurted out the biggest question on her mind: “Who are you?”

He paused, a look of surprise crossing his face. “Oh, uh, I'm Keith.”

“Pidge,” she responded, unwilling to give him her real name.

“Okay, well the room is ready for you. I found a shirt and some pants that should fit you, if you want to be more comfortable and you can use that bathroom over there to wash up,” Keith said, pointing to the bathroom Pidge noticed earlier. “If you need anything else, my room is right there. Just knock and I'll come out to help. And, uh, you can see the kitchen, so if you need anything from there just help yourself.”

Belatedly, she realized he was trying to give her a tour of the house.

Keith paused for a moment to give her time to speak, but when Pidge said nothing he shifted his feet and spoke again. “You can leave your cup in the sink and I'll take care of it in the morning. And that's pretty much it. Just... I don't recommend going back outside until the sun rises.”

“Because of your make-believe creatures?” Pidge couldn't help but ask.

“Because it's dangerous to be in unfamiliar woods in the dark,” he responded, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but please listen to me on this and don't go outside. Even if you don't believe me about the will-o'-the-wisps there are other dangers, like wolves, that live out there.”

That was a good point.

Pidge quietly agreed to stay inside and watched as he relaxed, his relief completely obvious even to her. He offered a tiny smile and then said something about going to bed, leaving her completely alone on the couch.

She finished up her hot chocolate and put it in the sink like he said, though she did take the time to empty it and rinse it out first. Pidge debated for a moment whether or not she wanted to change her clothes before deciding she'd rather have something clean to wear, although...

Pidge glanced down at her jeans, which were surprisingly clean despite her vague memory of walking through mud.

Either way, jeans weren't comfortable to sleep in and she didn't see any harm in borrowing a shirt and pants, so she changed into those before going to check out the bathroom. The light clicked on by itself when she stepped inside and Pidge's gaze was automatically drawn to the round mirror over the sink.

She frowned and combed her fingers through her hair to try and tame the mess it had become, but there wasn't much she could do.

Apparently her reflection felt the same, because it shrugged at her once she was done and said: “Best rinse it out and try again, dear.”

Pidge blinked.

Then she opened her mouth and screamed as she backed away so quickly that her feet got tangled with each other and she toppled backwards. She felt pain and then blackness took over her vision.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was tucked beneath warm blankets and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. It took her a moment to remember everything that happened the night before, but as her brain started to fully wake up she jumped out of bed and set off to find Keith.

She needed answers and he was going to give them to her.

#voltron #kidgetober #kidgetober 2020 #fanfiction #kidge #day 16: will o the wisp #week 2: myths & magic

[lycanhood]

Thoughts on Motherland: Fort Salem (So Far)

Hey so I know I may be a little behind on this one, but I’ve finally binge-watched Motherland: Fort Salem and I’ve had alot swirling around in my head about it for the last few days. This is a little bit of a review and a little bit of rant, but there will be SPOILERS ahead which I’ll try to mark accordingly. 

I think the concept for this show is so fucking cool. Really and truly, alternate history in which the witches of Salem made a deal with the Massachusetts Bay Colony to form a military and fight the New World’s wars in exchange for mercy from extermination essentially. So they form a Witch Army. And Army of Witches!! That’s fucking cool. It is. Sadly, I think the concept may be entirely too cool for Freeform. 

By that I mean to say that this super cool and entirely edgy idea is just too heady for Freeform to do properly. This idea belongs on HBO or Netflix, because those networks thrive on subject matter like Motherland: Fort Salem. (Sidenote: wtf is it called that? Just name the show ‘Fort Salem’. That kinda tells us everything we need to know about the premise right there in two word. Adding ‘Motherland’ in there just makes it too long and oddly Russian.)

There are just alot of little things about this show that kept it from realizing what I felt could have been some pretty amazing potential. I’ll try to organize those little things as best I can. But the one big problem I had while watching this was that the best thing about this show is it’s alternate history premise isn’t given enough attention.

