#many were more interested in seeing her play than buying but Ember loved that

[nelkcats]

Ember's Music Emporium

When he became King, Danny had not banned the ghosts from earth but asked them to be discreet, so instead of giving concerts that were extremely flashy, Ember decided to open a music store.

It was complicated to find a good location since she wanted to go far away from Amity, but she was aware that not all cities would accept strangers and it could be dangerous for her if they found out she was a ghost.

Money was not so difficult, Ember had collected several things during her unofficial concerts, among them: cash (besides, Danny was willing to sponsor her if that wasn't enough), and musical instruments were even easier to find as Skulker loved to build them and wanted to help her.

In the end, her little music store set up in Gotham (rusty laws, natural ecto, crazies everywhere and lots of people who looked extremely colorful, she assumed they would take her as one).

She and Skulker worked very hard at turning the dusty place they bought into something nice where everyone was welcome; they also made it a sort of temporary home, seeing as they couldn't go to the Infinite Realms every day.

And everything was a success until someone tried to attack their little business; naturally the ghosts protected it and very soon, a rare scarecrow was hit by one of Skulker's bombs.

It didn't cause much damage but it definitely drew attention. Many tried to attack after this and they kept responding (Skulker much more excited than she was about the whole thing).

But Ember was determined to not call Danny, she was sure they would get scolded about attacking people and not going unnoticed as they promised (although the rude people attacked them first and none of them were dead, or Danny would have come).

When some weird guys in bat costumes started trying to sneak into her humble music store (and they didn't even bother to pretend to be customers like the nice guy in the red helmet), she decided that maybe it was time to call the halfa. Things had gotten a little out of hand.

#dpxdc #Ember and Skulker opened a music store in Gotham #Ember loves music and thought the music store was the most obvious move from being a rock star #Skulker decided to help her immediately #he loves creating instruments for her and this is not different #they opened the store in Gotham and it did quite well #many were more interested in seeing her play than buying but Ember loved that #Scarecrow attempted to attack to “mark territory” as he heard the shop owners were new to Gotham #that didn't work out well for him #ghosts are very territorial #and Skulker has a lot of guns everywhere he goes #Ember is not thrilled with this development #dp x dc #dc x dp #ghost king danny #the bats heard that the store opened but paid no attention to it #apparently they gave small concerts and taught music to anyone #they started paying attention after the rogues started attacking the music store #and many new weapons began to be described #Skulker loves to show off #Jason has no problem with the store because they don't attack anyone who doesn't attack them #though he's a bit biased after hearing that the Joker was left in the hospital #his family doesn't think the same #Danny just wants a vacation #Is it too much to ask the ghosts not to look for trouble where he can't protect them immediately? #he is clearly frustrated that they didn't go unnoticed #but he's totally on Ember's side anyway

[katsukikitten]

Time spent with Todoroki.

Warnings: This is a Pro Hero aged up AU, think late twenties. Adult themes such as sex are to follow. Please enjoy

Shoto was by far your favorite sugar daddy. He showered you in lavish gifts and gave you the pipe often. He checked your bank account and made sure it never fell below a certain amount and paraded you around town like the Princess you were. But most importantly he was stoic. Doing nothing more than wiping you up with a warm rag once the two of you were finished, never clinging to you with desperate hands like many other sugar daddies had. Hoping their money would make you giddy and buy your love. Maybe it would have, had you not already run out of love for people. Your heart broken one too many times by a long term relationship causing you to vow that money was your only love. 

People were just too disappointing. 

Your contracts with Shoto were medium in length, anywhere between three to five months mostly because he likes to keep his "options open." Which filled you with pure lust for him, knowing you could get away with your kinks without worrying over some man falling for you. 

Still, it was difficult for the Pro hero not to fall for you, at first he had no interest in love. Having sworn it off mostly for fear of failure thanks to his dysfunctional family. It was the main reason he started looking into sugar baby websites, he saw your profile picture and your bolded No strings attached. He liked the idea of that, loved it really and yet, he became tangled in you after the renewal of your second contract. He tried to suppress the warm feeling in his chest, he found it difficult more times than not. 

Especially now, with you on your knees with his guicci jacket spread out on the tile of the bathroom floor as your lipstick clad lips wrap around his cock. Your cheeks hollowed and your eyes looking up at him with enchanting lust. He fists your hair shoving you further on his cock. Your eyes water as you gag softly and Todoroki is just thankful your makeup is waterproof. 

The sight and the sounds make him groan while your manicured nails dig into his bare thigh. You rub your thighs for friction, moaning around his cock, it's enough to send Shoto over the edge. Hot ropes of cum hit the back of your throat as his grip on your styled hair tightens. 

"Fuck Princess…." He moans bucking into your mouth, sharp eyes look down at you. Seeing a powerful man come undone for you is enough to keep you content for now. 

"Sir will take care of you after the gala okay?" His cheeks are still a little red as he runs his hand over your hair. Lifting you off the floor before fixing himself. He gives you a light spin, making sure nothing scuffed your gorgeous designer dress before he exits the stall. Pushing back his long hair while you retouch your lipstick with a knowing smirk. 

The two of you waltz back to the party, sans his jacket, abandoning the designer garment without a second thought. The price of it was barely a drop in his bucket. It could have been half of his bucket for all he cared, his mind always swimming with thoughts of you.  He places his hand on the small of your back as he guides you back to the table, dinner half forgotten once your hand wandered towards his crotch for a tease. 

"F...find the bar okay?' Izuku asks as you take your seat, your sly hand going for your wine. Uraraka blushes when you give her a wink. 

"Just fine." Shoto says sipping his whisky. 

"So who's won awards so far?" You ask with gleaming eyes, Izuku smiles. 

"Kaachan for most villains caught. Kirishima for the safest feeling hero, myself for rescue ratio." He holds up his small little trophy, "And you, Shouto, for most mysterious." 

"What about the rankings? Did we miss that?" 

"No they are about to announce it!" Uraraka exclaims, eyes glittering with excitement and wine. Her chestnut eyes slide over to her emerald eye date, hoping for the best for him. 

The announcer steps to the stage, his sapphire blue suit catching everyone's eye as he takes the center. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a night filled with congratulations and cheer but now is the moment you've been waiting for, tonight we will reveal the top three heroes. Voted in by a strenuous board appointed by the fans, we finally present the BIG THREE!" 

Some tables erupt in cheers while the host takes his dramatic pause, when the sound dies down the host brandishes the golden envelope. 

As he announces your hand wanders again, playing with your favorite toy, Shouto's face gives way nothing as the host drags out the awards. Explaining how long the winner's speeches should be. Soon Shouto cannot ignore your hands creeping on his clothed cock that throbs beneath your fingers. He knows he can't wait through what's bound to be a half an hour. He rises excusing himself dragging you with him before you're being cornered against a wall in some random closet. 

"So impatient, princess." He bites out, kissing your throat, sliding down to your exposed collar bone while his hand ventures between your thighs. Calloused pads circling your puffy clit as you let out a loud moan that's swallowed by the cheering of the gala room. Impatient himself he undoes his pants, stroking himself with his free hand while you cum on his fingers. 

After the coil in your stomach snaps for a third time he's satisfied, kissing you as he aligns the tip of his dick to your quivering entrance.

"Fuck, Shouto. Fuck me please, sir!" You beg, making his head spin, alcohol mingling in the small dark space. 

"Be patient kitten. Sir will fuck you right baby." He grunts, sheathing himself into your soaking core.  You cry out, clawing at his back through his shirt. The smell of biting cold hair mingling with the hearty smoke of a bonfire engulfs you as you press your face into his chest. He lifts both of your legs, strong hands grabbing onto thick thighs as he fucks into you with a deadly pace. Slapping skin and lewd wet sounds echo back to the two of you, encouraging his pistoning hips. 

"Listen to those sounds Princess, your pussy sounds so pretty." He bites at your ear as you endlessly moan and whimper into his chest. Cunt clenching as he drives over your spongy spot, the head of his cock going deeper with each thrust. Soon it all becomes too much, your vision spots panting as you cry out in ecstasy, body ridged and arching to meet him. 

"Cumming on my cock already?" He coos, fucking you through your next orgasim as your legs shake around him. Toes pointed in your red bottoms as you attempt to hold onto him for dear life. 

"S..sir! You cry out, "I'm gonna...nnngghhh." 

He ruts into you, pressing you further into the wall as he frees up one hand to play with your throbbing clit. Rubbing harsh circles as he loses focus on his precise thrusts that turn sloppy. His eyes too focused on you as you cum, milking his cock. Your eyes flutter, desperately attempting to hold eye contact as one hand palms your breast and the other scratches at the skin at the nape of his neck. Your tongue lulls out just a bit as your mouth makes a sinful O shape, a few tears of over stimulation fall down your cheeks as he continues to fuck into your wet cunt. The sight makes him explode into you, warm spurts of cum causing you to whimper and clench in delight as he ruts until he is done.  He sets his sweaty forehead against yours, panting as words claw up his throat. 

"I love..." He whispers, catching himself just in time, "Your tight cunt." 

He kisses you, hoping you don't think anything more of it. 

After a few minutes, and Shouto's cock softens, he withdraws. Wiping you up with a wipe from your purse as the two of you check the other for fluids. A drunken cat smile plastered on your lips as you reapply your lipstick, wiping away the stains on his dark grey shirt and collar. 

The two of you step into the hall just in time as the doors start to open. Quickly and calmly you grab for your pack of cigarettes, your normal alabi, placing the stick in your mouth. Shouto, much like a gentleman, lights it as you inhale to keep the tip a burning ember. Gently blowing the smoke over his clothes, careful to avoid his face as you waft the burning stick around yourself as if it were an incense. Knowing good and well the smell of smoke always hides the salty smell of sex. Quickly you extinguish it on an ice cube that Todoroki provides, you toss the cube in the closet and the half of a smoke into your burkin slamming it shut just as a small group of sidekicks approach. 

"Shouto! Wow! I can't believe it was a three way tie this year! Congrats to you, Deku and Dynamight!" They drunkenly cheer, "It's crazy how that happened." 

"You're so secretive, your manager accepted the award on your behalf even though you were here tonight!"

A stream of people dot on your date as you cling to his muscular arm while you harbor a secret of your own. Cum dribbles between your thighs as you think of his sweaty head against yours. It feels good to be a Pro hero sugar baby. 

"You staying the night again?" Shouto asks as he presses a cold water bottle to your palm, your body covered in a sheen of post sex sweat from a week's worth of fun. You give him a small smile as you sit up, tits bouncing as you readjust entirely. You can feel his icy hot gaze as it rakes over your body, feeling the goose flesh prick along your skin as it does with the threat of an oncoming summer storm. 

"I wanna discuss the renewal of our contract. Plus we have a final date per the expiring one." He says as he rises, heading towards the luxurious ensuite to start a shower for you both. 

"Hmmm guess I could. How much longer do we have left?" You never really paid attention to this things, always being satisfied with whatever Shouto gave you. 

"Two weeks." He returns back from the bathroom, grabbing his wallet from his bedside table. Pulling out his onyx black card, he places it in your hand. His eyes holding yours, you give a devilish grin. 

"Sir has a lot of paperwork for the agency to do today. Buy a dress I want to fuck you in and anything else you want to match okay baby girl?" He leans down to give your forehead a kiss while you giggle. Unable to hide the giddy that bubbles beneath your skin, you wrap your arms around him. 

"Thank you sir!" You exclaim, pepper his cheeks with kisses as you pull back, "Do I get to pick the date again?"

"Mmhmm." He encourages, running his hand up your bare bare as you squeal with delight.  You rush to the bathroom before he slowly follows behind. While under the hot stream the two of you make out for far too long, tongues fighting as the two of you exchange laughs before you add a playful statement that stays with the two toned hair man as he sits in his boring home office. 

"I'm going to get a dress so classy and sinful you'll fuck me on the spot!" 

His eyes wander to the photo on his desk, the one of your first date. The one you insisted the two of you take after a month of late booty calls since he paid for the "girlfriend" package. The two of you are bundled in warm coats, you cling to his firey side as you laugh and he just barely smirks. 

Looking back he thinks this is when he started to fall for you. You had never been ice skating before and insisted on going while the two of you were in NYC for important PR interviews for the cold and mysterious hero. Because that's what people did in the movies while in NYC, put on their skates at the Rockefeller rink to glide along the ice beneath the sparkling lights of the giant Christmas tree. It was busy, he opted for no skates, as he did better without but he helped you lace yours. Being ginger for the first time in his life as he helped you onto the ice, after demanding a moment of independence you had fallen straight onto your ass. Giving Shouto second hand embarrassment but instead of yelling, crying out or giving up, you laughed. Genuinely laughed as you reached for his steady hand, captivating the whole rink for a moment. It felt like magic had washed over the ice, as snow slowly danced into your hair and the colorful lights danced across your eyes. Just like that the spell was broken with a flash of light. A stranger approached to give you a small tip on how to skate and the polaroid he had taken. You thanked them with a smile placing the photo into your coat pocket leaning into Shoto to share a secret. 

"Now we have our first 'date' immortalized!"  You had giggled, gliding across the ice as if you were ethereal, hands outstretched for Shoto to join you. 

He wonders how you're doing at the shops. He occasionally gets a text or two from you. Sexy pictures of you in the changing room as you obviously buy lingerie as well. 

He fists his cock enough times he gets no work done and by the time he convinces himself enough is enough you come home. 

Wearing that damned devilish smirk. 

And so another week passes in the four walls of his bedroom. Your bank account as stuffed as your pussy as you bounce on his heating and cooling cock. 

"Fuck, baby fuck." Is all Todoroki can say as you chase your own high. His blunt nails clawing at your thighs as your tits bounce. Your mouth opens into that gorgeous O as you seek out that delicious friction on your clit. The coil in your stomach snaps as your humping becomes erratic and sloppy but still enough for your tight cunt to spasm wonderfully over Todoroki. So nice is the sight, sound and smell of you that Todoroki pumps his hips up into you twice before he paints your velvety walls, his eyes focused on you. 

"Fuck." He presses his sweaty head into the silk of his pillow case. Two toned hair clinging to his forehead. You lean over and kiss his cheek. 

"Thanks for the ride Pro hero." You wink before you dismount. Stretching towards the sky once your feet hit the warmed hardwoods, you begin to make your way towards the bathroom. Phone in hand. 

"I wanted to talk about extending your contract." Todoroki says, staring after you, "At dinner tonight." 

"It expired tonight right?" You say, looking over your shoulder while your phone lights up with an alert, "No need for dinner." 

"What do you mean?" He calls to you as you start the shower. 

"I mean, I think we should let the contract expire. Keep things fresh you know? Keep our options open?" 

He jumps to his feet and begs the urgency to die in his step. Calmly with somber steps making his way to the ensuite. He finds you already in the shower, water washes away the smell of sweat. The smell of him as your phone glares up at him. He taps the screen and your recent notifications wave at him as he stares down. 

Reading one of them in horror. 

Todoroki isn't sure why he feels this way as he looks at your phone on his vanity. As if the world fell from beneath his feet. His throat burns as he stares at the illuminated glass, spiraling as steam clouds his vision that begins to blur. He knew what he signed up for, he wanted this. 

This detached, heart hidden exchange in hopes of choking down the loneliness 

But he never expected that when this ended it would feel as if his heart had been ripped out, stepped on and crushed beneath the heel of one of your red bottomed shoes. 

"Come on aren't you joining me for our last shower iced cutie?" 

"Uh yes I'm coming." He steps into the shower as the push alert on your phone burns into his brain. 

"Kirishima Eijirou has put in an offer." 

#todoroki x reader #todoroki sugar daddy #bnha au #aged up au

[nightwishesworld]

Hello! I love your writing and if you do take request, might I ask for a family night (including Heisenberg) playing Monopoly please? (OC is already in a loving relationship with Alcina and the girls love her)

Oh boy anon, this was by far the most difficult thing I’ve ever written. It’s not my best cause I know zero about the game so I had to try and work around it. Hope you enjoy anyway!

It's that time of the week again in the Dimitrescu castle. The most sacred and anticipated time of the week; not hunting, not harvesting, not even wine tasting... it's game night.

As soon as the sun sets the girls swarm in the drawing room to ready the space for the night's antics. Daniela digs out the game while Sorine opens all the curtains, letting the warm light of the moon shine through, and Victoria lights the fire and torches. It became a ritual not long after you moved into the castle. The girls often confided in you how they wished to spend more quality time with their mother on more than one occasion. Hunting maidens and harvesting their blood was fun, but they've been doing that forever! It was no longer as thrilling as it once was, not it felt more like a chore that needed to be done. And you can't count how many times Alcina admitted to feeling guilty about not giving her daughters more of her time. So when you pitched the idea of a routine game night, you got very little pushback.

The only one who hesitated was Daniela, and only because she insisted on inviting Uncle Heisenberg, which was totally fine. You get along rather well with the werewolf and enjoy his visits. Getting in touch with him was rather difficult though. Most of his visits were spontaneous reasons to see his favorite nieces, while the other few were strictly business-related held by Alcina. It took her some time to locate her brother, but it also gave you some time to make your way back down to your old home in the village to gather your collection of board games and puzzles. Some were missing a few pieces or cards, but they would have to do for now. Worst case scenario you just buy new ones.

When Alcina finally got ahold of Heisenberg he eagerly accepted and promised to start making his way back to the castle; the girls were thrilled. After all, it wouldn't be proper family bonding time without good ol' Uncle Heis.

In the beginning, it was decided that everyone took turns deciding what game they were going to play. The cycle started with you of course, since the whole thing was your idea, then went from oldest to youngest. Everyone had a blast playing against each other and laughing at one another. You can't remember a time you'd seen Alcina laugh so hard, she was almost brought to tears. Everything was just peachy until Victoria, ever the mischief-maker decided you should play Monopoly. The poor Dimitrescu's had no idea what brand of hellish gameplay awaited them. Only an hour and a half in and Daniela had successfully bankrupt her own mother. The proud look plastered on the girl's face would have been more amusing if it weren't for Alcina losing her temper. That was the one time you couldn't wait for the night to end, and hopefully, never play it again.

