#fortunately i got so focused while explaining and showing my progress

[tortademaracuya]

You know the thesis consultation is about to go great when you get hit with like 5 different negative status effects at once and start feeling like you might faint at any second

#girl help im not making it to november #i kept joking around with classmates and professors to see if iwould stopfeeling so lightheaded lol #fortunately i got so focused while explaining and showing my progress #that i began feeling normal long enough for me to walk back home lol i was like this close to calling family to wait for me outside #just to make sure i didnt faint the second i got out of class lol #now i gotta rush all my other deadlines...i just want to sleep a few hours 😭 oh well #haunted.txt #but being totslly honest i really thought i was gonna either puke all my organs out or pass out or both for a second there 😭

[tzawa-1y]

ummm homestuck au isnt dead until i say it is (never)

i rlly didnt want to post this but then realized i never post enough without just keeping shit in my pockets. and then i wrote a long ass infodump and now i have two (lazy asf) drawings for em

these two r eating my think pan infodump time

rainbow homestuck troll gore below

@nicosbrainrot thank u <33333

alsooo ummmm lore explaination <3333

Copying from discord because im lazy, i will try to explain things for the greater than degenerates <3 rlllly angsty shit

so the setup for these two ooooh man

for any needed contexts, Hoshi in this au is a purpleblood. Highest ranking land dweller, in a society that revels in useless unnecessary violence. Basically, he kills people below him for a living, and is like a celebrity for it too. But, even without that, purples are quite well known for murder and killing, and one look at this scarred as fuck purple with murder in his eyes you should prob run like, whoever you are-

Ikuto is a mutantblood. Lower than the lowest. Like, never show Anyone what color your blood is, you will be killed on sight.

And thats exactly what happened.

so long ago but not actually that long ago actually, these two first met <33 yippee!!

ikuto was getting Damn Assailed by some highbloods, like, these mfs saw a mutantblood and saw murder. Ikuto barely managed to escape through some woods, about on deaths door.

but he runs into hoshi like DAMNIT,, like he's already injured & bleeding so it's basically on display "Hey I'm a mutant!" so he just like accepts his death.

but hoshi sees this dying little man and goes "ooh pretty" and takes him home with them.... and because purples are about 10000000x more resilient hes just like "oh its just a little booboo" meanwhile ikuto is Going To Die.

but once hes patched up hoshi decides "actally im gonna keep him"

i cannot stress this enough their relationship in this au is at such a power imbalance. like. hoshi could gently place ikuto outside and he would be killed. this shit toxic asf.

hoshi basically keeps ikuto in his basement forever now. and its kinda? good? because like, ikuto now has permanent shelter and protection from a very powerful highblood, but also, like,,,,,, ikuto cannot leave. if he wanted to. like now he got hoshi incredibly overprotective & ikuto is kinda just stuck with him. just trapped in this guys basement forever.

but! hoshi loves him very much and spoils the fuck outta his boyfie. they will bring him! so many gifts! and ensure that this basement is the coziest place ever for him hangs out with him all the time and will never let even a whisper of harm come to him. its still fuckin risky but,, hoshi loves him. the one big thing is just like. ikuto cant leave. the kid is still just. kinda lonely :(

but relatively? even if theyre afraid, theyre happy.

but then someone hears about this cool new "sgrub" game.

And suddenly, word gets out about Hoshi, high standing purple attracting attention from three fuschias, being in a secret redrom (romantic relationship) with a mutant, and hiding him in his hive.

drones are sent to his house & havoc insues. hoshi is tryinna find and save ikuto, his massive lusus (dragon dad) is also freaking out and kinda tears the place apart even more. in this calamity ikuto is discovered by the drones while theyre trying to enter their sgurb session.

the drones are Out for ikuto. like. he is going to die. They desperately are simultaneously trying to enter their session, their only real hope of escape. Theyre slamming through trying to get through the progression quickly while fending off drones, which fortunately their server player (doesnt matter) is attentive enough to get them through.

But in the havoc, Hoshi is dead focused on trying to keep the drones off, meanwhile Ikuto prepares the actual session. In this he gets beat. Beat bad. And soon enough hoshi just. Cant even stand. Cant protect ikuto. Scared for the little guys life but literally incapacitated and about to die himself

but fortunately hoshi was just able to hold off just long enough so that Ikuto could get the two of them out of there even while hoshi is on deaths door, but once they enter the session they are Separated and neither know that the other is even Alive

all hoshi rlly knows is that he couldnt protect ikuto forever

and all ikuto knows is the dying body of hoshi behind him as they escape sure doom.

anyways, i love em like a loooot <3333

#bnha oc comeback #knha // kimi no hero academia #homestuck #homestuck oc #fantrolls #tano hoshizawa // nebuleus #farm fresh #tano in 2d #others ocs #tano hoshizawa #ikuto maekawa // cardiac

[hippiemikelove-blog]

#AllCannabinoids #Cannabis #CannabisBlogs #CannabisHeals #CannabisIsMedicine #CannabisMyMedicine #CannabisRecovery #CBD #Epilepsy #EpilepsyAwareness #THC

[aonogifreactions]

Prompt 37: Stuck in a snowstorm + Prompt 54: Winter power outage.

┍━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┑

Requested: Yes, by anon [Prompt 37 only]. Prompts here -> click.

Pairing: Rin Okumura/Reader; female reader is implied only in the nsfw part.

Word count: 1,5k+

SFW, but with N/SFW ending.

Warnings: none.

Beta-read by @/no-remorse! Thank you! <3

┕━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━┙

The snow is a weather phenomenon that's rather liked by most people, including you.

The snow season was, in fact, your favorite one because mostly - you had your own, living heater wanting to warm you up anytime.

Today, however,  snow annoyed you more than ever.

Earlier - in the morning -  the snow was quite light - it was sifting, leaving a soft, white blanket on the ground; some of it adored Rin's red cheeks gently, before melting. The demon boy grinned and shushed you every time you mentioned it. As it progressed to the afternoon, the snow seemed to thicken and fall in a bigger amount than before, making it hard to see, as well as way more dangerous than earlier; if you slipped, you would certainly get a nasty bruise for the next few days.

Now, outside your window, happened a snowstorm.

And a bad one, at that.

Fortunately, both you and Rin managed to come back home before it got this bad. Currently, you kept switching between reading your favorite book and watching a random movie on television. Occasionally, you glance at the window and sigh, complaining in your mind that it doesn't seem to get better any time soon. Even though Rin reassured you earlier that it will definitely get better in a few hours, but he didn't sound very confident; you believed him nonetheless, hoping his words are true.

Flinching slightly as the lights in the room flickered, you decided to get yourself a candle on the small table near the bed. Placing a glittery red, tall candle on the table, you smirk to yourself and jump on the mattress, snuggling into your big, warm sweater. Suddenly, you hear Rin coming into the room, placing arms onto the windowsill and looking out the window.

"That... doesn't look very good," he admits, feeling the cold air from the open window hit his face, "I guess I kinda lied earlier, huh?" he asks laughing nervously, rubbing his neck awkwardly and turning around. "Well, it doesn't look very promising," you answered, your eyes glued to the book in your lap, "I hope the snow won't burst through the window..." you turn the page, widening your eyes as the lights flicker once again.

"Oh come on, it's just snowing a lot! What's the worst that could happen?" Rin comments, shrugging his shoulders.

Once his question died within the walls, the lights went out.

You screamed, throwing your book on the floor in fear, Rin's screech followed yours shortly after.

"Hey, hey, d-don't worry! The power just went out!" He tries to calm you down, moving wobbly through the room; you stand up, trying to find him, and in the process - both of you slam into each other and yell again. "I-It's me, babe! Geez, you almost gave me a heart attack!" he envelops his arms around you tightly, nuzzling his face into your neck; you hug him in return, rubbing his back in comfort. "Yeah... but I can't see anything, Rin," you close your eyes and lean your forehead against his shoulder, "And I forgot to grab a lighter..." you mutter to yourself, sighing. Rin hums, an idea finding its way into his mind.

The candle on the table flashes with bright, cerulean fire, illuminating the room decently; you watch in awe, noticing Rin's improvement in handling his flames. He then drags you onto the bed, sitting you between his legs and letting you lean against his chest; he smirks behind you, his arms embracing you once again, "Hmm, are you surprised your beloved boyfriend got better at something?" he teases, "Hell yeah I did! I feel way more confident than I used to be!" he exclaims proudly, opening his palm, "Wanna see? I can make it into different shapes now."

"Yeah," you answer calmly, "Can you make a bear?" you place your hand on his, watching his other one ignite a tiny flame. "Going easy on me, huh? Alright, watch this!" Blue flames engulf his hand, emitting warmth you can feel on your face; it's not burning, instead, it's very gentle, almost like the steam you get after making a mug full of hot chocolate.

"Rin, that looks like an elephant..."

"WHAT?! No, it doesn't! It's a bear!"

"Alright. It's a monkey."

"Wh-What?!"

Rin whines, but doesn't give up; he inhales and exhales softly, focusing on his hand.

"Oh my god... is that Rilakkuma?! I love him!" you babble excitedly, feeding his ego as he smiles, a pink blush creeping on his pale cheeks. "Yeah... Do you like it?" he asks unsurely, anticipating your answer. You turn your head and kiss his lips gently, "I do... I really do." You smile at him and notice his widened eyes since you caught him off guard; he avoids looking into your eyes, moving his eyes to look at the wall and starting to ramble.

"Ahaha, I-I'm glad... I'm controlling satan's flames even better! I wonder what's gonna happen in the future?! Like, what other cool things will I be able to do?!" You stay silent as he keeps saying his thoughts out loud, eventually looking back at you and getting worried.

"Babe? Everything g-"

"They aren't his flames."

"What?" he blinks, staring at you confused.

"I said," you sigh, "The flames... aren't Satan's... They're yours. Everyone keeps saying 'satan flames this, satan flames that', but it's yours, Rin... and I don't care what other people think. He can't control them, he can't get into your heart," you look at the baby blue bear made out of the flames, "So they aren't his; I want you to think that way too. I can't explain it, I mean-"

The flames disappear, as his hand goes to wrap it around your stomach; Rin squeezes you tightly against his chest, hiding his face in your neck. He remains speechless; the only sound you're able to hear is the cold, harsh wind outside. You decide to give him a while to process his thoughts, leaning your head against his, listening to his calm breath.

You look at the dancing blue fire on the candle; listening to silence, you immerse yourself in your own thoughts. Do you even understand him? Were your words enough for him? Or the opposite - he stays silent because he doesn't know what to say and you just made yourself look like a fool? The sight outside the window added to your slowly appearing melancholy; Do you even comprehend how it's like to have such a power?

The branches of a nearby tree knock on the window glass, as the snowstorm seemed to be at its peak. You close your eyes, breathing in and out; your thoughts continued to ask more and more questions, leaving you in a doubt.

Do you even understand a single piece of your boyfriend?

Anything?

Unexpectedly, Rin's hand shook your thoughts off, rubbing your thigh firmly; he dragged his lips up and down on your neck teasingly and kissing the sweet spot of yours that his lips can't ever get tired of. His other hand goes to brush against your clothed breasts; as much as he would want to rip your bra off he couldn't; he promised not to do that again. Half-demon lifts your bra ever so slightly, just so he's able to slide his palm in; he grasps your breast and kneads it tenderly, and at the same time, his slightly pointed tongue licks a big stripe on your neck. You let out a single, quiet moan as he pinches your erected nipple; his other hand went in your pants and pulls your panties up only for the material to brush against your sensitive clit.

"Rin," you moan, "what are you-"

Before finishing your sentence, he lies you on the bed harshly, pulling your shirt up along with the bra and attacking your breasts with hungry kisses; he grazes your nipple with his massive teeth, only to suck on it noisily, then lick it with the tip of his tongue. His hand pinches the other one, which is about to get the same treatment in a moment; Rin's free hand wanders to your sex, where he teases your slit through your panties; he smirks as he feels the material being soaked.

Suddenly, he places his hands on both sides of your head and hovers over you; he pants, as well as his cheeks, adore shades of crimson. There's a visible bulge in his pants, yet, he decides to ignore it and look in your eyes.

"I... I want to show you," he pauses, "I want to show you how much I love you. Can I? Can I do it this time physically?" he asks, feeling his heart beat violently in his chest.

"Yes, Rin. Please," you stroke his cheek, "I trust you."

With no more words shared, he kisses your palm tenderly and retreats to sit on his knees. He lifts your legs together, removing your panties and throwing them on the floor.

He lies down on his stomach and gets his face close to your pussy, where you could feel his hot breath.

Small, teal bits of fire appear around his body, as he looks at you once again, this time, however - his eyes sparkle with lust.

"I love you."

#:) #Ao no Exorcist #ao no exorcist imagine #blue exorcist #blue exorcist imagines #blue exorcist imagine #rin okumura #Rin Okumura x reader #christmas prompts #Pure #oops

[retvenkos]

survivors | d.m.

Harry Potter: Golden Trio Era - Draco x Slytherin! Halfbood!Reader, angst, slightest fluff

word count: 11.2k

tw: blood, mentions death, mentions of war, pessimistic ending

A/N: this could be read as a platonic reader, if you want.

Summary: Draco couldn’t fix the Vanishing Cabinet himself, no matter how hard he wanted to. (Y/n) hadn’t wanted to help him, but they decided to, despite themself. Neither knew each other very well, but there seemed to be an understanding. Perhaps they could fix it together, and perhaps (Y/n) could fix the broken boy, too. Or maybe both of them would be shattered beyond recognition.

i.

and i am angry at this world                 because i was not one of the innocent they decided to save.

ii.

During his sixth year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy didn’t feel as alive as he once did. This castle was colder and quieter than it used to be, and as he patrolled the dungeon corridors for his prefect duties, he felt a chill in the air; the cold pricked the back of his neck - that bit of exposed skin between the ends of his hair and the stiff collar of his uniform. Despite himself, he twitched at it’s touch; the cold reminded him of darker memories that threatened to pull him under, reminding him of what happened over the summer.

If he closed his eyes, he was still there.

The harsh clicking of his father’s cane as he walked down the hall, someone else accompanying him by the sound of their footsteps. A voice that sounded like the hissing of a snake - high and cold and beckoning him forth. His mother’s frightened gaze and his father’s stiff jaw. The soft pleads of protest. But who were they to defy the Dark Lord...

Draco could still hear the sound of their approach, echoing against these aged, stone walls. The incessant sound filled his senses. His fingers twitched. His arm started to burn as the sound of footsteps came nearer. Echoing, echoing, echoing...

“You would be an idiot if you weren’t such a genius.”

A voice, not at all what he was expecting, brought Draco reeling into the present. The footsteps weren’t that of phantom memories, but the sound of someone in the castle - in this dungeon with him - traversing the corridors in the few moments before curfew.

“You could make a fortune off of your skills if you sold them the right way. What other students here can make their own spells?”

Draco stepped closer to the wall, his interest peaked. He fiddled with the cuff of his sleeve, waiting for the voices to speak, once again. He wouldn’t scare them off. He had never been much good at being a prefect, anyway.

“Michael, we talked about this. They’re all a work in progress - do you remember what happened last time I tried them out? I won’t make a fool of myself because they aren’t perfect.”

“That was one time, and you knew things weren’t going to go well. And I can’t remember the last time Hogwarts pumped out an actually decent spell creator! The talented only come once every lifetime - you shouldn’t pass this up.”

The voices devolved into arguing for a moment, until one of them swore lowly. “It’s curfew. You need to get up to Ravenclaw Tower.”

“Think about it, (Y/n).”

“Go.”

Footsteps filled the corridor once again. Draco took a deft step backward, further into the shadows, and a fellow Slytherin rushed past the corridor, never noticing the prefect that watched them. Draco pushed his lips into a thin line, grey eyes narrowing just a bit. The echoes faded, and when the corridor was silent, he breathed. Running a hand through his hair, Draco turned away, disappearing into darkness and shadow.

iii.

When Draco Malfoy sat down next to them in Charms class, (Y/n) supposed it was an oversight. Rumors about Draco not feeling well had been circulating the Slytherin gossip lines for the whole two months that school had been in session; Malfoy had missed classes regularly, skipped out on meals completely, and seemed to be neglecting his usual bully behavior, trading it all for a personality that seemed to be more like that Blaise Zabini than the boy he used to be. Sitting next to (Y/n) had to be a symptom of this strange illness that seemed to have captured him - maybe he was too tired to care.

Yes, that seemed to be it - he was tired. He certainly looked it, when (Y/n) spared him a glance, their eyes flicking over to him for a half moment while Flitwick was demonstrating their lesson for the day.

There were dark circles under his eyes, a sort of gaunt appearance to his well shaped face, and even though he seemed to be very keen on stopping it, with his eyes focused the way they were, his hands seemed to be shaking, just slightly.

(Y/n) turned their attention back to the worn textbook in front of them, scratching notes on a spare bit of parchment. They tried to focus on the words written on the page, but their mind still wandered to the boy beside them.

Together, the two students’ thoughts swirled like winds in a tempest - never in one place at one time, but simultaneously everywhere. This world seemed to be pulling everyone in all possible directions, spreading them ever thin, as though trying to test when they would snap.

Both Slytherins, different as they were, weren’t the type to break.

Some days, they wished they were.

(Y/n) failed to notice the careful way Draco appraised them. His eyes flitted from their old school supplies to their mended robes, and yet the newness in other belongings that perhaps didn’t need to be bought anew every school year. (Y/n) eventually caught him staring, and Draco leveled his gaze with theirs.

“I need your help,” and even his voice resounded from his throat, as though he had no energy to sustain it in his chest.

(Y/n) blinked. Once, twice, three times. “I’m sorry?”

At the front of the classroom, Professor Flitwick was giving instruction on the Reducto curse, but his voice was fading into background noise, now, as (Y/n) stared at the boy beside them. Of all the things they could have guessed Draco Malfoy to say to them, that was not one.

“You know what I asked for.”

Again, he was tired - too tired to explain his baffling request, too tired to give any kind of context as to why he had come to them, or whatever he needed help for.

“My help?” They didn’t get so much as a sigh, which was interesting, to say the least. (Y/n) wanted to scoff, but they had to keep their voice low enough for the professor to not take notice. “Why would you- What purpose—” their mind eventually caught up with them ”—Why do you think I’d give it?”

“Because I’m—”

“Draco Malfoy, yes.” The scoff escaped them, agitation setting in. (Y/n) pulled their gaze away from the boy to turn back to the front of the classroom, eyes narrowing as they pretended to read the writing on the blackboard. “What would your father think of you getting help from the likes of me?” They all but spat their words under their breath.

Draco seemed to twitch uncomfortably at the mention of his father, but he played it off with a roll of his eyes - the first real reaction (Y/n) had got out of him the entire conversation. “He’d think it shrewd of me.”

“Like keeping your enemies close?”

“Like keeping allies near. Us Slytherins are all one big brotherhood, aren’t we?”

“I think you muddied those waters when you’re obsession with blood purity extended to belittling us halfbreeds.” (Y/n) fixed Draco with a withering stare. He looked down at the desk, scrutinizing the aging wood. His demeanor shifted to something deeper than what lay on the surface, and a wiser person would have stopped there, but (Y/n) couldn’t let it go. “Suddenly you want to be family?”

Draco breathed in deeply as though by expanding his chest and allowing for more oxygen, the tension between them would dissipate. For a long moment, he didn’t speak. The two lapsed into silence, and Professor Flitwick's voice floated over to the two of them, regaining precedence.

“It’s important to keep in mind this spell is very volatile. It’s unlikely you’ll get it correct on your first try…”

(Y/n) allowed themself to decompress, their shoulders dropping and their hands relaxing on the page of their textbook.

For what could Draco Malfoy possibly need their help? They weren’t even friends, but he had the gall to call them family.

“I’d settle for partners.”

The bell rang. Students around them started to pack up, hurrying to their next class. Draco didn’t move a muscle.

(Y/n) fixed him with a stare that betrayed their display of anger and showed some of the interest within. They picked up the bottle-green bag beside them. “Then I suppose that depends on how much you’ve changed over the summer,” they spat, already standing to leave.

“Quite enough, I think you’ll find.”

(Y/n) paused on their way out the door but resisted the urge to turn around, instead pushing forward through the bottlenecked door with renewed conviction.

Who did Draco Malfoy think he had become, asking for favors like they were old chums or something of the like? What did he even need help for, that he couldn’t ask his posse of loyal followers? That Blaise Zabini was smart, and Theo Nott wasn’t too bad, either. Of course, Theo was a halfblood too, so maybe Draco had managed to piss him off in his fourth year as well, when he started to sneer at halfbloods as though he were somehow greater than them. It wouldn’t be surprising, really, if Draco had somehow managed to alienate all of his “friends” in some way or another. He wasn’t known to have much of a filter with his thoughts.

Maybe that was what all of this was about. Draco had mentioned his father thinking their conversation was “shrewd” - maybe Lucius Malfoy had a little conversation with his son about not alienating the people around him. Perhaps there was a little father-son chat about revitalizing the family image with the Death Eaters and the rise of You-Know-Who being what it was. How quaint. Did they have him updating his father in person, too? Is that why he looked like he hadn’t slept since summer?

Part of (Y/n) insisted that they were being overdramatic about all of this and that they should get a hold of their emotions. No one was really at liberty of being emotional during times like these, and maybe, deep down, Draco really had become something that wasn’t beneath asking genuine help of someone without having ulterior motives.

After all, he had been tired - without real signs of deception or bigger purpose… and he was… shaking - as though genuinely nervous or afraid and.... and he had said something that made them stop in their tracks… that the summer had changed him “quite enough,” said with a sort of bitterness and resignation that was unlike any kind of Draco Malfoy (Y/n) knew…

(Y/n) slid into their Herbology seat with practiced ease, and when they went to grab their textbook, they came up with an Astronomy book, instead.

“What?”

(Y/n) didn’t have Astronomy, and this textbook was far too nice to be theirs. Maybe it belonged to their roommate? But then why was it in their bag? (Y/n) clearly had the right bag since they had pulled out their textbook in Charms, and—

(Y/n) flipped to the inside cover of the Astronomy textbook in front of them.

Property of Draco Malfoy.

Professor Sprout started the lecture just as (Y/n) swore under their breath.

Their Herbology partner turned to them questioningly, and (Y/n) asked to share their textbook for the day. Their partner complied readily enough and (Y/n) shot them a smile. The rest of the lesson, (Y/n) calculated the quickest way from the greenhouses to the Slytherin common room, where they would no doubt find Draco Malfoy skipping yet another meal and doing whatever it was that occupied his time. They had switched bags, somehow, and (Y/n) was keen on getting theirs back.

When Herbology was finally over, (Y/n) all but sprinted to the dungeons. Of all days for this to happen...

When they reached the steps that led down to the common room, they saw Draco Malfoy standing at the bottom. A book was in his hands, and as (Y/n) descended the stairs, they got a better look at it.

Their heart dropped.

Draco was flipping through the pages of a tiny, leatherbound book. It looked inconspicuous enough, a kind of journal that was old and weathered, but (Y/n) knew who it belonged to, and what was hidden inside.

It was (Y/n)’s spellbook - always stuffed to the bottom of their bag in case inspiration or genious struck All of their spells were in there - from the nearly refined to their half-baked disasters, every spell (Y/n) had ever had the idea to create was in that book, along with every failure. If Draco had looked at their disastrous attempts from third year...

“I’m not here for games, Draco.”

“Neither am I.” Draco held out the book to them and (Y/n) snatched it, also taking the school bag that was at his feet - no doubt theirs. “I only needed to check - Ravenclaws have a way of dramatizing things, and since you weren’t happy to help…”

“Check what?”

In the half-light, it was hard to tell what Draco was feeling, or at least, what he’d allow to show. But when he spoke, his voice still carried a fatigue that wore him down and made him appear as though without an agenda. “That you can help me.”