What I mean is...I’m interested in the show, because I’m interested in what the world (what America) might have looked like if we had a military operated by supernaturally powered women for the past 300+ years. And Fort Salem just doggedly refuses to actually show me that world. The show doesn’t like to explain itself or really explore what it means to be a woman (witch or otherwise) in this alternative America. Most of the show takes place on Fort Salem, a military headquarters of sorts that is mostly strife with political games, attack strategies, training drills, and odd rituals. I have so many questions about this world: Are non-witch women treated differently due to the fact that their country is run and protected by women? There’s a female president in this timeline, so that’s certainly a possibility. If there are male witches as well, why don’t they fight in the same army as the female witches? And since they don’t fight in the main army, what is their mysterious role in this world? We see them making weapons and babies, that’s about it. In 1x5 “Bellweather Season”, the unit goes to a wedding which celebrates a 5 year contract of marriage between the couple. What’s up with that? Why only 5 years? Are they expected to have a child during this time period? if they do have a child are they expected to stay together longer than the 5 years? How many times are the male witches expected to get married? How many children are expected or allowed? Because this show is full of only-children which is statistically different from our own reality. How long are wicthes expected to serve in the military? They’re entire lives? We don’t see any female witches living as civilians at any age (other than Tally’s mother due to tragic circumstances). 

What is the source of the witches powers exactly? They’re abilities are sonic/auditory in nature, usually requiring the use of their vocal cords. Why? How? There are brief moments where it seems like sound is less necessary like when Raelle heals, or when the witches use Linking to connect to one another. There is also the use of herbs/drugs to fly, that doesn’t seem to require sound at all. 

We’re told the female witches get some kind of power-up or energy boost from having sex (or perhaps just feeding off the sexually energy?) with the male witches. Hence, the Beltane orgy ceremony in episode 1x04. What’s up with that? Does this power-boast only come from sex with male witches or would sex with human men do just as well? Would human men have a less potent effect? And is the power-boost depended on heterosexuality? Because throughout Raelle & Scylla’s sexually relationship no such power-up is ever mentioned. 

See so many questions, that the show simply doesn’t feel the need to answer. I understand the desire to avoid bogging down a show with exposition. But their are ways to do exposition right and in interesting ways. Exposition is sometimes necessary, because the more the audience knows about this world, the more rich and detailed, and so close to real is is to them, the more likely they are to be invested in it. 

And make no mistake the world and my curiosity about it is what kept me watching. 

For much of this first season, the characters don’t have any room to become people. I don’t dislike these characters, but they have yet to really bloom into more than archetypes (Abigail: the legacy, the leader, the overachiever. Tally: the innocent, the hopeful, the lynchpin. And Raelle: the rebel, the cynic, the shitbird)

Alot of time in the early episodes were spent following the same formulate. Raelle runs off, ditching training to go wander around and finds Scylla. Abigail and Tally follow after her, because they need her to do well in training because they pass or fail as a unit. I can not even tell you how many times Raelle causally ditches training, gets caught, gets told how much trouble she’s in, and then doesn’t actually face any consequences at all. She has to do guard duty overnight once. And that was just for being late, not even all the times she leaves in the middle or doesn’t show up for training at all!

I just wish this show focused on different beats in the pulse of this story, and made more of an effort explore this world and these characters through the lens of 3 young women who have just been essentially drafted into the military. Instead of skipping all that training I wish I could have seen so much more of it! That would have been a fantastic way to explain this world’s magic system to the audience! It’s built-in easy action-paced exposition right there! That the show just has no interest in. 

And at last, I’ll talk about the show’s main romantic pair, Raelle x Scylla. Sigh. I’m not hardcore against this pairing. I’m really not. But I am frustrated with the way the writers chose to unfold their relationship. We find out early on that Scylla is an agent of the Spree (big bad witchy terrorists), and I hate that. Because then they try to make me ship Raelle x Scylla even though I already know that shit is going to end in pain and betrayal. I cam’t ship something that I already know is built on lies, dude. I just can’t. That could have been a big awesome emotionally reveal in the later half of the season, instead of the dreadful thing I was anticipating from basically the very beginning. I’m as big a fan of enemies-to-lovers as anyone, but not like this. It’s more fun when both parties know they’re enemies, you know what I mean?

Anyway, I know it’s easy to point at the writers/devlopers and say “Man, I would have done this so differently...” but in Fort Salem’s case it’s my biggest take away.