Much later that night in bed with Alcina curled up on your chest you woke with a chill running down your spine. It's Daniela's turn to pick the game.

Which is how you ended up lounging on your favorite chair by the fire watching Daniela and Heisenberg setting up the board and organizing the money. Again.

Alcina is sat on the floor next to you leaning comfortably against your chair sipping her third glass of wine. "Why are we doing this again?"

You give her a sympathetic smile. "You know why, dearest, it's game night."

She only rolls her eyes at you. "You know what I mean, draga mea. Why monopoly?"

"It was Dani's turn to chose the game. It'll be fun, don't worry Al."

"Yeah Mother," Victoria giggles. "What's wrong with monopoly?"

"You mean other than how overly competitive and childish you all become?"

You were about to open your mouth when Heisenberg started to laugh. "You say 'you all' as if you aren't just as bad."

Alcina chose to ignore him in favor of her wine.

"Ah! Mother's just upset cause she knows I'm gonna make her go bankrupt again," Daniela smiled as her sisters snickered. "I forget, what did you say you were going to do to me, Mother?"

This caused the chorus of giggles to erupt into laughter. "She said she was going to disown you!" Sorine choked out.

"Forging an alliance against your mother is just plain rude! And you-" she points to Heisenberg, "you stole my companion!"

Laughter erupted in the drawing room. You leaned against Alcina's arm as you lost the ability to breathe. "I did not steal them," Heisenberg handed you both your starting $1500. "I was in a financial bind and y/n was willing to make a deal."

"And just like that our alliance was born." You lean forward and fist-bumped the werewolf. "Let's let Al join us tonight, Heis, now we'll be even against the girls."

He ponders for a moment before noticing his sister's golden eyes burning into him and hastily shakes her hand. "Welcome to the team, sis."

Alcina sighed and accepted his hand in a near bone-crushing grip. You tried not to notice the man wincing. "About damn time."

You shot Alcina finger guns with a wink and "pew pew" and she full-heartedly laughs. "What on Hell's earth was that?"

"A dumb human thing, don't worry about it."

"Horray!" Daniela grinned. "Now Mother has a fighting chance."

"Now girls," you chided. "Let's try to keep this friendly tonight, ok? As funny as it was, and it was," Alcina glares at you from behind her wine glass. "We're going to let it go now. No more ganging up on your mother."

The girls gave an innocent smile, "of course y/n."

"Wouldn't dream of it, y/n."

"Cross my heart hope to die!"

Wait, aren't they already dead?  You shook your head. Doesn't matter.

"Are we using the same pieces as last time?"

"Might as well," you saw before Daniela can get a word out. "We were all happy with our tokens last time, yes?"

Daniela huffed and crossed her arms. "I want to be the dog!"

"Aw come on, Dani," Sorine says. "I think it's only fair Uncle Heis gets to be the dog."

"Since, ya know, he is a dog," Victoria smirks.

To say the atmosphere of the room was intense would be an understatement. But, you couldn't be entirely unhappy with the course of events either since your alliance was winning. Victoria is bankrupt and Daniela has been sitting in jail for the past three turns. Alcina refuses to sell her Get out of Jail Free card. Oh, how the tables have turned. Daniela, much like her dearest mother, is far too stubborn for her own good. She refuses to pay Heisenberg the $50 to get out of jail and Alcina simply refuses to bail her out. Petty revenge, but entertaining nonetheless. It's after midnight now and you're finding it difficult not to doze off against the vampire's arm. Heisenberg is awake pacing around the room as he lost interest in the stalemate already. He was nice enough to take his heavy boots off so he wouldn't disturb Sorine and Victoria's slumber. His repetitive pace was starting to lull you to sleep. You allow yourself to close your eyes for a minute, listening to Alcina's breathing and Heisenberg's hushed stomping circling around you.

The fire was reduced to crackling embers and you were left shivering under Heisenberg's coat. Out of desperation, you kiss the top of Alcina's gloved hand. "Nu putem termina în dimineața? Hai să mergem la culcare." You know she loves it when you talk in Romanian to her. Hopefully, it will give you the advantage you need to end this ridiculousness.

"I've got her cornered, y/n. A little while longer and she'll crack."

Daniela only squinted her eyes and hissed.

You were about to give up and let yourself fall asleep on Alcina when Heisenberg came stomping over, pure anger painted on his face, and kicked the coffee table over. Sorine and Victoria were startled awake by the crashing sound and snowfall of cards. It was honestly the most magical thing that happened all night. He shouted something along the lines of "Go to bed!" but you couldn't make it out over Daniela and Alcina's screams. They pay you little mind as they chase Heisenberg out of the room and down the corridor, the sounds of vases and antique decor crashing following them as they go.

Sorine stands over you looking at you through bleary eyes, extending her hand to help you up. "Bed?"

A lion's yawn overcomes you and you smile. "Bed."

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady alcina #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #tall vampire lady #lady dimitrescu #monopoly broke me

[fictionadventurer]

Top 5 unpublished stories (unfinished, in-progress, etc. yours or others' - things posted on tumblr fit, but not indie or traditional publishing)

To be clear, I’m limiting this to:

Works that have at least a partial scene drafted. If it exists only in outline or in idea form, it’s ineligible. There has to be some writing for me to reread and like.  

Stories that are not current WIPs.

So, in no particular order, here are five favorites that I’m fond of.

(Warning: Very Long Post)

1. Airship Sleeping Beauty.

In this world, parents buy fairy gifts for their children at birth. Most people are limited to two or three. Seraphina Crowne (please call her Sara) was gifted with twelve. Her impoverished parents had friends among fairy kind who were able to bend the rules to give this child enough gifts to survive in their harsh environment. Thus, Sara has everything from enhanced beauty and grace to strength and speed and musical skill, which makes her an unstoppable force of (super)nature. She loves a challenge and decides to support her parents by becoming a sailor on a flying sailing ship, where she rockets up through the ranks.

Our POV character is Jack Sanders, who serves under her as second lieutenant. Jack has spent years struggling through the ranks with only one unsuitable fairy gift. The father who chose his gift was an insomniac, and gave his son the gift of helping people fall asleep. Surrounded by people with more useful skills like strength or navigation, Jack languished as a midshipman for years until he served under a captain who realized the greater uses of his gift. Jack hates Seraphina Crowne, assuming that she’s the daughter of a rich man who has enough money to bend all the fairy gifting rules for his precious princess.

As they travel through a tropical land, they run into many adventures, and Jack starts to respect Sara. He learns that she comes from a much less privileged background than he’d assumed, and they slowly become friends. Then one day, they’re taking a day of shore leave on a flying island when they get into a fight with some local ruffians. Sara falls over the edge and is impaled on one of the metal spikes that serve as a barrier between the island and the open sky. But she doesn’t die. She climbs up with a gaping hole through her torso, and the should-be fatal wound heals within hours.

Sara is forced to tell Jack her greatest secret--she actually has a (highly illegal) thirteenth gift. Her mother’s greatest friend among fairy kind was a fairy who was banished from the guild for giving gifts that were too powerful. This fairy wanted to make absolutely certain that her friend couldn’t possibly lose this child at a young age. Her gift to Sara was that she would die by being pricked on the spindle of a spinning wheel--which means that nothing else can kill her. Not disease, injury, old age--she is invulnerable as long as she stays away from spinning wheels, which is easy to do in this industrialized age when your average person has never seen such a thing.  

Jack promises to keep Sara’s secret and they return to the ship. But Jack isn’t the only one who heard her confession. There’s a local airship pirate who supports his business by adopting infants and getting them the illegal fairy gift of being able to transform into birds. One of these bird-children also heard Sara’s story, and they inform their pirate father, who make plans to attack the ship and take out its most powerful asset.

I never finished the story because the climax falls apart. The pirates were going to attack and stab Sara, but Jack is able to stall her death by putting her to sleep--and I could never figure out a way to save Sara without it feeling cheap and predictable and/or detouring into a completely different plotline that takes us away from the story. But I think of the rest of it as one of the best fairy tale retellings I never wrote.

2. Faraway House

This one is my middle-grade portal fantasy for adults. Mara meets Adrian, a mysterious, magical man whose house sits in a space that connects to three different universes--ours, one that has a more medieval fairy tale vibe, and one that’s more steampunky and involves lots of chimeras and people with animal traits. People in need of help tend to fall into this in-between space, and Adrian lets them stay at Faraway House for as long as they need.

There are tons of characters who drop into this story and provide little subplots, but my favorite part was an overarching plotline involving Adrian and Mara. Adrian, who was originally from the fairy tale world, was the evil magician of every childhood nightmare, a powerful man who did all sorts of horrible things to people. He became obsessed with immortality and eventually got it--at a great price to the rest of the world and to himself. He was caught, stripped of a lot of power, and left to live his long life and see the consequences of his actions. He spent a few centuries wandering the three different worlds and undergoing a ton of character development. As a newly humbled man, he was given charge of Faraway House, since his magical talents would be valuable to keep the area and the portals stable. Now, he’s the nicest, sweetest guy you’d ever want to meet. He rarely tells anyone about his past, and most people wouldn’t believe it if you told them.

Anyhow, after Mara’s been staying at Faraway for a long time, she and Adrian go through a portal that links to Adrian’s home universe. They soon realize that it links to his world several centuries in the past, when Evil Adrian was at the height of his power. And he’s very interested in Mara, because her adventures in Faraway have given her some kind of magic that will help him reach the Well of Immortality (or something like that--it’s a very nebulous, fairy tale idea). Unfortunately, taking this magic will kill Mara, so Older Adrian does all he can to save Mara. He succeeds and gets her back home. But his younger self is still on the lookout for her, and he eventually makes his way to Faraway, where he drains the magic and escapes, leaving Mara dying.

And I know this is the most cliche way to end this, but I like my stories predictable and cheesy, and Older Adrian ends up saving Mara by giving up his immortality, which kills him. It’s all very Disney-moving. The story ends with Mara being made the new caretaker of Faraway. And I give away the ending because I’m never going to write this, but I’m still fonder of this story than it deserves.

3. The Island

Anne of Green Gables meets fairy tales.

The Island is a place full of magic. Amphibious mermaids swim along its shores. A fairy forest fills the heart of the Island. Selkie live on the tiny islands off its shore. Pixies cause trouble in the farmyard’s back garden. It’s amazing to the relatively low-magic areas of the rest of the world, but it’s all part of daily life to the farmers and fishermen who live here.

The Fairy’s Daughters, a retelling of “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”, had the most words written in it, but I think I’m fonder of some of the shorter sketches set a generation earlier that highlight little bits and pieces of the world. I started with the tale of Lizbet, an ordinary orphan girl living with her aunt who befriends Gideon, a half-fairy boy who eventually becomes the town’s magical doctor. Their friends include the widow lighthouse keeper who tries to adopt an orphan boy and is surprised to get Amy, who’s a girl--and a mermaid. There’s Captain Avery, a fierce-looking old sailor with a gentle heart and a surprising amount of experience with magical creatures. There’s Auberon, a fairy prince and eventually king who’s racist against humans, spends some of his younger years traveling in human lands to import human-made products, and becomes even more racist because of it.

I think my favorite thing in this universe are the sylphs. I borrowed Andersen’s idea of the “Daughters of the Air”, and made my sylphs into invisible, benevolent creatures who do good deeds for people, and can accomplish magical feats far beyond what any fairy can do. The sketch I reread most often is a scene where Amy, out for a swim in a storm, is rescued by a sylph who has taken a human (though translucent) form, and gets invited in for tea by Amy’s grateful friends.

It’s a fun universe to play in, but not one that I’m very good at finishing stories in, so I think it needs to stay as a pretty aesthetic and a fun sandbox.

4. Clever Anne

A retelling of “Kate Crackernuts” set in a non-magical Regency-esque setting. Anne is the beautiful, intelligent daughter of a duke. Kate is her bold, daring stepsister. They are deeply devoted to each other, but Kate’s mother hates Anne for being so much more beautiful than her daughter. She gets one of the servants to push Anne into the embers of the fire, leaving her face badly burned. Kate throws a veil over Anne’s face and gets her out of the house, insisting they’ll go off to make their fortune.

Anne was childhood friends with a young man who, through a convoluted succession crisis, unexpectedly finds himself on the throne. They stumble upon him in their travels, and find themselves able to help him by investigating the mysterious behavior of his half-brother, who resents that he was passed over for the throne and may be plotting something sinister. I was never able to figure out a good political-intrigue parallel to the “dancing all night with fairies” portion of the plot, so it never got written. The only really good scene I wrote from this story was the moment where Kate finds out about Anne’s injury and insists on leaving the house. But even in that one scene, their relationship is so strong and so vivid in my mind that I love their story even if I never finish it.

5. The Beast’s Mechanic

This is the one on the list that’s closest to being a WIP. I actually edited some of the beginning in March. It’s a sci-fi take on “Beauty and the Beast” set in a world where two planetary empires are at war. The war destroyed Monique’s father’s shipping business, forcing the whole family to move to a desert planet where they run a small spaceport. Monique is a top-notch mechanic, her sister Gemma is a pilot, Gemma’s twin Joanne stays at home to take care of the house and the two youngest siblings, and Leo is a seventeen-year-old rapscallion who is desperate to join the war as soon as possible.

Their world is upended when, for the first time in years, their mother wants to meet with them. A former starship captain, she and her husband disagreed over the war, and she left the family years ago to join the war effort. But now her starship is in for repairs and she wants to take some time to reconnect with her family. There’s some controversy among the family--do they really want to open these wounds again when they’ve finally moved on?--but Monique the peacemaker insists that, even though it’s impossible for the whole family to make the trip, her father should take the chance. He goes to meet his wife, but on the way there, his spaceship breaks down in the middle of nowhere, and he’s rescued by the Beast, an infamous cyborg outlaw. He also breaks important equipment on the Beast’s ship, and is only able to keep from being thrown out of the airlock by insisting that his daughter can fix it.

Monique nearly does, except that the authorities show up just before she’s done with repairs, forcing the Beast to take off with her in the ship. She comes to learn that the Beast is far from an evil criminal and has been helping people wronged by the government, and she helps him get home to his family (in the enemy empire), but her patriotic starship captain of a mother takes all of these events in very much the wrong light.

I’m very fond of this story for the ways that it avoids some of the usual BatB retelling tropes. There’s much more to this story than the romance, and little focus on the mystery of how the Beast became a Beast, and there’s much more focus on family. The Beast hasn’t even shown up yet, but I’m just incredibly fond of Monique’s family and their everyday working-class life on a desert planet. I hope I can make more progress on it someday.

#answered asks #valiantarcher #adventures in writing #the fairy's daughters #clever anne #i very much loved this ask and i'm sorry for taking so long to get to it #but i'm hoping the extreme length will go some way to explaining why i delayed so long #i've been wanting to do a 'best stories i've never written' feature for quite some time and you gave me the perfect chance to do it #so i waited until i was able to ramble on at length #and i'm extremely grateful for the opportunity

[citrussdance]

Cardfight!! Vanguard Overdress Unit Lore: 001 “Trickstar”

In space? or simply above the planet’s surface? Amidst that faint light, change was born.

The thin and weak “wave” became a powerful “movement” that made “that space” tremble. In the very center of that trembling “space”, “it” was the first to be born.

A head, torso, two arms and legs- as it emerged, “it” slowly took on the shape of something humanoid. Eyes, a nose, and finally, a mouth appeared, creating the shape of a smile.

From the moment “it” was born, it was filled with joy.

Whispered prayers and the wishes that preceded them, carried on the “wave” like a rushing torrent, warmly embraced its spirit and body; and ever since “it” gained sentience, certain words repeatedly echoed in its head; a careful arrangement of sounds, words that proved its own existence.

Finally, an image came into its newborn heart.

Sparkling with overwhelming brightness, a white light invited “it” to the heart of this planet’s greatest nation.

-

As far as one can see, campfires as small as ants dot the wasteland, about to go out.

“Reiyu, Zonne, Rona!” Rino calls softly, in order to not disturb the pre-dawn mood. Surrounding the fire and wrapped in blankets side-by-side, the other three give no response. They sleep deeply.

“I’ll leave them be; they walked a lot yesterday, after all.”

The four girls’ rule is that the one who could stay awake would take watch, but Rino had kept watch throughout the night by herself.

Throwing a small twig onto the fire, Rino hugs her knees.

To the side, a large egg, about the size of a young child, sleeps. To say it is “sleeping” is not a figure of speech- this hatching egg has feet and a tail, and within its body, encased in its shell, there are two (closed) eyes. This egg is called the “Sunrise Egg”.

“Fuee~ I can’t eat any more!” 

Rino laughs quietly at the unwitting Rona’s sleep talk. Rona is the youngest, and the spoiled child of the group. However, her honest dances have saved the group’s mood countless times since this journey began.

Rino’s stomach rumbles quietly.

Everyone is hungry. They chose to set out on this journey by themselves, without relying on anyone’s kindness, but even the Blaze Maidens, who undergo strict training for their roles, are in truth struggling to endure the pressures of the journey.

-- The Blaze Maidens.

The world’s oldest temple, the “Red Temple of Dawn”, lies ten days’ walk from the backwoods of the Dragonia Mountain Range in the center of the Dragon Empire. The Blaze Maidens’ role is to protect and watch over a treasure that can only be found there. After dedicating their lives to this faith, the maidens live out their lives at the temple, only rarely seeing the outside world. Just ten days ago, Rino, Reiyu, Zonne, and Rona would never have dreamed of leaving the Red Temple of Dawn.

-

“We can’t go on like this. Let’s give our thanks to this land, and leave soon.” The oldest of the party, Reiyu, had said that two days ago.

At those words, Rino, who had been fondly watching Zonne eat chicken and Rona stuff her face with sweets, had frozen.

In the first village they had stayed in, the Blaze Maidens had been received warmly. The Dragon Empire is a militaristic country, ruled by a dragonic emperor. However, it is also a civilized country that follows the tradition of the world’s oldest country, Dragonia; many of its people are religious, and priests and shrine maidens are revered. So, when the Blaze Maidens and the walking egg descended from the northern mountain, the villagers, poor though they were, had gladly broken into their winter stocks and showed them the best of hospitality. In the blink of an eye, food and presents had been heaped upon them. 