(Y/n) rolled their eyes. “Again, what makes you think that I will?”

“You need money, don’t you? I recognize signs of wear when I see them, and you were rather quick to get back your used textbooks - probably borrowed, since you don’t have any older siblings and our textbooks aren’t as old as our parents. The (L/n) family must have come into financial trouble recently,” Draco reported with a sigh, as though he found no glee in this run around of his. Was this the same boy who used to flaunt his observational prowess, making scathing remarks about the most minute details of others?

(Y/n) wanted to snap that they didn’t need his money, but they had enough common sense to not be proud. The Malfoys were one of the richest families at Hogwarts. If Draco was willing to pay... at least he would be good for the money… and he had been looking at their spellbook. If he needed a spell, it would be nice to experiment on someone else’s galleon, wouldn’t it?

(Y/n) swallowed. “What do you need?”

“A spell, and your secrecy.”

(Y/n) nodded slowly, still weighing their choices. They had nearly made up their mind, but something still ate at the back of their mind, like an itch that couldn’t be satiated. “Why did you think I’d help you?”

“I knew you would.” Draco fiddled with his sleeve. “Because you want to know my secret.”

iv.

When Draco said they were going to the Room of Hidden Things, (Y/n) hadn’t expected the room itself to be hidden. It would have been ridiculous, and yet, looking at it, everything seemed to make sense. The room only appeared when you asked for it, and it contained thousands of knick knacks, all sorted and piled on top of each other haphazardly, the facade of order.

If everything ever hidden lay within this room, (Y/n) wouldn’t be surprised. The room seemed to stretch off into infinity, the walls on either side disappearing behind stacks of lost things that reached impossibly high, never appearing to meet a back wall. Everything in the Room of Hidden Things was seemingly left to oblivion, stacked and scattered with no real rhyme or reason, things left behind and obliterated from memory. As they walked deeper in, (Y/n) found themself searching, as though there was something they needed to find.

If Draco felt the same urge, he hid it well, winding around piles of lost things like one would walk around their own home in the dark, completely aware of where everything was and able to avoid things that others tripped on.  (Y/n) found themself wondering, ‘How many times had he been in here?’

Draco stopped in front of a tall, imposing cabinet with wrought iron detailing. The black wood seemed so stark against the rest of the room that (Y/n) wondered how anyone could miss it, and yet, if they turned their head as to put it in their periphery, the cabinet seemed to disappear.

Funny, how it could be there, but not.

After a moment, (Y/n) was able to place why it looked so familiar. The Vanishing Cabinet. Why was it here, of all places?

“It’s broken and no mending charms have worked on it - not even in conjunction with others.”

(Y/n) nodded, opening the door to the cabinet and taking a look inside. So that’s the kind of spell he needed.

“You probably heard about Montague getting stuck in a kind of limbo last year when the Weasley twins shoved him in.”

“So it has a twin.” It was more a statement than a question, but when (Y/n) caught Draco’s eye, they found an affirmative answer that almost looked guilty. (Y/n) turned away, rifling through their bag to find their creation book.

(Y/n)’s mind was flitting about, again, trying to call up all the information they had ever learned about passageways and vanishing cabinets, mending spells and charms. To modify a spell would probably be too simple for the complexities of a Vanishing Cabinet. They would have to start from scratch. (Y/n) flipped to the page where they wrote down the methodology of apparition spells. Maybe the answer lay within the creation of the spell rather than the outcome. Apparition spells might apply to the spontaneity of the Cabinet...

Draco handed (Y/n) a book or two that were clearly ancient, the pages themselves written in fading ink.

“I found these in that pile—” he gestured to a stack of books that reached into the heavens “—they’re the only decent information I’ve found so far.”

(Y/n) nodded and moved to sit on the floor, placing the books carefully in front of them. Draco retreated to the base of the tower of books, picking up a few that were scattered around a large chair that caught (Y/n)’s eye. It seemed out of place - pulled from the pile of furniture that was closer to the entrance and devoid of the thick layer of dust that seemed to permeate everything in this haven of the lost.

After a moment, (Y/n) realized it as a makeshift bed - a blanket that looked like it once belonged to a Hufflepuff thrown over the arm, a stack of clothes next to the chair, and Draco’s bag hanging from it.

How often was he in here?

(Y/n) turned their gaze back to the Vanishing Cabinet before them, trying not to dwell on what the Slytherin Prince had become. They had a job to do; a Vanishing Cabinet needed fixing.

But why, of all things, a Vanishing Cabinet?

“Planning on disappearing, Malfoy?” Their tone was light, playful. (Y/n) turned to face him, and he was stock still.

Draco didn’t respond, just looked at the cabinet with an intensity that seemed to bring the weight of the word onto his shoulders. He tugged at his left sleeve, and for a fleeting moment, an answer was swimming in his eyes.

‘Yes.’

v.

It had been around two weeks since (Y/n) had been first introduced to the Vanishing Cabinet, and ever since, their evenings were spent in the Room of Hidden Things, their attention split between homework and the puzzle before them.

One part of them was intent on creating the right spell. If they were able to do it correctly, this new spell could be revolutionary, potentially changing the way mending spells were thought of for years to come. With the way that Vanishing Cabinets worked, it wasn’t just the cabinet that needed to be fixed, or the passageway in between, but the space that was warped when the door to the cabinet was closed. It was mystifying, to say the least, and the possibilities were endless.

Another, more nagging side of (Y/n) was intent on figuring out why Draco needed a Vanishing Cabinet in the first place. What purpose did he require of it? Better yet, what purpose could it serve? The possibilities for this, too, could be infinite.

“(Y/n)? Are you listening?”

Michael Corner, their friend of six years, bumped his shoulder into theirs. They were walking to Potions, and he had been chatting about how he hadn’t seen them in a while - not since they started slipping out of the Great Hall early after dinner.

“Yes - you think I’ve been trying to perfect my failed spells from third year and I’m too proud to tell you that I actually do listen to your advice.”

Michael grinned. “So… are you?”

“I am working on my spells, if that’s what you’re after.”

“And have you taken my advice on selling them?”

(Y/n) thought for a moment. After all, they were getting paid for what they were doing for Draco, so technically a ‘yes’ would be appropriate. But if Michael started to ask who bought it and for what reasons, (Y/n) wouldn’t be able to say.

“Maybe,” they said, lamely.

It seemed to be enough for Michael, though, and he talked excitedly about the possibilities as they made their way into the Potions classroom. (Y/n) approached their seat and Michael groaned. “It sucks that Slughorn assigned us partners. I’m stuck with Hermione Granger and, well, you know how she is. Potions could be so much better if we got to choose who we work with.”

(Y/n) sat down in their seat, sighing before fishing for their textbook in their bag. “You’re not the one stuck with Malfoy,” they deadpanned as usual, but the words didn’t fit as naturally in their mouth as they once did.

“Yeah, but when does he even show up to class, anymore?” For emphasis, Michael slid into the Slytherin’s assigned seat.

The two devolved into their usual banter, talking about common interests and idiotic assignments. Professor Slughorn walked into the room two minutes or so before class started and when Michael swore, he fixed him with a stare. Things were as they always were, but then something changed.

 Draco Malfoy walked into the classroom, and Michael was surprised, but quick to slip out of his seat. He chose to hover near (Y/n)’s end of the table, and while he was careful not to stare, his eyes flicked to Draco. He wasn’t the only one; the whole class seemed to notice Draco’s presence, but Malfoy seemed to be avoiding the production of it all - very unlike him. The pallor in his skin didn’t seem to be getting worse, but the melancholic air that seemed to follow him was palpable.

Any day, now, the rumors would get worse and the speculation would start. What was eating at Draco Malfoy?

(Y/n) had been working with him closely for two weeks, now, and even they weren’t any closer to figuring out the truth.

Harry Potter seemed to have particularly keen eyes, whispering to his friends without losing eye contact.

The whole of Hogwarts seemed to be holding its breath, unsure of what was to come, but anticipating how bad the storm was going to be. Michael tried to ignore the shift in demeanor, nudging (Y/n) with his arm.

“I’m still surprised that Harry Potter ended up getting the Felix Felicis - I was honestly expecting Padma or Hermione to get it. Since when is Harry a potion making prodigy?”

Beside (Y/n), Draco stiffened. (Y/n) let out a puff of air like a subdued scoff and Michael smiled. So the Potter-Malfoy rivalry was still going strong.

Michael scratched out a note on a spare bit of parchment and stuck it in (Y/n) textbook with a conspiratorial wink. “I’ll go see if I can snag some of Potter’s notes, yeah? Maybe he can spare a bit of genius.”

With that he was off, and (Y/n) rolled their eyes before turning to the front of the classroom. Draco was still on edge beside them, his shoulders taut and head bowed in such a way that (Y/n) couldn’t catch his eye.

It was later, when (Y/n) was flipping through their textbook to the instructions for the potion they were to make, that they found the note Michael had left behind.

‘At least you know you have something to make his blood boil.’

vi.

“We’re going to need space,” (Y/n) muttered to Draco. They had agreed to meet by the statue of Lachlan the Lanky when going to the Room of Hidden Things, and Draco was already there when (Y/n) arrived. “Testing out this spell could be dangerous in such a cluttered space - the entire room could be destroyed.”

Draco nodded deftly and (Y/n) could tell by the way his eyes narrowed that he was thinking of a way to fix their problem. It had been a little over a month since the two started to work together, and after being Potions and Alchemy partners, working beside each other during their free period, and spending their nights in front of the Vanishing Cabinet, the two knew each other better than they cared to admit. (Y/n) still held fast to the idea that they were acquaintances at most, but there were times when they saw him in the Room of Hidden Things, sitting on the chair he used for a bed, and they knew what he was thinking. Acquaintances couldn’t do that, could they?

Draco walked past a section of the corridor three times, his perpetually tired expression furrowed into concentration, and the vanishing door appeared. As soon as they could, the two Slytherins ushered themselves in. This time, they were met with a bright light.

(Y/n) blinked furiously, and when their eyes adjusted, they realized they were looking at the sky.

Bright blue and without clouds, the sky seemed to mimic that of a summer’s day. The sun that beat down was a welcome change from the cold winds of December, and (Y/n) let the warmth fill them as they took in the view. The Room of Hidden Things had somehow shifted into a vast, open field that was full of tall, yellowing grass.

The field seemed to stretch into oblivion, never quite ending as it reached a horizon point. (Y/n) felt something like calm wash over them. This place carried a mixture between knowledge and peace. A little ways out, but close enough to be identified were the only two things that upset the sprawling landscape - a willow tree with low hanging branches, far more serene than the Whomping Willow that Hogwarts students were familiar with, and the Vanishing Cabinet.

“What is this place?” (Y/n) still gaped at what lay around them, eyes eagerly taking in every color that seemed to bleed in the way a painting would.

“The Room of Requirement is whatever you need it to be.”

“And the Room of Hidden Things…?”

“Inside it.”

Draco looked worse, somehow, in the full light of the sun; his skin was more pale, like death had already touched him and all he had left to do was walk to his grave. (Y/n) couldn't look long.

The two started toward the Vanishing Cabinet. (Y/n) felt the distinct urge to put their hands out to feel the grass brush against their skin, to see just how real this beautiful illusion was. If the room could create this, what else could it fathom?

If (Y/n) could stay here forever, would this room create a reality beautiful enough to keep them?

(Y/n) sat their bag down a few paces away from the Vanishing Cabinet and rolled up their sleeves. Draco retreated to the foot of the weeping willow. (Y/n) checked it to make sure that it stood far enough away from the blast zone. It seemed alright.

(Y/n) placed a spare bit of parchment into the Cabinet and took a few steps back.

“Harmonia Nectere Deambulatio!”

(Y/n) turned their wrist precisely and grey wisps of light illuminated from the tip of their wand. The Vanishing Cabinet before them lurched forward abruptly and (Y/n) staggered a few steps backward. The Cabinet righted itself and after a few moments of hesitantly watching it to see if the cabinet would be pitching itself to and fro once more, (Y/n) quickly approached and opened it.

The paper inside was far worse than what they expected; the parchment shredded and burning, as though it did some acrobatic routine for the circus with very poor aim. (Y/n) quickly doused the flames and turned back to their book, scratching out the failed attempt.

(Y/n) sighed and started again, trying out a few variations of the spell they had already drafted up, praying that one of them would work. After an hour or so of the Vanishing Cabinet turning out botched attempts, (Y/n) decided they needed to rethink the spell itself, and not the delivery.

This wasn’t their first spell to go wrong, but it was definitely the hardest, since gauging what needed to be fixed was near impossible. (Y/n) figured that it had to be the passage between each Cabinet. The slicing of the paper was most likely a failure to use the passage - it was torn on its way to the other cabinet and when fragmented, couldn’t be supported through the warping of space, so it was spit back out and was lit on fire from the friction.

(Y/n)’s focus, then, should shift from the spontaneity of the Vanishing Cabinet and work on the passage rather than the walk through it. It was the space between that needed warping… perhaps they should look at their notes of Transfiguration spells, they were particularly good at warping space… a safe bet, too, since Transfiguration was fairly testable and not overly theoretical, compared to other spells...

(Y/n) looked at one of the books Draco had given them a week prior. From what those books taught, tangibles were off the table with Vanishing Cabinets. A safe bet might not fix anything. But anything else might be more risk than it was worth...

Maybe a principle of Alchemy could be used. Transmutation might be the key - not shifting the length of the passage, but shifting the properties of the passage, making it safer to traverse… of course, transmutation spells were highly dangerous when not perfected, and seeing as most of the creation of their spell had to be theory rather than tested reality...

Both (Y/n) and Draco would have to be very sure it was the route they wanted to take, and then they would have to be incredibly careful. Especially in a room where space itself warped… if anything went wrong, the spell could kill both of them.

(Y/n) had never been the best at Alchemy, but Draco was a prodigy when it came to the subject. It was one of the few classes he showed up for, anymore, and since (Y/n) had gotten better at reading him, they noticed that Draco actually took interest in the subject. He seemed to be fascinated by the idea that one thing could be made into something completely different with dedication and patience.

But how much could (Y/n) trust Draco? He hadn’t screwed them over, yet, but would he, eventually? Maybe it was only a matter of time…

But, then again, what did he stand to gain?

Both of them were working day and night to solve this problem. Draco may not have fully understood how spells were made, but his research was invaluable, and there was no way either could do it on their own. Fixing a Vanishing Cabinet was improving upon Ancient Magic, all of which was confusing and uncertain, to say the least. There was a reason why there were few Vanishing Cabinets in existence, and a reason as to why Dumbledore didn’t fix the Cabinet himself. It’s near impossible. There’s no way Draco could do it on his own.

He needed (Y/n), and he seemed to know it, too.

(Y/n) sighed and walked over to the willow tree where Draco sat, calling out to him, their voice faint, like it would be in a real, empty field. They parted the tall grass as they went, feeling the scratch of it on their legs and arms. The sun seemed to have dipped lower in the sky, but the suspension of time that the Room of Requirement always held still stood. (Y/n) could only guess how long they’d been here - a few hours, maybe - but it didn’t feel like it had been long enough.

“We’ll have to shift our theory - I think the basis of this spell has to be Alchemical properties or at the very least Transfiguration. It’s tricky, though, since this magic is so old…”

Draco was asleep, a book from the Room of Hidden Things opened on his stomach. He looked disheveled, pale blonde hair mussed up, his robes in disarray. His sleeves, always pulled low, were starting to ride up on his left arm and (Y/n) could see the skin beneath, pink and rubbed raw, as though he scratched and agitated the length of his forearm all day long.

(Y/n) sat down beside him, far enough away as to give him privacy, and yet close enough so that neither was alone. The field around them suddenly felt more exposed than before - (Y/n) understood why Draco chose to sit underneath the tree; the low hanging branches of the willow tree created a sense of security - like they could hide, if they had to.

Draco had nightmares. It didn’t take long to realize that - he twitched and fidgeted in his sleep, expression twisting into something torn between fear and pain. (Y/n) wanted to wake him from his spell, but when they looked at him and saw the pallor of his skin and the circles underneath his eyes, they knew it was best to keep him resting.

Sometimes you fight a war on two fronts, and there is no escaping it. Draco needed to rest. And who was (Y/n) to decide whether the terrors of sleeping or waking were worse?

At some point, they must have fallen asleep, too, because they awoke to Draco shaking their shoulder, his eyes averted and his hands cold. The painted sun had dipped over the nonexistent horizon, and the moon was out.

“We need to go. It’s after curfew.”

(Y/n) stood up and smoothed out their uniform, nodding deftly.

“I’m a prefect, so just follow my lead and no one will ask questions.”

vii.

“We’ll try out the transmutation theory.”

(Y/n) pulled their gaze away from their Charms essay to stare up at Draco incredulously. It was nearing midnight, and with most of the students being gone for the holiday, the Slytherin common room was empty.  Draco had just entered and was on his way to the dormitories, but he stopped on his way and spoke to (Y/n) in a low tone.

“You know the risks, right?” Draco just stared pensively into the fire that blazed beside them. “Are you willing to die for this?”

Maybe it was the flames that threatened tears to his eyes. “I’m dead, either way.”

viii.

The bell rang, signaling the end of Transfiguration, and the classroom erupted with life, people closing their books and racing out the door. As far as last classes went, Transfiguration was okay, but at the end of the day, everyone wanted to get out as quickly as possible. Michael nudged (Y/n) when he was shoving off, reminding them to grab some dinner before they holed themselves up for the evening. (Y/n) shot back a retort and he flipped them off as he left, earning a scolding from McGonagall.

“Sorry, professor.”  Michael ducked his head apologetically, but when McGonagall turned around, he caught (Y/n)’s eye and winked.

(Y/n) rolled their eyes, shoving a quill in their bag as McGonagall fixed her attention to them. “(Y/n) (L/n).”

The Slytherin snapped to attention. “Yes, professor?”

“Would you remind Mr. Malfoy that he still has my class, even if he chooses not to attend?” McGonagall took a step closer and (Y/n) held their gaze, more surprised than anything else. “It’s not imperative he show for lessons, but he does need to turn in his work if he expects to continue with this subject.”

(Y/n) was caught off guard. “O-Of course.”

“He is slated to take Transfiguration next year, and N.E.W.T.s will not be kind to those who don’t dedicate themselves.” McGonagall looked at (Y/n) over the top of her glasses, seemingly more stern than before. “I know you and Mr. Malfoy are close - perhaps you will be able to motivate him.”

(Y/n) shrugged their bag onto their shoulders, a little too eager to leave. McGonagall seemed to take note, but waited patiently for (Y/n) to speak. “Oh, um… Draco and I are just partners in class.”

McGonagall pressed her lips into a thin line. Was it… amused? Knowing? “I’ve heard, you frequently meet up by the statue of Lachlan the Lanky, as well.” Her eyes still carried that intensity. Perhaps her gaze was more of a warning.

(Y/n) looked down and swallowed, mind racing. “I’ll tell him, professor.”

“Thank you.”

(Y/n) walked out of the classroom, and it wasn’t until they were in the dungeons that they dared to breathe. McGonagall's words were inconspicuous enough, but it was the way she said it that struck (Y/n) to the core. If McGonagall knew about them meeting up at the statue, what else did she know? Maybe it wasn’t much, but she felt justified to bring it up. And in that tone…

She could know anything, maybe even more than (Y/n) - and if McGonagall knew, surely Dumbledore did, as well.

When they entered the Slytherin common room, Draco was inside, sitting with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. They were talking in hushed tones, and the concern in their gaze was palpable. If it has been a few months ago, (Y/n) would have pretended like they hadn’t seen anything and gone avoided their stare. But now, they just pressed forth.

At the sight of (Y/n) approaching, Pansy stood and pulled Blaise with her, putting a hand on Draco's shoulder before leaving. (Y/n) locked eyes with the two retreating figures and there was something grateful in their stares.

(Y/n) averted their gaze.

“Draco,” (Y/n) sat down on a couch across from him and kept their voice low. “I think Professor McGonagall knows.”

Draco was careful not to show interest in his body language, but his eyes were sharp, wary. (Y/n) leaned in a bit, telling him all that happened, recalling the strange way that McGonagall looked at them and how she knew where they met up. The shadows of the fire played against Draco’s gaunt features, making him look almost ghostlike as he listened intently.

“The only reason I could see her keeping tabs on you is because of that rumor Harry Potter is spreading about you giving that cursed necklace to Katie Bell.” (Y/n) shook their head, blinking and they missed the way that Draco froze at the mention. “But either way, we need to be more careful.”

For a moment, the two just sat in silence, eyes intent on their hands as they tried to see a place beyond this present. Both were unaware of what the other was thinking, and yet they both wished the same - that is world would stop around them - if only for a moment.

The fire behind them raged and the voices of those surrounding them didn’t cease.

(Y/n) sighed and tipped their head back, looking at the glass ceiling above them, dark waters rippling from the movement of merfolk and the Giant Squid. What would it feel like to be suspended for your whole life, never coming up for air? Peaceful, perhaps.

“Don’t worry about the professors.” Draco spoke suddenly, and (Y/n) sat up to find him mimicking their actions, still looking up at the lake, his hands fidgeting with the sleeves of his button-up. “They know perfectly well they could stop us if they wanted to. They could know everything if they wanted. But they don’t.” There was a bitterness in his tone that seeped in slowly, then all at once. “They don’t meddle in anything I do. They don’t concern themselves with us. They don’t—”

Draco cut himself short. (Y/n) looked at him for a minute, their expression soft but broken - a little wondering. The wondered if they understood Draco a little more - maybe they recognized that anger, simmering on low, the fire just able to be sustained but burning out.

“They don’t save us, do they?” and it was a whisper, but it felt earth shattering.

Draco sighed, his eyes fluttering closed. “Not us.”

ix.

On Wednesday nights, Alchemy students were expected to go up to the 16th turret where classes were usually held to do an extra lesson. Part of their curriculum required the moonlight filtering through stained glass to complete, and Slughorn said there was no way around it. It was the only night of the week when Draco and (Y/n) didn’t go to the Room of Requirement to work on their project, the only night when they breathed just a little easier.

The sky was lighter than the usual inky night. The moon was full and brightly reflecting, and it’s solemnity in the sky was a stark contrast to Professor Slughorn’s excitement as he flitted about, giving instructions on how to complete the assignment. There were a few stars that managed to twinkle in the sky, and (Y/n) found themselves transfixed by them, wishing they were admiring the night sky for stargazing, instead of work

It was much easier, admiring something from a distance; dealing with things closer to the ground was heavier on the heart - it took more of a toll.

Draco worked beside them quietly. Things between them usually were quiet, with the occasional word or moment of recognition in the heart of the other. Questions weren’t usually welcome, but (Y/n) could sneak in a few, every once in a while. Especially during Alchemy; Draco was more relaxed up here - almost content.

Slughorn went over to Padma Patil at the front of the classroom, leaving the pair of Slytherin’s in shared solitude.

“I can’t imagine you’re sleeping well, in the Room of Hidden Things.” (Y/n) whispered so no one would hear, sure to make their tone soft, unlike anything that might set the other into a mood. Draco turned to them for a moment, impassive, but didn’t say a word. (Y/n) tried again. “I realize the Cabinet’s important, but enough to sacrifice your health? Why?”

More silence. There had been a time (Y/n) wouldn’t have minded.

“Can’t you tell me anything?”

Draco’s jaw flexed, and he was so thin it stuck out more than normal, sharp with a jagged edge. (Y/n) eyed him with a guarded expression of their own, allowing silence to lapse between them as Slughorn walked by. He checked on their progress with an impressed hum, and once the professor was out of earshot, (Y/n) interrogated Draco once more.

“I just want to know something - this is dangerous for me, too.”