Even from the very first opening scene, where the Spree (Scylla herself) commits a frightening and ruthless act of terrorism at the mall. Okay, big bad introduction for the Spree there. But how about introducing the audience to the world of this alternate history first? Use that awesome premise. Do a cold open, Salem, Mass 1692 Sarah Adler is about to be hanged as a witch until she opens her mouth and changes the world forever. Show me that. Set the stage of history. The villains could have come later. They always do.

All in all, I don’t hate this show ( I know this may have turned out more rant than review, but...) I was just really disappointed by the execution of a premise I felt had great potential. But, it’s not necesarily too late. Season two can still course correct and pull us into this world outside the fort’s walls, and manage to bring the characters into their own as they find their way back to one another. I’ll keep watching, because if this show did anything for me, it made me curious. 

#motherland fort salem #freeform #the unit #bellweather unit #abigail bellweather #raelle collar #raelle x scylla #tally craven #sarah adler #salem witch trials #witch tv shows #spooky season #tv rant #tv review #thoughts on fandom #thoughts on fort salem #fort salem #motherland fort salem s1 #motherland fort salem season one #tv recommendations

[creamypudding]

Woeful WIP Wednesday

This WIP is an interesting one because a friend commissioned me to write this AkuRoku story, and I did, but I got horribly stuck on it and canned the entire idea. I rewrote the whole fic into what is now called ‘Coming For You’ which is a stellar read and is over on my AO3 page. This WIP is basically unrecognisable if you are familiar with ‘Coming for You’. The character names are the same and that’s about it. I will post this WIP of the ‘what came before’ version because it holds a story I think is still worth telling. Albeit a far longer and more complex story than the version I ended up going with.  I say it’s ‘wroth telling’ but the truth is that I’m not sure the direction it’s supposed to take. I got bogged down in writing it - too focused on stupid minute details and too wrapped up in developing the characters and the unfolding relationship when my heart wasn’t really in it to begin with.

I know what Axel and Roxas both do for a living - what Axel’s dreams are, and he has a great backstory for Roxas to discover. I know the general story progression but have no clear end in sight. And frankly.... it’s probably also not very interesting as there are no real hurdles for either of them to overcome. The whole point of the story was for them to have sex in the library. I made it too complex for myself though.  It looked to turn into a multi-chaptered fic but again with no real substance to the next few chapters so I didn’t feel like continuing on with writing this. Oh, I also wrote this in past tense but then got so horribly stuck on it - especially as I abandoned this for ages while I wrote The Anomaly - that when I came back to it I literally couldn’t figure out how to think in past tense anymore so I rewrote what I had into present tense. That was a struggle all of it’s own and probably partially the reason why I fell out of love with this story. So I have the first chapter all done and dusted which you can read below. They were going to keep getting to know each other and they end up fucking in the library one day and that was gonna be the end. There were several directions I thought of taking it in, all not very interesting.

I may come back to this WIP one day, but I’m pretty sure that what I have written is all there ever will be. I’m pretty damn happy with ‘Coming for You’ so I am ok with leaving this WIP. It served its purpose and let me move onto much greater things.

Rated G Word count - 2759 If you enjoy this, or any of the other WIP’s it would be great if you would let me know. Cheers.

Library

It's a busy day at the Twilight State College library: students checking in and checking out books by the dozen, shelves need stacking, queries need to be heard and dealt with. Roxas is one of three librarians working, so there is a lot to do regarding the customer-facing side, but also at the admin and backhouse end of things. New monthly inventory need to be sorted, catalogued, and classified. Information needs updating in the directory and Roxas has his own research.

He likes his job, but it certainly proves stressful at times, juggling all the demands placed on him.

When he gets some reprieve from walking around helping students, and manning the front desk, he sits at his desk, which is still in the main part of the library, near the front desk, and easily accessible to students who might need support. Roxas tries to focus on his database duties and his research project, but oftentimes he gets disturbed by a meek, ”Excuse me, would you happen to know…" That question plasters an automatic smile on his face, he robotically takes off his reading glasses, and helps whoever is before him.

He’s there to help, yes, but if he gets disturbed too often he finds irritation welling up inside. The smile becomes a little more forced, his response delivered through slightly grit teeth.