Only Reiyu had not been happy. “Remember what the priest said. We, along with Rino and the Sunrise Egg, were ordered to seek “the truth of this world” and find hope for the future to bestow upon the people. All of these things gathered here are the villagers’ very lifeline until spring. We can’t let ourselves be spoiled by their kindness.”

The normally cheerful Zonne and honest Rona, and even the reasonable Rino had become somber. They are each highly capable Blaze Maidens, who the priest had trusted to journey to the outside world. However, while they are devout followers, they are also normal girls. Having warm food to fill an empty belly, a hot bath to soothe the weariness of travel, and a soft place to sleep instead of the hard ground. . . how can one blame them for being tempted by such things? Reiyu had simply been a little more of an adult than the other three.

That night, when the village was sleeping, the four girls had stolen away in secret, leaving only a polite thank-you letter and a blazing amulet containing a blessing. To them, the honest kindness of the first people they had met on their journey had also become their first bitter experience.

-

The eastern sky begins to lighten, faintly; dawn is approaching. As the embers die out, Rino, who has drawn closer to the egg, begins to nod off. Soon, it will be time to set off towards the world of dreams.

Then. . .

Outside the circle where the maidens gathered to sleep, a white-hooded head pokes out from the “empty dimension”. From there, it turns this way and that, surveying its surroundings. The only thing it hears is the soft breathing of the girls and the egg.

“Stay asleep, just like that. Now, it’s my playtime,” it whispers, and out pops the rest of its body.

With a white hood that extends into a cloak, the body that houses “it” is stiffer than a living being’s, being best approximated as like to a doll. In the dim light of dawn, “its” white face is the only thing visible, floating in the darkness.

“I’ll help myself to this~”

One of the gold pins holding Rino’s hair up disappears.

“And this-”

The bracelet around Reiyu’s wrist is gone.

“I’ll borrow this, too, okay?”

Three glass marbles from the pouch at Rona’s hip. These strangely shaped beads are normally used to tell the future, but when the girls are bored, they serve as toys, as well.

“Oops- this one’s pretty important, hm?”

One of Zonne’s beloved giant folding fans.

Finally, “it” turns to the egg, and puts a hand on its hip, thinking. “Hmm. . . I want to play a trick on you, too, but you have nothing to steal, huh? Boring.”

“You won’t be able to steal anything at all anymore.” Zonne’s voice, trembling with anger, comes from behind “it”.

“Eh- ?”

-

Spinning this way and that, suspended from a tree, “it” cries and makes excuses. “Trickstar! I can’t believe you’d tie me up like this! Trickstar!”

“Trickstar. . . is that your name?” Rino asks.

“Probably, yes. . . since in the beginning, I only knew that word.”

“You. . . I thought it was weird that the marbles kept disappearing!”

“Oh! Those, those are pretty! I love them. Everyone looks like they’re having so much fun, playing with them!” Trickstar perks up.

“Oi, where’s your shame? Your remorse?!” Zonne, who had been pretending to sleep until then, had been able to capture Trickstar in the blink of an eye- as expected of a Blaze Maiden, as well as a prominent martial arts practitioner.

“I’m sorryyyy! It was only a little joke!”

“Stealing is not a joke, it is a punishable crime,” Reiyu warns in a tone as cold as ice. “In some towns and villages, it’s punished with an instant death penalty. . .”

“Eek!” Trickstar, still tied up, turns pale all the way to the tips of its fingers and trembles.

“Oh, Reiyu. It returned all the things it stole, and even apologized. . .” begins Rino.

“You’re always too soft, Rino,” replies Zonne.

“That’s a good thing, though!” Rona laughs.

“Very well. If you promise to never steal our things again, we’ll let you go. - However, I want to ask you two things, Trickstar.” Reiyu says. Behind her, in the light of sunrise, moons of various sizes, as well as a planet that colors the heavens, rise into the sky. “One. You are able to travel into the ‘empty dimension’. So, those bindings mean nothing.” “Mhmm. You’re right, Reiyu.” Trickstar slips out of the ropes as if they don’t exist at all, and poses with hands and legs outstretched. “Playing at being tied up sounded interesting, so I did it! This is just another prank. It was fun, right, Zonne?”

Zonne’s face twitches. At some point, Trickstar even learned their names.

“Another question. Why us?”

“Did you want our things? We’re not carrying anything valuable. . .” Rino adds.

“No, Rino. You’re very valuable and special. For some reason, when I fell to this planet Cray, I thought, ‘I have to be here.’ There are people who I’m meant to meet, and who I’m supposed to be with.”

“So, you’ve been following us for three days?”

“Ehe, so you’ve known since the beginning, Rona.”

“Wait a second. You just said that you fell, right? Are you not from this planet?” Rino asks. By the way, aliens and extraterrestrials are not very unusual to the people of Cray.

“I don’t know- I don’t remember. I mean, Rino, you guys don’t remember when you were born, right?”

“That’s true. . . Hm. This conversation is over. Go where you like, Trickstar- but don’t steal.”

“That’s just boring, Reiyu. Hey, take me with you! I’ll be useful, I promise.”

“Look, you. We’re not exactly on vacation, here.” Zonne frowns.

“I know- you’re protecting the dragon’s egg, the Sunrise Egg. Rino stands in front of everyone and prays to the egg every morning, right? Egg-kun sits back and puts its feet up, all smug. It’s really funny!”

“You saw that, too?” Rino mumbles, surprised. It had been decided at the temple that the Sunrise Egg is Rino’s egg, so she leads the prayers, too.

“Our hands are already quite full,” says Reiyu.

“Then, how about this? If you travel about half a day to the west from here, there’s a pretty rich village that’s planning to hold a festival tomorrow. There, I think you can eat and buy all the things you need without worrying. Everyone decided they want to travel on their own power, without relying on others, right?”

“Wow. . .” says Rona.

“Wait, wait. You don’t just disappear, you can teleport to faraway places, too? That’s amazing.” Zonne blinks.

“. . . Rino, you decide. This is your egg and your journey, after all.” Reiyu turns to Rino.

“Eh- ?! Ah, what should I do. . .” With the spotlight suddenly focused on her, Rino becomes flustered. Her gaze automatically turns to her egg, the Sunrise Egg.

The Sunrise Egg is already awake.

It plops over to Trickstar, and comes face to face with this strange clown.

Stare.

The Sunrise Egg stares at Trickstar.

Staaare.

The Sunrise Egg stares at Trickstar.

Staaaaaaare.

Finally, the egg headbutts Trickstar with a crash, and starts happily dancing. Trickstar dances too, drawing a circle to the rhythm. Their cheers grow, filling the wasteland campground with all the bustle of a festival. “Yahoo-!”

The four maidens look at each other.

Rino laughs and gives her answer. “Okay. Let’s bring it along, according to the egg’s guidance. May the great sun and holy dragon smile upon you.”

“May the great sun and holy dragon smile upon you.” The other three repeat the line in harmony.

And finally, the sun ascends, shining upon the lands of planet Cray. A day in the lives of the Blaze Maidens and the dragon’s egg begins.

Now that they have Trickstar, this day marks the start of a new journey.

#trickstar #cardfight vanguard #cardfight!!vanguard #overdress #vanguard overdress #カードファイトヴァンガード #カードファイトヴァンガードオーバードレス #cardfight!! vanguard overdress #kondou yuuyu #kondo yu-yu #kondo yuyu #dragon empire #translation #english translation #japanese translation

[sparklyicecube]

Scorching Romance

I JUST FINISHED ONE OF THE BEST MANHWAS EVER AAAAAH

Why you should read it: a review? Suggestion? Anyways.

Name: Scorching Romance

Status: Completed!!!

Length: 90episodes (pretty long but it’s worth it I swear)

Genre: Highschool romance

Quick summary:

‘Cursed girl who is constantly hot meets cursed boy who is constantly cold.’

Ok so:

Despite the ‘cursed’ parts we honestly don’t have magic running rampant in this place besides the fact that our two main characters genuinely feel really hot and cold to the point that Ember (the girl and hot one) can heat stuff up and give burns with body temperature, but mostly it is set in our normal universe. The start of the whole thing is pretty slow-paced with me not really that invested, but not turned off by anything. It gets reaaally action packed eventually and I nearly cried ahahahah.

The author is genius. The characters are honestly not one-dimensional, no matter what the story tries to trick you into believing, and the best part is that they introduce sooooo many characters in but by the time the story ends, there are virtually no loose ends and you are invested in all their stories. They don’t take advantage of misunderstanding nearly as much as they could realistically actually do and it will make you squeal!

I would say the overall theme of the entire thing is forgiveness and owning up. The amount of times someone said sorry for doing something awful and I genuinely believed them, because that ‘sorry’ just held all that weight.

Ten outta ten would recommend!!!

Spoilers from this point on! (I rant about my feelings on it down here)

OKAY SO THEY ARE SO CUTE I SHIPPED THEM SO MUCH AND AAAAAAAAA

I loved the dynamic between them and I love how they ended up being really truthful to each other and Aspen didn’t lie even though he thought about it :...) they’re so sweeeet

I looked at the chapter number when their curses broke the first time and was like waiiiiit. I then also wondered whether the rest would be just fluff scenes (not that I’m complaining) but the author really said “BUCKLE UP IT GONNA GET SERIOUS”

The author put so many references to little things that happened and tied everything together so nicely??? Also Trevor, idk when I started rooting for you but you were real. You and Moxie should get together. (You will never make it as a kpop idol because your bullying scandals) 

I think overall, I really liked how it all came together and ended?? They even had that Rocky dude go with someone else??

The forgiveness/repenting aspect of the entire thing was really amazing. Aspen kept saying ‘sorry’ for so much at the start and throughout, yeah he was genuine but he was also overusing it. Later on, ‘sorry’ became such a powerful word that was used in such serious cases, like when Harry’s grandma cursed Ember or when Monica burned the place down.

Can we talk about Harry???

HARRY is BEST BOY

At the start, even though I knew that it was Aspen and Ember I was like ‘does Harry sorta like Aspen though?’ and low-key shipped it but then he said ‘he’s too good for you’ and there was the whole “I DO NOT LIKE ASPEN” when being bothered by Ember and I think that is actually really sweet. We never get the answer to why he sticks with Ember, well, at least not explicitly, but we definitely know why. 

1. He and Ember were childhood friends, he saw her deteriorate to such a serious state and is willing to stick with her because they’re friends (serious state being both her heat and her temper as he sees how she did actually attempt to be nice to people only to be backstabbed)

2. She’s been there for him when very few people have. When Aunt Monica left him Ember was right next to him, that makes them very close and also feel like they’ve been through a lot, and so are willing to stick to each other more.

Harry not having any romantic interests in Ember or Aspen just makes him so much more appealing, he teases them, is there for them, and we can see how amazing he is and without having any romantic unerlying agendas! Love fuels a lot of stuff in this manhwa but so does platonic love and I love that for him. I also don’t think Megan deserves him, because she is too immature and honestly, still hasn’t figured out love yet. (Especially with the ‘buying him ice cream was worth it’) like GURL have you SEEN his HOUSE he does not need a sugar parent. Even until the end she eats ice cream with him, which just shows she can’t open up to him and she was honestly pretty childish thoughout the whole thing. Either way I love how the author baited us several times with Harry for us all to be like ‘Could it be??’ and then ‘I knew it.”

AMBER AND ASPEN”S RELATIONSHIPPPPP

I love how the whole thing played out to be honest. At the start, I didn’t like Ember’s attitude, or Aspen’s attitude but they both grew so much as people and their character growth through was just so amazing! You could see so many parallel’s where Aspen stands up for himself, where Ember is more restained, it’s *chef’s kiss* amazing!

One of the best bits was when Aspen couldn’t bring himself to lie to Ember, which was what I feared. It seemed like the worst misunderstanding ever but Aspen managed to trust Ember enough and vice versa, showing how far they’ve come. The two of them are now able to banter and converse freely, which both of them trusting in their love and relationship so much! 

Aspen trusting Ember was the bit thing I think, if he couldn’t trust Ember they would keep having these issues, but Ember had grown to be more trustworthy and Aspen had grown to be stronger and have better self-confidence.

At episode 64 or smth where Ember’s curse broke and I thought ‘are they going to have another 30 chapters of just fluff?” (not that I’m complaining), and they didn’t, but the fluff they did have was so cute!!! Also when Ember collasped and hugged Aspen after ‘faking’ a relaspe *sobs* it was so cute :.)

This next part will be a collection of little observations I found (there are probably still more) that I though were super cool!

1) Aunt Monica’s cigareete. We see her throw it as a little thing like a (I’m leaving/I’m outta here) thing when we first find out that she was Harry’s aunt, then we later find out that Harry’s grandma cursed Ember because of a fire from a cigarette butt from him. At that point no one realises what happened yet. Then she has an epiphany when some person from some car throws at her when it’s all dramatic (I thought that was Lucifer or someone going to burn her originally but it was just a random person) and then we find out it was all her! We even find out that the fire happened on the day of her leaving and no one realised! Anyways...

2) Hypnosis. Monica says in her little ‘angels club’ thing that they must wear sunglasses all of the time lest they hypnotise people. I read that, realised that Lucifer was from there, then went ‘wait a second...’ because Lucifer hypnotised Moxie!!! Several times!!! Cool easter egg I love

3) Remembering things. Aspen didn’t remember Monica from when he was so young, only his mom did, because Aspen was 1. Young and 2. Monica didn’t have much of an impression on him. I like it when author’s decide how much people can remember because let’s face it, even when we’re not children we don’t remember what we ate yesterday morning. Also, Ember not remembering that Monica told Harry to think of her as his mom. Same logic, Ember was young and it had waaaay more of an impact on Harry than anything. More than that, Monica left the next day and it would seem like an irrelevant detail technically.

4) Names. I love how they actually tied in names with meanings, it made it so easy to remember the names and it also made it not really weird and obvious (I’m looking at you J.K. Rowling) but integral to the story. One could predict what role they had in the story by their name. Rocky’s name particularly threw me off a bit, because I could tell it was based off the ‘Rocky mountains’ but was unsure of whether that was related to ‘cold water’ and just decided that it was, but it wasn’t as Aspen’s. Making him just ‘water’ was really nice because it gave us reason as to why Ember seemed to be helped by him but also make him just out of the picture as well.

5) The ice storage. Making the bodyguards faint and be cold too, especially wen they didn’t really coma (or at least, the second one) because we knew you had to go in involuntarily to no be in coma, very good detail.

6) Aspen still having the misunderstanding that Ember was up on that roof saving him to this day because it was never disputed. Ever.

There are totally loads more than that but I need to re-read it a few more times to spot them I suppose!

I think the only hing I want more content of in the whole thing is from Aspen’s dad. His guilt after what he heard his son and wife went through, his bonding with Aspen, him and his family, I feel like that was the only thing that was left unfinished and that I’d want to see more of. 

Finishing it off with a- how are you reading this part??? You must really like reading me ramble. Anyway, that might or might not be all from me on Scorhing Romance, I’ve been getting into manhwas lately and especially finished ones (bcs duh) so these rants might come in a bit more frequently but who knows.

Bye!

#scorching romance #scorchingromance #hongchi #aspen cha #ember kim

[therealsaintscully]

[TJLC] Distracted by AGRA (or the many hints about personification of death in The Six Thatchers)

PLEASE CONSIDER THIS A WORK IN PROGRESS. IT’S NOT PERFECT BUT  I HAVE SOME GOOD IDEAS HERE, I THINK, SO KEEPING IT FOR NOW.

A FEW DISCLAIMERS: - I’m not a native English speaker and this wasn’t betad, so excuse the less-than-perfect English (although you’re about to find out what native language actually is). - I’m very new in the fandom and in reading/writing meta, this would be my second meta post tbh, so excuse the amateurism. - Everything I’m about to write here is based on very quick and easy Google searches. I’m BY NO MEANS AN ACADEMIC! I’m not well versed enough in any form of literary analysis to claim more than that, but perhaps this post will be a breeding ground for new ideas. If you are an academic and you find these interesting - please go ahead and expand on them. - Lastly, this may have been picked up before by other meta writers and if so - I’m not aware of it, as I’m quite new to this fandom.

tl;dr: The Six Thatchers seems to be full of hints about the personification of death and cultural/religious representations of it, in a way that may even hint that that Mary = death, and/or that Moftiss were very preoccupied with the idea while writing it. It should be noted that I find these tidbits interesting in the context of well-established TJLC theories I’ve been reading up on a lot lately, namely EMP and M-Theory. I found these details interesting in the context of reading TST as something that’s happening in Sherlock’s MP as he’s dying and suspecting that Mary is dangerous and perhaps even linked to Moriarty.

AGRA > Samarra > The Four Angels of Death

As these things always go, I’ve been re-watching episodes while researching my WIP fic ‘Turned’. I have this new habit these days of only listening, instead of actually watching the episode in search of a fresh perspective. This time I was blown away, once again, by Sherlock and Mycroft’s conversation about AGRA. It’s a VERY odd conversation considering the topic, and what caught my ear this time was Mycroft mechanically reciting facts about the city of Agra. Why Agra, I asked? What’s so important about it? Nothing, the way I see it. One search led to another and I looked up Samarra, thinking perhaps I’ll find some connection between the two cities, but couldn’t.

The search for Samarra and the parable about it led me to the Appointment in Samarra wiki page, which mentions that the title of the book comes from a retelling of an ancient Mesopotamian tale by W. Somerset Maugham (the source of the next quote is here):

"The Appointment in Samarra" (as retold by W. Somerset Maugham [1933])

The speaker is Death

There was a merchant in Bagdad who sent his servant to market to buy provisions and in a little while the servant came back, white and trembling, and said, Master, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me. She looked at me and made a threatening gesture, now, lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate.  I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me. The merchant lent him his horse, and the servant mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went. Then the merchant went down to the marketplace and he saw me standing in the crowd and he came to me and said, Why did you make a threating getsture to my servant when you saw him this morning? That was not a threatening gesture, I said, it was only a start of surprise.  I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I had an appointment with him tonight in Samarra.