Draco seemed hesitant. After a moment, he spoke, “I have to do this,” he whispered, almost more to himself than anyone else.

“I don’t understand why.”

“No, you don’t.” Draco looked at them sharply but (Y/n) wasn’t one to back down. His eyes flicked around the room, as if to see if anyone noticed his sudden movement, but no one seemed to take note. Still, Draco turned back to his work, shooting his next words out of the side of his mouth, eyes blazing with something that was white-hot, but not anger. “And you wouldn’t.”

“So I get to do your dirty work, but without an explanation? Did you forget we’re being watched?” (Y/n) shook their head, expression tight with anger.

“If I don’t do this, I’ll die. Is that a good enough explanation for you?” Draco’s jaw twitched and (Y/n) heaved a sigh, through with his dramatics. Every day it got worse and Draco didn’t seem to be opening up anytime soon. It was exhausting, and for what? A few Galleons? A feeling like they were somehow helping him? 

A secret? Draco was fiddling with his left sleeve, again, and (Y/n) had the familiar feeling that they already knew the answer to any question they might ask.

The rest of the evening wore on in silence. Both Slytherins were tense with emotion, thoughts swirling around them, the tension in the air almost thick enough to taste. Occasionally, the sounds of others wafted towards them - Slughorn’s footsteps, excited whispers, low swears and were quickly reprimanded - but neither spoke a word or did so much as to spare the other a glance. Eventually, Slughorn dismissed everyone, walking out himself, and the only two left were Draco and (Y/n).

(Y/n) stood up and gathered their things, and after a moment's hesitation, faced Draco with a guarded stare. They breathed in, “I’m going to figure out what’s happening, Draco. But I’m not going to like it if I have to figure it out on my own.”

With that, (Y/n) turned to leave. But before they could walk away, Draco had caught their arm. (Y/n) turned back around with a sigh. He was standing, now, and the moonlight that filtered through the stained glass window drowned him in deep shades of red. 

“Do you know my family’s allegiance in this war?”

(Y/n) felt their blood turn cold. “Well, I…” they stammered, “I figured—”

“Then you have your explanation,” he cut them off bitterly,  and was quick to look away, releasing his hold on them and cleaning up his things.

(Y/n) blinked. Once, twice, three times. Tightening their grip on their bag, they walked towards the door to open it, but their hand rested on the knob. Their mind was like a tempest - never in one place at one time, but simultaneously everywhere, trying to remember everything they had ever believed in and everything they thought they knew.

“We’re meeting again tomorrow, right?” And (Y/n) hated the way their voice sounded; soft and unsure. They looked back to see Draco - really see him - but his expression was just as conflicted as ever, just as pained and stiff and grasping. It was almost as though he were drowning in his own sin, bloody and red.

After a moment, he nodded, grey eyes pausing, for once, never leaving theirs.

“Then I’ll meet you there.”

x.

Draco passed (Y/n) the apple and they set it down in the middle of the Vanishing Cabinet, it’s lively green skin stark against the black cabinet. They shut the door carefully, and took a step back.

Yesterday, for the first time in their five months of working together, a piece of parchment Vanished properly. After three different theories on the spell, about 12 different spell variations, and many late nights, it was finally working. There was a sort of peace in that, and yet something akin to dread seemed to settle in the air - almost thicker than the dust that permeated the Room of Hidden Things.

Draco seemed to feel it, too. His weight seemed to settle heavier in his bones, his entire essence dragged downward, somewhere where he couldn’t be found. They weren’t going to be saved by anyone but themselves, but sometimes it seemed Draco didn’t have the fight in him. Not anymore.

His hands were shaking, and the boy made to fix the cuffs of his sleeves. (Y/n) reached out and grabbed his hand and he turned to them, sharply. (Y/n) didn’t say anything, just squeezed his hands once, then let go. His hands stilled.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

It was best done as a whisper, with the slightest curl of the wrist. The light was soft and melancholic. The Vanishing Cabinet didn’t make a sound nor shudder, just stood there, imposing as ever.

Draco opened the cabinet. It was empty.

Despite themselves, both smiled.

He closed the door.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The wrought iron was cold as (Y/n) pulled the cabinet open, once more. They picked up the apple, same as before, and it was perfect. (Y/n) turned back to Draco and gave him a solemn nod. He walked over to the bird cage that stood beside his makeshift bed, pulling out the white songbird within. It sang.

Draco closed the door.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The singing stopped, and (Y/n) didn’t need to open the door to know that it worked. But they did, and the cabinet was empty. When the cabinet was secured again, and all that was left was to say those three words, they both hesitated. The two Slytherin’s stared at each other, unwilling to breathe in fear that it might not work.

Or worse, maybe it would.

Draco lifted his wand slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was thick, but each word carefully crafted. “Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

The silence was deafening. Draco’s eyes flicked to (Y/n), and when he saw his own fears reflected in their gaze, he swallowed hard.

Inside, the bird was dead, it’s tiny, white body sitting in a sea of darkness. (Y/n) picked it up, knowing they had to determine how it died to fix what had gone wrong when it rematerialized. When the bird was cupped in their hand, it’s body was still warm.

They turned around and Draco was crying.

xi.

The Room of Hidden Things was a maze. Without windows or any real sense of the passage of time, tit could feel claustrophobic and dense. The candles and torches the endless room used for light threw long shadows and at times, there was something lonely about the place. On occasion, though, when (Y/n) and Draco spent afternoons amongst the clutter and set candles near them, the room could feel cozy - maybe even warm.

The two had been working quietly for a half hour or so when (Y/n) felt the itch to ask a question. As always, they pondered letting it pass, but their curiosity got the better of them. They set their quill down and turned to look at the boy across from them. “Tell me something about Draco Malfoy that no one else knows."

Draco, used to questions by now and in a better mood than most days, didn’t bother to look up, but responded, anyway. “Why?”

“You learned a few secrets of mine when you skimmed my spell creation book. It’s only fair that I get to use something against you.”

“You know about this place.”

(Y/n) looked at him unimpressed, but still, Draco didn’t raise his head. They sighed. “Give me something more than that. Technically, this is my secret, too.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but his quill stopped scratching, and he closed the textbook before him. “Like what?”

“Like…” (Y/n) shrugged as Draco watched them, his grey eyes lighter than usual, less filled with the weight of all things. “Alright, I’m allergic to pumpkin, but I wanted to try pumpkin juice so badly in our first year that I had to go to the infirmary on the first day of school—” (Y/n) was smiling at the memory, and it was the first bit of happiness they had allowed themself to have for a while. “—it was nothing too bad, and Madam Pomfrey was quick to fix me up, but I couldn’t taste for the next week. A real shame, too, seeing as the first few feasts are always the best.”

Draco’s lips were pressed into a thin line, only the very edges curling upwards, so slightly anyone else would have missed it. A genuine smile. (Y/n) was proud of themself for having coaxed it out of him. Funny, how much they had started to care.

“Something idiotic, then?” and the lilt to his voice was almost amused.

(Y/n) rolled their eyes. “You have to have something.”

Draco thought for a moment and (Y/n) watched him as he tried to pull a memory. They noted how much younger he looked, here, in a light dim enough to be considered conspiratorial, but bright enough to be distinct from the rest of their existence. It was almost as though they belonged here, two more lost things in a sea of used belongings.

“I tried to grow out my hair like my father’s in the summer before our first year.” Draco’s voice was soft in reminiscing, but it grew louder with fondness. “A cousin told me I looked like a girl and I cut it off that same night. My mother fixed it for me in the morning, right before we went to Diagon Alley.”

(Y/n) let out the ghost of a chuckle, but when Draco joined them, their laugher grew, echoing through the endless room.

xii.

“So... tell me, is Slytherin gossip really just made up of lies, or are you actually hanging out with Draco Malfoy? Is that where you’ve been sneaking off to?”

Michael and (Y/n) walked side by side, catching up for the first time all week. They had been heading to lunch when Michael realized he left his quill and ink in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, so the two decided to take the walk back together. Somehow, their conversation landed on gossip around the school, and of course, Michael had to bring up Draco.

(Y/n), used to dodging questions by now, simply rolled their eyes. “I don’t know, did you actually join a secret army last year and not tell me about it?”

“I already told you that Harry himself didn’t want any Slytherin’s involved. How was I expected to go against the Boy Who Lived?” Michael defended himself poorly but passionately, pushing his dark hair out of his face. Suddenly, his narrowed. “But yes, I did. So does that mean you’re admitting to hanging out with the Slytherin Prince?”

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s only because we’re partners in Potions and Alchemy. Slughorn has this weird thing about classroom symmetry.”

Michael chuckled at (Y/n)’s annoyance, but continued pressing in the way that only a Ravenclaw could successfully pull off. “Then do you know what’s wrong with him? There are bets going around, and I just put down 8 Sickles on him having some rare illness that Pomfrey doesn’t know how to heal.”

“Is him being a werewolf one of the theories?”

“It was, actually,” (Y/n) snorted and Michael turned around to face them, walking backwards down the hall, “But after Padma saw him in Alchemy class during the full moon, the idea was thrown out. Seamus Finnigan lost a Galleon or two.”

“Any other ingenious ideas?”

Michael opened his mouth to speak, but was bumped into abruptly by Harry Potter, walking the other way with a bewildered and shocked expression. He reeled backward and Michael apologized, but all Harry did was nod absentmindedly before continuing down the corridor, walking quickly as though trying to create some sort of distance.

“Weird.” Michael huffed, watching Potter as he retreated. The two friends shared a confused glance before continuing down the hall, and after a few steps, (Y/n) slipped on something slick.

The floors were wet with Harry Potter’s trailing footprints. (Y/n) looked at Michael and they both had the same, strange urge.

Follow them.

The two set off down the hall, neither speaking a word as they followed the trail. No one else was in the corridor but them, and the sound of rushing water filled the corridor as they got ever nearer. The footsteps led to the boys bathroom, which must have busted a pipe or two, judging by the flooding. Inside, someone was muttering a healing incantation, their voice echoing with a concentrated sort of aggression. Michael looked at (Y/n) questioningly before stepping inside, calling out.

“Hey, is everything alright in here?”

The bathroom was a disaster, but in the middle of the floor was Draco Malfoy, still and lying in a pool of his own crimson blood. Professor Snape was crouched over him, trying in vain to stop the bleeding as it drenched his shirt and dissipated into the water around him. (Y/n) stood rooted to the spot, their breath coming in short and their heart pounding their chest. They couldn’t take their eyes off of him, life ebbing away from him, the only indication that he was still alive being his laboured gasps.

They wouldn’t sustain him for long.

“Get. Out.” Snape looked at the two with a ferocity and Michael turned to leave, tugging on (Y/n)’s arm with an expression that was seemingly everything at once - pouring forth from busted pipes, flowing down the corridors...

For a moment, (Y/n) didn’t feel in control of their own limbs. Michael called their name, an urgency lacing his tone, and (Y/n) blinked. Once, twice, three times. The world came into focus. They shook their head. 

“Go,” they whispered, and it only took a precisely aimed stare to get Michael to disappear.

Snapped out of their daze, (Y/n) rushed forward, kneeling beside Draco and ignoring the professors command to leave. Their hands shook as the pulled their wand out from their newly soaked bag, but they uttered a healing spell under their breath - something they had created in their fourth year - praying to Merlin that Draco would live.

Snape stared at them for a sharp moment, with a look that seemed to be knowing and confused at the same time.

Together, the blood that they were kneeling in made its way back into Draco’s body, but the wound - a deep gash on his abdomen - still wouldn’t close. When Snape said he needed to take Draco to the Hospital Wing, (Y/n)’s clothes were drenched and their face was damp with tears they hadn’t realized they wept.

(Y/n) trailed after the professor, not caring they were missing class, their mind still hyper focused on Drac’s survival. They had never seen so much blood outside the body. And with him lying on the flooded floor... how much had escaped him? He would have bleed out, had noone arrived sooner...

Madam Pomfrey didn’t allow (Y/n) to hover while she worked, so the Slytherin sat outside the heavy doors, still dripping with water but not caring as they tried to calm their breathing. They would be waiting outside when Pomfrey finally allowed visitors, and when they Draco again, they couldn’t afford to let their fear show so plainly.

Slowly, their body returned to something fit for survival - worried but functional. Their heart rate was erratic, and their jaw no longer trembled. (Y/n) dried themselves off and waited, sliding down the wall until they sat with their back pressed against it.

They wouldn’t leave until they knew Draco was okay. They couldn’t leave him.

Not like this.

Snape was allowed to wait inside, possibly helping the Healer, and two agonizing hours later, the doors opened and the professor stepped out. His robes swished about him and despite everything, he still carried his usual composed confidence. The Slytherin Head of House turned and fixed (Y/n) with a stare that left them feeling vulnerable - as though any secret they ever had had just been told, without uttering a word. For a brief moment, (Y/n) wondered if professor Snape was a legilimens, or if they were just shaken, still.

But then another thought crossed their mind. ‘Did it matter?’

“You can go in.”

(Y/n) was inside the infirmary before Snape had time to turn away.

The Hospital Wing was silent, and their hurried steps echoed in a way that made their heart beat louder their chest. Madam Pomfrey didn’t look surprised to see them, just apologetic. “He’s unconscious for now. It should wear off in 20 minutes or so. He’ll be fine.” She pointed to a nearby chair and (Y/n) pulled it up, sitting at Draco’s side and eyeing him closely.

After seven months of spending nearly every waking moment together, (Y/n) knew Draco Malfoy better than anyone else. They knew all that he had once been and all he became.

(Y/n) knew the toll that his secrets took,  and how unrelenting they were as they tore at everything Draco was. Harry must’ve known, too. He must have sensed it - maybe all those months ago, when he looked at him in Potions as though ready to duel. But to nearly kill Draco?

(Y/n) didn’t know what had happened - or just who Harry Potter was. But they couldn’t believe something like was intentional.

(Y/n) had to believe Harry didn’t know what he did.

This war made monsters of them all, but did the best of them have to succumb to its dangers? Did everyone in this world have to get twisted and suffer so? They were all innocents, and yet they slaughtered each other like enemies. Did none of them shed tears?

There were many more terrors to come, and (Y/n) had to believe that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, would be strong enough and kind enough to forgive them. Sometimes this world leaves you without a choice; sometimes it leaves children to nothing but ruins. (Y/n) was just a child, and they didn’t know who to save or even how to do so.

But they did know a few things. A simple, handful of facts that would have to be enough to get them through.

Across the room, Madam Pomfrey took her leave, wandering to the back office where she kept many of her potions.

Despite everything, Draco looked peaceful as he slept - something (Y/n) had never seen, despite the two dozing off plenty of times while working together. He was always in turmoil, no matter his conscious state. So to see him so still was unnerving; it was almost as though he had finally given up.

(Y/n) noticed the sleeves of his shirt had ridden up, and before they could reach out to fix them for him, they noticed the end of a curling tattoo on his inner, left arm. They stared at it for a moment, the curling end of a snake, sitting inside of a skull. (Y/n) considered it, expecting fear to grip their heart but feeling something like sympathy, instead.

They already knew, deep down, what was branded there. They had known for a while. It wasn’t a revelation, and part of them didn’t want to reach out and expose the rest of the tattoo. Did they need to confirm it, now? It was silly, the idea that seeing it would make it more real.

They saw it every day in the way in hands shook, or in the anger in his eyes. They didn’t need to see a tattoo to know what Draco Malfoy had been branded. Sometimes, (Y/n) believed that the ink on his skin didn’t make him different, at all.

How quickly they had grown to trust him. And yet, how quickly he revealed himself, when the two of them were the only souls still awake and bleeding.

(Y/n) pushed the rest of the sleeve down, covering the exposed skin. A cold hand grabbed their own.

Draco stared at them, grey eyes alert and panicked. For a moment, he didn’t seem to breathe. (Y/n) pulled away and his grip went slack, his expression still torn and frozen in place, the only difference being the tears that were welling in his eyes.

“It’s alright, Draco.” He was running from a catastrophe, these days. He seemed to live in the fallout of terrible revelations. A younger Draco wouldn’t recognize him, if he could see himself, now. “I already knew.” Draco tried to scoff, but it came out a sob. Did it somehow hurt worse, the admission of knowledge rather than a sudden reveal? Did it paint him, to realize he had been known all along?(Y/n) tried to offer a smile, but it didn’t quite meet their eyes. “You’re not the only one who’s observant.”

“Why are you helping me, then?” His voice was hoarse and unsure.

Why, indeed?

“You and your whole family will die.” Tears pricked at (Y/n)’s eyes, though whether they were of frustration or sadness, they did not know. Perhaps it was both.

“Others will die because of us,” Draco breathed the words, as though he didn’t want to admit it to even himself.

“They’d find a way inside Hogwarts somehow - nowhere’s safe. But… but if we do it this way… maybe more can be spared.”

“Everyone will die,” Draco shook his head, every emotion he had ever felt spilling over, seeping out of him like all of that blood collecting on the bathroom floor. He has been holding it in for months, and now he was letting go all of it go, bursting forth until he had nothing left. “You don’t know them like I do, we — we’re all dead.”

“Not yet,” (Y/n) wiped at their cheeks furiously, resolve making their voice strong. “We can still save most of us. It’s Dumbledore they want, isn’t it?”

Draco let out another choking sob.

“Why don’t we just tell him?”

“Don’t you see?” Draco was shaking with emotion, his face red and streaked with tears. His every word was punctuated, trembling with a mixture of anger and sadness and fear. No matter where he went, there was so much fear. “I’m the villain in their story.”

(Y/n) took in a shaky breath and put their hands in his. They were still crying, but it wasn’t for themself. “You’re not a villain, Draco. You’re just a boy,” they whispered, but the sound of it seemed to echo around them. “And we’re a brotherhood, right? So I’m here for you. Even if it is just us.”

And they cried together, two voices who’s echoes sounded like one.

xiii.

“Harmonia Nectere Passus.”

This time, the songbird lived. It sang through the thick wood of the cabinet, it’s lonely tune bright, as though it knew spring was upon them - as though it knew nothing of the impending frost, and the death that was sure to follow. Draco and (Y/n) didn’t need to open the door to know that it worked. But they did, and the tiny, white body ruffled its feathers before flying into the sky, chirping happily as it circled the towers of lost things, alone, the last living thing inside the room.

Draco stepped back from the Cabinet, his entire being trembling. It wasn’t until (Y/n) reached out to still him that they realized they were shaking, too.

They both knew it, but neither felt they had the courage to say it.

“This is the end.” (Y/n) forgot to clear their throat.

“Of Dumbledore.” Draco turned to them, all of his life in his hands, all of his regrets on his face. His voice was thick and his eyes were dull. “But not the war. Potter may still win. Somehow… if he survives.”

Both of them knew this world wasn’t kind to survivors.

But (Y/n) held his gaze. “Will we?”

xiv.

maybe one day they will find me                                                                                 under all of this rubble.

-- taglist: @musicallisto​, @theletterhart​, @locke-writes​, @randomfandomimagine​, @brokenandheadoverheels​, @timeofmadness​, @writerdream22​, @lotsoffandomrecs​, @neelia-thedaughtherof-athena​ // message me if you want to be added!

#harry potter #golden trio era #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x platonic!reader #draco malfoy x slytherin #draco malfoy x you #gender neutral reader #angst #slight fluff #reader insert #one shot #imagine #long fic #fanfic #fanfiction #hp #i honestly considered waiting to publish this but i've held onto it since october and it's time to let go #feedback is appreciated

[mst3kproject]

Atlas in the Land of the Cyclops

Here we have a movie with a big, brawny hero in a very short skirt, whose hobbies include drinking potions, napping, and bending prison bars!  He stars in a film that is poorly-made, mythologically questionable, and deliciously ripe for heckling.  What more could a MSTie possibly want?

Long ago, Ulysses blinded the cyclops and outsmarted the witch Circe, and they’re still pissed about it.  As the movie begins, they’re on the verge of completing their revenge by murdering Ulysses’ last descendants.  The last king of Ithaca is killed in a raid, but his young son is smuggled away and left in the care of an old shepherd.  Upon hearing of the slaughter, Maciste goes to the land of Sadok to save Queen Penope and the other women of Ithaca, who have been taken captive by Circe’s descendant, Queen Capys.  On the way he saves Capys from a rockslide and they fall in love, each not knowing who the other is… which goes on to make things very awkward later.  Nobody in the movie is called ‘Atlas’.

Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops is a bit oddly put-together.  Theoretically the plot – the need to protect baby Prince MacGuffin from Queen Capys’ soldiers – is established quickly, but then it seems to take a while before anybody makes any progress.  This is because a lot of the early plot developments happen by complete accident.

After making sure the baby is safe, Maciste sets out for Sadok.  He quickly finds out where Capys is keeping the Ithacan prisoners, but this isn’t clever detective work – it’s just a coincidence, when some soldiers ask him to help them carry a giant amphora into the palace.  Meanwhile, Capys has been told that somebody named Maciste knows where Baby MacGuffin is, and orders her soldiers to find this man and bring him in alive.  Her Vizier, Ephetus, does so – but again, it’s an accident!  He arrests Maciste for wandering into ‘The Forest of the Vestals’ and sentences him to death for that before ever learning his name!

Once Maciste is in Capys’ custody the movie finally seems to figure out where it’s going, but this over-reliance on coincidence makes the first half of Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops feel very muddled.  The only thing that really needs to be an accident to make the plot work is Maciste and Capys meeting in Circe’s cavern without knowing they’ve already sworn to destroy each other.  Following that with more coincidences feels like filling time.

The bit where Maciste is arrested is really weird, actually.  The Vestals appear to be playing Blind Man’s Bluff, and Maciste just wanders into the middle of it.  The blindfolded woman bumps into him and feels up his pecs for a moment while he stands there grinning awkwardly, then she pulls her blindfold off, screams, and faints.  Soldiers then run out of the bushes and arrest Maciste.

So that was odd… then there’s the way Ephetus decides to have Maciste executed for harassing the Vestals. They put him on a board over a lion pit (every ancient kingdom has a lion pit) and tie a long rope to each of his wrists.  Then six white guys in green skirts pull on one rope, and six black guys in white skirts pull on the other.  Eventually, of course, Maciste overpowers both teams and everybody but him gets to be Fancy Feast.  Only once that’s all over does Ephetus realize that this is the guy the queen wants delivered to her alive.

There’s other weird shit that goes on, too.  In another sequence, Maciste is getting his ass beat by Ephetus’ flunky Mumba (Paul Wynter from Mole Men Against the Son of Hercules, still buffer and oilier than the guy playing Maciste) and, having recently been drugged, is barely able to fight back.  He gets a second wind when Mumba throws him against another giant amphora, which breaks, dousing him in wine.  Maciste blinks a few times, and then suddenly becomes unstoppable.  Was it the alcohol, or the blow to the head?  There’s a truth serum that is administered by pouring it into an enormous wine goblet… and this isn’t just a thing for Maciste, either, everybody in this movie drinks booze from glasses the size of their own head. Nor can we forget the guy who gets thrown overboard from a ship, and out of nowhere a shark just appears and eats him immediately.

None of these are a full-on WTF Moment but all of them are kind of bizarre and many of them got a laugh out of me.  A lot of them also tie in to the movie’s main obsession, which is Maciste’s Feats of Strength.

We are treated to many of these, all of which go on a little too long.  They are filmed in loving detail, particularly focusing on the muscles in Maciste’s back, which are so well delineated that they almost comprise an anatomy lesson. We get the obligatory lion-wrestling scene (totally separate from the later lion pit scene), in which we are relieved to learn that yes, Maciste does have underwear beneath that miniskirt.  We get him holding up a stone roof that’s threatening to collapse, there’s the giant amphora and the inevitable prison bars, all while Maciste makes some very constipated faces.