The first time the tall, lean, redhead—dressed in a simple black shirt, with an unbuttoned red flannel shirt over the top, and sporting a small upside down teardrop tattoo under each eye, And his hair pulled into a high ponytail—addresses Roxas he stares dumbly, blinking in stupor.

“Pardon?”

“Could you show me how to search for books? I’m new to TSC. The system looks a little different from what I’m used to.” “Yeah, sure. Let’s go to a terminal and I’ll help you.” Roxas gets up, grabs his reading glasses and follows the exceptionally tall student to one of the free terminals on one of the rows of tables at the center of the first floor of the library. 

Roxas helps him navigate the libraries catalogue, instructing from over the guys shoulder, and pointing at things on the screen. 

“Thanks!” “You’re welcome.” Roxas leaves him after an exchange of smiles and goes back to his desk and his work. 

Time passes. Roxas’ attention scatters whenever he catches sight of red in his periphery. He watches the student from before come and go between the aisles of bookshelves and the computer terminals. 

The redhead also approaches Roxas a handful of other times, asking various things and then— 

“Where are the bathrooms?” “There’s one on the first floor, if you head back to the main entrance. There’s also one at the far end,” he points, “up on the second floor.” “Thanks.” They share another smile—a little bit long, the redhead's smile deepening a fraction before he saunters off—and Roxas really likes it. He feels kind of warm inside and wonders if the A/C is working right.

He returns to his work: catching up with his colleagues to see what needs to be done; packing away books this time around, which takes up a good hour.

He's on the second floor with his cart fresh out of the return chute when he hears— 

“Oh hey, um, I’m looking for this book, but can’t find it. Could you help me? I tried looking on the shelf, but it’s not there.”

Roxas knows that voice by now. He’s already wearing a smile as he turns around to meet the redhead's gaze. “Let me have a look?”

The student hands Roxas the card he’s written the dewey decimal number on. Roxas leaves his cart behind and goes to the aisle and shelf in question, in the back, by the last row of bookshelves where the corner of the library opens up to floor to ceiling windows, providing a 180° view of the college grounds; looking out over a green field with a pond. The highway cuts through the hillside and cars drive up and down it. 

"I've never been in a cool library like this. It's got the best view," the redhead comments.

"Yeah. This is my favorite spot." This shared enjoyment leaves a cozy feeling inside Roxas. He turns back to the shelves, looking for the book in question, cross-referencing the slip of paper with the numbers on the spines. 

Typical, Roxas figures it should be a book on the highest shelf. "Excuse me a moment." Roxas leaves to get the stepladder from the cart and returns. 

"Oh, that's cute," comes the comment from behind as Roxas unclaps it and get up on the third step so he can comfortably browse the shelf.

He stays focused on the task, searching for the book in question, working hard on ignoring the head hair and warmth that pops up at his right. The guy comes up to about his shoulder.

“I already looked here.”

Roxas looks down at the student, noticing the way the corners of his mouth twitch, as if struggling to bite down a smile.

After a forlorn glance back at the shelter Roxas gets off the ladder and folds it up again. “It said the book was available?” “Yep.” “Maybe it got returned but not packed away yet. Come with me, I’ll have a look on the cart.”

“Thank you.”

Roxas is back at his cart, slipping the stepladder back in its proper place and looks through the pile of books on the top, which he had ordered neatly before coming up here to pack them away. “Ah, here it is.” He hands the medical textbook over, along with the slip of paper. He receives a giant smile which makes his cheeks prickle with heat.

“Thank you so much for all your help today.” “You’re welcome.”

With that, they part ways.

Roxas continues on, returning the books to their proper position, smiling to himself and pausing, smiling all the harder as he holds a hardback medical text bound in dazzling red.

He eventually heads to the staff elevator, swiping his card, and pushing the cart inside and going back down to the first level.

The sun outside sinks and fades. The lights come on inside, but that doesn't make the library less busy. It in fact fills up. There are more students looking for help and support, keeping Roxas busy and away from the front desk.

By the time night has properly fallen he heads to his desk but sees the smile-inducing redhead at the book check-out. Those Black stretch jeans he wears are very tight. Roxas pulls his eyes up and as he nears he hears soft cusses.

"Can I help you?" he says, his smile unabashed carrying in his voice.