There is also a very interesting study guide link from this website, which asks some very interesting questions about tale, such as Maugham’s decision to make Death a non-omniscient narrator of this tale, as well as a woman. I’ll return to Death being referred to as a woman later. However, since I have no expertise in literary readings, I’ll leave it to others who might be to add some more here.

More below the cut:

The version of the story in TST is a bit different; the servant is absent from the tale; it is instead the merchant who has the nighttime appointment with Death in Samarra after being startled to see Death that morning in the Baghdad market. (This note was taking from a wikipedia entry about another - apparently-  very deterministic play by Maugham, Shepey.)

Anyway, the Appointment in Samarra wikipedia mentions that Maugham’s story comes from a much older version recorded in the Babylonian Talmud, Sukkah 53a.

The Talmud is the central text of Rabbinic Judaism. I’m a Hebrew speaking Jew, though an atheist one who isn’t well-read in religious texts at all, but I was intrigued enough to look up the Hebrew Talmud version of the text (in fact it’s originall in Aramaic, but wikipedia offers a Hebrew tranlsation). A quick Google search led me to the wikipedia page about the personification of death, and that’s when things got interesting.

Under the section about the grim reaper in Judaism, a story from the Talmud is mentioned, which seems to be another version of the Appointment in Samarra story. Here’s the story, translated by Google Translate, because I couldn’t find an English version:

The Babylonian Talmud tells of a sage, Rabbi Bibi, the son of Abiy, whose angel of death was often in his company. Rabbi Bibi heard the angel of death ask his emissary to name a woman named Miriam (Mary) who was a hair dresser (the future mother of Jesus). The messenger of death accidentally killed another woman named Miriam (Mary) who was a teacher. The angel of death said to his messenger: "I asked you to kill Miriam the barber and not Miriam the teacher." The messenger of death replied: Then I will bring Miriam the teacher back to life and bring before you Miriam the barber. The angel of death said to him: If you have already brought Miriam the teacher, leave her with me along with the rest of the dead. The angel of death asked his messenger: How did you manage to kill the teacher Miriam even though it was not her time to die? The messenger of death replied: She was killed before an opportunity to kill her - she was fiddling with the stove with ember in her hand to clean the stove. Inadvertently she caused a burn in her leg - and when a person was harmed and his determination of his time to die was undermined - so I had a chance to kill prematurely. The sage, Rabbi Bibi, asked the angel of death: Do you have permission to kill people before their pre-determined time has come? The angel of death answered, "Yes, for it is written, 'There is no one who has perished without judgment.' 

(According to wikipedia, this story is taken from תלמוד בבלי, מסכת חגיגה, דף ד, עמוד ב – דף ה, עמוד א).

AGR(A?M?)

Alright, I said, two Marys, escaping death but then meeting it eventually. It happens.

But as I read on… that Hebrew wikipedia page mentions another personification of death, the angel of death Azarel. Azarel has three ‘colleagues’ (e.g archangel) in Islam (and in some variations, they also exist in Judaism and Christianity): Jibrail (Gabriel), Israfil, commonly thought of as the counterpart of the Judeo-Christian archangel Raphael, and Mīkhā'īl (Michael).

So wait, that’s -- that’s Azarel, Gabriel, Raphael... as in AGR(A)?  Whoa.  That fourth angel mentioned in Islam is Michael - which doesn’t hold up with AGRA - but could that be a coincidence? We’re told two things about BBCSh’s AGRA, but we can’t really know they’re actually true. The first one is that Mary claims it’s her initials, which we later learn is possibly not true - John gets mad realizing it’s another lie. The other thing is that Mary claims to be ‘R’, for Rosamund, but we can’t be sure about that either. However, another cool detail: in Christianity, Raphael is generally associated with an unnamed angel mentioned in the Gospel of John, who stirs the water at the healing pool of Bethesda. Yes - I know, the M really doesn’t fit there, but M really is a character that stands out in the BBCSH universe, doesn’t it?

Moving on to more cultural references of the personification of death the Hebrew wikipedia page offers, note that I haven’t read the first and it’s been years since I watched the second:

Death with Interruptions

In Death with Interruptions by José Saramago, they mention, death is a woman, and she falls in love with one of her future victims. She decides to spare his life: Every time death sends him his letter [notifying him of his imminent death], it gets returned. Death discovers that, without reason, this man has mistakenly not been killed. Although originally intending merely to analyse this man and discover why he is unique, death eventually becomes infatuated with him, so much so that she takes on human form to meet him. Upon visiting the cellist, she plans to personally give him the letter; instead, she falls in love with him, and, by doing so, she becomes even more human-like.

Chess and The Seventh Seal

Another reference is the film The Seventh Seal, about a knight returning from a crusade, and discovers his land his ravaged by plague. The knight encounters Death, whom he challenges to a chess match, believing he can survive as long as the game continues. Does that remind you of any particular promo pics?

What I find interesting in all these references, is that they all seem to deal with questions regarding ‘dealing with death’ that, in the context of EMP for example, can be seen as Sherlock ‘running simulations’ (or asking philosophical questions) on how to deal with his current situations:

- ‘Do you have permission to kill people before their pre-determined time has come’? (Can people time die before their pre-determined time? Can people escape pre-determined death?)

- Can you interrupt death with love? Was Mary supposed to kill John, fell in love with him and thus his death was postponed? Is John still in danger?

- What can one do to postpone death - perhaps challenging it to a game, hoping for survival as you distract it?

Tagging other meta readers/writers who I think might enjoy this ; let me know if you don’t - I won’t tag you again): @sarahthecoat​​, @devoursjohnlock​​ @inevitably-johnlocked​​ @possiblyimbiassed​​ @waitedforgarridebs​​ @tjlcisthenewsexy​​  @loudest-subtext-in-tv​​ @therealsaintscully​ 

#meta #bbc sherlock meta #emp #m-theory #TJLC

[problamaticparagraph]

The old hunter:

Fanciful notions never appealed to Boris.

He much preferred what was in front of his face.

Up to now anyway.

The snow collected on his cloak, making it heavy and hard to move his shoulders.

There was a time he would have cared about that, the time when at a moment’s notice- he’d need to heft the weight of his sword.

But not now.

Now he was an old man and now monsters where more frequent, but impossible to fight.

Boris sat by his smouldering campfire, watching the flames. Occasionally he’d throw a lump of wood on the embers that would catch and prolong his only source of warmth. Boris liked fire, it hurt of cause. If you were stupid with it. Then again if you were smart it could cook a meal or dive away wolves or light the way. Boris liked fire.

He didn’t speak. There was no one to speak to, so he didn’t but Boris enjoyed the sound the bards sometimes made. So, he hummed a tune. Short and simple sounds that didn’t really have much of a structure, but it made the landscape feel less lonely.

He’d make it to a town in the morning, he’d have to see people and if no other option presented itself, talk to them.

Boris didn’t like people, they… where difficult but for now Boris had the evening. The howl of the wind made Boris think of the cry of yetis, how guttural they were, the power, the violence. Boris took a deep breath and for a moment could almost smell the stench of their hide.

That night, he happily slept under the vail of the stars dreaming of frost covered beast trying to tear him limb from limb.

----

He woke with the sun in his eyes and about a foot of snow around his body, his louche warm flesh left unfrozen by the layers of furs from rare creatures.

Begrudgingly Boris gets to his feet and begins walking toward the distant coeloms of cooking fires.

As he strides through the deep snow, after about thirty meters from is buried camp, the cracking of ice comes from under Boris’s feet.

“River… Fuck…”

The icy water closed over Boris’s head, for a moment he imagined massive pair of jaws about to close over him.

No churning water. No razor teeth. Just freezing water and the bed of the river lit by dull grey sunlight through the ice.

Holding his breath, Boris sawm under the ice to the far bank, drew is well aged sword, and plunged it into the ice, carving a hole that could accommodate his bulk.

Should anyone have been watching the frozen over river bank, which no one was but if they had been they would have seen a section of snow covered ice sink out of sight and then followed a large blank faced man lumbering out of the freezing water as if this near death experience was more boring than tax filings.

Ice formed in Boris’s hair and in the pelts covering his body as he entered the small town. People watched in confusion as this massive man covered in ice tracked ice onto the cleared area of snow. This man was clearly a barbarian but he wasn’t screaming for drink and women, nor money. He just walked into town and asked where the nearest inn was in an old language.

After several people not understanding him, one old man was able to point him in the right direction.

Then Boris sat at the bar, the man behind it took some time before asking but inevitably asked if he wanted a drink. Boris, his furs steaming gently in yhe warmth looked confused and mined chugging an invisible glass, the barman nods. Boris shook his head and reaches to a coin pouch, placing three of its coins on the counter.

Boris bit his lip and tried out this new language, “SSStories.”

The barman raised an eyebrow.

Boris try’s a further faze, “Bar, Hear, Everything.”

The barman looked around the empty room and starts rambling about various rumours. Boris let him talk without really listening until the man got to a word he knew. He raised a quieting hand, “Say, Again.”

The word repeated but covered with other drivel.

“Grateful.” Boris sits up and leaves the Inn.

Boris made his way to a leafless tree at a small way from the town, far enough that they were unlikely to try and talk to him but close enough to not be inconvenienced should he need return.

Boris sat at the base of the tree and pondered about the word.

“Dragon.”

It was an old word, older than him and that was something. He’d seen them, great hulking things, swarming like wasps and tearing at towns like they’re great walls were made of sand. He hadn’t fought them though. Not once.

Everything else yes. Trolls, defiantly. Ogres, sure. Gorgons, difficult but yes. Leviathan, with enough planning.  Fay, one or two. Giant spiders, absolutely. Orcs, by the dozen but never a dragon, not one drake. Monsters where getting fewer and further between. The last thing he’d slain had been an elk. The last vagally interesting thing was a damn nymph. Hardly a challenge for a dagger, let alone his well-honed blade.

The man had mentioned the new name for a distant peek, a foolish thing; no Drake ever dwelt there.

Nevertheless, hope burned is Boris’s soul. Hope that perhaps this tall tale was true. That perhaps he could finally find a Darke, that he could find a path forward, away from all this strangeness.

----

Boris sat under the tree for a long time. After a few hours a woman from the town came and tried to ask Boris something. He gave her an impassive look and tried to deduce what she was talking about.

“Need. No. Food.” He concluded waving a dismissive hand. After some time spent with her standing passively.

The woman looked confused and repeated her question.

Boris’s brow creased. “No. Roof. Have many pelts.”

The woman repeated herself again.

Boris stood up in mounting confusion. “Not. Understand.”

The woman reached into a bag at her side and withdrew a piece of parchment and a quill.

Boris took a step back, his eyes locked on the paper.

The woman tentatively stepped forward and tried to press the evil fiddley tools into Boris’s hands.

Boris in a moment of shock took them and found himself staring at the page.

Perspiration pored of Boris’s brow as he looked uncomprehendingly at the first line. Then those areas around it, decorative. Completely unnecessary. After a moment even colder than the snow, Boris whipped his face on his sleeve and quietly handed the two items back. “Have no use for such things.”

Boris left after that.

He’d considered buying some food before going but this place was too odd and there would be wolves on the way, he had made a plan now anyway.

That page really bothered Boris. The strange curly things inscribed there on, Nothing like that of his mother Tung. He could read, not very well it was true. Not very fast either, but at least in the old days people wouldn’t thrust sheets of paper at people clearly minding their own busyness.

The snow started falling again a few kilometres. Somehow that was comforting. It showed that at some level the world was still working. Tung’s change, people change, everything changes but snow will always fall.

Boris wore many skins. They were trophies of his kills, marks of pride but Boris liked the cold; it remined him how good warmth was.

That made him think about dragons. Most of them couldn’t breathe fire but they all loved the stuff. Polished there scales up really good, everyone knew they were vain as cats.

Some people said they hadn’t died, simply- left. Gone somewhere else, some far undiscovered land.

Boris didn’t know where he stood on that. Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t.

Boris went over the horizon in pursuit of this supposed peek. Headed west.

After days of snow, ice and old dreams of fighting in-human evils. Boris spotted a coelom of smoke.

As Boris neared it, music flowed over the snow.

Boris stopped, listening. It was an old song. Played amateurishly but Boris had though it good enough to insight some nostalgia.

And then a discord. Nostalgia died. The wind blew cold.

In the same tune, the same key something new echoed out over the snow.

Boris Approved the small lodge, the familiar feeling of twigs raking over his skin making him think of great Ents trying to smash him into the dirt. He stopped and waited in the lee of a great pine; it’s needles reminiscent of spines in Boris’s mind.

After some time, listening Boris approached the tiny log hut. He loomed as the approached, the music faultered into silence.

“Song. Change. Why?”

The young man opened and closed his mouth in panic. Boris looked at him for some time. After a while the boy seemed much paler than when Boris hard first seen him.

“WHY?” Boris repeated.

The boy’s flute fell from his shaking hands. He ran inside his tiny shack and slammed the door behind him.

Boris stood as the bolts of the door shot home.

“Rude…”

Boris left after that, there was still a smouldering fire but he didn’t want to scare the man anymore then he already had.

----

The remainder of Boris’s journey was largely uneventful up until his destination, funnily enough people don’t tend to question a six-foot six man with a great sword on his back.

He’d had wolf the previous night, they were mostly genital creatures and he’d felt bad about killing it, but winter was reaching its peak and hunger drove them to hunt anything that moved. That and waste had no place on the road, he’d buried the bones properly after his meal; as a thank you.

Boris traipsed up the side of the mountain. His stride slightly diminished then from the start of his journey.

He neared the mouth of the cave and stood, outlined against the white of the snow; a clear target to anything within.

The snow blew.

Boris drew his sword.

The snow started to collect on it.

For a several minutes, Boris waited for something to happen.

The wind howled.

Boris sagged.

And sheathed his sword, turning his back.

“What do you want, little ape?” The voice was alien, old and rumbling, it was deep and regal. It was that of a beast of imagination.

Boris’s eyes lit up. Slowly, as to not insight hostility, he turned.

A black mussel protruded from the darkness of the cave, two meters from Boris; above its scaly black maw two blue-gold eyes shone in the shadows.

Boris very calmly, sat on the snow looking up at the thing.

“You are a warrior? You desire gold, I have none. You desire maidens, none are here. What for have you come? To slay me. You may try.” The drakes voice booms with gargantuan menace.

Boris pats his knee as he thinks.

“I want no gold, no women, no men, no blood. I come for other reasons.” Boris says thankful to be speaking to someone versed in his old language.

“Then why, ape? Answer.” The dragon withdraws slightly, as if preparing for something.

“Your people where evil but you only sought dominion. To rule all you saw. There is a new evil, more oppressive then you ever could be.” Boris says with uncharacteristic splendour.

“Taxes.” Boris says flatly.

There is a moment in which the dragon weighs its options. It cupped is jaw in its massive hands, “Tell me of these, ‘Taxes’.”

“Tithe. Penance. With no gods or kings. Can run from gods, can run from kings; cannot run from taxes.” Boris spits at the dirt.

“This evil has many allies, more than gods and kings?” Asked the dragon visibly intrigued.

“There minions have many names, ‘Secretary’, ‘Deputy of Hace RRR’, ‘Dave from accounting’…” Boris trailed into silence.

The dragon ponders for a few moments, “Some men with slips of paper came by a few months ago. Apparently, some lord owns this mountain now, they said I was… I believe ‘evicted’ is the word they used. Whatever they wanted I ate them on general principle. A few weeks later some other men collapsed part of my cave. It took days to dig my way out and when I did my gold was gone. It would seem these ‘Taxes’ can over-power even a drake. Perhaps I will burn them to the ground.”

Boris crosses his arms, “No. No blood. No more. We are both of the old world, the world before taxes and paperwork.”

The dragon cresses its scaly brow, “So? That makes us what? Obsolete?”

“Allies.” Boris reached behind him and allowed snow to collect on his hand. Then brought it around so the fresh snow was under the dragon’s nose. “We are of the same time,” closing his palm forcing the snow to melt and drip to the ground; “We no longer fit.”

The dragon’s voice emotes it rising boredom, “And what do you suggest?”

Boris wipes the damp from his palm, “I have travelled much, even with raiders in my youth. They had ships, good ships. I have seen distant lands, places that resist the grasp of taxes and building permits. No ‘Census’, no ‘most recent address in the last five years’; a place with no more ‘sir, ‘cave’ is not a recognised street address’.”

The dragon huffs hot steam in Boris’s face, “Interesting. How do you suppose we get there?”

“You can fly yes?” Boris says standing with a wide grin on his face.

The dragon stretched like a cat that weighed fourteen tones. “You intrigue me ape, very well; let us find this land.”

And they flew.

#dragon #parody #short story #fiction #fantasy #tax evaders #tax evasion #be gay do crimes #yes I 100% ship the dragon and Boris #times change

[fericita-s]

The Bloom Is On The Rye

Her ring was still loose on her hand but it felt like hers now as she rested it on Henry’s shoulder and then gripped him tightly, urging him to kiss her again.  She could feel his breath on her lips and his thumb just under her chin and the nearness of him was intoxicating, like she’d been drinking wine instead of eating berries all afternoon.

Emmry Forced Marriage Mercy Street/Oregon Trail crossover! Chapter 4 below, also on AO3

a continuation of In having new eyes by @jomiddlemarch​ and beta-ed into being better by @the-spaztic-fantastic​.  Thank you both for your contributions to this story!

They left Fort Kearney with ten yards of calico and ten yards of sheeting muslin, a dairy cow, new boots for Henry, and a dress that with only minor adjustments could be worn right away.  Emma didn’t like to think about what might have befallen the woman it originally belonged to.  She wasn’t the only one who had suffered hardship on the trail, but in many ways she was lucky.  Henry was able to replenish what stores were waning and to add the supplies that feeding another person required.  It became obvious at the trading outpost that others on the trail were selling off wares they had once treasured enough to take on a 2,000 mile trek, parlaying a cookstove or a piece of furniture into more flour or sugar or simply the promise of a lighter load and quicker travel.