My favourite bit is when Maciste rolls a giant boulder into the middle of a road so the soldiers can’t follow him.  What makes it funny is that this is clearly not the first take: the boulder has been rolled repeatedly, and there are places where the paint has come off to show the white Styrofoam underneath.

All this emphasis on Maciste’s rippling trapezius muscles makes the movie feel just a tad homoerotic.  One shot where the camera pans slowly around Maciste’s body while Capys walks a circle around him could be an attempt to depict the female gaze – a very rare thing in movies.  But I don’t know what to tell you about the Maciste-vs-Mumba fight scene, which is either trying very hard to be sexy or else I’m just looking through tumblr-coloured glasses again.

The climactic battle with the cyclops is pretty great.  The cyclops is played by a normal-sized stuntman made to look like a giant through camera angles, which means that Maciste can never be in the same shot with him. There are ways to do this well but Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops does not use those – instead we just get some really funny jump cuts.

According to the movie, the reason Queen Capys wants to carry out her ancestress’ revenge on Ulysses is because until it is complete, she is under a curse.  Capys herself describes this as being ‘forced to live in hatred’, but it is very unclear what this means.  Early on, Ephetus confesses his love for Capys and she replies that she doesn’t know what the word means – this made me think perhaps her curse was an inability to fall in love.  A few minutes later, however, she has laid eyes on Maciste and his sheer manliness thaws her icy loins in a matter of seconds.  So… is her curse supposed to be that her subjects hate her?  They hate her because she keeps feeding them to a cyclops!  She could stop that at any time!  Her curse can’t be that nobody can love her, because Ephetus and Maciste both do!

I mentioned that Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops shares an actor – Paul Wynter – with Mole Men Against the Son of Hercules.  It also shares a director, Antonio Leonviola (he also made Thor and the Amazon Women, the movie that runs over the opening credits of Cave Dwellers).  Maybe that’s why both movies have an evil queen who is supposed to be redeemed by her love for Maciste.  You may recall that I didn’t think Mole Men did this very well – Halismuya continued torturing people even after her supposed change of heart.  Land of the Cyclops does a bit better.

We don’t actually get an impression of Capys’ journey, but we do see the beginning and end of it.  As the movie begins, she’s callously throwing victims to the cyclops and looking forward to breaking her curse by killing Ulysses’ last two descendants.  At the end she sacrifices her life trying to save Baby MacGuffin despite knowing that it means she will never be free.  Her motivations for switching sides are unclear – she says that knowing Maciste has ‘changed her nature’ but we don’t ever see him trying to convince her that this child deserves to live.  She does remark that when she’s with Maciste she’s ‘only a woman’ rather than a queen… so maybe he brought out her maternal instincts?

I also don’t know what Ephetus’ determination to kill Queen Penope along with her son is all about.  She’s not a descendant of Ulysses, but he actually puts off killing Baby MacGuffin – the thing he believes his queen wants him to do – until he has identified the child’s mother.  The movie also never explains why this kid, whose father was the king of somewhere else entirely, apparently has the right to succeed Capys as ruler of Sadok.

Nobody Named Atlas Goes Anywhere Near the Land of the Cyclops is a pretty lousy movie, but it’s a fun lousy movie. It’s kinda racist and kinda sexist, but no more so than a thousand other movies of its vintage.  The only complaint I might have about its entertainment value is that it needed more crappy monsters.  The cyclops is pretty bad, but he doesn’t show up until the very end. Fortunately, the rest of the movie has plenty of other stupid shit to fill it out.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #my cheese steak #atlas in the land of the cyclops #nobody named atlas goes anywhere near the land of the cyclops #60s

[mywonuderful]

Not So Cold-Heart Pt.24

Summary: Y/N, a member of a popular newly debut girl group and Wonwoo has what some may call a relationship with emotional ambivalent. Will their relationship remain cold-blooded or will they finally come to an agreement and become something more?

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x Reader

A/N: As always, if anyone is interested in being added into the taglist for this series, please feel free to send in a ask or message me!

masterlist

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“You’re leaving already?” His members asked as he closed the door of your room. “Um... She said she wants some time alone.” He said, not looking at his members as the leaned over to his face, feeling suspicion. “Did something happen... between you and Y/N?” Jeonghan asked, eyeing his members. “Huh? Oh no. I’m going to head back to the dorms first. I’m a little tired from waking up early.” He started walking before Minghao got a grip of his arm. Wonwoo look at his, a little bitter before he removes his grip and walked down the hall. “Let me check on her.” Minghao said before lightly knocking on your door. “Y/N? It’s me. Minghao.” He entered the room before he say you covered in the blankets, sniffing. He saw the containers stacked in front of your bed as it must be what Wonwoo brought over. Taking a seat beside he pulled the blanket down, revealing you tear bandaged appearance as it tore his heart. “Y/N...” His voice trailed off, not knowing what to say. “Sorry you have to see me like this.” You mumbled, struggling to sit up as Minghao helped you. He pulled out a couples of tissue paper before dabbing it on your face. “At a time like this is where I think you need someone beside you the most.” He whispered, fingers tracing the patched on your cheeks, feeling himself shedding a tear. “You really are something you know?” you felt yourself leaning in to his hand as it rested on the side of your face. “I don’t think anyone has the ability to do what you did. You must be immortal or something.” He chuckled as you let out a laugh before wincing in pain from your cheeks, having him to apologize in the end. “I don’t know if I’m suppose to feel happy or disappointed in myself.” You spoke, looking down at your hands before Minghao intertwined them with his. “Y/N, I know you’re undergoing many emotions right now, and that can confusing and frustrating but if anything, you should feel proud. Proud that you were able to get through the end of the performance. Proud that you’re surrounded with people who care about you.” You looked up, feeling the urge to cry once again.  “Thanks Minghao.” he gently pulled you into his embrace, feeling his warmth and his scent, making you at ease. “Now, what did the doctor say?” “I have some fractures and bruises, and that recover time will be a couple of months. So I guess I’ll be useless to everyone then.” You spoke dully as Minghao lifted your chin to face him. “Don’t you ever call yourself useless. No matter what state you’re in. You are going to get through this couple of months, building and healing. And you will come back stronger than ever. Everyone will be supporting you.” He looked straight into your eyes, as you pouted, feeling tears fall once again before giving him a nod. He wiped away the tear with his thumb, giving you a light pat in the head. “Can the other members come in? They’ve been wanting to visit you since yesterday.” You smile and nodded before he got up and opened the door as the boys flew in along with the surprise of your members. Everyone was surrounding you with bittersweet smiles, giving you encouragement and endless love. But it felt empty, that Wonwoo wasn’t there.

---

It’s been 8 months since the incident and fortunate for you, you were recovering faster than expected. Your members would visit regularly, sending you your favourite foods with every visit. The boys would pop in here and there, sending in some goodies and well but ever since the argument with Wonwoo, you haven’t seen him since then.

-Flashback-

“Hyung? Can I come in?” Minghao peeked into Wonwoo’s room as he was doing something on his computer. “Yeah sure, what’s up?” Minghao sat on his bed as Wonwoo turned his chair to face him. “What’s wrong with you and Y/N? Did something happen? You haven’t paid her a visit in a while.” Wonwoo remained silent. “Did you get into an argument with her?” “I didn’t mean to. I was only trying to comfort her.” He admitted lowly. “What happened?” “She told me she didn’t hear about the stage problem and that I told her to ask again.” “And?” “And then she said that every time she asked, her answer would get cut off so I told her to keep asking.”

“And?” “And then I guess she started getting mad and I tried to calm her down but I guess I ended up hurting her feelings with me raising my voice. She just told me to leave in the end.” Wonwoo’s voice was gloomy, as he felt hurt in the situation as well. “She’s just been going through a lot. With her mixed emotions, stress and full being bottled up inside, I guess she just exploded.” Minghao tried explaining as Wonwoo calmly listened. “Are you going to pay her a visit soon?” “I don’t think she wants to see me.” “That’s arguable. Every time we visit, her eyes would linger at the door after we all enter. I’m pretty sure she was waiting for you to walk through that door.” He tried to encourage his hopeless member. “...How’s she doing?” “She’s recovering faster than everyone expected. The doctors and nurses were even surprised how her progress. They might even say that she can leave soon.” Wonwoo felt relieved as he let out a sigh. “Maybe I’ll pay her a visit. I owe her an apologize.” Wonwoo mumbled. 

-End-

The bandages you wore lessen as you only still had them on your ankles, knees and wrist with a few patches on your cheeks and jaw. Your strength was regained though it wasn’t fully enough for you to get back into dancing, you felt happy that you were finally able to do daily tasks without struggling too much. As you backed the last bits in your hospital room, a knock was heard on the door.

“Come in!” The door opened as you waited for someone to enter. Moonbin jumped in, with a huge smile plastered on his face. “Y/N!” “Moonbin!” You were so happy to see him. You haven’t seen him since the first few weeks after your fall, since it might be too risky to visit. But after the long await, he finally got the chance to see you. “Look at you! Almost good as new!” He helped you pack as you let out a chuckle. “Thanks Bin. I don’t think I had to properly thank you for the stage collaboration.” “That was months already!” “But I feel like I should still repay you in return.” “If you insist, how about dinner together? It hasn’t happened since your last practice.” he suggested, suddenly feeling shy. “I’d love to.” You replied as he smiled brightly at your answer. “How about this weekend? Is that doable for you?” You and Moonbin ended up agreeing to meet up for dinner in the upcoming weekend, feeling excitement that your life was finally getting back to normal. Moonbin’s manager was kind enough to drive you back to your dorm as you bid them goodbye before the drove away in a distance. You dragged your luggage up towards the stairwell of your dorm but came to a stop, knowing that you can’t help it up the stairs when your door flew opened and your members practically jumped down the stairs to pull you into a group hug.

“Ah, I missed my bed so much!” You chimed as you sat your bed. “Isn’t the VIP bed even better though?” Nari chuckled as she brought in your luggage. You stood up from you bed before kneeling down slowly, careful to not put too much pressure on your knees. Your tried lifting your luggage open when you felt your wrist loose their strength. “Here, let me help. Don’t force yourself to do anything alright? It’s amazing how much you’ve gotten better but you’re not completely healed. We and the fans need you entirely healed so that you can get back on your schedules.” Nari smiled as your helped you. “I miss everyone.” You spoke as she looked up and with warm smile. “Well one thing I can definitely say is the fans has been more supportive than ever. Our manager didn’t want you to know about this yet but you’ve been invited on so may shows! He said he’ll let you know about it once you get better, knowing how excited and restless you’ll get.” Nari shared the good news as you felt delighted. “How about you guys?” “We’re only a little break as well, focusing on our own individual projects and schedules. But without you here feels so different. We’ve all missed your cooking and baking.” The both of you shared laughter as you unpacked you things. 

---

A few week passed, as you thought that you’ll find yourself being more useful but instead, you felt yourself being more hopeless than when you were at the hospital. From the moment you got up from bed to when you fell back asleep, your members just never seem to leave you side. You were grateful for their endless help but you wanted to try doing things on your own. At least you’ll know for sure that you’re getting better yourself. The only time you were left alone, was when your members left for practice or schedules but only then, you felt emptiness as all you members carried on to promoting your group and themselves as you were left alone. You woke up feeling thirsty as you got up, looking over at Nari who was still fast asleep. Creeping out of your shared room you headed to the kitchen. You opened on to the top cabinets to get a cup when you tippy toed and reached your hand out. You let out a groan, struggling to reach due to your height. “Gosh, why does my schedule have to be so earl- Y/N WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Yun Hee yawned before loudly whispering, running to assist you as you turned around and let out a laugh “I wanted I glass of water.” You said as she pour you a glass of water. “At least let one of us know!” She lightly scolded you “It’s fine. I could’ve done it myself.” She looked at you, hinting worry. “C’mon. It’s been 8 months now, I’m almost fully recovered.” You wriggle and twirled your wrist and ankles, showing them that they were completely fine. “Still. The doctor said that you should stay away from lifting anything heavy or strenuous movements.” “Are you calling me that weak that I can’t even get myself a glass of water?” you pouted, playing with her. “We just want you to recover as soon as possible.” you nodded, knowing that they only mean well. 

The rest of the members slowly got up one by one, before heading to for the own personal schedules. You were left alone once again, as you sat on the couch, staring blankly at the colourless TV screen for god knows how long. You turned on your phone, finger hovering our Wonwoo’s contact of the call button. You’ve been feeling guilty since snapping at him when last visited you 8 months ago. Just as your finger hovered closer to the button, your phone started vibrating as you tossed it to the side of the couch, your heart almost jumping out of your chest. You peeked over at the caller ID before letting out a relieved sigh. “Hello? Mrs. Bosa?” “Y/N! Gosh, I missed your voice. How are you going sweetie?” “I’m going much better, thanks for checking up on me. How’s you and Mr. Bosa doing along with the business?” You questioned, crossing your legs on the couch. “Both of us missed your so very much. We apologize for not checking up on you earlier. We just couldn’t find the right time to call in and all. Business has been doing well as usual, thanks to Wonwoo who’s been helping out greatly lately but we’ve been getting fans who would come, particularly asking about you.” you heard her light chuckles on the other line. “Is that so? I’ve been discharged from the hospital a few weeks ago from recover. Is there anything I can help with?” “We’ve hesitated on calling you about this since we know you’re not fully recovered yet but is it possible for you to come in to work today? We have to head out on a one-day business trip to pick up some supplies and ingredients for some new updates to our cafe. Luckily, today is a lot more calmer, so there won’t be much customers. We’ll also call Wonwoo to see-” “No no it’s no worry! I’m almost healed so I’d love to help! I should be able to handle it on my own so there’s no need to call Wonwoo in!” You cut her off, finally getting an opportunity to do something instead of staring into space. “You’re a lifesaver! I’ll see you in an hour then!” she hung up the phone as you hopped up before heading to your room to change and get ready, “I shouldn’t call my manager or else I wouldn’t hear the end of it.” you mumbled to yourself as you tied your hair up into a updo, suddenly feeling a prick in your wrist, making you finch. You looked at your hand, as it lightly trembled, rejecting negative thoughts. You put on a little make up today since it was first time out in public since your recovery. You pressed your lips together, to spread the lip tint evenly before checking yourself in the mirror and heading out into the taxi. You thank the taxi driver as you paid and got off, before turning to face your favourite cafe. You could already smell the aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans, taking in a deep breathe before opening the doors of the cafe. “Welcome to Espresso Love Caf-” A low husky voice greeted you as you looked up and saw Wonwoo, who stopped midway, eyes widen in shock. The two of you didn’t say anything, as you remained froze, eyes still locked. You looked away as you walked behind the counter, feeling his eyes on your back. You walked back out, passing the kitchen as you saw Wonwoo reheating some bread. You stood back at the door, looking at his board back as he placed the bread into the oven before turning around, catching you staring at him back the door. You let out a cough, pretending to fix your apron before awkwardly heading out. A group of girls, in their early twenties came in looking lively. 

“Welcome to Espresso Love Cafe!” You greeted them as the looked at you before going back to their conversation. You helped them place their order as Wonwoo started making their drinks. “I’ll handle the drinks. You can serve them the desserts.” You turned around to the coffee machine, reaching a head over in front of him to get a cup as he looked at your bandaged wrist. He paused and stared at it for a few seconds before heading to serve the desserts. You heard the couple of females giggle as Wonwoo approached them as you dosed the ground coffee into the portafilter. You took the tamper and to press down on the ground coffee. As you put pressure and twisted the tamper, you felt pins-in-needles spreading around your first, making you let out of a low grunt as you scrunched your face in pain. “Are you okay?” You head his voice, making you jolt. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You quickly replied as you continued as if nothing happened. You placed the drinks onto a tray before lifting it, feeling the tingling sensation once again. As you walked over the to group of customers, they glanced over at you, before doing a double take without surprised expressions.

“Here are your drinks.” You placed them onto the toasters feeling their stares at you. “Are you Y/N from Eunoia?” They asked, you stood back up, nodding your reply. “How are you feeling? After you feeling better?” They all started asked questions. “I’m feeling a lot better.” “We’ve missed you so much ever since the awards ceremony! Your special stage as well as your group performance, wow you look so cool in both of them. We truly admire you professionalism on how you dealt with the incident.” They all complimented as you placed your hands to covered your blushing cheeks. “That means a lot to me.” You bowed and smiled genuinely, as the females’ eyes glowed. “Say, I heard there’s even a new fandom.” You tilted your head at their smirks. “A new ship fandom of you and Moonbin ever since your stage together. The both of you look so well fitted for each other!” They all spoke as your smiled dropped into a ‘oh’ “Ah, is that so? Moonbin and I are close friends.” You nervously smiled as the girls all looked over at each other with mysterious looks before looking back at you with a not-so-convincing smile.

“Either way, it must be our lucky day that we got to see you and Wonwoo together today!” Your eyebrow raised as your glanced back, as Wonwoo stopped with wiping the counters before looking over at your direction. “We must admit though, we find that you and Wonwoo a way better pair together.” They shyly chuckled as you stood there in shock. “We’ve visited this cafe multiple times now and we’ve always seen the two of you working together which is so adorable. We even have photos to prove it.” Your eyes widen as they scrolled through the endless pictures of you and Wonwoo. You tried hiding the smile that was forming on your face as you saw some where they both of you and Wonwoo were smiling down on each together as if the two of you were meant to be. “That’s quite a few you have there.” You awkwardly laughed trying to slip out of their conversation “But you have to admit, Wonwoo is a really handsome guy, no? Tell us you haven’t fell for his smile or just him at least one.” They all leaned forward towards you, anticipating your answer. “U-Um.. He’s-” “Sorry ladies but I’m going to have to take Y/N away from your guys for a moment.” You felt a hand on your shoulders as you looked over and saw Wonwoo smiling softly at the girls who were completely stunned before they giggling and smirked. “Of course, she’s yours afterall.” You blanked out, blinking in confusion as Wonwoo pushed you to the back of the store with his hands still on your shoulders as the girls whipped out their phones to capture this sweet moment. “What are you doing?” he lets go as you turned to look at him. “It looked like you were caught into something that you weren’t comfortable in.” You face palmed, trying to hide your disappointment yet laughter from his attempt to help. “If anything, I think you just made things worst.” You sighed as he narrowed his brows. “You know what, nevermind. Thanks.” You said as you walked back to the front of the store as you glanced over at the girls who were chatting. They were about to leave when one of them came up to the counter. “Do you have any cup holders by any chance?’ Wonwoo opened the cabinets and brought down the last one before handing it to her. “Ah by any chance, could the both of you do us a small favour?” “Sure, what would it be?” You followed Wonwoo and the girl to the table, feeling a little weird. “Could we get a picture of the two of you together?” Wonwoo’s eyes slightly widen from their request. “Please?” They all pouted. Wonwoo turned back to glance at you as you stared at the floor. “Sure.” Your head shot up to see Wonwoo looked at you, waiting for you to stand beside him. You slowly stood beside as the girls shock their heads. “Stand closer! The camera can’t even capture the both of you in the shot.” One of the girls complained as Wonwoo let out a cough as you brushed your hair behind your ear, shifting closer to him until your shoulders brushed. “Perfect, 3,2,1!” You and Wonwoo smiled as you heard a numbers of shutters from their phones. You and Wonwoo bid them goodbye as they left the store before you left out a sigh, feeling tired.

“You’re tired just from that?” His voice sounded almost challenging. “Give me a break, this is first day since 8 months back in public and actually doing something aside from lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.” You glared at him before heading to the storage room to restock the cup holders as Wonwoo closed to shop.

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#jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #wonwoo seventeen #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #kpop #kpop fanfiction #kpop scenarios #nsch

[fizzingwizard]

Episode 30, the alleged halfway mark, at last!

I’m fresh out of jokes so let’s hop right into the review!

Pictured above: Characters who supposedly exist in this series

More under the cut as usual

So last week I listed the things episode 30 needed to do to make me not hate it. They were: 1) Sora had to stay with Taichi and be part of the action, 2) the other characters had to feature here and there to progress their storylines even if the main focus remained on Taichi, and 3) WarGreymon’s appearance needed to be dramatic.

Well... guess who didn’t get Bingo this episode -_____-’

I am... seriously... mind-boggled. This is bizarre. Yes, we all understand that evolutions just aren’t the big deal they were in 99 Adventure, BUT this episode DOES try to convince us that WarGreymon IS a big deal. It just fails at it spectacularly, in my opinion at least. As for the rest: Sora stays with Taichi, but he tells her to take the helpless Digimon to safety and then we don’t see her do anything but stand around waiting for Taichi. Most of the other characters don’t even get a cameo, let alone story progression. Taichi reflects on them briefly at one point but it’s unbelievably stupid. Only Koushirou has anything to do and he is STILL JUST STARING AT HIS COMPUTER.

My expectations for episode 30 weren’t super high, given the current storyline, but I’m honestly slackjawed by how BORING this episode was. They really seem to have decided to rest the entirety of the show on Taichi, and much though I love him, I just don’t think he CAN carry it by himself. Not only has he long been unbelievable as a grade school kid even for shonen anime standards, he doesn’t crack jokes, he doesn’t show personality... all he does is fight. Like, the show isn’t ALWAYS like this - I’ve legit enjoyed it a various times, and I know why - it was always when the team was together and we learned things about them and the fighting was balanced out. So I never know from one week to the next how I’m gonna feel about the new episode. But I do think this is the episode I hate the most to date. :/

We had a promising start with Garudamon still actively fighting several Megadramon at once, simultaneously barbecuing Sora.

Fortunately it’s magic so she’s not dead, nor has she fallen to death.

Taichi and MetalGreymon continue fighting the Allomon on the ground.

The mysterious Lopmon looks on with a judgmental glare, wondering why he isn’t currently being carried like a baby. Walking is hard, he wants to be carried. Taichi do your job

Taichi: cmon lopmon you have to learn to do things on your own

Lopmon: no I want to play video games

Taichi: well then I refuse to buy you any more games. if you want them you’ll have to get a job and earn the money

Lopmon: daaaad! youre ruining my life! uggh!

Koushirou keeps an eye on the misbehaving satellites.

Taichi and Sora debate what to do. It’s difficult to protect the forest Digimon while fighting at the same time, so Taichi tells Sora to bring them to safety while he fends off their enemies on his own. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS PLAN. Since it’s a shonen anime, I normally wouldn’t whine about this but... it was just last episode that we were shown Taich cannot cope with the combined attack of that many enemies at once on his own. He needed Sora’s help. Why he now thinks he can do it is a mystery.

Taichi can maybe handle the Allomon and Megadramon on his own, but last episode Tankmon also appeared, and this time, lo and behold, in comes Parrotmon. Sorry Taichi but you brought this on yourself.

Meanwhile Koushirou communicates with “someone from the Internet” and learns that the satellites are all rerouting to converge on the same location:

The freaking International Space Station!

Which will then surely explode! And cause lots of trouble both in space and on earth!

^Pictured: Koushirou’s “oh shit” face

^Pictured:MetalGreymon’s “oh shit” face

MetalGreymon proved to be weak to the lightning Parrotmon emits. If there’s a reason, they don’t explain, but I like the idea that he’s particularly weak to it because he’s a cyborg and the electricity disrupts his... circuits :P Then Parrotmon gets hit with a beam of dark energy and evolves!

Into Klosmon? Krosmon? IDK, IDC.

^Pictured: Taichi’s “oh shit” face

They get their butts handed to them. Taichi and Agumon fall unconscious. Rather than take the chance to deliver the finishing blow, Klosmon or whatever politely waits for them to wake up.

Taichi’s consciousness is swept into a white empty world...

where he finds the Crest of Courage looking weirdly sentient... or maybe that’s just me...

MetalGreymon just looks possessed

Taichi: Are you alive?

Agumon: Yeah... you okay?

Taichi: Yeah... uhh... well... sort of...