The redhead spins around on his heels, his face lighting up in a comical way. “You’re still here!” Roxas steps back as the redhead lurches forward. Roxas laughs, a nervous flutter inside himself. The guys pulls himself up and huffs out a small laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he says, “I just thought you were gone for the day and I can’t find anyone else to help me and I was upset with myself that I didn’t get to thank you properly for all the help you’ve been today, and can I ask for one more favor from you?”

Roxas blinks rapidly, his lips fighting between displaying amusement and confusion. “How can I help you?”

“It’s not scanning. I’ve tried everything,” the redhead gestures to the machine and his pile of books the height of a small child.

Roxas takes a look. “Can I have your card?” He gets it handed to him between two long fingers. “Thank you,” he takes the card, glancing at the name Axel King for a moment, registering it before moving on to problem solving. He swipes the card, and then the book. An awful disappointed bleep sounds, conveying failure.

“Hmm.” Roxas tries again, clearing the check-out computer and scanning again with the same result.

“I’m glad it’s not just me that sucks at this.” Roxas jumps, the voice close to his ear. His heart races, the students smell in his nose.

“Let me check your library account. It probably just has to be activated.”

“Oh.” Roxas heads to his desk, and the redhead—Axel—follows him. Roxas smiles to himself but pushes it away as he sits down to do some typing and checking the system.

“I didn’t know I needed to activate a library card.”

“It should have come in your welcome pack.”

“Ehh…” 

Roxas looks up with amusement at the drawl emanating from the opposite side of the desk. “Take a seat. It won’t be long, but take a seat," he offers, and gestures “Thanks.”

Roxas types away, the card laying before himself.

“I’m really relieved you’re still here. You’re like the most helpful librarian I’ve ever met, and you actually know stuff.”

Roxas huffs out in amused appreciation only throwing the briefest of glances over toward the student. “Heather and Emanual are very helpful and knowledgeable. They’re just caught up with a lot of other things.”

“Well, I appreciate you—”

Roxas looks up, getting the hint and flushing terribly for some reason. “Roxas,” he supplies. 

The smile the redhead gives him makes Roxas feel even hotter under his collared, cotton long-sleeved white business shirt. He returns his attention to the screen and the activation process. “You live at 813 Felosa Drive?”

“Yes.” “And you’re enrolled in Master of Science in Medicine.” “Yep. What else can you see about me in there?” Axel leans closer, his lips quirking up and his eyelids slipping halfway shut.

Roxas’ stomach drops. His cheeks heat up. “Oh, y-you know. Just… your date of birth and… not much else.” He swivells his monitor around to show Axel, wanting to rid himself of the amorphous incriminating feeling overcoming him.

Axel glances at it before resting his eyes back on Roxas. “Well, as you can see I am twenty-nine, I’m studying part-time, and the things you can't see are that I’m doing my residency at Twilight Town General Hospital. It’s why I moved here. There was an opportunity and Twilight State College offers the same sort of course I was doing over at Radiant Gardens. The librarian here is a lot more helpful though, so thanks again.”

“You’re welcome,” Roxas says dumbly, his heart racing, his pulse throbbing in his veins. He focuses on the info on the monitor and turns it back toward himself.

The attractive expression falls away from Axel’s face, replaced by a gentle smile. “What about you? You know so much about me and I know nothing about you, besides your name, and the fact that you are really good at your job.” Axel rests his elbow on the desk, and cups the side of his face with his hand, watching attentively.

Roxas leans back, blinkling lamely. “I…” he tries to remember what he has been doing his entire life. It seems infuriatingly blank right now, like he just popped into existence yesterday. “I’m twenty-seven. I’ve been doing this job for two years. I did my practical studies here and kind of just always stayed.” “Did you always want to be a librarian?” “Um…” Roxas rubs at his arm through his shirt. “We call ourselves Information Professionals.” He returns his attention to the screen, trying to remember why they even walked over here.

“Oh, pardon me. Did you always want to be an Information Professional?” Axel’s eyes flutter a little, erupting flutters in Roxas’ stomach.

He gets back to activating Axel's account. “I wanted to be a teacher and I got my teaching degree, but life sort of led me here.” Axel hums. “Do you like your job?” “Yeah, I do. —Okay, you’re enrolled and your account is activated and you shouldn’t have any more problems now, Axel King.” He hands the card back with a smile and receives a tooth-flashing beam in return.