As they drew closer to the North Platte River, Emma and Mary gathered serviceberry and gooseberry and chokeberry, staining their fingers purple and their lips and tongues too. Dr. Foster had heard of outbreaks of cholera around this heavily traveled area and warned them all to boil water before using it, an untested preventative measure he was nevertheless certain would help.  That was a sweaty task, but the walks for berry gathering were a delight. They never ventured so far as to let the dust of the wagon train out of sight, but Emma could tell exactly when Henry spotted them returning from these excursions.  Even from afar she knew the tight set of his shoulders, the way he stood at the front of the wagon, looking for them.  The way his face broke into a grin at the sight of her and he jumped off the wagon in a fluid motion to coax the oxen with a “Come up, come up” as they plodded along.

They returned to camp with full stomachs and full baskets, enough that Dr. Foster declared them safe from scurvy and Mary spoke of making pies for everyone, even that horrible Silas Bullen who leered at everyone and hadn’t stopped complaining about leg cramps all day.  When Silas began playing on his fiddle and Henry and Emma lingered over their fire with the Fosters nearby, Henry wiped a thumb across Emma’s lips and then leaned in to kiss her. 

“Your lips are purple.” He spoke against her mouth, which made it feel less chaste than it started, the simple press of his lips against hers not unlike the one at their hurried wedding.  Emma could hear Mrs. Brannon singing along to the mournful tune Silas was playing and it felt like a song just for them.

But meet me, meet me in the Ev'ning, 

While the bloom is on the Rye. 

But name the day, the wedding day, 

And I will buy the ring.

Her ring was still loose on her hand but it felt like hers now as she rested it on Henry’s shoulder and then gripped him tightly, urging him to kiss her again.  She could feel his breath on her lips and his thumb just under her chin and the nearness of him was intoxicating, like she’d been drinking wine instead of eating berries all afternoon.

The moon shines bright and clear;

Then pretty Jane, my dearest Jane,

Ah! never look so shy,

But meet me, meet me in the Ev'ning,

While the bloom is on the Rye.

Her mouth was open and she looked from his eyes to his mouth just as he formed the word “Emma.”

“Give her a flourish for me, young fella!” Silas shouted, his speech slurred by skullvarnish and the strings of his fiddle screeching to a halt.  Mrs. Brannan shouted him down and he started playing again, mercifully, as Henry pulled Emma by the hand to their wagon. Once inside, he dropped her hand and took a step away from her.

“Why don't you?” She asked, trying to make it sound like a joke. She was angry with Silas for ruining a moment where it seemed Henry was finally looking at her in the way she wanted and now his eyes were on the floor, like he’d never look at her again.  “If I'd have married him he would have done it.”

“That’s why,” Henry said, meeting her eyes and looking so solemn she thought of Jimmy’s name for him, Old Stone-Face.  “If we did that, if I did that to you...I would be no better than him.  And you deserve better than that.”

“You wouldn't be doing it to me.  We would be doing it together.” If she was still in Alexandria she would have stamped her foot, but of course if she was there none of this would be happening.  She was an expert in avoiding assignations not of interest and encouraging affection only when it wouldn’t ruin a reputation, but not how to convince her husband she wanted his touch. He swallowed and moved a bit closer, and she could see his face changing from stone to man once more. 

“I didn’t want to eat the fruit too early.  It would have made me sick. Both of us sick.” He cupped her cheek and she nestled into it eagerly, willing him to see her eagerness.  “I thought we could fall in love. I could love you. I didn’t want you to be obligated or grateful, I wanted you to love me too.  But if I took that - “ He trailed off, and Emma wasn’t surprised when the words he came back with were familiar ones from the Bible.  He used it to speak for him so often, especially when he had no words of his own. “Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires.”

She heard it for what it was, a promise to love her if she’d let him.  “I desire it, Henry.  I desire you.  I love you.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

And then his mouth was finally against hers and his hands on her waist, untying her skirts and then working at her back to undo the buttons she had carefully redone on the unlucky woman’s dress. When his hands touched her skin, it felt like fire burning, a bright spot of heat where his palms moved to cup her breasts and then graze her sides, embers flaring down into her belly and outwards.  She had the wild thought that the flames he had put out on her ruined dress he was now putting back in, stoking a flame that she wasn’t sure how to quench.

She ran her hands under his shirt and then around to his back, pressing him closer against herself, delighting in the sharp exhale he made as their hips connected. 

And then, the sound of a loud thud and Dr. Foster cursing, silence where there had been fiddle music, cries of alarm instead of the murmuring of weary travelers.  

“Cholera!” Dr. Foster shouted as they adjusted their clothes and ducked back out of the wagon.  “I’m sure of it.  Damn fool didn’t boil his water, I’d wager.”

Henry kissed her forehead and then left to help Dr. Foster move Silas’s prone body to the edge of camp.  Emma took several breaths before joining Mary to see what was to be done. She had never nursed, but then again she had never done a great many things.  

Author’s Note:  Boiling water was not known to be a preventative measure for cholera but in 1850s London Dr. John Snow (really) isolated the cause of a cholera outbreak to a water pump, so I figure it is not too outlandish for Jed to have formed his own ideas a little bit earlier about cholera and its spread.

Overlanders did more often walk than ride, gathering berries and fuel for fires as they went.  Oxen were not driven by reins but rather voice commands and whips.

The Bloom is in the Rye was a popular song at the time wagon trains were moving west.  

“Give her a flourish for me, young fella!” is the best line out of the musical 1776, spoken by delegate Stephen Hopkins from Rhode Island to Thomas Jefferson as he announces he is going home to Virginia to see his wife. I can’t imagine Stephen and Henry are related, since Henry would never say anything remotely like that, even if we want him to.  

Skullvarnish was whiskey cut with molasses to make it last longer which sounds like just about the least appetizing thing I can imagine, and exactly what Bullen would drink. 

“Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires”  is a verse from Song of Solomon and I’m sure it made an impression on Henry because it’s in the book three times at least: 2:7; 3:5; 8:4.

#mercy street #mercy street advent #emmry #the oregon trail

[razorblade180]

RWBY Melody 9

🔥Let’s shake this up! Now the category could be anything!!!!🔥

Oscar:(Oh thank god I might be saved)

Nora:Lucky you Jaune. Now you don’t have to sing to Weiss.

Jaune:You really think they won’t pull that card eventually?

Nora:Yeah your right.......

Tyrian:How unfortunate, I would’ve loved to sing to my goddess.

Watts:Tyrian the thought of you singing a love song physically makes me uncomfortable.

Ruby:Who’s next oh great bonefire!!! *points to Weiss*

Weiss:Hey!!!!

Ruby:What!? I want to hear you put you all into a song.

Weiss:Then buy my album.

Jaune:That’s not the same as a live performance. You’re breathtaking in person.

Weiss:*blushing* I.....can’t I just eat in peace!?

🔥I already know the next person to be put to the test...🔥

Flame chains shoot out and wrap themselves up around Whitley. Suddenly the sky’s turn reddish as a portal opens. The chains tug him slowly but with a powerful grip.

Whitley:What!?

Adam:(I thought I had it rough)

Jacques:What is the meaning of this!?

🔥So many of you more stubborn people always refuse singing until force is applied. So I’ll just start with force. The chains shall snap only if the boy sings strong and true🔥

Neo:This place never stops throwing curve balls.

Whitley:*struggling* Couldn’t you have done this to an actual villain.

Ozma:Struggling makes the chains tighter.

Whitley:I’m...realizing that. To go through all this trouble only means one thing?

🔥Sing about your family. The thoughts and emotions you feel about the household. You only get one shot.🔥

Each Schnee focused their attention on the youngest member. He refused to look at his two sisters that genuinely showed concern, man who raised him to rule, or the mother who finally seemed to show true interest.

Whitley:.....

Weiss:Whitley.....

Whitley:Shut up!!!! I don’t need to hear anything you have to say. What any of you have to say! *trembling*

.......

Watts:Hmph, Jacques’s blood through and through.

Whitley:!?!?! And what does that mean?

Watts:Bitter and willing to go down in flames before feeling anything. It’s a bit respectable.

Whitley:You don’t know me.

Cinder:And a kid knows himself? Apparently the only thing you know is what daddy dearest tells you. It’s adorable really.

Weiss and Winter:Leave him alone!

Cinder:Why? He’s destined to fail anyways. He can’t sing a honest song if he can’t form his own opinion. He’s being dragged of right now because he doesn’t know what to sing. Worst part is, no one can tell him or it isn’t honest.

An eerie feeling fell over the crowd. Whitley didn’t say anything. His eyes hidden slightly by his hair as he looked down at the chains that dragged him to unknown danger. No one dared to move. No one, except Weiss and Winter who stood up and stared at their father with unforgiving hatred.

Jacques:What’s with the look?

Winter:Do you have nothing to say for yourself!? Your own son is in trouble, but you don’t even looked phased.

Jacques:What is there to do? Yes I made him obedient, but that’s all. For him not to get out of this situation is a failure of his own making. I never told him to stop thinking.

Winter:No, you just punished him whenever he thought for himself right? Like you did to Weiss; like you did to me? *shaking* What about you mother? Are you just gonna sit there and watch.

Her sunken eyes didn’t meet Winter’s. Instead they flat out ignored her all together. Simply turning away and trying to force the problem out as she grabbed another glass of wine. Everyone watched the soldier slump over in defeat. She looked on towards her brother who himself looked broken as he quietly kept being pulled.

Winter:Why do I always expect anything from you two anymore? I should learn my lesson by now.

Weiss:......Someone start playing music.

Whitley:!?

Everyone:What!?

Penny:But it won’t count if-

Weiss:I don’t want him sing, just listen. No rules say we can’t motivate him. Now can someone-

R_BY JNPR: *playing instruments*

Weiss:I know you can think for yourself right? You’re just scared of going again father; I get that. This is life or death though!

Whitley:I....I’m not like you two. Besides, what do care?

Weiss:*tearing up* Because you’re exactly like us!

*embers erupt violently around her*

Whitley:W...Weiss!?

Weiss: 🎶Take a moment to think of just flexibility, love, and trust.

Take a moment to think of just flexibility, love, and trust.🎶

🎶Here comes a thought, that might alarm you. What someone said, and how it harmed you.🎶

🎶Something you did,that failed to be charming. Things that you said are suddenly swarming and, oh~

You're losing sight, you're losing touch. All these little things seem to matter so much, that they confuse you.🎶 *grabs his hand*

🎶That I might lose you.....🎶

Whitley:......

Weiss: 🎶Take a moment remind yourself to, take a moment and find yourself. Take a moment to ask yourself if this is how we fall apart?🎶 *grips chains*

Weiss:🎶 But it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not.

It's okay, It's okay, It's okay, It's okay, It's okay.

You've got nothing, got nothing, got nothing, got nothing to fear.🎶

🎶I'm here, I'm here, I'm here.🎶*starts pulling*

Winter:...... 🎶Here comes a thought...🎶

Whitley and Weiss:!?!?

Winter:🎶That might alarm me. What someone said,and how it harmed me.

Something I did, that failed to be charming. Things that I said are suddenly swarming and, oh~ I'm losing sight, I'm losing touch.......... 🎶 *pulling chains*

🎶All these little things seem to matter so much, that they confuse me. That I might lose me.🎶 *trembling*

Whitley:.....

Winter and Weiss: 🎶Take a moment remind yourself to, take a moment and find yourself. Take a moment and ask yourself if this is how we fall apart?🎶

🎶But it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not, but it's not. *smiles* It's okay, It's okay, It's okay, It's okay, It's okay.

I've got nothing, got nothing, got nothing, got nothing to fear. I'm here, I'm here, I'm here.🎶

*pulls harder*

Winter and Weiss: 🎶And it was just a thought, just a thought, just a thought, just a thought, just a thought.🎶

🎶It's okay, It's okay, It's okay, It's okay, It's okay.

We can watch, we can watch, we can watch, we can watch them go by. From here, from here, from here.🎶

Winter: 🎶Take a moment to think of justflexibility, love, and trust.

Weiss:Take a moment to think of just flexibility, love, and trust......🎶 *embers fade*

Whitley:I thought you weren’t gonna sing.

Weiss:I was motivated. Whitley, screw are parents. Screw anyone who tells us what to do.

Winter:I refuse to let father just have his way but only you can decide that.

Jacques:Hmph....

Ironwood:Winter, your hands!

Ruby:Yours too Weiss!

They look down to see them starting to burn from the heat. Even so, they grit their teeth and grip it harder in order to buy as much time as they can. The trios feet slide frustratingly across the sand and get closer to the hellish portal. Their friends try to get closer before they’re promptly stopped by Ozma. The man smiles at them as he points at Willow who sits at a grand piano patiently waiting. Fingers anxiously over the keys.

Jacques:Willow!? What are you doing?

Willow:*tearing up* Whatever my kids need me to do.

Whitley:.......

Jacques:But-

Music starts magically playing the first few keys; catching her off gaurd. The crowd looks back a Whitley who’s eyes are closed as the chains shake. Willow quickly takes over the piano.

Whitley:🎶It's not simple to say, That most days I don't recognize me.

That these shoes and this apron, that place and its patrons...have taken more than I gave them.🎶

🎶It's not easy to know...I'm not anything like I used be.

Although it's true I was never attention's sweet center. I still remember that girl.🎶 *Looks at Winter*

🎶She's imperfect, but she tries. She is good, but she lies.

She is hard~ on herself.She is broken and won't ask for help.🎶

Winter:Hehe

*turns to Weiss*

Whitley:*smiles*🎶 She is messy, but she's kind. She is lonely.....most of the time.

She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie. She is gone, but she used to be mine.🎶 *frowns*

Winter and Weiss:*guilty* Whitley.....

Whitley:🎶It's not what I asked for. Sometimes life just slips in through a back door.

And carves out a person and makes you believe it's all true, and now I've got you.🎶 *glares at Jacques*

🎶And you're not what I asked for. If I'm honest, I know I would give it all back~! For a chance to start over and rewrite an ending or two...🎶 *Looks at Willow*

🎶FOR THE GIRL THAT I KNEW!!🎶

🎶Who'll be reckless, just enough! Who'll get hurt, but who learns how to toughen up!

When she's bruised~ and gets used by a man who can't love.....*sniffling*🎶

🎶And then she'll get stuck and be scared, of the life that's inside her.... *shaking*

Growing stronger each day, 'til it finally reminds her. To fight just a little, to bring back the fiiiiire in her eyes.......🎶

🎶That's been gone, but used to be......🎶

🎶MIIIIIIIINNNEEE~!!!!🎶

*chains shatter*

Whitley:*clenches chest*🎶Used to be.....🎶

🎶MIIIIIIINNNEEEE~.....🎶

Everyone:.......

Whitley:*crying She is messy, but she's kind. She is lonely..... most of the time. She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie.

*wipes face*

🎶She is gone, but she used to be mine.🎶

Willow’s hands slowly lifted off the keys as the song ended. Her eyes filled with sorrow and disgust for herself as she watched her son stare back at her in total agony. No one said a word; nor did the notice that the area was back to normal. Weiss wanted to break the silence but didn’t get the chance as her little brother took a look at all his family members with varying expressions. Then he started to walk off; not turning around once.

Whitley:I need a minute. Just gonna go clear my head.

Weiss:Al...alright.

Winter:......Hey, I hope you know-

Whitley:It’s alright, seriously. *stops walking*

Weiss:It really isn’t. We’re....sorry.

Whitley:......Not your fault. The three of us were all just caught in the crossfire. Still, thank you. I mean that. *walks off*

........

Both sisters go sit back down. This time closer to each other along with their friends.

Jaune:Are you....feeling alright?

Weiss:No, but I will. My mind is made up. I’m gonna sing my heart art, then use my earnings for Whitley.

Ruby:Well then we’ll help anyway we can.

Weiss:*smiles* Thanks.

#rwby melody #rwby #rwby au #jnpr #weiss schnee #winter schnee #whitley schnee #jacques schnee #willow schnee #author watts #tyrian callows #cinder fall #adam taurus #neo politan #oscar pine #penny polendina #jaune arc #rwby whiteknight #nora valkryie #rwby ozma #schneeblings #ruby rose

[mininky]

Love is for the birds baby!

Summary: You refuse to believe in love. It’s a concept created by big corporations like hallmark to get sad saps like you to buy their shit. But it’s all fake. You’re convinced of that at least until a series of events with a certain tattoo artist who you loved to hate makes you question everything you’ve ever known.

Pairing: Tattoo artist!Yoongi x (fem) reader

Genre/Warnings: Romance, slow burn, fluff, comedy, smut warnings include: unsafe sex (always wear a condom), oral sex (male & fem receiving), multiple orgasms, spanking, light breath play, mentions of squirting. Non smut warnings for lots of cussing. Lots.

Word Count: 13.3K

A/N: A special shout out to @mzpandylu for inspiring me with such odd dialogue. Also challenge accepted, a quivering starfish is mentioned.

   Love is a completely abstract and intangible concept to you, at least romantic love is. There are many forms of love. Familial love is a concept you sort of understand, let's just say that your home life wasn't the greatest but you do at least understand the concept. Platonic love you completely understand. But romantic love? You very secretly yearn to understand it, desperately trying to figure out how the fuck some people get so lucky that the spark happens. You've dated, sure. But try as you might none of them have ever made your head spin or your heart sing. Lust you get. You've had plenty of flings and even some longer relationships, but love? Love is for the birds baby.

   You refuse, absolutely refuse, to admit that you have in any way shape or form an interest in this bizarre concept that is the investment and endeavor of romantic love. You've carefully hidden away all of your fanfics and all of your shojo mangas and all of the things that others would say is honestly completely normal to keep questions at bay. You know that your friends are interested in love, and unlike you they have no shame in admitting it. They talk about it all the time. They fall in 'love' with each man they date. But you're convinced that's not love. It's something more than like, sure you'll give them that but you're sure that it'll all end eventually. Love isn't sustainable because it's all a lie. Maybe you're too romantic at being romantic, perhaps you've just been suckered into all these stories into believing that a whirlwind romance is possible until one day the crushing realization that it wasn't possible occurred. That the sparks of electricity and burning hot embers of passion aren't sustainable and aren't indicative of love.