Not being dead = I’m still ok

So here’s where the episode really loses me... After visiting the blank world, Taichi is suddenly able to recall what happened after Devimon ate him.

This makes little sense since he seemed pretty KO’d at the time, but okay, find, he woke up long enough to see WarGreymon and now he’s remembering it, sure why not. But I hate that they did this whole “ohh he doesn’t remember!” thing and then solved it like this. Presto! Now he remembers! It’s maaaagic!

And as ADORABLE as the two of them holding hands like this and resolving to keep fighting is... I just can’t be impressed by a battle with Parrotmon. Or Klosmon or whatever it is now. There’s a reason most shows save dramatic moments and big epiphanies for battles that actually progress the storyline. It makes a much bigger impact. This just feels like someone saying “Woohoo it’s Tuesday!” and then you ask “what’s special about it, is it your birthday or something?” and they say “Nope I just felt like being excited that it’s Tuesday!”

I mean points for optimism and all but it doesn’t make a very good story.

Taichi helps Agumon walk x’D They are planning to keep fighting even like this.

And I get that the “never give up!” attitude is essential to the shonen anime protagonist, but when you literally can’t walk by yourself anymore, it’s important to take care of your health is ALSO an important message this show might consider teaching kids once in a while -.-”

In spite of his unsteady legs, Agumon’s still able to evolve again and powers up to fight Klosmon.

It uh... doesn’t go well.

The one cool thing here is the way Taichi sets about attempting to make MetalGreymon evolve. Although we already knew the children play an important role in evolving their partners, Taichi seems to really understand it now, and focuses deeply. It’s a much more active role than we’ve seen before - it seems like more than the usual “encouraging thoughts and emotional ties” spurring the evolution.

At least he’s still super cute.

So we have already seen the Crests many times, I knew that... but my theory was that, in order to reach the final evolutionary stage, they would need the help of the physical Crests. So that’s what I thought Mimi was doing with those crystals.

But Taichi is indeed about to call WarGreymon. So... I have no idea what use Mimi’s gonna find for those crystals x’D I suppose she’ll make herself and Palmon matching necklaces. Or sell them on the black market.

From her super safe hiding spot, Sora watches in awe, wishing she too were a real character on this show and not just an inconvenience as far as most of the writing staff are concerned

I love WarGreymon’s shield.

BAM. He appears. It’s dramatic. But only just.

WarGreymon defeats Klosmon and explodes the forest... Uhhh, weren’t we supposed to be protecting it?

Taichi and WarGreymon then join Sora and the forest Digimon and uh... that’s the episode.

Oh yeah, we get one more hint that Lopmon is more than just some random idiot. Lol. This episode hinted at Lopmon, reminded us that Hikari’s been abducted, and told us that the International Space Station might explode, and then addressed none of those.

The message on the bottom says that the next episode will be on January 10, meaning there will be no episode next week as per usual due to New Year’s holidays.

Next week’s episode:

Turns out Lopmon is one of the holy Digimon or something. Honestly not a surprise, I mean, it’s Lopmon. Should have occurred to me earlier.

Also we got what I think is our first named mention of Millenniumon and it looks like Hikari might find out somethig about him. So that’s cool. The rest of the episode seems to stick with Taichi and Sora’s group... The only thing I can say hopefully is that, since WarGreymon’s appeared, MetalGarurumon ought to be not too far off. So that should mean we at least get a Yamato-centric episode in the not too distant future.

Okay, a couple weeks ago I said I had some stuff to say but would wait till episode 30 to do it... so stop here if you don’t want to read me ranting :P It mostly amounts to what I complained about in the beginning: This season is just so hyper-focused on the fights and seems to treat the team aspect as an afterthought. Which makes no sense to me. Honestly, I don’t mind the excessive fighting - that’s common in shonen anime and grown up me can’t expect to be interested in the same stuff that interests 8 year old boys.

I don’t even mind the idea of Taichi’s role as main character getting an upgrade - like, in 99, he was the main character, but it was felt a lot less. Better balanced with the others’ roles, I mean. I think it’s totally okay to make Taichi a more central character and the plot focus in the new season - it wouldn’t be my choice, of course, but that doesn’t mean it’s inherently bad. But the way they’re going about it just doesn’t make sense to me. Even Taichi isn’t interesting half the time. He just fights.

Like I said before, this isn’t the way the show always is. There have been some highlights. I truly loved a few episodes, and the show does seem to have fallen into a pattern of being good for a while and then degrading into something like today’s episode. I don’t know why: budget? pandemic? or is this really, legitimately, what the show producers want to show kids? I guess, in the end, this show really may be about selling toys and selling toys only. (But, if that’s the case, I’m even more surprised that they don’t make a bigger deal about all the evolutions...)

A lot of things I liked the most happened in the very beginning - the first three episodes in particular. The characters interacted with each other. Their feelings and actions influenced each other. Fighting happened, a lot, but it wasn’t the only thing happening. I was pretty excited then. I didn’t expect to love this show like I love 99 - that’s just not possible, I’m too old and 99 is too special to me for me to trust my judgment - I was just happy to see the Adventure kids back and entertaining a new generation.

But since then it’s been a roller coaster with few highs and a lot of lows. Although it’s hard to imagine how the pandemic would have changed the storyline, episode 4 was where they paused the show for Japan’s lockdown-but-not-really, and once they picked back up the tone just seemed kind of different from the first three episodes. Not right away - I think the intro episodes for the rest of the team were pretty reminiscent of “Digimon Adventure” - but that makes sense, they had 4 ready to go and probably had made headway on the next few episodes before they closed down the studio. Anyway, that’s just a guess, since it seems like everything’s been affected by the pandemic, but with a few exceptions we have all been back to work more or less normally since June...

The thing is, there are lots of fighting shonen anime - tons of protagonists who never give up and never fall in spite of how hurt they get, and who get unlimited “evolutions” in return for their tenacity. That’s all fine. It’s the genre. But the thing is...! The thing is, those other shows, they all tend to have humor, to care at least marginally about character relationships, and understand that that’s how you build up a main character: just winning fights alone doesn’t cut it. So I just don’t know what to make of this new Adventure show. It’s FINE when the team is together. We get cool character moments and insights and even some joking around. But they KEEP SEPARATING THEM. This time they didn’t even have more than a single episode together before they were all split up again! I wonder if it’s because they’re having trouble getting all the voice actors in due to pandemic-related issues and budget issues etc. If so, HUGE bummer. Of all the years for Digimon Adventure to get a reboot... why did it have to be this miserable excuse for a year...

Le sigh.

But there’s nothing we can do about it. I’m just going to like what I like and hope for the best in the future. I really would love for the new Adventure to be popular with kids and keep that cast going. I don’t expect it to compete with the lids of Kinmetsu no Yaiba or anything. I just hope that, when we hit the final episode, we look back and say that the season was overall worth the reboot. I hate the thought of looking back and saying “well, that sure was dull.” It’s just an insult. 99 Adventure wasn’t the most unique storyline in the world, but it had a lot of uniqueness IN it, and what made it special was its treatment of the team and the child-partner relationships. The reboot doesn’t need to be exactly the same, but it shouldn’t be forgettable.

That’s why us being at the 30 episode mark concerns me. At this point we know how the show is paced and what’s it like. We can’t really argue that we just don’t know enough to make a judgmenet yet. It’s hard to believe things will suddenly change. If they do, assuming the change is for the better, I’ll be thrilled, but I’ll also feel sad that we missed out on so many chances for cool things to happen in the first half.

#digimon adventure 2020 #digimon adventure: #digimon adventure reboot #digi spoilers #digimon #fizz watches digimon 2020

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Who do you think was the first to fall in love with Yui, Carla or Shin? Which of the two relationships do you think has the best development? And finally, if Giessbach and Krone were still alive, what do you think they would think of the relationship between their sons and Yui?

Ohhhh this is an interesting question, sorry I took so long to answer anon but I had to do a deep dive into Shin and Carla’s DF routes for this so it took a bit of time. I’ve split this into three different sections.

Who fell for Yui first?

This is a little tricky as these boys are not great at dealing with their feelings. What I’ve done is included a list of what I view as key moments in their relationships with her and when they occur in their DF routes.

(This post got REALLY long so I’m putting the rest of it under the cut).

Carla’s route

Dark 10 - Carla allows Yui to go to the library at school after she says she wants to read to distract herself from her current situation. Carla reflects that he did the same thing while confined to Banmaden and while this doesn’t show any feelings on his part, I do think it’s interesting that he draws such a comparison. In the Dark Epilogue they then have a conversation about books and this is the first instance of them bonding that we get in the route.

Maniac 06 - Carla catches the scent of a vampire on Yui after allowing her to go to library (she was talking to Mertz) and accuses her of using his fondness for reading to gain his sympathy. Carla himself is surprised at how angry he feels and while he refuses to acknowledge that it’s because he’d started to trust Yui and feels betrayed, that’s exactly what it is.

Maniac 09 - Carla reveals to Yui what he plans to do with her and basically says he’ll have sex with her right there (fortunately he’s stopped due to his Endzeit in the next scene). I don’t think I need to clarify that he’s not doing this because he feels things for Yui but I’ve mentioned a similar thing in Shin’s route so I feel it’s only fair I highlight this moment too.

Maniac 10 and Epilogue - After Carla collapses from Endzeit, Yui goes get help and Carla can’t understand why she comes back (i.e why she doesn’t run away) and starts to take care of him. Yui tells him that it’s because she feels compassion for him. Carla actually opens up a bit here about his feelings towards his father but goes back to being cold to Yui and pushing her away due to his hang-ups about how he should behave as a king. After Yui leaves he notes his heart is beating loudly and he starts to say he finds her scent irritating, before realizing it might be another feeling. Suffice to say Carla definitely feels something towards Yui at this point but good luck getting him to admit it.

Ecstasy Prologue - After a conversation with Yui, Carla notes that he felt happy because of her but is confused as to why. It’s because you like her you doofus. Again Carla is still in the phase of “feeling something but I’ll die before I admit it to anyone including myself”.

Ecstasy 06 and 07 - Here Yui recognizes her feelings for Carla. As for Carla, he allows Yui to hug him and asks her to dance with him. Once they finish, Carla tells her to go to Shin after he dies but when he’s alone he reflects that he actually doesn’t want Yui to go to anyone else. I would actually say that Carla’s started to love her by this point (or at least something very close to love) but he doesn’t properly admit it to Yui or himself until his vampire ending.

Shin’s route

Dark Epilogue - In my opinion this is the first instance where Shin goes from seeing Yui as just a thing to use to surpass his brother and actually seeing her as her own person. Shin takes care of Yui after she gets sick (although this is because he needs her alive and healthy for their plan rather than because he cares for her) and Yui thanks him. Shin is taken really off-guard by this, because the founders were strong enough that they never needed help (and so never had to thank anyone in return). He also notices scars she has from her time with the Sakamaki brothers and they remind him of the incident with his eye

Maniac 09 - Shin and Yui’s first kiss under less than great circumstances. After Carla tells Shin to hand over Yui and Shin fails to sway Mertz to his side, Shin decides to make Yui his by attempting to have sex with her (fortunately Carla interrupts them before he can do any more than kiss her) (Just as a quick aside, Shin very much seems to associate sex with ownership, as this comes up in Ruki’s DF route too. What he’s doing is very very wrong but I just want to explain his mind set a bit). Now what he’s doing here is dreadful and Shin is definitely not doing this because he loves her. I don’t think he feels nothing for her here either (based on a scene that happens immediately after this) but he’s still very much just trying to one-up Carla.

Maniac 10 - As punishment for what happened above, Carla sucks Yui’s blood in front of Shin while Shin begs him to stop. This is again partly about not wanting to lose to Carla but based on the dialogue I also think this is the first real moment we get any indication that Shin might have some form of actual feelings for Yui. Towards the end of this scene, Yui also protects Shin from Carla’s magic by getting in the way and Yui notes that there was pain on Shin’s face just before she gets hit with and blacks out.

Maniac Epilogue - In this scene we get one of the most important conversations in the development of Shin and Yui’s relationship. Shin asks why Yui tried to save him considering everything he’s done to her and Yui replies that she doesn’t want him to suffer because she know what it’s like to suffer. Shin naturally doesn’t understand her actions at all and says he wants to kill her because her attitude pisses him off (he isn’t serious, he just doesn’t know what to do and so acts like an idiot) but before that  he’ll give her a nice memory by holding her close to him for warmth. Here, I believe Shin actually starts to see that he has something in common with Yui, she feels powerless against him in the same way that he feels weak compared to Carla (although you have to read into the dialogue a bit to come to this conclusion).

Ecstasy 07 - While Yui is taking care of Carla after his condition dramatically worsens (due to Endzeit), Shin reflects that it’s the first time he’s met someone like her and that if they’d met normally she probably would have gotten along with Carla and become his. Shin is definitely feeling things at this point and starting to realize it but he’s not quite there yet.

Ecstasy 09 - After Yui asks Shin not to go and fight Karlheinz for Carla’s sake, Shin views that as her choosing Carla over him and in a monologue he says that he wanted her to choose him and thought she already had. Yui finds him because she wants to talk to him and Shin kisses her and accuses her of wanting to flirt with Carla (because he’s hopelessly insecure and also an idiot). Yui then says she belongs to him and Shin frickin melts. This is where he goes from “cares about her and has started to admit it himself” to “genuinely cares about her”. There’s a bit more on Shin’s feelings for her in his Vampire ending but I think this is where I’ll stop for now.

Comparing the two routes side by side I’d actually say Carla starts to develop feelings for Yui faster than Shin does but  has a much harder time admitting it because of his “I am the mighty Founder King, I can’t have feelings for a fragile human” mind set. Shin has a bit more of a narrow worldview in terms of believing in the absolute superiority of the founders and being incredibly focused on surpassing Carla, which is why I think he’s a bit slower to come around to her (although it’s really not by that much) but I do think he’s much more honest with himself regarding his feelings towards Yui when he does develop them.

Which relationship has the best development? 

Urgh... this is really hard as it depends heavily on whether I’m just looking for at them initially falling for her (DF) or the other routes too.

Just based on DF, I’d actually say Carla and Yui’s relationship has the best development, as it actually addresses some of Carla’s issues. Part of Carla accepting his feelings for Yui is him confronting his idea that kings cannot express their emotions and his own loneliness as well. Even when the other founders were alive, Giesbach’s treatment of him and his own duties/position as heir to throne, left Carla very isolated. While his mother genuinely cared for him, there was little she could do, and in asking him to kill Giesbach (although for the good of their people) it put an immense amount of pressure on him. This combined with Yui telling Carla that it’s okay for him to be selfish, or rather to be true to his own feelings rather than trying to act how he perceives a king should be, is why their relationship is really important to Carla’s character.

Now I love Shin to death but I don’t think the progression of his and Yui’s relationship is quite as nice in DF. A lot of Shin’s route is just dealing with his complicated feelings towards Carla, rather than focusing on his relationship with Yui and while she is crucial in getting him to go back to Banmaden and have that final confrontation with Carla in his vampire ending, ultimately the brothers have to discuss things on their own for Shin to get any sort of closure on that front.

However if I’m looking at the series overall (i.e. DF and beyond to LE and later CDs) then I think Shin and Yui’s relationship has the best development, as he goes from the prideful “humans are dirt under my feet” attitude at the start of DF to actually relying on Yui in his LE route and being glad that he didn’t die in the incident where the Vibora took his eye. He says this in his Born to Die CD and for anyone less familiar with his character I want to point out how much of a big deal this is. Shin’s pride as a founder is a huge part of his character and I’d say he loves the first bloods and believes in their superiority even more so than Carla does. So for him, Carla, the person he looked up to above all others and the future founder king, lowering his head to one of the sub-races was not worth Shin’s life. He says as much in the moment and later when discussing it, that to him it would have been better to die than to see Carla sacrifice some of his (and the founders’) pride. Which is why when he then tells Yui that he’s glad he didn’t die because it otherwise they wouldn’t have met, it really shows how much she (and their relationship) has come to mean to him.

With Carla I feel like the majority of his issues are tackled in DF and while the fact he’s willing to become a ghoul, in order to prolong his life with Yui (and admittedly get revenge for Shin) in his LE vampire ending is also pretty big, I don’t think he’s much more of a stretch for him from DF where he went to Karlheinz (Karlheinz, the person who confined him to Banmaden for centuries) to plead for Yui’s life. I think that although Yui is very important to Carla, Shin is more impacted by being with her in the long time and I like that their relationship continues to develop from DF.

How would Krone and Giesbach react?

Giesbach disapproved of basically everything Carla ever did so I can’t see him being happy with Carla in any scenario. At best I think he’d make nasty comments about how founders (and especially founder royalty) should not lower themselves by having relations with a human and at worst I think they’d be actual threats.

I can’t see Giesbach being thrilled by Yui being with Shin either (he was not a very nice person by the end guys), but that’s because I don’t think he’d view her as being good enough for Shin. If Shin was adamant about being with her then, I don’t think he would do anything to force them apart (because Giesbach did love Shin) but it would lead to some awkward family dinners.

Krone, on the other hand, would probably just be happy that either of her sons had found someone who made them happy.

On a serious note, one thing that I don’t normally mention on this blog but think I should here; although I love DF and the Tsukinami brothers, the idea that anyone who treats you as they do at the start of DF will fall in love with you just because you’re nice to them is for fiction only. I trust you guys to be sensible and keep yourselves safe but I thought I should bring this up when discussing the idea of the boys falling in love with Yui because I don’t want anyone to think that I’m romanticizing what Yui goes through. If you were to meet anyone like the Tsuki bros as they are at the start of DF irl then you should run for the hills and not look back.

I hope this answers your questions anon! Again, sorry I took so long ^^;;

#I don't particular like getting into serious topics on this blog as it's my space to escape from any sort of real world responsibility #and if you're mature enough to deal with the themes presented in DL then I like to think that you should be able to differentiate #between fiction and real life #that being said I don't want you to think I don't consider these sorts of issues at all because I do thus why i brought it up here #I care about all of you and I want the best for you #okay serious talk over hope you enjoyed my overly long post on the Tsukinami brothers #reply #tw: r*pe #Shin Tsukinami #Carla Tsukinami #analysis

[dercolaris]

Still - Chapter 3: Goodbye

Fandom: Resident Evil Village

Characters: Alcina Dimitrescu, Karl Heisenberg

Relationship: Alcina Dimitrescu & Karl Heisenberg (Lovers)

Genre: Romance, Hurt & Comfort

Planned chapters: 8 + prolog and epilog

Warnings: Strong language,  Descriptions of the Second World War (I do not glorify or support the ideology. The mention only serves my idea for the origin of Karl.)

Status: Work in progress (4/10)

Short Summary: As is well known, hatred and love are traveling on a dangerous thin line, but has it really always been that way between the fighting Lords? The sad answer is no. Alcina and Karl had a much deeper relationship than the brief glimpse Resident Evil Village suggests. This is their untold backstory. A story of a fiery love that is slowly torn apart by the parasite until the once strong feelings are only a faint memory in their dead hearts.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33511438/chapters/83754979

The sun was staying low in the orange sky, giving the gradually passing summer day a last bit of warmth before the cool night would come. Karl looked out at the calm water in the harbour and for a brief moment forgot that times were anything but peaceful around him. There was disturbing news about enemy forces in the area. The officer brushed a strand of wet hair from his forehead and rummaged through his jacket for the crumpled pack of cigarettes. Heinrich was right with his remark. The Romanian tobacco had a strong aftertaste and it would probably take a few more weeks for the man to get used to it. A casual glance at his pocket watch revealed that his date was likely to be late. The blond-haired man put the cigarette in his mouth and watched the hustle and bustle around him for a while. The promenade, which was fortunately intact, was peppered with small bars, cafes and restaurants, which not only the foreign soldiers liked to visit. The locals also seemed to have fallen for the beauty of the sea and looked every now and then for a break in the breathtakingly beautiful evening hours. Karl wanted to look at his pocket watch again when a now well-known scent rose into his nose. She was here even if he couldn't see or hear her yet. A small smile formed on his rough lips and he carefully lit his cigarette, taking a tentative drag. Alcina had a stubborn habit of appearing next to him out of nowhere, but her unique smell betrayed her presence.

The officer smirked a little and focused on the water again, not even bothering to look for her. The singer would come to him when she felt like it. An older waiter hurried around between the individual tables and finally put two glasses on the dark wood in front of the blond-haired man, examined the engineer with sceptical looks. Karl raised an eyebrow and asked curiously: “Is something wrong?” The waiter cleared his throat slightly and replied coolly: “No, but I wonder why you ordered two drinks when you’ve been alone this evening till now. Are you expecting company soon or is it just a minor misunderstanding?” The engineer puffed the smoke out of the side of his mouth. In the meantime he had got used to the much too curious locals, who let no situation slip by and pester him with countless questions. The blond-haired man replied calmly: "I assume that she will be here in a few minutes." The waiter nodded in understanding and went back into the small café. Karl sat up slightly to take a more comfortable position. The last two weeks had passed by in a flash. He hadn't been able to relax so much for a long time and every hour with the mysterious jazz singer was a gift from a god he didn't know.

Alcina saw the world from a different perspective and shared it with him in her generosity. She showed him little miracles of everyday life that he had long forgotten in the cruelty of reality. The blond-haired man put the glowing cigarette in the ashtray and pulled one of the glasses closer to him. The engineer sipped the whiskey, lost in thought. He didn't want to leave Constance – at least not without her. "Very attentive, Karl." The officer turned his gaze to the black-haired woman across from him and, like every day, was fascinated by her unattainable beauty. Alcina was a lady of refined taste. Even today she literally stole the show from everyone present. The blue, knee-length dress with isolated white rose embroidery played around her slim figure and at the same time graceful elegance. For Karl it almost seemed as if her entire wardrobe had been designed especially for her. The singer sat down in the vacant chair and looked out at the calm sea. She spoke softly: “It is a tragedy that we cannot look down to the bottom of the sea. Everything we see is close to the surface and nobody dares to look for deeper lying beauty in the water. I always hated the concept of superficiality."

The engineer blinked in surprise. The black-haired woman was a master at speaking in metaphors and this example also fitted seamlessly into the collection of unusual statements. In the last few days Karl caught himself letting this way of speaking flow into his linguistic usage, although it didn't really correspond to his sometimes rough nature and had a strange effect on his mind. The longer he spent time with Alcina, the more often he had to restrain himself. She had some influence on him, whether good or bad was in the eye of the beholder. The lady put her left leg elegantly over her right and took the glass with the sherry in her hand, sniffing the wine a few times. She was undoubtedly a connoisseur. After a while the blond-haired man replied hesitantly: "In your case, the visible surface is just a glimpse of something that is still completely inexplicable to me."

The engineer paused and stared almost bitterly at his companion. Sadly, what he said was true. The man seldom got any clue about was going in the head of the singer. A mysterious veil surrounded her and prevented him from seeing deeper into her soul, unless Alcina allowed him to do so for a brief moment. The debacle, however, was that he desperately wanted or even had to see more. However, the lady successfully denied him entry into her own world and kept him at a strange distance. Karl respected this limit, but a tremendous urge in his heart demanded answers. Answers he would probably never get. Alcina smiled wickedly and replied in slight amusement: "There are some things we don't have to be able to understand in order to appreciate them." The person addressed took another sip of his drink without a word. He felt the need to agree and disagree with her at the same time, but two souls had been fighting in his mind for a long time and he had got used to keeping his personal views in the dark. Alcina would already know what he thought about it anyway. The singer had a keen sense for his torn soul and had left no stone unturned to finally give him his smile back in the last two weeks. Her attempts had not been unsuccessful.