"Thank you, Roxas—" Expectation hangs.

"Thompson." Butterflies kick up.

"Nice to meet you, Roxas Thompson." Axel holds out his hand.

Roxas looks at the boney appendage, with two plain bands adorning them, one on the index finger, and the other on the ring finger. Roxas takes the offered gesture and receives a firm and warm handshake. He does his best to reciprocate the same firmness, hating how limp handshakes feel and not wanting Axel to think of him as limp—Roxas startles at his own thought, feeling his face heat up.

Axel hums with a low laugh. They let go. Roxas feels sweaty and wishes for a distraction.

Axel provides the wishes for reprieve by saying, “Pardon my ignorance, but what else do you do at a library besides helping useless info losers like myself?”

Roxas chuckles. “You’re not an info loser. It's completely understandable that you'd be confused if you come from a different system of indexing and keeping documents.”

“Thank you for making me feel better.” Axel’s cheeks tinge with red as he smiles ever harder.

Struggling to hold the eye contact, Roxas clears his throat and tries to find something to say, "Um… so, I run information sessions on how our search systems work and how to properly use the library facilities. I usually run them during orientation week, but also run a few classes throughout the semester.”

“Really? Why didn’t I know about this?”

Roxas bites down the smile. “It should have been in your welcome pack.” Axel laughs and sits up straight his hand now resting on the table surface. “Man, I really should have checked that info pack, shouldn’t I,” he laughs a little harder.

Roxas chuckles. “Maybe. You can book in for a session. You can find the timetable for classes and sessions on the library website, and now that your account is properly activated you shouldn’t have a problem signing up for them.” 

Soft green eyes land on Roxas  “Do you run all the classes?” “No, I share the load with my colleagues.” “Does it say which ones you’ll be running?”

A pang of heat hits Roxas in the stomach. He shifts in his chair. “It doesn’t. But I run most of the introductory stuff.” “Do you think I should take one up? Or did you already give me a hands-on demonstration of how everything worked today?”

He’s not sure why, but the way Axel says that makes his breath catch in his chest. “There are some things I haven’t shown you, that get covered in the class. You get a tour of the library, get to look around the archives down below and—"

"What's in the archives that's not up here?"

"Old and outdated journals. Newspaper articles. Things that are sensitive to light and heat and too fragile to keep out in public circulation. You'll see a special archive symbol next to archived works and you'll have to ask us staff to let you down there. And you can't take those out either. They strictly stay in the library."

"Ah, I see. I did see some things I was after with a little A next to them."

"Yeah, those are the ones."

"Alright. Well, I might have to ask you to let me down into the treasure trove one of these days."

Roxas feels too hot but coolly he gets out, "Sure."

They smile at each other. An array of pleasant tingles flutters through Roxas. He isn't sure where to look, so he looks at Axel's hand, taking in the rings. His smile dampens a little.

"I, um… is there anything else I can help you with?" Roxas aksed, sobering.

"Oh, ah, yeah, no. I won't keep you any longer. I need to get home and study."

"Okay. Have a nice evening."

Axel gets up but after a step turns around again. "When do you get off work? I didn't make you stay overtime or something, did I?" 

Roxas hums with a small laugh. "I have the afternoon shifts. I start at three and finish at eleven."

"Every day?"

He shakes his head. Normally he wouldn't be so specific but…  "No. Wednesdays to Saturdays.”

An aghast expression elongates Axel’s face. “What? You don’t get to have any fun partying Friday and Saturday nights?”

Roxas shrugs. “There’s always Sunday.”

"I guess,” though Axel doesn't sound certain at all. His tone changes, a smile lights his face once more. “Cool. Well, anyway, I should let you go. Thanks for everything." 

“You’re welcome.”

Axel waves and leaves. 

Roxas watches him check out his books without a hitch. He receives a brilliant grin from across the way, making him giggle and he continues to watch Axel leave, waving in reciprocity just before the redhead passes through the automatic doors.

He's not sure what happened, but he likes it.

#akuroku #akrk #woeful wip wednesday #cream pudding writes #wip