   You were twenty, he was twenty-one. The two of you had been dating mutually for three years at that point, a lifetime in college years. Billy Johnson. Fucking Billy. He was smart and funny and he actually knew what a clit was, and he kissed you under the night stars and made you feel like you were in love. Maybe you were, but you like to think that the feelings you felt weren't actually that strong. It made the fallout easier. Which brings you to the fallout, that realization that romantic love is all a big corporate lie to sell shitty grocery store roses and cute snuggly teddy bears and dime back novels to sad sops like you. A marketing ploy. Not a reality. Fuck Plato for being the first to sell the idea of soulmates, and fuck Billy too. Billy Johnson was a cruel heartless asshole who fucked your best friend. And in one day you lost two loves, one romantic and one platonic. In turn, you gained a distinct hatred for romantic concepts and a world-weary view on relationships, waiting for the other shoe to drop every time you encountered someone new.

   You dated again after that, but now at the young age of twenty-six, you've decided that it's time to give up. Or maybe you gave up after Billy. You can't say you've ever actually given it a real try after that if you're being honest. You know when to call it quits. You refuse, absolutely refuse, to be a corporate sellout. And your feelings are in no way shape or form reflective of the animosity at being broken up with by Johny last week because you were too 'sarcastic' in the middle of your vacation to Busan. Too sarcastic your ass. You'll show that motherfucker sarcastic. God, sorry, you're getting off track here. Where were you again?

   Ah yes, love is for apparently everyone that isn't you. So you'll just be a cat lady. An affection earned entirely by ear scritches and feeding them. A reward system that makes sense. You take care of them and they tolerate you. Now that you understand. That makes sense. Why in the ever loving fuck would you try romance again when instead you can have a mutually beneficial understanding with something as cute as a cat that can't tell you 'I think you're a bitch' in a language you understand? Fuck Johnny, and Billy. And every other man for that matter.

   You're ruminating in anger as you order your coffee, eyes staring straight into the young and timid barista as you slap down the change. Poor kid, it's not his fault but today you just hate the world. You try to smile but you're pretty sure that just scares him more if the way his eyes go large and round in fear is anything to go by. Christ, you need to work on your people skills. And you're totally not thinking that because of that dick weasel who you've decided will no longer be named.

   Normally once you get your caffeine fix you're in a much better mood, but today the only thing you want to do is karate chop your own throat. Or maybe just play Red Dead Redemption 2 and kill a bunch of people in a completely legal way. Not online though, you really don't need another 13-year-old boy slurring about how much girls suck unless you want to unleash the crazy bitch inside of you to the point of no return. But unfortunately, you have bills to pay. Caffeine fixes to afford. Student loans to pretend you'll someday actually pay off except interest is a bitch. Which means going to work. Normally something you love, but today you're really not in the mood to edit another shitty sci-fi story where the physics of breasts go beyond the dudebro fedora lover that wrote the shitty thing.

   Be an editor they said. You love books they said. You'll be great they said. They hadn't warned you that being an editor at a major publishing house still meant reading through a painful amount of crap writing that you would, in turn, make all pretty and nice and somewhat more presentable garbage for public consumption with no acknowledgment or credit for all the hours you spent trying not to bash your screen in with your face. At least you were close enough to walk to work.

   You grab your piping hot venti quad shot vanilla latte (with soy) as you go back out into the frigid air. Your eyes are cast down on the pavement, trying not to bump into too many of the zombie state morning foot traffic as you make your way into the office. At least you have an office of your own, a salvation of peace and quiet away from prying eyes that allows you to wallow in self-pity safely. The rest of the day goes by in a blur, your normally somewhat antisocial personality becomes far more present as you hide away from even your beloved breakroom coffee pot to avoid too many interactions. You just knew that you would end up running into Susan. Nice gal, but she talks way too much and she set you up with Johnny no wait, the douche canoe. You forgot he must never be named again. The last thing you need is her bringing up how he dumped in you in the middle of your vacation.

   You're also the last one to leave tonight. For someone who didn't really want to step foot into the building, you sure do seem to be having a hard time getting out of here. But there are deadlines to meet and your vacation meant that there's a pileup of work that needs to be done. That and you really don't feel like going into your empty apartment to binge watch on Netflix while you host another internal pity party.

   By the time you're finally out the door and into the freezing winter night, you can feel exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. Or that might just be the joint pain that this super shitty winter is causing. That's another thing the world lied about, joint pain isn't just for old people. It's apparently also for future cat spinsters who hate everything no matter their current age. Your head is stuck on the last chapter you were editing, trying to make sense of how exactly you might be able to convince the author to scrap the whole damn thing politely as your nose picks up on the smell of a cigarette wafting over. Your stomach rumbles, brain shutting off as fingers twitch. God, it's been two years since you stopped smoking but it smells so painfully fucking good right now.

   Your face whips up as you see the small trail of smoke wafting over to you. It's the guy from the tattoo shop, Min fucking Yoongi. You should've known. The guy is hot you'll give him that. Eyes just sharp enough to give him that bad boy image when paired with his full sleeve tattoos and the crawling cherry blossoms on his neck. The chronic scowl that says 'try me' in a way that oddly makes him hotter. Hair that looks like he spends way too much time on usually. Today however he's decked out in a beanie and black leather jacket with pants just tight enough to make you wish he would turn around and walk away. But in the last year since you've unfortunately gotten to know him you know that he's every bit as snarky, bitchy, and firey as you. He's also as much bite as he is bark, although so far you've never been the one he's pointed his bite at.

   "(Y/N), I see you were working late again." He takes a lazy drag on his cigarette, eyes staring straight through you as his lips quirk up into a smirk.

   "Yoongi." Your eyes narrow in on his, fingers twitching at your side as you bite down the incessant desire to beg for a cigarette. You won’t break, especially not in front of him. Just because you’ve had a series of bad days doesn’t mean you actually need that cigarette.

   "Jesus, what's wrong with you? You seem even bitchier than normal. I guess this cold snap we're having is because the ice queen decided to control your body."

   "Har-har-har little man." He bristles at the jab and you can't help but cackle internally at your small victory (pun completely intended.) "No for your information the world is a cruel, evil bitch and yet again I fell for its corporate seductions and evil capitalist ploys."

   "Right, I'm going to nod my head and pretend I understood what that meant just so you don't kill me. Hey, so are you ever going to get that tattoo or not?"

   You reach into the trenches of your memory, recalling months ago on a particularly good day when you told this same tiny Satan that you wanted to get a tattoo. He had seemed oddly impressed that you wanted a snake on your upper thigh and all was well until he told you that he pictured you wanting some shitty positive statement, most likely placed on your collarbone or ribcage and adorned with little doves or a dreamcatcher or some other shit. Bleh. That's when he first learned that you are possibly insane and most certainly a bit of a bitch. It's all been downhill with him since, each run in turning into a battle of insults.

   He stubs out the little remaining part of his Marlboro before gesturing to the warm shop. "I've got an opening to do a consult if you wanna talk about it more."

   Perhaps this is it, maybe this is what you need to do. Something different. Something that doesn't include your usual routine of wake up, caffeinate, work, work, work, and Netflix binge all in between minor anxiety driven breakdowns. Besides, it's just a consult, not the actual tattoo. "How do I know this isn't an elaborate plan to eventually see me half naked?"

   Yoongi rolls his eyes as he opens the door to the shop, glaring at you as he speaks slowly. "You might be hot, but I have a feeling you'd be the type of girl to try to peg me with no lube. I prefer cuddling. Trust me, I'm not interested in getting you naked and seeing where it goes." You're thrown for a loop at that one, shuffling slowly behind him as your brain tries to make sense of it. You know you should be offended that he seriously thinks you wouldn't use lube, but Yoongi likes cuddling? The guy who scowls at life itself? The guy who you've watched physically throw out a neo-nazi who wanted a tattoo? The same guy who rides a motorcycle and refuses sugar in his coffee because he likes it as bitter as his very soul? Man, life is really fucking weird.

   You follow behind him tentatively, shocked to hear rather calm hip hop station on. Maybe you stereotype too much but you pegged him (pun not intended this time) as a Lamb of God kind of guy, definitely not a Dean and PH-1 fan. He takes you over to his office, gesturing at a free seat before he sits down at his desk. Every surface is covered with intricate artwork. From Japanese style tattoos to Sailor Jerry flash pieces to pops of dystopian Disney paintings. "So, you still thinking about doing the same thing?"

   "Yeah. Red Belly black snake. I'm thinking upper thigh/hip area." You stand up and move your coat to the side to point to the area.

   "That's a good sized piece. Have you thought about adding anything more to it? Maybe some hyacinths on the left and right of the snake, I'm thinking in maybe a pale pink so it doesn't offset the red in the snake too much."

   "You know what a hyacinth is?" You snort slightly, glaring back at him when he leans onto his elbows to shoot a look that he's probably hoping will kill you.

   "I'm a tattoo artist. Do you know how many fucking flowers I have to draw every day? Swear to god I should open up a flower shop next door and make a killing with my amazing arrangements." This time you give a full-blown laugh, shocked to hear him mirroring quietly. In all the time you've kinda sorta known him you've never heard him laugh. It's nice, deep, and the gummy smile he gives has your heart doing little flip flops that you absolutely refuse to analyze.

   You take just a beat too long to look at him, your head tilted slightly as you mentally murder the lone butterfly that has survived all of the anger you've culminated in the last few years. "How about a peony instead? I think it would look better."

   "We can do that. With the size you're looking for and all the color work I'd guess that we're looking at at least 6 hours if we want to make sure it's done right. We can split it into two three hours sessions. I charge $200 an hour so you're looking at at least $1200, but you might want to be thinking to around the $1600 range just to be safe. I also require a $300 deposit usually just for a consult and another $300 later but I figure I can always hound you if you don't come in." He opens up his computer, clicking away for a moment before adding, "I have enough time to get started this Friday night if you want? At 8:00."

   "Gee thanks for the trust. Yeah that all sounds good, I'm down."

   He nods quickly, hands grabbing at some paper as he starts making drafting up some rough sketches. You try not to invade his space as you look over the paper, brain desperately searching for a small talk topic. God, you've always been bad at this. "So...how long have you been a tattoo artist?"

   "Well I started my apprenticeship right out of high school at 18 so 10 years total, but as an actual artist only about 8 years." Interesting, so that would make him two years older than you. For some reason, you feel a need to put that in one of your mental files. "What exactly do you do at that giant office building down the street?"

   "I work for a publishing house in there as one of their many editors."

   Yoongi snorts, nodding his head as he keeps sketching away. "Yeah, I can see you working with books. Your creative insults suddenly make so much more sense."

   "I'll take that as a compliment." You lean back into your chair, taking in your surroundings a little more closely before focusing unabashedly at the man before you. His tattoos are on full display now that he's taken off his jacket. Almost all are black and white with small splashes of reds and pinks laced mostly on his neck where cherry blossoms fall delicately off a branch. His eyes are cast in complete concentration, lower lip bitten as he works. There's something painfully sexy about the image. You almost want to burn it into your brain to use for late night consumption.

   You aren't sure how long the two of you sit there in silence, but it's comfortable. There's something soothing about listening to the way his markers glide over the paper as soft music, buzzing tattoo guns, and chatter filters in fuzzily through the closed door. You can feel yourself finally start to relax, all of the earlier rage and grudges held at the world slipping away momentarily as you enter a near-meditative state just watching him work.

   Finally, he glances up, a smile on his face as he pushes the paper over the desk to you. It's beautiful, a little rough around the edges without the finishing touches but it's better than anything you thought of. "Wow, Yoongi this looks great."

   "It's just a rough drawing. I still need to work on some of the other touches but if you're good with that I'll get started on making the transfer later this week."

   "Yeah..." You words are quiet as you look at the picture, elation growing in your heart. You might turn into a cat lady, but at least you'll be a badass one. "Okay, so seriously though do you want me to put down the deposit now? I have no problem with that."

   "Nah, don't sweat it. Oh, but I do need your full name and number to actually book it. And don't give me some shit about this being a ploy for your number." You roll your eyes before giving him the information. Standing up slowly when he opens up the office door and leads you back out to light snowfall. "Alright, see you this Friday (y/n)."

   "See you Yoongi. Thanks again." As you turn back to send a smile something painfully familiar stirs in your brain when he flashes that gummy smile and sends you on your way.

---------------Friday----------------

   By the time Friday rolls around you've been through a whole litany of emotions. You're of course excited about the tattoo, that's not the problem. No the source of all evils is Min Yoongi. Sexy. Witty. Can handle your sarcasm. Enjoys cuddling. He's plagued your thoughts, gummy smiles invading your daydreams and inky tattoos hovering over you at night. It's been a long time since you've actually crushed on anyone. Dating as an adult is an entirely different experience. Usually, you know someone who knows them or met them on tinder and you're just praying that they aren't a secret serial killer and that you share enough interests to talk in between getting railed while praying for an orgasm. At least, that's been your shitty experiences anyway. You know that it isn't always the case considering that just about all of your friends have gotten magically engaged or married recently. But Yoongi? There's something about him that stirs up all of your previously assumed dead thoughts on love. All of the secret romantic pinings combines with lust in a painful swirl but luckily the thoughts you have of him are usually fleeting.

   You step forward into the tattoo shop after grabbing a bite to eat, two warm cocoas in your hand as you try not to freak out that the big event is finally here and you'll be face to face with tiny, sexy, tattooed satan yet again. The man behind the counter looks over at you, and you can't help but wonder for a moment if being really good looking is a requirement to work here. Deep dimples, sunkissed skin, glasses perched on his nose.

   "Hi, do you have an appointment?" You shake your head yes, staring at the floor for a moment before finally squeaking out that you're there to see Yoongi.

   "Ay, (Y/N)'s here!" He shouts out towards Yoongi's office and you see him strolling out just a moment later.

   "Jesus Joon, you've been spending too much time around Hobi. I think the whole shop could hear you." Yoongi steps around the desk eyeing the other cup before you hand it out to him.

   "It's just cocoa, I didn't lace it. This time. Also, it's made with soy milk." You can hear the man called Joon laughing in the background as Yoongi slowly grabs the cup and squints at it before taking a tentative sip.

   He gives a small nod that you assume is to signify satisfaction before he starts walking over to a curtained-off section in the back. "You ready to get started?"

   "Yep, all ready!" You take a sip of the cocoa and sit down on the tattoo chair slowly.

   "Alright, just check over this transfer and let me know what you think before you undress so I can put it on." You look over the image, heart warming up slightly at the brush of his fingers before you finally nod a silent affirmation. "I need words babe, is it good or not?"

   You can feel yourself bristle at the tone, sighing wearily before you finally bite out, "Yes, babe, it's perfect."

   "Cool. I'll leave you to get undressed, I'll be back in just a moment." The one shitty thing about the placement of your tattoo is that it will require not only pants to come off but underwear too. Before nerves can take over you strip quickly, laying back down on your side before you can think about it too much. Getting undressed faster than you can sneeze was probably a bad idea though because now you're forced to just sit there with your ass cheeks freezing and mind shutting down while you wait for him to come back. After a minute you hear him announcing that he's coming in before opening up the curtain.

   Your eyes are trained on the floors. Jesus, you wish you could get your tiles to glisten the way their's does. They must mop a thousand times a day, you can't even see a speck of dirt in the grout. The sound of him clearing his throat has you jolting a bit before turning around to glare at the sound of his laughter. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'm just going to disinfect the area and put the transfer on then I'll have you take a look and let me know what you think of the placement." You decide to go mute apparently as your only response is a feeble thumbs up before quickly turning to resume your ever so interesting study on what floor cleaner they use. Probably Fabuloso.

   You force yourself to stay stock still when you feel his warm hands on your hip as he cleans the area and peels the transfer on before he gives a light tap to your thigh. "Alright, take a look." With all the grace of a hospice patient you slowly swing your legs off and walk over to the mirror, trying to not pay attention to the fact that you're awkwardly half naked in front of arguably the hottest man who's admitted he enjoys cuddling before you finally relax at the sight of the transfer. "Man, this is going to look rad. Alright little satan, do your thing!"

   "Little Satan? Really? What happened to all your usual creative bitchiness? What was it you called me that one time?"

   "Oh! Degenerate Malfoy with a nicotine problem? Or was it wannabe colon inspector?"

   "Neither actually, it wasn't even something you called me now that I remember it. You once told me 'Ah I see the fuck up fairy decided to mess with my life and force me to see you yet again.' That's a good one by the way, I've used it a few times."

   "Glad I could help, but I wish I could copyright it so you could pay me the rights to use it." You try not to get too nervous as you hear him slip on his gloves and the needle buzzing ominously behind you. The pain won't be that bad right? "Relax, you'll be fine." His voice for once isn't laced with sarcasm. It seems that even the formidable Yoongi has a professional voice that he employs occasionally.

   After what feels like ages filled with anxiety-ridden thoughts you feel the needle prodding away, moving quickly while leaving tingling and ever slight burning sensations in its wake. It does hurt, but not to the point of being unbearable. "See it's not so bad, scaredy cat." You resist the urge to turn around and pummel him in his annoyingly handsome face.

   "If you weren't tattooing me right now I'd choke you out."

   "Kinky, but I prefer a chick to at least buy me a drink first."

   "Already did jackass, the cocoa remember."

   "Huh, you did didn't you. Okay, well it's still off the table for you. You'd probably keep going until I actually died."

   "Hell misses it's little satan though, I'd just be helping you reunite with all your friends."

   "Do you have a snarky remark for everything princess?"

   "Nah, depends on the day and the person. You're a special one Min Yoongi, something about you makes me want to bludgeon things."

   "Oh, what a sweet compliment. Isn't that how people feel when things are too cute too?" You don't even need to look over to know that he's smirking as you flip him off.

   "Or annoying." The rest of the three hours the two of you spend going back and forth with each other to the point that some of the other artists passing by started to call out their two cents in. By the time you're done, you have the outline complete and some of the black shaded in. The rest will be done in just two weeks time at his next opening.