The black-haired woman sipped from her sherry and asked cautiously: "You will leave tomorrow morning or did I remember this wrongly, Karl?" The officer sighed barely audibly. He had told the lady practically everything, beginning with his unfulfilled childhood up to his crossing to Romania in order to finally escape the German Reich. She knew about Fritz and Heinrich, as well as countless other soldiers who had mostly lost their lives in the war. The man took the still glowing cigarette between his fingers and explained almost sadly: “I will have to leave Constance before breakfast. My arrival at my uncle's place was over thirteen days overdue.” The jazz singer finally turned her gaze to the engineer. As usual, he couldn't read into the look in her light brown eyes. Alcina put down her glass and looked for more, deeply hidden words that the blond-haired man did not want to utter openly. Finally she replied calmly: “Duty draws you into the mountains and at the same time you really want nothing more than to linger here. An unsolvable dilemma.” The officer smiled dejectedly. He put the cigarette out in the ashtray and blew the last of the smoke out of his lungs, then let his gaze slide back into the water. Karl mumbled softly: "Do I have a choice right now?"

Sooner or later the war in Romania would reach the port city with all its severity and force him to fight again. There was practically only one option and that was to escape to hard-to-reach places in the mountains. There he would find rest. The engineer felt the insistent gaze of the lady on his face. He felt the amber opals dig into his mind again. "I can't make the decision for you, Karl," said the black-haired woman suddenly softly, "but you should think twice about my words from our first night." The blond-haired man didn't dare to look up. In theory he was the maker of his own fortune, but the practice in which he lived looked quite different. The man emptied the glass faster than planned and asked with a scratchy throat: “Would you like to say goodbye to me in the morning? It would really mean a lot to me.” The singer fell into a very uncomfortable silence, and the engineer wasn't even sure whether it was a disappointment or the thought of parting weighed heavily on her shoulders. A little bird perched on the table among their drinks without warning. The animal hopped around a little, then fluffed its grey plumage. Alcina hesitantly moved her hand in his direction and offered the bird her right index finger. The blond-haired man watched in disbelief as the animal hopped up to the lady without any shyness and burst on the finger.

She raised her hand as if in slow motion and gently whispered: “My mind would love to do it, but my heart knows that looking at you leaving would break it for the first time in my life. I must apologize, Karl.” The addressed person slumped a little. He hadn't expected this answer. His lips slowly formed a thin line. It started to hurt in his chest and even though he knew that he could avert this tragedy, he currently saw no way out. The bird chirped softly. Alcina gently stroked the animal's silky plumage with her other index finger and added in a whisper: “To be honest, I am not ready to give up on you, Officer. Not now, when I feel that I can finally arrive with someone at a possible home and be able to rest after years of travel. So maybe we can agree to say see you again instead?” The engineer frowned in amazement. The words had to work on him for a moment before he could start a question: "May I take this statement as a promise, Alcina?" The jazz singer smiled lovingly and lifted her index finger with a slight swing. The bird jumped off as if practices and spread its wings, flew a short round around the table and slowly disappeared in the direction of the sun. Alcina was still watching the animal when she replied: "At least I'll do it."

The officer's heart grew warm. Once again the lady had managed to move something in him and activate gears that he had never known before. The black-haired woman turned back to him and added quietly: “Would you tell me the name of the village and your full name, Karl? I would like to write you in detail about my travels.” The man nodded slightly. He looked in the inside of his jacket pocket for a small writing pad and the worn pencil. The engineer quickly wrote down the requested data, and finally handed the sheet to her. Alcina took the paper gratefully and glanced at it, then froze surprisingly. The officer frowned at the sight. He asked worriedly: "Is something wrong?" The lady blinked slightly, for a moment did not seem to understand that he had asked her something. She waved her hand with a smile and replied in a friendly manner: “No, everything is fine. I know the village and have an idea now how I can best reach out to you.” Karl could sense that this was definitely not the whole truth, but as usual he would not get a satisfactory answer from the singer. He had to live with what little she told him. The blond-haired man rose slowly and turned back to the water, his hands slipping into his trouser pockets without haste.

He heard the other chair scratching over the floor. The singer stepped next to him and put her arm tightly around his, carefully following his gaze. She whispered only audibly to him: “Allow me a few more years of freedom, Karl and I will return to you. It's just a matter of time.” The addressed person nodded in understanding. Alcina had already told him in the first week that she would be drawn into the world for a while before she could settle down. Her band wanted to celebrate more successes and give people hope in uncertain times. An honourable thought. The officer put his hand tenderly over hers, which was still resting on his arm and enjoyed the cool breeze on the promenade for a moment. He said calmly: “I will wait for you. I've been alone all the years before and I'll be able to endure a few more weeks. I trust you.” The singer snuggled closer to his side at these words. Her eyes fixed the reflection of the sun in the sparkling sea. She replied quietly: “I did not expect to lose my heart to an SS Officer, but I will not complain about this fate.” The engineer slowly shook his head and corrected her in a firm voice: “You lost your heart to a free man, Alcina."

The jazz singer's eyes began to shine. She placed her hand on his cheek and carefully turned his face to her, then put her lips gently on his. That kiss sealed a silent promise. A contract without papers, but linked to memories of the past and wishes for a better future. The night fell unexpectedly gently over the port city. While most of the soldiers slept, Karl used the time he had left to be able to walk unencumbered in the morning hours. He had prepared a small package for Otto. He would probably look for him in the course of the morning and hopefully find out first that his newfound friend had left. The officer wrote the soldier a few more personal lines as well as an official paper for General Eicke back home: “In the name of the Führer, I, Officer Karl Heisenberg from the SS-Division Totenkopf, will set out alone on a reconnaissance mission to the mountains of Romania. Through conversations with the locals, I learned that the French and other hostile rabble had ventured as far as Romania and could research new technologies in remote villages. This rumour must either be refuted or cleared up. I plan a total of four months for this secret mission. May our German Empire be Victorious forever! Heil Hitler!” The engineer sighed softly at the last two lines and left his room. With luck, the letter could be sent to Germany on the next ship that night. He handed the envelope to an overtired soldier in the registration office and withdrew back into his room, locking the door behind him as quietly as possible.

The loneliness was an unusual companion in his life. Most of the time he had greeted her, but after all these days with Alcina he had serious doubts whether he could actually go weeks without the beautiful singer. Karl finally crossed his arms over his chest. He didn't feel like sleeping, but there was nothing else to do and time wouldn't fly by doing nothing. After a while the officer lay down on the bed and stared at the wooden ceiling. There was still a certain amount of heat to be felt, but not as overwhelming as in the afternoon hours. The blond-haired man reached into the other inside pocket of his jacket and carefully took out a photo. He had asked the war photographer to send him a copy of the picture and the man had actually kept his word. His eyes stayed on the woman's gentle features. The officer murmured to the photo: “You may have lost your heart to me, Alcina, but nothing will be left of me if you decide to leave me. I trust your promise. Please don't make me regret having hope.” The engineer closed his eyes for a brief moment, relaxing to the low chirping of the crickets. Perhaps the memory of the jazz singer would accompany him in pleasant dreams.

A loud ringing ripped the man out of his sleep. Karl, drowsy, looked for the rusty alarm clock and switched it off, then rubbed the sand from his eyes. He sat on the side of the bed, blinking in the gentle rays of the rising sun. The time had come. The officer went into the bathroom and did a long wash. He took the remaining time to shave off the trimmed beard completely. As usual, hygiene would be neglected on his long journey into the mountains. The blond-haired man stowed his remaining sharp blades and looked around the room again. He had everything that was important to him. Karl finally opened the door and shouldered his duffel bag, heaving the load fairly comfortably onto his back. The engineer was about to leave when he remembered something else. He peeled the tank combat badge from his uniform and placed it on the ramshackle desk, then looked for a piece of paper. He wrote a little note to Otto. The officer finally left the barracks and strode through the completely quiet city by the sea. He passed the club as well as some ruins. The blond-haired man was excited about the landscape that awaited him and would accompany him for the next few days of his journey.

Otto walked listlessly across the barracks area, almost tripping over his wrongly laced shoes. The officer had still not shown up at breakfast. The black-haired man looked in his pockets for a cigarette, but again couldn't find anything. "Fucking hell, again?”, the soldier hissed in annoyance. He shrugged and knocked on the officer's door. Nothing happened. Otto frowned. He knocked again and opened the door very carefully. As soon as he entered, the man noticed that something was different than usual. He dared a look into the bathroom, but found the same empty picture here too. Only then did he see the badge on the table. The black-haired man took the note in his hand and read it carefully: "For Miss D. I trust you to deliver it, Otto." At that moment, the private realized that the officer could no longer be in Constance. He finally found the letter Karl had written for him and informed his superior about what had happened. Otto hid much of the information the officer had entrusted to him in the letter. After all, they were still comrades.

#Resident Evil #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil VIII #RE VIII #RE 8 #RE Village #Karl Heisenberg #Alcina Dimitrescu #Karl heisenberg x Alcina Dimitrescu #Donna Beneviento #Salvatore Moreau #Mother Miranda #Angie #Romance #Hurt & Comfort

[justkindaoverhereobsessing]

the stars always make me laugh (1/4)

Now complete! Here is chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, and the epilogue.

A year to the day after Ziva departs D.C. to return to Paris and reunite with her family, her newfound contentment is shaken by an unexpected loss. Tony and Tali are right where they belong—safely by her side—but she still finds herself feeling drawn to reflect on the past. She might just be able to use this new grief to bring peace to old wounds, renewing hope along the way for a future with her family... but only if she can find a way to let go of what haunts her.

Written as a combined response to two different challenge prompts; also available for reading on ff and AO3. This is angsty but will ultimately be soft. 

_________________________

"And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend. You will want to laugh with me. And you will sometimes open your window, so, for that pleasure… And your friends will be properly astonished to see you laughing as you look up at the sky! Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!'"

—Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

_________________________

January 7th, 2021

It's a Thursday morning when Tony gets the call.

He's working from home today, and he's nearing the end of a video conference when his phone buzzes—he looks down to check it and sees his favorite unflattering photo of Tim McGee on the screen. Paris is six hours ahead of Washington, where McGee presumably still is, which makes it… hmm. It's four in the morning there. He's probably not reaching out for a casual chat, then.

Something tells him to take the call.

"Sorry to be rude," Tony says quickly in French, looking back at his computer screen, "but there's an emergency I have to deal with. Let's go ahead and wrap this up for today and we'll talk progress next week, same time as usual—Félix, go ahead and email me that report, if you can. I'll check in when I'm back at the office tomorrow. Have a good morning, all of you."

Then he abruptly ends the conference; he cares very little if he comes across as impolite, because his thoroughly French team has always seen him as a hopelessly crass American anyway.

Tony hits a button on his cell, catching the call just before it would have gone to voicemail. "Why, if it isn't Tim-Tim-Timothy McGee!" he cries, jovial as usual even though he's a little apprehensive about the nature of the unexpected conversation. "What can I do for you?"

"Hey, Tony." McGee sounds tired, which is little wonder given the time difference. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

"Sure," Tony agrees, dropping the slightly mocking enthusiasm from his tone. "What's up?"

"I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it, okay?"

"...okay."

"There was an accident last night, and—"

"Who?" Tony can read between the lines—he doesn't have to hear the word "death" to understand that someone he knows has passed away.

"It was Ducky."

_________________________

Tony is on the phone with McGee for another fifteen minutes, getting all the details and committing them to memory as best as he can through his slight haze of shock. Though Ducky had always been the oldest member of their team and clearly couldn't live forever, he had seemed… invincible, somehow. He was an institution, something timeless and never-ending.

Of course, that had been an illusion, but still, it's strange to know that the vibrant old man is now just…

Gone.

The rest of the workday is spent processing all of this new information and making preparations. Tony can't imagine a world in which they wouldn't fly back to the States to attend the funeral, and though he hasn't yet talked to Ziva about it, he feels fairly comfortable arranging emergency bereavement leave from work and informing Tali's school that she'll be out next week.

Near the end of the call, McGee had asked if Tony wanted him to call Ziva, too, or if Tony wanted to tell her himself. Tony's answer was immediate: he knew without needing to stop and consider that telling Ziva in person would be the right thing to do.

It doesn't matter how much he hates having to give bad news.

Tony intends to do it tonight, once his wife is home from work… she has experienced too much loss in her life for him to be anything less than absolutely gentle in telling her about their old friend. There's no need to make it harder than it needs to be; an impersonal phone call across the Atlantic may have been an inevitability for Tony himself, but now that he knows, he wants to be there to hold Ziva's hand when she finds out, too.

He would give anything to spare her from as much pain as possible, and while he can't do much, he can do this.

Fortunately, the timing of McGee's call is decent—Tali has choir practice after school today, effectively speeding up the rest of the evening's schedule. By the time Ziva gets home, it'll nearly be dinner time, and bedtime will follow shortly after.

Tony doesn't want to delay giving Ziva the news, but he thinks it best to wait until Tali is safely tucked away. That way, they don't have to worry about putting on happy faces to keep from scaring her.

_________________________

As soon as Ziva walks in the door, she can tell that something is wrong. Tony looks tired or sad, or maybe both. He kisses her in greeting as usual, though, and when she gives him a questioning look, he answers with an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Later, she understands that to mean.

Ziva is concerned, but she trusts him.

Still, Tony seems eager to rush through Tali's evening routine, telling Ziva her unsettled feeling isn't merely a product of her typical anxiety… she's right, and something has happened or is happening still.

If she was Gibbs, she'd claim a gut feeling.

"Tony, is everything alright?" Ziva asks in a low, tense voice once Tali's bedroom door is shut for the night.

Tony shakes his head. "Let's go sit," he answers softly.

He leads her to the couch and she sits next to him automatically, her heart starting to race in a horribly familiar way. "Please just tell me, whatever it is," she murmurs anxiously.

Tony takes her hand. "Alright." His voice is gentle. "Just don't forget to breathe, Ziva, okay? I got a call from McGee today, and he had some bad news. Ducky was in an accident last night… he passed away this morning."

Ziva's pulse is thudding in her ears, and she focuses on the grounding anchor of Tony's hand on hers as she tries to internalize what he just told her. "An accident?" she echoes, sounding distant even to herself.

"Yeah…" Tony shakes his head and unexpectedly gives a quiet, incredulous laugh. The sound pulls Ziva out of her head a little, and she makes a conscious effort to squeeze his hand back as she waits for details.

He gives her a warm smile, recognizing the gesture.

"Honestly, it was the 'Duckiest' way that he could have died, I think," Tony explains. "He had apparently been out in Newfoundland exploring some continental fault thing, and on the way back, his plane hit some bad weather and ended up crashing. Palmer says it was very quick—Ducky never would have felt a thing."

Ziva nods, slightly faint but quickly getting over her shock. With any luck, she'll avoid a full-blown anxiety attack; the frequency of the attacks has decreased since she reunited with her family a year ago, but they'll always be a threat that she has to be prepared for.

Tony seems to understand that she's not quite ready to talk yet, so he keeps going. "There are worse ways to go, for sure, and I think Ducky would have wanted to spend his last minutes just as he did: coming from from an adventure in a tiny two-seater Bonanza. You know what I mean?"

"Yes… yes, I am sure you are right," she agrees, her voice steadier.

"I'm really glad that we got to see him recently, too. We had a good time, didn't we?"

"We did." A few months back, Ducky'd had a daylong layover in Paris on a trip to a remote area of Siberia, and they'd spent a very fun day showing him around the city. Their daughter had warmed to him quickly, which was hardly surprising.

"Hopefully Tali was old enough that she'll remember it, I think."

"Yes."

Tony pauses, and with his free hand, he reaches up to briefly caress his wife's cheek. "Are you alright?" he questions, concerned. "You're not saying much. I don't want you to pass out on me."

"I am—" Ziva stops in the middle of her sentence and takes two deep breaths. She had nearly said 'fine,’ but she's not, is she?

Ziva likes to think that she can be open and honest with Tony these days, as much as a lifetime of trials has given her the impulse to keep things to herself. The fact that Tony waits patiently for her to finish rather than interrupting tells her that she's right—she shouldn't shut him out.

Finally coming to a decision, she shakes her head. "No."

Tony nods. "I thought that might be the case."

"Are you?"

"Alright?"

"Yes."

"No. No, I'm really not. But I will be."

Tony's words suddenly pull a memory to the forefront of Ziva's mind, and she tilts her head for a moment, considering something.

Tony waits, a slight frown furrowing his brow.

"Come," Ziva decides finally. "There is something that I want to show you."

_________________________

A few minutes later, a bemused Tony watches from the doorway as Ziva digs determinedly through a box in the back of their bedroom closet. He knows what's in that box, and he knows that several identical boxes stacked neatly in the corner contain more of the same: Ziva's old journals from NCIS, dozens of them thoughtfully shipped to Paris by Ellie Bishop.

"Are you looking for one in particular?"

"Yes," Ziva answers, but she doesn't explain any further. After a few more seconds, she makes a noise of triumph and rises with one of the journals in hand.

"Found it?"

"I did."

She leads him back to the bedroom and sits on the bed, inviting him to sit next to her; Tony is relieved to see that while she definitely looks pained and tired, there are no obvious signs of an impending anxiety attack.

Once they're settled, Ziva gently—almost lovingly—pats the cover of the thin book. "This is one of my journals from late 2009 until early 2010."

"That's—"

"Shortly after I was rescued from the desert, yes."

Tony nods; it's not his favorite time to think about, and he knows it can't be for Ziva, either—so why did she pull this notebook in particular from the dozens of identical ones chronicling her experiences?

"Ducky was… helpful to me, in the aftermath of my rescue."

"He was?" Tony interjects in surprise. "You've never talked about that before."

"It is not a subject that I deeply enjoy discussing, something I am sure you can understand."

"Sure."

"Well, because I believe that sharing this memory will honor Ducky, I would like to tell you more about what he did for me."

"Are you sure?"

Ziva nods, and she keeps the journal clutched lovingly in one hand as she reaches over to lay a hand on Tony's thigh. "It has been a long time, and I think I am ready." She offers a smile—it's small and watery, but it's very sincere, and something about it makes Tony's own eyes start to sting.

He's been too busy to cry today, but he knows it's coming sooner or later. Ducky had been family for a very long time, and with this on top of that loss...

"Okay," he agrees roughly, clearing his throat. "Take it away. I'm all ears."

Ziva squeezes his thigh and then pulls her hand away, glancing down at the journal; this one will always be one she cares for above its brethren, because its painful content reminds her of how much she has overcome.

After a pause, Ziva opens it carefully.

Then, her voice surprisingly steady, she starts to read.

_________________________

January 7th, 2010

There is a reason that I have not penned an entry in quite some time; I have walked a difficult road these past months. Today, however, I was offered a comfort that I had not previously possessed the courage to ask for. If I have any hope of sorting through my own thoughts on the matter, though, I need to reconsider earlier events.

Before returning to Mossad more than half a year ago, I was faced with a dilemma that I had successfully avoided in my career before that point—that is, the dilemma of who to trust and who to side with when personal and professional obligations become hopelessly conflicted. I have already written at length about the choices I and the others made in the midst of that conflict.

Much has happened since then, but recent forced introspection has shown me an important connection between the difficulties of Michael's death and the horrors I endured after: a connection between who I was then and who I am now. That night, it only took a few minutes to change the course of my life: in that time, Tony and Michael fought, and Michael was killed. Every single one of us has had to deal with the consequences of those events ever since.

At the time, I let my anger and my grief consume me, destroying all vestiges of rationality in my thoughts and decisions. I followed that pain to the Horn of Africa, hurting and reckless and prepared for death.

Of course, I did not die, and that has brought consequences of its own… consequences that I am only now beginning to come to terms with.

In the wake of Michael's death and doubly so in the wake of my experiences in the desert camp, I found myself vulnerable. For the first time in my life, I'd been forced to acknowledge my heart and acknowledge its fragility. It could be bruised. It could humiliate me. These were things that frightened me, because I knew from recent experience that they could—and likely would—be used against me. My fear led me to withdraw, to hide again; acknowledging my own weakness demanded far less bravery than I would have needed to share that vulnerability with my friends.

I defaulted to an old defense mechanism. I leaned on ability borne of long experience to simply feign contentment. I passed my psychological evaluations, I sent my resignation to Abba, and against all odds, I was instated as a probationary special agent at NCIS. After a time, my colleagues stopped watching me when they thought I could not see, waiting for me to fall apart. I had convinced them that I was alright; perhaps I even convinced myself some of the time, too. Maybe I was not yet as 'fine' as I seemed to be, but I was sure that in time, I would reach a point where my conscience felt as carefree as my forced smile looked to those who loved me.

Darkness, however, is difficult to chase away with one single flickering candle, lit only by the flame of my own exhausted determination. My candle burned low, worn down over time, and I found myself in need of help. I alone could not summon the light that had long since fled my tired soul.

Though I did not know to whom I should turn, fate helped a friend to find me. It was—of all people—Ducky. In many ways, he is something of a saba* to me, the kind that I wished for as a child. Even so, I would not have thought to seek him out as a confidant. I see now how remiss I was in taking him for granted as I have sometimes done. It turns out that he was just who I needed.

He found me this evening in the midst of… I do not know how to define what I was feeling. I can only say that I was lost in a moment of weakness. At the time, being seen that way was humiliating, but now, several hours later, it feels serendipitous.

Ducky and I spoke quite candidly then… I will not record the details of the conversation here, because I feel in no danger of forgetting what was said. I am confident, however, that today marks something of a new beginning for me. There is still so much to sort through and process, but the shadows already feel less dim.

Today, I invited a friend to see my darkness, and despite what he saw, he did not pity me; he only held my hand and lit another candle.

_________________________

*saba = "grandfather" in Hebrew

#ncis fanfiction #tiva #tivali #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tali david-dinozzo #ducky mallard #timothy mcgee #cynthia writes stuff too #this is for two more biscuits challenges that i got way too committed to lol #parts two through four are already planned out and half written #they'll be posted shortly #hurt/comfort #angst but ultimately soft

[of-muppets-and-men]

Penumbra

Chapter 7: Daybreak

New update i forgot to post here. Whoops. AO3 link if prefer it instead.

Another hushed morning in the Soul Society.

It was around five’o’clock, a time where most souls were still very much asleep. Seated Officers, Lieutenants, and a handful of Squad Captains as well. An unforeseen benefit of the peaceful era they’d fought for. No real remaining threats outside of common hollows necessitated any sort of urgency. Complacent as it may seem, Head Captain Kyoraku had made it clear this was to be mandated.

After all, the majority of the shinigami reserve forces needn’t bother themselves with the potential return of Yhwach. They wouldn’t stand a chance anyway. 

As much as Yoruichi wished to take full advantage of said mandate, Suì-Fēng  had other ideas. The former captain and current lieutenant of Squad 2 wouldn’t let her Captain slack off for any reason whatsoever. Paperwork, logistics, training. All seemingly without end. And so Yoruichi sat at her desk, stacks upon stacks of paperwork surrounding her and her dutiful lieutenant. Suì-Fēng was almost too happy to be once again serving her beloved Lady Yoruichi.

“UGhhhh… Can we take a break yet? It’s too early for this…” The Captain groaned.

“My Lady, we can’t afford to slack off. What example are we setting for the squad if we do?” Her Lieutenant lecture.

Yoruichi pressed her head against her desk, folded arms over her head. Suì-Fēng chuckled at her Captain’s dismay when it hit. A massive wave of spiritual pressure came out of nowhere, sending a shiver down both their spines. The room quaked, the air reverberated. It was so dense, Suì-Fēng could barely breathe, the pressure on her lungs becoming overwhelming. As she leaned against the desk, struggling to stand, she felt a hand at her waist propping her up. Suì-Fēng’s gaze drew upward to see Yoruichi’s face adorned with shock. She immediately recognized the spiritual energy cascading and pulsing through the air.

“Captain.. Who is that?”

“Katsumi…” was all she whispered in return, “Let’s go, Suì-Fēng.”