-------------2 weeks later-----------

   Oddly enough for once, you haven't seen Yoongi outside during his normal smoke break time when you leave work for the last couple of weeks. You also haven't seen him getting his normal disgusting black coffee either. Not that you've been looking for him. Okay...so maybe you have. There's just something about him other than the really good looks you like. In one sense it's almost like walking on a blade the entire time you're with him, never sure when he's going to make a jab. On the other hand, he's also easy to talk to. In a way where everything is oddly comfortable even with this underlying lurking sexual tension. Or maybe that's just in your head. Maybe there's no sexual tension and it's just been so long since you last had a good lay (the dingleberry boy who shall not be named was terrible) that you're starting to hallucinate. Which is a rather real possibility.

   This time when you walk in with another cocoa it's with far fewer nerves. No, you're ready for the battlefield and only tremble ever so slightly when you have to face him with a bare ass in his face.

   "Alright sunshine, let's finish this bad boy up." Is all he states before he gets right into it, ever the professional. By the time he's finished, you're 110% positive that you were just imagining the sexual tension because his eyes don't even wander as you check the tattoo in the mirror. Which is a good thing right? Because you're supposed to be on your fast track to nundom not trying to bag the super hot tattoo artist who works near you.

   There's a bizarre sinking feeling in your heart though when you realize the tattoo is done and you won't be able to see him for extended periods of time on such a good excuse. An expensive excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Now, however, with your beautiful, intricate, and very sore skin you'll have to go back to happenstance run-ins. You think that maybe, just maybe, if the somewhat hollow looking smile he gives you when you leave is anything to go by that he doesn't really want it to end either. But that's probably just the few embers of hope remaining in you that needs to be crushed out.

--------1 month later---------

   You've spent another night overworking yourself. This time there wasn't really a good reason to either. You're not only on schedule but way ahead and yet you've decided to just keep busting through work until dusk begins to fall and the shitty flickering streetlights by you turn on. Almost every night for the past few weeks you've been working longer days and as much as you hate to admit it it's to try to keep yourself from wallowing too much at night about your impending lonely doom. Tonight will be different though. Tonight you'll ruminate and bask in the fucked up world with your dear old friend Irene as she's finally decided to have a night away from her obnoxiously good looking fiance Taehyung. She might not be able to relate to your doom and gloom sentiments on life but she's always a good friend for a pick me up.

   You set off in the opposite direction of your usual route, winding through the chilly streets until you get to your favorite bar that serves oddly impressively delicious fried chicken. The moment you step in you notice Irene sitting at one of the few tables at the place, glaring at a man who clearly can't take a hint. Marching over you grab the seat across from her before biting off a 'Jesus how much aftershave do you use? Did you put in on your asshole too or something?' Knowing he's now outnumbered, and out bitched, the two of you watch the man leave without protest.

   "You know you really should be careful. People are crazy, aren't you ever afraid that you might get hurt or something?"

   You shrug nonchalantly before sighing at the doe eyes she gives you. "Irene, I love you but I'm not curtailing my inner bitch just because some douche might murder me. There are countless absurd ways I could die, if I have to check myself in fear of that then I just let all those asshats continue being menaces to society without being put in their shitty sad places."

   "So what you're like a superwoman with a bad attitude only you save the world one dick at a time with well-timed insults?" You know that voice, you know that voice all too well. Your ears perk up and your jaw drops open as you whip around to come eye to eye with Yoongi. For one whole month, you haven't seen him even with perfectly timed coffee runs around his smoke breaks. Not that you learned his habitual schedule or anything. Nope. Nothing like that at all. Just coincidence is all. And you just happened to notice he wasn't there. That's all.

   "Yoongi!" You hate the way your voice goes up an octave, excitement making your voice quiver like a little puppy reuniting with their owner after a short separation. You can already feel the heat bursting on your cheeks as his head tilts, eyes watching you carefully before he cracks a lazy smile.

   "Um, (y/n), who is this guy? Do I need to mace him or something?" Irene whispers to you, but just loud enough that as Yoongi steps closer he can hear her.

   "Please don't mace me. I promise, I only bite if you're into that."

   "Hey, watch it, mister. She's a taken woman." Reluctantly you wave your hand over the free seat to invite him over before looking back at Irene. "Irene this is Yoongi, Yoongi this is Irene. Yoongi did my tattoo for me."

   "Oh, you got a tattoo? Can I see it?"

   "We'll definitely get a free round of drinks if you show it off, that's for sure." You can't help but smack Yoongi's shoulder, shocked at the sturdiness of it. Considering how slight he looks you really didn't think that he worked out but now your mind is starting to wander.

   "Yeah well, kind of can't show you in public considering I have to take my pants off. Oh! But I do have some pictures!" You pull out your phone, swiping through until you find one and turning it to show her.

   "Wow, that looks like it hurt. It looks great though you did a good job..." Irene pauses, eyes going wide with panic before she finally adds, "Yoongi."

   "Thanks." He almost looks shy and you can feel your heart breaking. Yeah, typical to have the hot dude fall for your friend and not you.

   "Did you order drinks yet?" At the shake of Irene's head, you're grateful to have an excuse to flee to the bar not rushing to grab the bartenders attention and face falling slightly when he sidles up next to you immediately. The world is a cruel place. You want them to take their time and they're there immediately. You want them there right away and suddenly so do seventy other people. Luck. Or murphy's law maybe. Whatever.

   You huff out a sigh before plastering a smile on your face, "Two cranberry vodkas, please. Tall and stiff." The bartender nods as you slap down a twenty, praying that perhaps he'll at least make the drinks slowly but oh no this man must be one of those bartenders that enters fucking speed competitions because he's sliding both drinks over before you can fucking blink. Unbelievable. The service at this place is just too good and it's making you twitch slightly in irritation.

   Trying not to huff, you grab the two drinks and make your way back to your table. Heart sinking even more at the sound of Yoongi being strangely amicable to Irene. This was not the night you wanted at all. You wanted to get drunk and hang out with Irene and forget about how shitty boys are, not have glaring reminders everywhere about how the capitalist ploy that is romance will suffocate you to death. Okay so maybe you're being a little melodramatic. A lot. Whatever. It's your pity party, you can cry if you want to.

   When you finally sit back down and hand Irene her drink you can't help but guzzle yours back right away, ignoring the acidic burn in your throat and the quirked eyebrow from Yoongi.

   "So...(y/n)...any new boys after Johnny?" Irene refuses to look you in the eyes as she asks, smart enough to sit just out of reach from your possible rage.

   "I refuse to fall victim to the bullshit masquerade we call love yet again. I've called it quits. I'm just going to be a spinster with a million cats who will inevitably be forgotten until my landlord finds that mittens, my favorite cat, has eaten my left asscheek for sustenance after my untimely death."

   Irene bawks, trying immediately to rush into lengthy reasoning as to why you shouldn't stop searching for love as Yoongi nearly falls off his chair laughing so hard. At the end of Irene's dialogue, Yoongi wipes away a stray tear before shooting you a gummy smile. The kind that makes you want to hate him less, but you refuse to. Because that's dangerous territory. Territory you've sworn to never cross again. "You don't actually mean all that bullshit right? Love is natural, it's needed. It's biologically ingrained in us to be social creatures and affectionate."

   "Don't you judge me and mitten's life path!"

   "You don't even have a cat!" Irene looks exasperated as she takes a sip of her drink, silently judging you. "Listen, I get it. You've been fucked over a million times by terrible guys. But that doesn't mean that the whole world is that way." At the withering look you send her Irene sighs, shaking her head but falling mute. You feel a little bad that yet again you've ruined the mood so you try to lighten it up a bit, reaching over to pinch her cheek lightly.

   "Thanks, Irene. I'm sorry. I'm just...I don't know. I've been in a bit of a mood." You bit your tongue from further sarcasm at the pointed look she gives you. "Things haven't been so hot lately. I'll get over it. In like a decade. But you know that's better than never." You can feel Yoongi peering at you, analyzing you from the corner of your eye.

   "Why though? Why are you so convinced that love is such a sham?" Yoongi's words don't seem to hold any judgment or his usual quiet hostility, instead just honest curiosity.

   "Well if they don't cheat on me they always grow tired of me. I'm a bit too much of a bitch for my own good. I should really work on that." You shrug, staring at your almost empty glass as you try to shush the self-loathing thoughts that want to invade.

   "I like that part about you though. You've got spunk doll, it ain't a bad thing. You just need to find a guy who can match it." He smirks at the way you go quiet before leaning slightly into you at the table. "I don't know, I think I'm up for the challenge if you are." He grabs a card from his pocket, placing it next to your cup as he stands up. "That's my cell on there. Text me sometime babe." You hate the way your brain shuts down, playing back the way he calls you babe until all senses fail.

   "You should do it. You know he was asking about you the entire time you were getting drinks?" You feel your heart sink even further at the realization that you judged the situation too quickly before suddenly soaring at the idea that Min Yoongi asked you out on a date. You. Snarky, bitchy you found a match in hell. Capitalist ploys be damned! You'll at least find out if he's cocky for a reason. If you don't chicken out that is.

-----------------------------------

   Later that night after all the alcohol has left your system and you're snuggled up under enough blankets to possibly suffocate you, you find yourself staring at your phone. You entered in his contact almost immediately after he left at the urging of Irene. Apprehension has held you back from actually sending anything though. Your fingers hover over the screen, bottom lip stuck between your teeth as you suck in a breath. What have you got to lose?

[You]: Hey...

[Yoongi]: (Y/N)?

[You]: Yeah

[Yoongi]: This is unusual. I'm used to quippy remarks. Don't tell me you've grown soft?

[You]: Fuck off. I'm just confused that's all.

[Yoongi]: What's there to be confused about? You're funny, you have no problem with giving it right back to me, and you have a fantastic ass

[You]: Well that was blunt

[Yoongi]: I'm an honest man [Yoongi]: So listen, about that date, I wanna take you out Sunday

[You]: That's in like a day from now

[Yoongi]: Yeah well I've wanted to take you out from the first time you told me off for smoking on the street. And that time you told me you were going to shove my tattoo needle up my ass solidified it.

[You]: You have some odd kinks sir

[Yoongi]: Is that a yes babe?

[You]: Hmmm....yeah I'll go

[Yoongi]: Great send me your address I'll pick you up at noon

[You]: You aren't going to chop me up in a million pieces and feed me to the fishes right?

[Yoongi]: No I prefer my women in one piece

   You send over your address, butterflies swarming around as you squeal into a pillow before sending him a quick good night. You don't need to embarrass yourself by saying something off the wall as exhaustion starts to set in. Like "I want to kiss your face" or "Fuck me in your office." Yeah, that's not good pre-date material. You need to keep it kosher for now.

------------------------------------

   You had spent all day Saturday cleaning to keep your nerves at bay. Not that you can really tell much in your closet after you ransacked it. And not that you can tell you went through all of that energy just to pick a simple oversized black hoodie and jeans. It's too cold to go all out anyway. You've been staring in the mirror, double checking your hair and makeup a thousand times as you hear the doorbell chime through the apartment. It's a good thing no one else is around to see you nearly trip over yourself as you slip on your shoes and answer the door. "Hi!"

   Yoongi is wearing his usual black leather jackets, skin-tight black jeans, and cat-like smirk. "Hey. You ready?"

   "Yeah, oh just let me grab a jacket." Pulling one off the rack you shut the door behind you, locking the door before shuffling behind Yoongi. Much to your surprise, he slows down until your right next to him, clasping his hand around yours and smiling as he silently leads you to his car.

   "What, no motorcycle today?"

   "Nah, I figured you'd strangle me and we'd crash. Dieing on the first date just seems tragic. We need to get on date number five at least." He shoots you a wink as he opens your door, shutting it lightly behind him as he jogs around to the other side.

   "So...where exactly are you taking me?"

   "You're a curious little thing today, aren't you? Well at first I was thinking something simple like coffee, but let's be honest that's overplayed and boring. So then I thought about going to an aquarium just so I could make a joke about feeding you to the fishes but then I thought nah too easy. So I spent more time than I'll tell you plotting. And I realized exactly where we needed to go. We're going to the river for a picnic. Something that's oddly ordinary and you'll secretly love but no dude's ever actually done for you. Am I right?"

   You're at a loss. You certainly didn't expect him to think this through to this extent. Honestly, no guy has ever cared this much about a first date before. You figured that only existed in stories and movies at this point. "You're certainly right. Isn't it a little cold for a picnic though?"

   "I have brought plenty of cocoa and jjigae to keep us warm, don't you worry your pretty little head about it." You can't help but fidget slightly, nerves boiling over until his hand rests soothingly on your thigh and you feel yourself melt. Or maybe boil over until you malfunction. But that's something to dwell on at a later time.

   It doesn't take long after that until you pull up at the river. During springtime it's packed, everyone comes out to drink under the cherry blossoms, but right now it's serenely quiet. You're almost the only people in sight save the zealous runners and elderly couples strolling through on their daily walks. When you try to help set up the blanket and food Yoongi refuses, so instead you watch him meticulously lay everything out. Maybe this is a post-season Christmas movie because you swear you can feel your dead cold heart grow as you watch him. It's an oddly domestic feeling. Certainly romantic. Painfully sweet. And for once all of your usual bitter snarkiness has drowned it's self in the river to leave you a heart-eyed mess.

   "Come on, come sit. I told you before, I don't bite unless you're into that."

   "I'm into that, but right now I'd rather have cocoa and jjigae." You watch him pour out your drink as you sit down, carefully handing you the piping hot drink before pulling the still boiling soup out of the basket.

   "Alright, so I figured that being you'd probably refuse to tell me too much out of wariness. So I propose that we play 21 questions. What's your favorite food?"

   "Tofu, in all it's many forms. What's your favorite color?"

   "Black, just like my coffee."

   "And your soul." You duck as he tosses a napkin at your face, laughing at the gummy expression he sends your way.

   "Aish. Okay, next question, what are your hobbies?"

   "Reading and video games. Why'd you become a tattoo artist?"

   "I love drawing, but I especially love the idea of a living canvas. It's just so interesting. Although I hate that I don't usually get to control the outcome of it, some people have god awful tattoo ideas. Most people actually. I'm at least booked enough now that I can refuse those ones without worrying about my bank account too much. Why are you so afraid of love?"

   You weren't expecting that question. You figured he'd keep things easy but then again you should have known better. Of all the many ways you can describe the man before you easy isn't one of them. "Trust problems I guess. I didn't have the best home, parents kicked me out young and we haven't talked since so that's probably at the root of it all. I don't know though, never seen a shrink about it so that's just an educated guess. Add all the boys that I've dated either dumped me or cheated on me and it makes it tough to believe that love, especially romantic love is real. Why do you believe in it?"

   "Because love is the very essence of humanity. The best way to fight a shitty system that tries to keep us all down is through love. It's not power or money or any of that other bullshit they tell us we need. It's love. We all just need someone who understands us. It doesn't need to be a ton of people, just one who really gets us and bam! Everything's good. Sometimes those people come and go, but that doesn't make the love you held for that time discounted. It just means that now you need to find someone else who understands you." He chooses his words carefully at first, but when he sees that you're held in rapt attention he grows passionate. Eyes blazing as if to dare you to disagree. And suddenly you're seeing the world through a different lens. Here you had been chalking romance up to marketing, which isn't entirely untrue but that's just one part of it. But love the way he sees it? To him, love isn't about marketing or money it's just about human connection. And suddenly you're starting to understand that abstract intangible concept. You also realize that what you were looking for wasn't love, but perfection. You didn't want to do all the work, you just wanted all the pieces to magically fall into place for you and gave up when expectations weren't instantly met. "Next question, why'd you say yes to this date?"

   "Because you're hot." You roll his eyes at the exaggerated wink he sends you before eating a bit of the jjigae. "Okay so that was a part of it but mostly I was curious. You're this weird enigma Yoongi. At first, I thought I had you all figured out. Tough dude with tats and a motorcycle who probably has a slew of booty calls waiting for him. But then you said you liked to cuddle and I got curious. And then I realized that I didn't have the whole picture, just a glimpse. Why in the world did you ask me out? And for the love of god don't say 'dat ass.'"

   "Okay but dat ass though." The way he laughs full heartedly, slapping his knees at the sight of your glare almost makes you not elbow him. Almost. But you have a reputation to uphold. "You've just got this thing about you. You're like a fortress. A puzzle. I guess that same idea of wanting to figure a person out is the same reason why I'm so attracted to you. You see at first glance you seem to be just brutally honest, but then when you look closer it's easy to see that you're vulnerable. Fragile. Callous due to a previous naivety that landed you in shit places by the sounds of it. I like that you have spirit, you aren't afraid to tell people to fuck off. But what I like most of all is under that there's this heart of gold. At least if your interaction with your friends is anything to go by you do." Fuck, you think you have something in your eye. It's definitely not your long extinct tear ducts learning how to work again. Nope.

   You can feel his thumb brush a stray tear, hand cupping your face as you automatically nuzzle into the warmth before he clears his throat. "Next question-"

   Before he can finish the question your lips are on his. They're chapped but still soft, plush under yours. And suddenly that tailwind romance you thought was all fake feels so real as a spark of electricity zaps you. Or maybe that's more carnal, but whatever it is it feels so right. As if his lips were made to be against yours. And when you feel him kiss back roughly, hands weaving through your hair as he pulls you in closer you know that he must be feeling the same thing. You're floating. High in the clouds. Weightless. The sound of someone running past finally has the two of you breaking apart slowly. "Right next question, can we do that again?"

   This time there's a fire behind the kiss as your hands grab onto his jacket and his tongue slips into your mouth. This time you know it's more carnal. Burning bright. Passionate. Hungry. Needy. But before it can devolve into public debauchery you reluctantly pull back, blush creeping up your neck as you see his molten brown eyes focused on you in a way that clearly states that he is indeed as dangerous as he looks. At least if your definition of dangerous is sex right out in the open at a very public park anyway.

   "My turn. What's your favorite music?"

   The rest of the date goes by too quickly and you learn about everything Yoongi related and he learns everything about you. You're positive that you've never learned so much about a person on a first date, or hell even by the third. You've learned his birthday, his favorite music, all about his friends, how he actually co-owns the tattoo shop and how that all happened. You've learned about how he came from a poor family and how he makes sure to send a little bit each week to help out on top of the apartment he bought them. Suddenly the $200 an hour fee makes a whole lot more sense.