The commander of the punishment force bolted out of her office with Suì-Fēng in tow. Flash Stepping as fast she could through the halls of her manor, desperately trying to reach her daughter’s room. The Captain and her lieutenant practically broke the door open to see Katsumi standing on her bed, zanpakuto in hand. The main difference being it was no longer the normal Odachi she handed to Katsumi the night before. It was bigger, much bigger.

It couldn’t be, she thought to herself. Yoruichi pushed herself towards Katsumi, her own weight betraying her with every step. Suì-Fēng stood bereft of strength or words, marvelling at the inherent power of a mere child. Katsumi’s mother shook her awake with whatever willpower remained. The young girl’s eyes peered open, tired and confused, her mother’s distraught golden eyes staring back at her.

“Mom? What’s going on?”

“Shikai…” Yoruichi quietly remarked, now truly seeing the blade Katsumi held.

Now perhaps more confused than before, Katsumi puzzled “What?”

“Don’t worry about anything for now. You were releasing absurd amounts of spirit energy, so I thought something was wrong. I’ll tell you everything after breakfast. But it looks like we’re starting your training sooner than i thought…” Her mother explained.

Katsumi’s fatigue came surging back, causing the girl to fall asleep for another three hours, and Zanpakuto still safely in her clutches. The paperwork Yoruichi had left behind was soon finished in a lightning round between Suì-Fēng and herself. Now with Katsumi achieving Shikai, she had no time to dawdle with her Squad’s trivial matters. Though she still had trouble believing it; Shikai? After barely telling Katsumi what it was? Rukia… Ichigo… your daughter is a prodigy, The Captain repeated in her mind. 

Prodigy. A broad term but true in every sense in Katsumi’s case. She was progressing at an outrageous pace that would make Captain Hitsugaya jealous. If she could achieve Shikai in little more than an afternoon, how long would it take her to learn the other aspects of a Shinigami. 

Zanjutsu? Shunpo? Kido? Hakuda? Shunko? Or perhaps even Bankai? Goosebumps littered Yoruichi’s arms at the thought. 

Not long after Yoruichi managed to finish slogging through her less exciting duties as Captain, Katsumi at last woke up. Albeit still hazy on what had occurred beforehand. But fortunately, both their troubles could be eased by a spot of breakfast. Together, they made their way to the expansive dining room in the center of the manor. There Katsumi gorged her little mouth on Onigiri; Pickled Plum, her favourite. As the child ate her fill, her curiosity spiked yet again, prompting Katsumi to bombard Yoruichi with questions.

“So mom? Are you gonna tell me what ‘Shikai’ is? How did my sword get so big? Can yours do that…” the girl babbled on and on.

“Whoa! Slow down there, kiddo. Before I answer any of those questions, there’s a place I wanna show you first. Kinda like a secret hideout.”

“Secret Hideout?!” Katsumi reiterated with glee.

“Mhmm. Wanna see it?”

“Uhh, Yeah!”

“Then let’s go. Make sure to bring your Zanpakuto with you.” Yoruichi said lovingly.

In a flash, Katsumi cleaned and dried the dishes and stormed down the hallways in search of her blade. Meanwhile her mother stood astonished at her endless enthusiasm. As Yoruichi waited, she began to reminisce on how she had brought Ichigo to the very same place all those years ago. If only you could meet her, Yoruichi lamented on Ichigo’s absence. A part of Yoruichi would never understand Rukia’s decisions; why she never found the heart to confess… but at the very least, Katsumi was happy. But for how much longer?

“Mom! I got it!” Katsumi announced from down the hall.

Yoruichi shook her head, shaking off her darker thoughts and focused on her daughter, “Well, let’s get a move on then.”

The elder soul grabbed a pack she’d asked one of her many attendants to prepare, filled with an abundance of snacks; including a new pocky flavour Kisuke procured for her. The lady of the house made her way to the courtyard, her staff bowing politely as she passed by. To Katsumi’s surprise, her mother knelt down and coaxed her to grab hold.

“C’mon sweetheart. It’ll be faster this way.”

“Umm Okay…” Katsumi replied, doing as she instructed.

“Alright. And a one and a two and…”

Just like that, the pair vanished into thin air. Yoruichi Flash Stepped from rooftop to rooftop with little effort doing so. Katsumi beamed with delight as they soared over the Seireitei; other souls appearing as no more than insignificant flecks. The girl’s vision arbitrarily gawked to and fro at every landmark in sight. Until she felt a tap from her Yoruichi, who then pointed toward Sokyoku hill.

“That’s where we need to be.”

“Why there?”

Yoruichi chuckled and purred, “You’ll see.”

Instead of landing on the hill like she’d anticipated, her mother swerved left toward an inconspicuous little alcove built in the rock face. The young soul hopped off her mother’s shoulders and inspected the quaint little hideout. Although, Katsumi couldn’t hide her disappointment.

“I like it but are you sure it’s big enough?”

Yoruichi smirked at Katsumi’s child-like chagrin, “Follow me.”

Yoruichi then opened a hatch Katsumi hadn’t noticed before, carefully hidden amongst the floor tiles. A light jump and Yoruichi disappeared down the hole. Katsumi rushed over to look down the hatchway, seeing darkness with a vague hint of light at the bottom. With a deep sigh to psyche herself up, Katsumi followed her mother’s example and jumped.

The fall lasted a few seconds despite looking far deeper, or so her young mind conjured. She opened her eyes to see a vast cavern, far bigger than she could’ve ever imagined. Yoruichi ruffled a hand delicately through Katsumi’s hair and she ogled at every inch of her old training grounds.

“Impressed now?” Her mother asked coyly.

Even without uttering a single syllable, Yoruichi could tell she exceeded her daughter’s expectations. 

“Shall we begin?” The Captain questioned once more.

“Yes!” Katsumi replied, nodding so hard it looked like her head would pop off.

“Alright. But first and foremost; here, you are my student and I am your teacher. You listen to me no differently than you do at home, okay?”

Another enthusiastic nod. In a moment’s notice, Yoruichi jumped onto a higher platform, arms crossed like an instructor.

“Good. Now you must know that all Zanpakuto have three states. The first is the unreleased states, which you have now. The next is Shikai, when a Shinigami learns the name of his or her Zanpakuto. And the last state is Bankai, but today you’ll be learning how to summon your Shikai at will.”

“How will I do that?” Katsumi mused.

“By learning your release command. A specific word that will transform your Zanpakuto into the form you saw last night.”

The young soul searched her mind to remember that form. Its shape and design.. What was it? Delving further, it came back to her, slowly but surely. A massive cleaving blade, far larger than it was now, with metal bands lining a hollow center. She could recall it with perfect clarity; Tōgetsu’s true form. But what was the release command?

“How will I know the right word?” She pleaded.

“Unsheathe your blade and find out.” Yoruichi snidely lectured.

A quick pout escaped Katsumi’s lungs before she did as her mother instructed. She removed the sash from her shoulder, drawing the greatsword from its scabbard. It felt like forever since she held it properly, the weightlessness of it catching her off guard as it had the first time. But expectantly, the blade remained silent; Katsumi unable to her Tōgetsu’s voice as she had previously. She held it every which way but alas, it changed nothing.

“Why won’t isn’t it working?!!”  Katsumi shouted in frustration.

While her daughter fiddled with her zanpakuto, she slipped back by her side and calmly placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Easy, Katsumi. This isn’t a thing that can be forced so just breathe and concentrate. Your Zanpakuto will do the rest.”

The girl huffed and puffed but ultimately headed her mother’s advice. She held the blade steady in both hands, closed her eyes and took deep deliberate breaths. 

Tōgetsu, tell me how to release you. 

Silence. 

Tōgetsu, please…

Remember my name and dream… A voice she knew whispered.

“Dream, Tōgetsu.” Katsumi repeated.

She opened her eyes and marvelled alongside her mother at the now transformed blade in her hands. Katsumi erupted with joy; Yoruichi rubbed a hand through her daughter’s hair.

“You did it, Sweetheart.” Yoruichi said lovingly as Katsumi continued to giggle, “Now let’s practice the basics.”

Later that same day

Rukia was alone in the Kuchiki household, preparing for bed. Renji had more business to attend to at the Sixth Division barracks alongside Byakuya, so both of them would be spending the night there. Ichika was sound asleep and had been for the past hour. Rukia had every intention of following suit. At least, she was until a Hell Butterfly came sputtering through her open window. 

Puzzled, she held out a hand for the messenger to land on, unsure of who’s voice to expect. Low and behold, Yoruichi’s voice came through.

Rukia. Meet me at my old hideout beneath Sokyoku Hill. There is something you absolutely must see. Also, make sure you come alone.

Before Rukia could even respond, the butterfly flew off back out the window, leaving Rukia alone with her thoughts. Something I need to see? What on earth did that mean? Far too tired to give it any more thought, Rukia slipped beneath her covers, drifting off into a deep slumber. The morning would come soon enough.

And so it did.

Rukia managed to slip away under the guise of running an errand, leaving Renji and Ichika at home. The acting captain made her way through the semi busy streets, ducking through alleyways to avoid any members of her squad. Eventually, she made it to the alcove Yoruichi had shown her years before. Speaking of her old friend, she stood waiting for her to arrive.

“Yoruichi, what’s this all about? First you send me a message in the middle of the night and now have me sneaking through the Seireitei to get here.”

“You’ll see once we get down there.”

Both women handed down into the depths of the old training area, but mid-descent, Rukia heard unfamiliar grunts and shouts. She focused her ears on the encroaching voice, clarifying the closer she got. And the reiatsu Rukia felt… Katsumi?

It had to be. But it’s strength was unlike anything her daughter had mustered before. Definitely stronger than an officer, perhaps even matching most of the current Captains…

Rukia followed her old friend deeper into the cavern, tracing the origin of her firstborn’s voice. However, the closer she got, the more apparent Katsumi’s increasing might became. Her legs slowly turning to jelly, the weight of her petite frame pressing down upon her. But even though Rukia’s breaths shortened with every step, she felt no fear of any kind. Just happiness. 

Finally, Katsumi came into sight, intently practicing the basic forms of zanjutsu. From mere meters away, Rukia watched on as her eldest’s reiatsu encircled her like a blazing torch. Wind swirled and danced around her aura. Its breathtaking silver hue overpowering the natural light of the surrounding cavern. Tears of joy formed in the corners of Rukia’s violet eyes, Yoruichi standing by her side rubbing her back.

“She looks so much like him…” Rukia gushed, half-heartedly wiping at her eyelids.

A smile and a chuckle escaped Yoruichi’s lips, “That she does… Oi! Katsumi! Look who’s here.”

The girl’s concentration broke, the energy around her dissipating like snow. Katsumi’s eyes locked with Rukia’s, violet mirroring violet. A grin from ear to ear materialized on the girl’s face, full on sprint towards her beloved ‘aunt’. 

“AUNTIE RUKIA!!” She screamed, colliding with a thud.

“Hello, sweetie.” Rukia smiled in return.

The two shared an earnest hug that Yoruichi felt hard pressed to interrupt, “Care to show Auntie Rukia what you’ve been practicing?”

“Practicing?” Rukia said as she felt her daughter’s warmth slip away from her.

Bewildered, the woman watched Katsumi assume a stance with her Zanpakuto. It didn’t resemble any form taught at the academy so what in the world was she up to? Eyes closed, the apprentice brought the blade an inch before her forehead. With her grip slack, Reiatsu surged around her yet again. But unlike previously, it felt more calm, controlled… like the delicate wisps of candlelight. And in a serene voice, Katsumi spoke the name.

“Dream, Tōgetsu!”

Rukia was speechless.

Shikai. Her little one had attained Shikai. 

Her heart danced around in her ribcage, slowly succumbing to her emotions. The baby she had left in Yoruichi’s care for fear of banishment, had bloomed magnificently. Before Rukia even knew it, tears had begun streaming down her cheeks. She made no attempt to wipe them, knowing they’d only be replaced by more. So instead, she smiled and Katsumi smiled back.

“When did this happen?” Rukia finally managed to say.

“Last night. She was sleeping one minute, then releasing spirit pressure the next. Scary to think what she’ll be like a few years from now. You and Ichigo sure made one frightening kid.”

The old friends chuckled as Katsumi eagerly cleaved a boulder in half. 

Katsumi was strong. And still had more room to grow.

#Bleach #bleach oc #ichiruki #pro ichiruki #rukia x ichigo #ichigo x rukia #ichigo kurosaki #Rukia Kuchiki #yoruichi shihouin #katsumi kurosaki #sui feng #Penumbra

[andrcs]

hey  friends  waddup  !  i’m  jen  ,  just  turned  23  (  n  am  already  feelin  it  )  ,  from  the  gmt-2  tmz  ,  n  i  go  by  she/her  pronouns  .  i  had  about  ,  like  ,  half  an  hour  of  sleep  today n  i’m  actually  redoing  this  entire  intro  because  as   i  was  editing  the  finished  version  to  post  it  ,  i  accidentally  deleted  the  whole  thing  n  tumblr  wouldnt  let  me  have  it  back !  it’s  fine  i’m  fine   :-)  anywho  i’m  gonna  let  yall  go  n  learn a  lil  more  about  our  friend  andre !  hopefully  u  like  him  but  if  u  don’t  thats  ok  bc  sometimes i don’t  either !!

𝐈.    𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒  :

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞   :   andre  harris  solomon  .

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞   :   n/a  .

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲   :   august  fourth  ,  1991  .

𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧   :   leo  .

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧   :  cco  of  solo  conglomerate  .

𝐈𝐈.   𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃  :

during  the  solomon’s  dynasty  ,   the  family  had  its  fair  share  of  tumbles  and  quite  a  few  scandals  .  great  uncle  abel being  arrested  after  trying  to  steal  half  his  brother’s  fortune  was  one   was  a  big  example .  may  god  bless  the traitous  bastard’s  soul  .  also  cousin  denzel  ,  declaring   in  the  middle  of  thanksgiving  dinner  he  wanted  to  be  a  opera  singer  ,  of  all  fucking  things  ,  and  giving grandpa  harrison  an  almost  stroke  ,  could  be  counted  .  no  matter  what  ,  though  ,  nothing  prepared  the  family  to  watch  the  solomon  fortune’s  heiress  coming  home  on  her  christmas  break  during  her  freshman  year  in  college  with  a  baby  bump  and  no  father  to  claim  the  child  she  carried  . 

in  the  following  years  ,  with  the  slightly  judgemental  help  of  all  of  her  closest  relatives  ,  but  most  of  all  ,  the  never  ending  support  of  her  parents  ,  gaia  solomon  managed  not  only  to  get  her  college  diploma  ,  enter  the  family  business   and  help  solo  grow  into  the  biggest  media  conglomerate  of  the  western  hemisphere  ,  one  that  had  a  solid  hand  over  pretty  much  all  aspects  of  media  and  entertainment  .  chances  are  if  you  wanted  to  publish  or  sign  a  record  label  deal  or  be  on  a  tv  show  ,  sooner  or  later  you  would  encounter  someone  from  solo  .  but   she  had  also  manage  to  raise  with  the  utmost  love  and  care  ,  no  lack  of  sacrifices  ,  and  a  healthy  amount  of  ear-pulling  ,  a  man  she  can’t  help  to  be  most  proud  of  .

andre  solomon  never  knew  who  his  father  was  ,  or  cared  to .  and  as  far  as  his  mother  was  concerned  ,  he  didn’t  have  a  father .  as  a  child  ,  he  never  felt  like  he  was  missing  anything  in  life  ,  there  was  no  angry  void  aching  to  be  filled  ,  no  painful  moments  to  remember  his  childhood  by  .  he  had  been  happy .   no  matter  how  busy  his  mom  was  ,  she  was  always  loving  and  attentive  whenever she  was  around  ,  played  baseball and  football  and  soccer  with  him  whenever  he  asked  her  to  ,  and  grandpa  harrison  was  always  available  if  the  boy  ever  needed  a  guy  figure  in  his  life .  of  course  ,  there  were  some  bumps  and  bruises  along  the  way  ,  and  a  pinky  finger  he  never  fully  got  the  feeling  back  , but  it  was  a  beautiful  ,  fulfilling  childhood  .

as  a  teenager  ,  recently  acquainted  with  a  never  seen  before  freedom  ,  and  just  out  of  puberty  ,  andre  grew  more  acquainted  with  getting  in  trouble  .  thankfully  ,  nothing  like  cousin  gina  , who  had  to  cut  off  a  part  of  her  ear  after  piercing  it  by  herself  with  her  tenth  grade  friends  .  while  rambunctious  and  mischievous  ,  he  was  always  to  smart  to  get  caught  doing  something  that  could  get  him  in  any  kind  of  real  trouble  ,  and  by  then  ,  the  family  knew  that  they  could  trust  andre  to  not  be  too  irresponsible  ,  and  even  if  they  didn’t  ,  at  least  he  had  both  ears  intact  .

 a  full  grown  adult  ,  after  getting  his  marketing  degree in  northwestern  university  ,  andre  followed  his  mother’s  footsteps  and  worked  hard  to  climb  the  organizational   ladder  and  reach  the  cco  position ,  becoming  one  of  his  grandfather’s   valued  advisors  along  the  way  .  these  days  ,  he  works  hard  to  keep  his  image  clean  and  his  professional  life  very  well  separated  from  his  private  one  ,  being  very  succesful  at  it  thus  far  .

𝐈𝐈𝐈.   𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘  :

andre can  definitely  be  considered  a  little bit   too  cocky  in  his  confidence  .  he  knows  his  strengths  and  doesn’t  believe  in  fake  humility  ,  always  eager  to  be  praised  by  whatever  actions  .  also  very  focused  ,  he  feels  as  if  he  knows  exactly  what  he  deserves  in  all  aspects  of  his  life  ,  and  doesn’t  hesitate  to  work  for  it  until  he’s  satisfied .

he  is also  ,  however  ,  a  very  fun  loving  individual  .  andre  believes  in  the  motto  work  hard  ,  play  hard  .  and  you  can  definitely  find  him  going  on  expensive  trips  to  exotic  locations  or   some  rich  person  adventure  more  often  that  he’d  like  to  admit  .  is  constantly  surrounded  by  a-list  celebrities  or  clout  chasers  who  attach  to  him  due  to  his  connections  into  the  industry  .  and  as  being  the   center  of  attention   is  one  of  his  favorite  things  ,  he  absolutely  adores  it  .

very  ,   extremely  sarcastic  and  definitely  not  the  most  outwardly  affectionate  person  ,  it  takes  a  lot  to  get  him  to  soften  up   ,   but  andre’s  also  extremely  loyal  to  those  he  knows  are  his  real  friends ,  and  always  makes  sure  that  they  are  with  him  no  matter  where  he  goes  and  what  he  gets  .

is  known  to  be  quite  the  ladies’  man  ,  and  often  lives  up  to  the  reputation  ,  even  though  he’s  settled  down  quite  happily  a  few  times  during  his  adulthood  .  he’s  not  averse  to  relationships ,  per say  ,  but  also  doesnt  want  to  jump  in  carelessly  ,  specially  when  he’s  not  felling  the  situation  .  is  frequently  engaged  in  some  sort  of  drama  with  the  girls  in  his  life  and  even  though  he  claims  to  dislike  it  ,  he  loves  all the  attention  he  gets  from  them  ( ew , i  hate  him  ,  he’s  gross  )

𝐈𝐕.   𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒  :

childhood  best  friend  /  chicago  native  ( 1 / 2 )  :  people  who’ve  known  him  since  before  he  hit  puberty  and  became  cool  and  who  are  with  him til  this  very  day  .  they  might  not  be  best  friends  for  whatever  reason  but  still  are  closer than  most  friendships  out  there . ( pearl , )

flings /  could  be  past  or  present  :  could  also  range  from  the  silliest  to  the  most  angsty  stuff  ,  andre  definitely  has  the  repertoire  for  it .

ride  or  dies  (  2 / 6  )  :  truly  ride  or  dies  ,  his  closest  group  of  friends  ,  the  ppl  that  are with  him  no  matter where  he  is  and  the only  people  outside  his  family  he’d  do  whatever for  . ( devin , watson )

exes  /  chicago  native  (  2 /  2  )  :  i  have  some  ideas  about  them  but  lets  just  say  one  would  have  ended  in  decently  good terms  and  one  would  not . ( vera , aurora )

friend  with  interests  (  0 / 2  )  : andre  has  a  lot  of  ins  with  the  media  industry  ,  and  this  person  would  definitely  have  an  ulterior  motive  to  hang  around  him  ,  whether  he’s  realised  it  yet  or  no  .

flirtationship   (  1 / 1  )  : first  of  all  i  hate  that  word  my  GOD  but  also  ,  would  be  a  kind  of  thing  where  they’d  both  be  feeling  each  other  but  for  some  reason  things  just  wouldn’t  progress ? ( elissa )

there is a  lot  more  but  i’ve  just  written  this  thing  twice  in  a  row  n  my  brain  is  currently  just  2  neurons  barely  communicating  so  i  should  probably  quit  while  i’m  ahead  ?  but  pls  message  me  bc  if  u  want  to  know  some  more  about  andre  or  come  up w  plots  or  just  talk  about  how  hot mbj  is   n  how  unfair  it  is  that  the rpc  doesnt  gif  him nearly  enough  ?  or  we  could  also  talk  abt  something  i  might  be  delusional  rn  so  i  have  a bunch  of  interesting  topics  ok  bye  thanks  for  sticking  around i  love uuuu

#░ ▹ 𝙊𝙐𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙍𝘼𝘾𝙏𝙀𝙍 / / oh jenny ! #wealthyhq:intro #oof this has been a ride ladies n gents #and am i glad to be done with it #also raise ur hand if u have a cousin gina in ur life

[raymondshields]

1, 4, 5, 6, 11, 15, 21, 22, 23 for the writers ask?

1. Tell us about your current project(s)  – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

Currently, I’m working on a fic titled A Monstrous Manifesto, which is a fic entirely inspired by Cat Valente’s poem of the same name. Every line is a chapter, every noun is a part of that chapter, and every single beast named corresponds to a Spectre, allowing me to dig directly into their heads and demonstrate their full psychology. 

Progress stopped unfortunately back in July on part four - a fiend, which I picked Deadly Beetle Stand for, because I just couldn’t get into his head. Kiril played soundboard for it and I’ve been humming and hawing over him trying to figure it out, but let’s be real it’s gonna come to me in a dream.

Because see here, most folks who’ve read my works, if told to point to my best, it’ll either be a) my breakthrough with Armour Adventures (which tbh if I redid I’d do better on), b) In Kismet Marcescence (which I need to sit down and plot out properly before I continue), or c) rather unexpectedly to me, Green Grows The Asphodel. Guess everyone likes that soft MiAlba where Alba gets his bastardization arc, but also I let him speedrun it in Broken Shine The Stars and people seem to like that one too, so.

The thing is with AMM is that this would be my greatest work. Like AA, it’s gen, but here’s the one advantage I’ve realized I actually have over pretty much everyone else in this fandom: I am myself a monster, fictionkind and all. I’m a Devil and a feral little beast, which means when you offer me Spectres - warriors of the dark and death who are all based around animal motifs - I take one look and go “oh! You’re like me!” and proceed to write them as actual monsters while having some unspoken and long-winded conversation about what it means to be human, what it means to be shunned, and what it means to belong among the broken.

It means that I write Spectres wildly different than anyone who isn’t Kiril (who is on the same wavelength as me and we argue back and forth about the inner details of everyone’s monstrosity), which means when I do it, nobody’s seen this shit before and apparently people seem to think it’s cool. So AMM is the very epitome of that style, of that psychological and philosophical discussion. I don’t really have a background of research in either of those things, so any similarities to works or theories already out there is entirely coincidence. Cat Valente’s poem was the first stepping stone I ever took to accepting myself for who - and what - I am. I owe as much of my identity and confidence to her as I do Zamorakian philosophy, which built my personality and is a major part of how I survived the middle school era of my life. The least I can do in return is offer the best of me out into the world.

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

“Somewhere deep below conscious thought, below his training and the life and this Lemurian body, buried under lifetimes of war, buried under the idea that a Spectre was a fighter, his blood remembered how to love the memory of the fallen.” - Beneath Blood Ties

BBT is one of my most unappreciated fics, which makes sense as it’s set almost two thousand years prior to Classic, starring a fourteen-year-old Lemurian Minos and the Saint who raised him, Aries Kirien, whose name is probably still spelled Kiriel at least once in the fic because no beta we die like Gold Saints.

The original inspiration comes from Seanan McGuire’s Once Broken Faith, and the line in question is Toby reading the Luidaeg’s blood memories after the latter told a young Karen that she couldn’t speak Faerie even in her dreams - she speaks it in her blood memories, and Toby notes that her blood remembers.

It stuck with me, though I’ve read OBF approximately a million times. It, along with A Killing Frost and An Artificial Night, are my three top Toby books. And it responded to me as someone who’s fictionkind: I couldn’t speak the language I spoke as a Devil in my dreams, or in the waking world, but I know some part of me remembers it. Would know how. The Chaorruption filters all of that into English because it thinks it’s helping, but if I were a magical creature right now, in this world, I’m pretty sure my blood would remember.

So I wrote about Minos, and the sorrow he carried. The premise of BBT is that a Pope realized some Spectres come back, went around before they became Spectres, and kidnapped the lot of them to train as Saints, leaving them all traumatized as fuck, unsure of who they were or who they followed, and messed up for lifetimes. I also wanted to show more that Spectres were more than what the Holy Wars made of them, and about digging through that exotrauma to remember that they could be kind.

Spectres, originally, would make sense as really just Hades’ servants and the ones who keep the Meikai running. Pretty sure that means they know every single death rite that’s existed in the past three millennia. Pretty sure they know how to be respectful of the dead. Pretty damn sure that below all that soldiering and war, they’re all really exhausted librarians who want to do their job and also dig graves.

But I like this sentence here best, because that’s pretty much the climax of the plot here: that there is, in fact, something underneath all his exotrauma, all the current trauma he’s been dealing with. That below all of that bitterness and war, he’s a better person than what Athena made of him.

Idk, I just think it’s neat and no I’m not projecting being ‘kin on him again. /j

5. What character that you’re writing do you most identify with?

Albafica, to nobody’s surprise. I mean, come on. A guy with a fuckton of traditionally-feminine beauty whose looks keep getting brought up, is very introverted, has seen some shit, just wants to kill people who hurt what he cares about while also not hurting the people he does care about, really wants you to keep your damn distance, is super touchstarved, and holding onto his humanity with his fingertips? Come on the only things he’s got that I don’t is an actual male reproductive system and naturally blue hair.

Once you realize that especially in TLC Athena’s actions are pretty damn horrific, especially to her Saints, Albafica has the perfect setup to become a Spectre. Seriously, if he’d been offered Luco’s deal but while holding a dying Lugonis, do you really think he wouldn’t have taken it? I explore that more in Broken Shine The Stars, but like. Albafica is the perfect fallen angel of a character. He has genuinely good intentions. He’s hurting so damn bad and only fucking once in his entire onscreen performance is that acknowledged (shoutout to Luco for that one), and if you take his sorrow and let him turn it into anger, he’s a glorious monster indeed. Albafica’s descend into monstrosity and Spectrehood is exactly what would happen if I got angry and also hadn’t been fucking nerfed physically.

I love him way too much.

6. What character do you have the most fun writing?

Surprisingly, Aiacos. Alba’s hard as fuck to write. Aiacos, though. You’ve heard me go off about Aiacos at length, but like. He’s the very embodiment of the worst person you can become while still loving, still surviving. Aiacos is the type of person we’re all capable of becoming, and we all should be terrified of becoming, because every single choice he’s ever made is completely understandable and that much more horrific for it.

It’s somewhat unsurprisingly easy to get into his head. He’s fun to write because he scares me. Because if I let him do all the dumb, selfish, sadistic-looking, survival-focused things, then I don’t have to worry about doing it myself. I let him look out for only himself when the pieces are down, so I can do better.

Also I haven’t seen anyone else write him that way (Kiril being the obvious exception here), so it’s double the fun because new territory.

11. What do you envy in other writers?

Hey. Hey you fuckers who can plot shit. Give me the number of the demon you sold your soul to. Let me PLOT SHIT.

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Summaries! Titles are easy, I steal them from songs and Toby books. They’re just fancy wordplay and I have literally a list on my fic spreadsheet of titles I want to use. Summaries, though, are very important. People don’t pick fics based on title and tags, they pick based on summary. They’re your hook into the work, so you’ve got to give the audience your premise short and sweet and actually sounding appealing.

Sometimes I can write them no problemo. Other times, they’re a fucking nightmare. I try to imply the tone of the ending in my summary, because I have absolutely been blindsided by the ending in a way I really didn’t like because I thought the summary was hiding the ending. (Example - there was this one fic that made it sound like my OTP was going enemies to lovers, and it wasn’t, it wasn’t, it needed the fucking dead dove do not eat tag, stopped just short of serious nonsexual noncon (which wasn’t tagged at all), and ended very unhappily and it messed me up for days, I did not like it.)

So for my summaries I set the scene, set the tone, and imply the tone of the ending so you have a vague idea of where it’s going. Easier said than done.

21. What other medium do you think your story would work well as? (film, webcomic, animated series?)

Anime, probably! Manga wouldn’t lend itself too well to my style, but I’d enjoy short anime episodes, I think. I honestly don’t know. Someone tell me what my stuff would work good as. I dunno.

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

For fic, all the time! I write what I want to read, and since six out of seven of the Dohko/Kagaho works on AO3 were my fault, I’d better get used to reading my own writing for pleasure. Fortunately, I like most of my writing recently, so that’s pretty all right!

Don’t ask about what I had up on ff.net. Don’t. It’s old and bad and I didn’t know how to write.

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Hmmm... I want to rephrase this better as ‘what fic exists only as a concept and has done so for the longest out of all the concepts of fics currently in my head’, and hmmmm. Honestly, it’s either Shion and Aiacos’ romance fic where they also get a daughter (which has a title actually, The Lost Sea Fantasia, but still hasn’t been written); or it’s Wyvern Rose and the Trials of Lightning, which is about 15th century Rhada’s two daughters, the elder of which is surprise-given his surplice and his job when he dies right before Hades does, and the younger of which is kidnapped by a spiteful goddess who doesn’t like the elder of the two.

ToL is a fic that I have somewhat plotted out, but really needs a lot of work. I’m not really sure how to go about writing it, because whenever I sit down to sketch it out, it never comes to me. It does, however, lend itself well as a bedtime / campfire story that Albafica tells Regulus while they’re out on a mission together, as part of Alba sneakily teaching Regu how to be a Spectre without anyone knowing. It’ll stay a concept for a long while until Rose crashes into my headspace and actually fucking tells me more about herself other than “oh yeah btw I’m fucking Julia” like thanks, already knew that from Julia herself, tell me more about you you awful little Judge of a dragon princess.

[ask game here!]

#asks #saint seiya #dorksmithery #thank you!! #i'm gonna go answer the other one now #but ofc send me more if yall want!

[blindrapture]

The Structure of Ulysses, plus Sonic, Part I

Ulysses is a big book. And I intend on adapting all of it at some point into a series I call Sonic Hamlet, where everyone is played by video game characters. I’m not going to explain why video game characters just yet, you’ve got to just accept them for now.

So far, I have not made much progress with the actual adaptation (I have the first third of the first episode done and on YouTube, click here for it). However, I have made progress in rereading and understanding Ulysses, I’ve made far more progress than I honestly thought I was capable of. And I think I might be ready to at least outline some things. I believe strongly that Ulysses will be of interest to many people alive today, and I do not accept language as a valid barrier to comprehension, only a temporary obstacle. But the onus is on those of us who have read Ulysses, we have to be the ones to clear those obstacles away, we cannot just expect people to read it, we have to help because those obstacles are very much there! Ulysses was hard to read even at its time, but there’s a difference between an intentional challenge and the changing of parlance over time. And the intentional challenge? Is wonderful. It in fact helps us embrace life, the big and the little things in it, the complicated cycles that overwhelm, the fast-paced sarcastic comedy of young people, the slow-paced enigmatic wit of those so ancient they perished long ago, the clash of cultures suggesting inevitable conflict and yet still hiding pathways to real diverse peace.

As an adaptation, my work is a sort of translation, this has to be. I don’t want to change any of the words, though-- Ulysses has a structure to it, a mathematical and logical and literary structure, and the specific words are a part of that. Translations into other languages, those naturally must deal with changing the words, but they try their best to still stick within the plan of the original’s intent. The only language I’m translating into is the extratextual-- I’m adding images, sounds, pauses for reflection. I’m realizing an interpretation of the original text, in the hopes that my audience might have a better foothold for comfortably examining and interpreting Ulysses themselves. The original words can still fit in that context. But character names? Sure. I can accept changing those.

So. So. Sonic Hamlet. As Ulysses is a book, so Sonic Hamlet is a show. As Ulysses is of three main parts with various Episodes in each, so Sonic Hamlet is of three seasons with various Episodes. Following me?

Part I, my Season 1, has three episodes. It is sometimes called the Telemachiad, as it deals with the Telemachus of the story, Stephen Dedalus (hereby Sonic Dedalus), as he goes through the motions of an increasingly despondent life without a trustworthy guide.

Part II, my Season 2, has twelve episodes. It is sometimes called the Odyssey, or the Wanderings of Ulysses, as it deals with the Odysseus of the story, Leopold Bloom (hereby Mario Bloom), as he navigates the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune in hopes of returning home victorious.

Part III, my Season 3, has three episodes. It is sometimes called the Nostos, or the Homecoming, as it deals our Odysseus’s bold return and the stratagems which fell the suitors of his wife, Marion “Molly” Bloom (hereby Peach Bloom).

I will, for now, compose three posts, one for each Season. I will not point out all the coolest shit, all the patterns and correspondences, but I will give a general outline as best I can. Maybe this outline, alone, will give all the help a reader needs to “get” the premise of Ulysses and thus be able to read the original. But ultimately I write this not for any reader but for my own benefit. I need to organize and consolidate some things, see. And I’d may as well start somewhere.

So. Here we go.

Part I / Season 1: The Telemachiad (8 AM - Noon)

Episode 1 / 101: Telemachus

Sonic Dedalus is 22 years old. His mother died last year, putting a damper on his aspirations of travelling other countries and becoming a poet. Now he’s contributing rent money to a buddy’s cultural project (”let’s rent out an old watchtower and turn Ireland into Ancient Greece,” that’s about as thought-out as the plan became). His buddy, Big Mulligan, doesn’t seem to have much respect for Sonic, just an incessantly jovial tolerance. Staying with them is Shadow Haines, an Englishman with a gun who wants to write a book of all the quirky folk-sayings of the primitive rural Irish. Big thinks Sonic could contribute a lot to that. Everyone seems to like Big and Shadow; their conspicuous and confident personalities shine above the material worries of the Dublin lower-class. The lady who delivers milk for their breakfast that morning (played by Tikal) listens to Shadow with reverence and doesn’t even seem to notice Sonic, who pays for the breakfast and sees Ireland’s spirit in her. That morning, Big gets Sonic to promise him a sizable chunk of Sonic’s salary will go towards getting them all drunk later. He also gets the key to the tower from him, for some reason. And he gets naked and goes for a swim, as Sonic walks off to do his day’s work.

Episode 2 / 102: Nestor

Sonic works as a temporary teacher at a nearby school. Today, he teaches his class about the historical battle at Asculum, where Pyrrhus gave his famous quote (”another victory like that, and we’re done for”). They’re not terribly interested, since today’s hockey day and they want to play outside, but that’s okay, Sonic’s mind isn’t really focused today either. He’s got some themes battling in his head, and they won’t go away. Though they don’t stop him from at least giving the kids a strange riddle and helping a poor kid with his math homework. And the kids all play hockey. This episode takes its name from an old boastful king, whose advice keeps young Telemachus going (waiting for his father’s return from the war), but also whose company is a bit much in long bursts. Here, Nestor is played by the headmaster of the school (whose video game character I have not assigned), Mr. Deasy. Deasy is a West Briton, the type of Irishman who thinks he’s English and thinks Ireland is just the westernmost province of England. So, probably a Protestant. I really don’t remember right this minute. But in practice, it means Deasy talks down on a lot of people all while thinking he’s being a nice old man. He has money, he keeps his money, he says this is a very English thing to do, and he judges all those who can’t pay their way. He loves history, sees it as one steady march towards the real manifestation of God, and he thinks Sonic unhappy for his view that history is “a nightmare from which I am trying to wake.” But he at least pays him, his salary and some decency. And, knowing Sonic has some “literary contacts,” he gives him a letter to deliver to the newspapers, a letter proposing a solution to foot-and-mouth disease (this will come up later). And as Sonic leaves the school for the day, Deasy hails him down to say one last thing: a jovial bit of earnest antisemitism. “You know why Ireland is one of the only countries that never persecuted the jews?” “Why?” “She never let them in!” And he laughs, the light of the sun dancing coins on his shoulders.

Episode 3 / 103: Proteus

It is now 11 AM. Sonic, after leaving the school, walked all the way to Dublin proper. Here he is on the Strand, a sort of beach, having some alone time, thinking of many things, many memories (his short stay in Paris as a poet, his interactions with the family of uncle Richie who lives nearby to the Strand, his childhood), many subjects (Greek philosophy, Latin theology, aspirations, self-loathing), the sights he sees (midwives with bags, someone walking a dog, lots of flotsam). Ultimately, there’s a trend of trying to pin down the unpinnable, to put into words the ineluctable modality of the visible, the limits of the diaphane; this clues us into the Odyssean correspondence. Proteus is god of the sea, ever changing shapeshifter, who it is said will grant a wish to anyone who is able to hold him still for long enough. Just as Telemachus, in now understanding some context about his father, waits by the sea and wonders how he-- how anyone-- could successfully return with their wits intact when the gods are so multifaceted and the waters so unpredictable, just as Telemachus watches the sea, so does Sonic watch the morphing world of his senses.

And that’s Part I of Ulysses, and that’s Season 1 of Sonic Hamlet. We will see Sonic again later in the day, we’ll actually see quite a bit of him, but this is the point of departure for the text itself. This whole time, the text has taken Sonic’s psyche, the energy and passion and associations dormant in his thoughts, and infused it with a more novel-like narration of What Actually Happens, altogether producing The Text what readers read. It’s happened relatively slowly, with sparks of surprising creativity manifesting in each episode, the “narrative” doing “weird” “things” “all of a sudden,” and Proteus acts as a sort of climax, allowing Sonic’s psyche the whole spotlight and putting What Actually Happens in the background. I’ve said before that the text “wakes up” over the course of these early episodes, but I now think what really happens is the text holds back in order to allow the reader to wake up, to recognize that the text, the narrative itself, is the narrator, that not even focal characters like Sonic are the source of the viewpoint we see, that.. there’s something more going on. A greater Argument being made. But it will take time to even see the whole argument. And here let me bring up medieval pedagogy regarding the art of syllogism: it has been conventional to view the initial order of cognitive thought as “Subject, Middle, Predicate” (as opposed to any other order of those terms which are all, in fact, valid). This is a big factor behind why we’re taught to view stories as constituting a “beginning, middle, end,” and why we’re taught to give arguments (essays!) in the same structure. It’s all because that’s how Christian theology saw the Greek tool of syllogism should be taught, back in the middle ages. With me so far? Okay, cool. So Ulysses is made up of three main parts. There’s a lot of reasons why given episodes are strictly in one part and not others, but perhaps one of the most aesthetically pleasing bits of trivia is that Part I begins with the letter S, Part II begins with the letter M, and Part III begins with the letter P. Subject, Middle, Predicate. A valid structure for a formal argument. Season 1 of Sonic Hamlet, in following Ulysses as far as I feasibly am able to, gives us the thematic subject of a greater argument being made. And that makes Season 2, or Part II, the bulk of the argument, the middle.

So what goes on, then, in the middle of this grand argument? If Sonic isn’t the point, then who is? If Sonic is Telemachus, then who is Odysseus, the wise father-king-husband-hero coming home from the great war? We can interpret the sea of his voyage as probably being his shifting senses, as per Proteus, so then what are the trials on his sea, the trials on his senses? Who are the gods that he faces, what are the stratagems he comes up with in order to appease and survive?

Well, Joyce was adamant of this: The modern Odysseus in Ireland would have to be of Jewish descent. He would have to be a staunch pacifist. He would have to have a marriage in a questionable state of stability. He would have to be a stick in the mud, a party pooper with an adorably dry sense of humour and a physically average build, a serious and unrelenting cuck, and yet a man with sensible ideas of how to spend money generously and pipe dreams of a socialist nation where love and equality triumph. He would not stand in opposition to the modern bigoted uncaring society, his friends and neighbours, but he would be tasked with changing it all the same.

The modern Odysseus is Leopold Bloom. The modern Odysseus is the prototypical social justice warrior.

And that’s who the bulk of Ulysses is about, that’s the psyche we’ll get to explore, that’s what I’ll post about later on.

#sonic hamlet #in making this post i finally went and made the makeshift pictures for Nestor and Proteus #the images are not necessarily reflective of how the final products will look #it would drive me crazy if i tried to keep them all perfect and consistent #because i've still got to make a lot more of them #the episodic structure is honestly one of my favourite parts of the book? it helps me dig in. #so i do want to emphasize an outline around that structure. making sonic hamlet a 'show' naturally follows from this.

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Stunning View - Commercial Real Estate Development

This is a story I heard growing up:

Successfully when my granddad was 10 years old he found a penny. With that penny he bought a pencil. He sharpened that pencil by then sold it for two pennies. He took that two pennies and bought two extra pencils, sharpened them and sold them for four pennies. He reinvested his four pennies in four extra pencils, sharpened them and sold them for eight pennies. By then, again, he bought eight extra pencils, sharpened them and sold them for sixteen pennies. This went on until my granddad had amassed $10.24. That is the perceive my inaccessible Aunt Sophie passed on and left us her course of action of strip shopping centers, spots of business and rental homes. Our family has been in the land business starting there ahead HFZ Capital .

The story isn't right, yet it demonstrated four mammoth works out:

1) Sweat respect is a massive resource;

2) If you reinvest your pay, wealth can grow geometrically;

3) The BIG money is in land; and

4) It would be immaculate to have a rich Aunt Sophie.

Like most families, we didn't have a rich Aunt Sophie, so my family pivoted around practices 1, 2 and 3. I notice this story as a view. My life growing up was dependably about land.

In my article "Keys to Closing Commercial Real Estate Transactions", I referenced my father since he was, and is, a wiz concerning business land. It was through him that I came to address business land creators.

What I didn't make reference to was that my mother was dynamic in the family land business what's more. While my father focused on business land improvement, my mother focused on private land. I should have known additionally one yet not the other. This article could be engraved "Keys To Maintaining Harmony".

What does keeping up knowledge have to do with business land progress? Stick with me on this, by then pick.

My mother considered "solitary fulfillment" issues. Bewildering homes. Neighborhood parks. Safe ways. Astonishing schools. Shows and other social updates.

I saw my mother spread out walking ways around constrainment lakes in private startling new unforeseen new developments and looking through records investigating park seats and play zone gear for neighborhood parks. As a private land ace, facilitator and shipper, my mother focused on "customary conditions". In case families would live in her neighborhoods, by then the areas must be "family satisfying".

As you would imagine, with my father focused on business progress and my mother focused on private individual fulfillment issues, conversations around the dinner table were relentlessly spellbinding, and a scramble of the time unconventional.

On one side of the table, my father envisioned wide business improvement for retail strip shopping centers, spots of business, burger joints, lodgings, theaters, task focus superstores, beguilement centers, move club and that is only the start.

On the contrary side was my mother referencing neighborhoods with flawless homes, safe ways, parks and other open zones, dry hurricane storm basements, clean air, clean water, and unessential disturbing and light polluting.

As showed up by standard perspective - got from open zoning board and plan commission hearings and structure secluding through get-together social affairs when business improvement is proposed near existing homes and neighborhoods - one may expect a test of assessments changing into warmed challenges and demands to forego development. Fortunately, our dinner table was not in the scarcest degree like most obvious evaluations.

My mother and father each respected the vision of the other and understood the standard satisfying relationship among private and business progress. Rather than examining that one was endeavoring to wreck the vision of the other, they anticipated each other's good 'ol fashioned new unforeseen development and standard needs and checked for reasonable settlement at whatever point the condition licenses. Once in a while they couldn't agree, yet there was endlessly a colossal undertaking to respect the point of view of the other, exchange appraisals and go to a continually perceiving and solid technique.

My mother was an untruthfulness showing expert. She got my father consider how business ground would influence private neighbors and plan ways to deal with oversee direct control rot ambushing results on families. A long time before coming into their current vogue, I learned at our family dinner table the opportunity of "lifestyle business centers" and relating private/business mixed use refreshes.

The point for business fashioners and private supporters is that they should each diminish the volume of their improvement talk about and deliberately take a gander at what the other is presenting. Undeniably when various has presented confirmed concerns or needs, those concerns and needs should be reasonably obliged where possible. A shredder dream? Perhaps. Regardless, I grew up watching it work.

Obviously, relatively few out of each odd passed on concern are true and not all proposed remaining are possible. In those cases, targets ought to on a central level be given up over to open structure commissions, zoning sheets, and city trustees or chamber individuals to mediate and pick the conversation. As gatekeepers of the open government help depended with driving the potential focal motivations driving the structure all completed, they should pick. In a sensible and reasonable universe of primary issues, your most guaranteed choice for winning is to show that you have tuned in with yielding and have advanced reasonable and upstanding endeavors to induce open congruity rather than contact.

POINT: If you are a business land engineer proposing a business progress near existing private neighborhoods, don't envision they don't exist. Consider how they will be affected and review for your advancement plan ways to deal with oversee direct control help any confusing results made by your upsetting unexpected unforeseen new development. Chatter with your private neighbors. Take a gander at what they have to state. They are not ALL crazy. Now and then (routinely, extremely) they have authentic concerns over key issues. In case you can review for your headway plan a way to deal with oversee regulate control financially fix a scratching they starting at now have, (for instance, flooding, scourge, lacking completing, nonattendance of good stops or play spaces, poor traffic stream, etc.), your chances of immaculate guaranteed advancement to enable your improvement to course of action goes up.

Whether or not you are a business land engineer or a near assistance, get that, regardless, conditions change. Nothing is left the proportionate. Obsolete quality and scourge are common potential unavoidable consequences of time. Redevelopment is coming. If not today, by then soon.

Which returns me to my place of driving family congeniality by offering a reparation to my mother. You don't generally need to review what follows. This is on a staggeringly major level for her.

My mother allowed up a year back yet says she offering little caution to everything assessments of gratefulness taking a gander at my flyers and articles. Maybe a mother's family relationship, at any rate she all around necessities to look at what I clarify land and land improvement. She says her most adored is a piece I explained "land improvement" called The Great Pyramids Of Egypt Are In Disrepair. She figures I should share it.

The piece was written in 1992. I have to surrender, it never spread out that the work was about "land improvement". I can promise you, I was not deliberately taking a gander at locale improvement at the time I kept it.

Regardless, my mother is a competent woman and I have taken in my development. I won't carefully cross her again. Along these lines, considering a guaranteed worry for family understanding, here it is. I leave it to you to single out the slim chance that it is about land progress. In case you don't think along these lines, intensely don't tell my mother.