   By the time you're pulling back into your apartment, the two of you have already planned a date for next Sunday. And as he puts the car in park you can't hope but wish that somehow it was already magically next week. But when he pulls you in for a heated kiss and presses his forehead against yours before sending you off you're too much on cloud nine to pay any attention. You'll have to add that Yoongi is certainly the best kisser you've ever known to your mental file.

-------------1 week later---------------

   Well, it's official. You're nuts. You'd like to blame Yoongi but let's be honest, all you needed was a little help to push you over the ledge. Except the problem is that before you were very sure of life. Completely comfortable with anger, bitterness, and believing that everything inevitably fails. And in some sick twist of fate, his words have been playing back in your head over and over every single day for the last week. Before you thought it was all or nothing. Love was there or it wasn't. You get one shot at true love and if it fails then it never existed. Except now your world is flipped upside down.

   Perfection is a fruitless endeavor. An impossible task. One with zero rewards. And what you've been looking for all this time is perfection. A perfect love. A whirlwind romance. But if it's perfect it's fake. It's all a lie. An elaborate performance. Which is mostly all you've ever gotten, granted usually in short-lived moments but sometimes longer. And when the curtains closed each time you thought, "this show wasn't a real show. I'll go to a better play next door." Except the play was still very much real. A part of you. A part of them. Which means that love is indeed real it's just not always very grand. But when it was there it was beautiful, you were just blind and ignorant in even the good moments. Unaware of the magic in small acts. But with Yoongi suddenly you want to see all the small acts. You want to not just see the show but be a part of it. Go behind the scenes with him. See how this plays out.

   Which is completely fucking nuts. You're already talking about your entire worldview changing and the concept as something as obscure as falling in love with a man you barely know and have only been out on a date with once. It makes you afraid. It makes you feel free. It gives you options. It's like being able to use all of your senses at once for the first time. Except that's scary because there's too much coming at you at once. But it's equal parts exhilarating. You've been through every single possible emotion a person could have every day.

   By the time your second date finally arrives, you're suddenly calm about it all. As if everything is right and the puzzle pieces to life are aligning and maybe just maybe you have a chance to see things differently. And while before you would have rather poked your eyes out than face rejection again this time you just want to see where this takes you. You aren't thinking so much about the end results, rather the journey.

   Tonight Yoongi is taking you out to his favorite record store. While you don't own a record player you can certainly appreciate the aesthetics of vinyl. There's something oddly charming about them, even if it is ridiculously impractical in the modern world of space-saving technology and cramped apartments. Perhaps the impracticality of it is apart of the appeal, however. This time you aren't tripping over yourself to get to the door. But that's because you're standing right by it giving yourself a pep talk. Not that he needs to know that of course. After smoothing down your hair and doing a quick checklist in your head your pulling the door open.

   This time he's wearing an oversized sweater but again the same tight black jeans. The man must have stock in them. Not that you blame him, it looks good after all. "You look great, babe." Heat blossoms on your face as his eyes scan you from head to toe, that signature lazy smile adorning his face before he takes your hand in his and leads you to his car.

   "Still no motorcycle?"

   "Nope, still don't trust that you won't freak out and kill me accidentally. Why? You seem oddly keen on the bike."

   "It just looks fun that's all."

   "It is. There's nothing better than a good ride, and you can take that any way you please." He winks at you, laughing when you scoff and punch his shoulder. If any other guy said that line you would have jumped out of the now moving vehicle, but for some reason when he says it you turn into putty. Maybe it's the charm of being absurdly good looking. Or that tattoos. The bad-boy charm. Or maybe it's because in all his infinite aloof glory he's just Yoongi. Comfortable and confident in his own skin without being sleazy.

   The record store is quiet, playing a selection of upbeat jazz. Your brain is trying to figure out the tune until you finally snap your fingers and softly say, "Giant Steps!"

   "You know jazz? Are you a secret Coltrane fan or something?" Yoongi is giving you that look. The look that says he's clearly analyzing you. Studying you. Dissecting your brain as you speak.

   "Sort of. I dated this guy in college for years, he was a jazz major. His thesis was going to be on Giant Steps, it's been years since I've heard it though. Are you secretly into jazz, Min Yoongi?"  

   You watch him shake his head no as he scans the records before pulling one out. Outkast, ATliens. A great album, one that invokes nostalgia. He quickly puts the record under his arm before he continues searching. "Nah, I'm more of a blues guy myself. Nina Simone. Etta James. Bill Withers. The building blocks to all modern music. At least hip hop, R&B, and all the subgenres of rock."

   "You know an awful lot about music considering you're a tattoo artist. What's the background story on that?" You peruse next to him as you speak, flicking through the music slowly.

   "Once upon a time I wanted to be a rapper." There's something far off about his voice. As if he's reliving the memories. A gentle smile on his lips as he shakes his head as if to push them back into their little file in his brain to not be disturbed for some time. "But I had bills to pay. I'm not complaining though. I love music, adore it. But I love what I do too. It's almost like trying to pick between your two children. You might actually have a favorite, but it changes depending on the day."

   "Let's hope you only have one kid then."

   "Nah, I'm going to have a horde of mini Mins. Take over the world with them and overthrow capitalism. It's my diabolical plan to get housing prices back to normal and get student debt forgiveness."

   "And how exactly do you plan to have this army of darkness? Polygamy? A sex cult?"

   "God that just sounds exhausting. I can hardly keep up with you let alone more women. No, I think I'll actually stick with two children. You know, just so on tough days I can look at one and go 'ah yes today you didn't fuck up.'" You pray that he doesn't look over to see your cherry red face. He in a way made it sound like he's thought about children with you. Clearly, that's not what he means but now your mind is wandering. Mini mins. They'd be cute. Probably slightly evil but cute nevertheless. They might be born glaring though. Or smirking instead of crying.

   "What happens when they both fuck up?"

   "Then I've got you." Fuck, he was implying you. Holy shit. Holy shit. Act natural. Don't look at him. "Ooh look! They have a Frank Ocean Blonde vinyl. Unopened this bad boy is worth a few hundred. Man, I can't believe how cheap they're selling it for." He tucks it under his arm before cataloging through some more. For a short while the two of you work in silence, falling into a pattern that when you stare at one for just a little too long he's plucking it out of your hands and refusing to listen to you protest.

   By the end of it all, the two of you are walking out with a dozen records after learning a wealth of information on all of Yoongi's favorite artists. You also learned that once upon a time his rap name was 'Suga.' Which led to you immediately and passionately singing Sugar by System of the Down quickly increasing in volume until he clamps his hand over your mouth and stares at you with the rage of a thousand suns. Totally worth it though. Especially when the dude behind the counter picks up where you left off.

   Dinner goes by too quickly. You wish you could freeze time, force it to slow so you can languidly explore his world. It's with a heavy heart that you unbuckle your seat belt before leaning over and pulling him into a heated kiss. One that makes your head spin again and proves that the first date wasn't a series of flukes. Nope, Min Yoongi really does have a skilled tongue. When you pull away you can see stars in his eyes, his hair ruffled and cheeks red as he tries to even out his breathing. The most dangerous part about Yoongi is his duality. The way he can flit between sexy to cute and somewhere in between without trying.

------------2 months later----------

   You've lost count on how many dates you've gone on at this point. He's taken you out on his bike finally to go stargazing. Out to plays and art galleries. Sometimes you've just stayed in and watched movies together. You have lunch together at least twice a week now, grabbing coffee together for a short reunion in the mornings after spending all night talking about everything and nothing over the phone. It's as if a time before Yoongi didn't exist. It's comfortable. Oddly easy.

   It's to your chagrin and surprise that you learn that Yoongi wants to take things slow. He doesn't rush you into bed. He's the perfect gentleman. A punk Disney prince, albeit with a sharp tongue. No even after the third and fourth date when you try to heat things up he's quick to pull away and tell you that he doesn't want to rush things. Not with you, he says. He wants you to trust him first. He wants you to be truly comfortable first. He doesn't want you to think that he's only in it for that.  

   You get it. In fact, in a twist, it actually makes things hotter. But the build-up is getting almost painful now. The sexual tension mounting to epic proportions. Your poor vibrator would hate you if it wasn't inanimate. He wasn't lying about loving cuddling. He's also apparently a man of extreme patience because no matter how many times you've felt his hard dick against your ass mid-spooning he's refused to act on it. Or let you. It's left you more than slightly frustrated on multiple occasions. It also wasn't helpful that it, in turn, made you an awkward mess. In fact, you remember jokingly mentioning some gibberish about your starfish quivering to try and crack the tension and for a while you thought he would never let you live that terrible joke down. Starfish, really? What were you thinking?

   What you belatedly realize though is that his master plan fucking works. Because somewhere along the way you started letting down your guards. Somewhere along all your dates, you find yourself falling. Allowing yourself to be human. Allowing yourself to stop fearing love. Allowing yourself to trust. Without fighting it. Without running. It's no longer terrifying. It's no longer something that gnaws at you in the chasm of anxiety.

   And just shy of three months into dating Yoongi you realize that you love him. Love. Abstract. Intangible. Yet not. It's the way he looks at you. The way he holds your hands. The way he thinks about the things that make you tick. The way the two of you try to find joy in the tiniest of things. Marie Kondo would tell you that you've finally found something that sparks joy. But it's not just from him. No, even when he's not around you feel lighter. Freer. Happier. You're still sarcastic. A bit of a bitch. But this time it's no longer from a place of longheld bitterness and pain, rather it's from your twisted brand of humor.

   This realization comes to you as you after hanging out with Yoongi's friends and coming back to his place to just chill and listen to his vinyls. When his thumb soothingly rubs your hand as you curl up into his chest. It's so natural. So right. "I love you." The words come out a soft sigh, muffled slightly into his chest but he hears them loud and clear.

   Yoongi twists, pulling your face up to his. "Did you just say you love me?"

   "Min Yoongi I love you." You don't expect to hear anything back. You aren't saying it for affirmation or reciprocation. You just want him to know.

   "I don't think I've ever heard better words. Say it again." That gummy smile is back. The one that stirs up butterflies. The one that warms your soul. The one that you fell in love with.

   You swing your legs over his lap, straddling him as you stare into his eyes. "I. Love. You."

   "God, you don't know how bad I've wanted to hear that. I love you so fucking much. So much. Holy fuck. I want to kiss you, can I kiss-" Before he can finish the sentence your lips are on his. Soft and pliant under yours, a lingering taste of leftover chapstick and nicotine. It's captivating. Dizzying. It's so easy to get drunk off his lips. His taste. The soft groans that leave him. Tongues intertwine as his hands roam your body before landing on your ass with a firm squeeze. It's messy. Needy. Sloppy but full of passion. As if you're the only cure for each other. Each emotion lingering in the air. Your hips swivel down, grinding against his pants as one hand weaves into your hair to pull your neck back and attach his lips to there.

   You can feel the small bruises blossoming already. Love bites and harsh sucks leave cherry blossoms along your neck, mirroring the pattern of his own tattoo. Quiet moans of need are spilling out, desire pooling into your panties each time his teeth scrape against you. "You, doll, are the hottest thing I've ever seen. I could worship you. Dedicate a temple to you. Can't wait to feel you. God, I want you so bad. I love you so fucking much." Each word spills out from him like a deep moan, reverberating through his chest and chewing them off at the end. A loud mewl of satisfaction leaves you. He loves you. He loves you. You're in love. Over the moon. How could you ever think that love wasn't for you? How could you ever give up? How could you honestly think that you were destined to be a spinster when a man like him wants you?

   His hands claw at your shirt, quick to remove your bra and leave you partially bare. Even with the slight chill seeping in through his apartment you still feel feverish. Each time his calloused hands roam your skin you can feel your temperature increase. God, you've never wanted someone so much. It's almost an out of body experience. Sex elevated off the mortal plane. You swear you might cum just from him touching you at this rate. His lips brush against your nipples before biting down, one hand reaching back into your hair as you arch into the touch.

   "Wanna touch you Yoongi. Wanna feel you." The words come out drunkenly. Wobbly. Laced with honey through your swollen lips. When his grip lets go of your hair you lean down to his neck, pressing kisses around his tattoo, tongue laving at the branch as your teeth scrape against his soft skin. The deep moans hiccuping out of him are music to your ears, urging you on as your grind against him. Desperate for friction. Desperate for release. Your hands toy at his shirt before finally breaking away to pry it over his head. Your eyes dance over his half-naked form, taking in the sight before you. Almost every square inch is covered, ink swirling around in intricate stories. God, you're about the fuck the hottest living canvas.

   His chest is heaving, breathing uneven as the two of you make eye contact again before lips come crashing together and he's picking you up. Carrying you out of the living room and into his bedroom, stopping occasionally to push you against a wall just to latch onto your neck or chest. By the time you make it to the bed, you're sure that for the first time in your life you could actually forgo foreplay. You're so wet that you can feel it seeping through your underwear and leaving a mark on your jeans. He stumbles onto the bed, your head hitting the wall with a loud thwack that has both of you pausing for a moment. "Shit, are you okay?"

   "Mmokay, take your pants off." You rub at the sore spot before reaching up to place a reassuring kiss on his lips. You hold your breath as you watch him strip, dick springing out proudly. Smeared with precum. Red. Throbbing and twitching. "You don't wear underwear?"

   He looks almost bashful for a moment. "It's laundry day actually..." At the sound of your giggles, he takes the opportunity while you're disarmed to unbutton your pants, freeing you from your jeans and leaving you in just your flimsy lacy panties. The mood shifts back again when you see the hunger in his eyes. As if he's staring at a feast. "Christ, can't wait to taste this pussy. Make you cry my name." His hands are shaking slightly as he slowly pries your underwear off, eyes narrowing on the way your juices stick to your underwear finally tossing it off the side of the best.

   "Please taste me, I need you. I can't wait."

   "Who knew you'd be so needy? So quick to beg for my tongue?" That usual lazy smirk is back on his face as he looks at you, hands hooking around your thighs and pulling them over his shoulders. His tongue flattens against your sex before you can respond, a choked moan drowning out your words. Jesus, he's good with his tongue. It moves slowly, languidly against your dripping pussy. Rhythmically. Diving into your folds only to swirl up around your clit, sucking lightly and releasing with a soft pop before going back down all over again. It's when his tongue dips even lower, swirling around your puckered rim that you can feel your eyes roll back and breathing cut off. Two fingers slip into your dripping cunt with ease, scissoring to stretch you. The dual sensation of his tongue on your ass and fingers filling you up has you clenching. Spiraling. Bright white flashing behind your eyes as a silent scream tries to leave your throat. Toes curling, his name finally rolling off your tongue as you chase the sensation, your orgasm consuming your senses. It leaves you dizzy. Panting. A mewling, drenched mess under him.

   Through fuzzy ears you can hear his low voice, "God how do you taste so good? Fuck, I could watch you all day baby girl."

   His fingers move slowly as he watches you return to earth, twitching underneath him at the oversensitivity. You feel so sated, but at the same time, you want so much more. The look in his eyes makes you hungry all over again. You want him to feel just as good as you. You look up with hooded eyes, hand wrapping around his drooling cock as you speak. "I wanna taste you too Yoongi."

   His adam's apple bobs, hands leaving your thighs as he pulls you into another messy kiss. It's almost all teeth and tongue this time, a thin line of saliva breaks apart when you separate. You shuffle off the bed slowly, knees gingerly falling to the floor before looking back up as your tongue swirls around his head before pulling back to lick a long stripe along his prominent vein. You pepper tiny kisses along his base, one hand cupping his balls gently as the other one twists around his base. You envelop his velvety length in your mouth, working slowly into a steady rhythm. Each sigh from him, soft moans of pleasure spurs you deeper. Jaw aching slightly as you try to take him deeper, using your hand to help stimulate the places you can't reach. His hands grip your hair tightly as he reaches past your molars, pulling you off of him with a loud pop. "Sorry love, I'm not gonna last much longer if you keep doing that and I really want to fuck you."

   You gulp at the way he's watching you. As if he's a predator and you're his prey. A feast for the night. You wouldn't have it any other way. He helps guide you back onto the bed, twisting you onto all fours as his hands glide over your ass. "Best ass I've ever seen. God, I've had so many wet dreams over this ass." His hand comes down sharply, the sting bringing a wave of pleasure to ripple through you as it soothingly rubs over. Your thoughts are quickly brought back to the throbbing between your thighs as his cock rubs against your swollen clit. "Please, fuck. God." You're incoherent, words stringing together slowly.

   "What's my name doll?"

   "Yoongi, come on. Fuck me before I bite your head off!"

   "Yeah yeah, we'll see how much sass you have left in you when I'm done." You wiggle your hips impatiently as you hear him spit into his palm, adding lubrication before he glides into you. "Holy shit." He stays still for a moment as you spasm around the intrusion. He's just thick enough to have you crying out in pleasure, just long enough to have you seeing stars as he sinks deeper.

   "Oh, fuck. Move, please move." You push back, sinker further onto him as he stays still before his hands snake around your throat.

   "God, you are so mouthy. And as much as I normally love hearing you talk back right now I really just wanna fuck you." He pulls out almost completely before slamming back in, balls slapping into your clit in a way that has you seeing stars. Each movement is harsh, quick, with stamina and vigor you didn't foresee him having. The feeling of his hand wrapped around your throat, cutting off just enough circulation to stutter your breathing, has you gasping and rutting underneath him. Fuck, was sex supposed to feel this good? In your fucked out state, you can barely make out the sound of him chuckling darkly behind you. "Look at you baby, already fucked out and I've barely started. Do you wanna cum again baby? Already?"

   "Fuck, please. Don't stop!" Your high pitched begging has him drilling in deeper, his free hand moving off your ass and onto your clit in quick circular motions that has you clenching around him. This time your orgasm is earth-shattering. Loud. Wet. When his hand finally lets go of your throat you face plant into the pillow, legs shaking around him as he keeps moving.

   "You're so beautiful when you cum, did you know that? My pretty baby girl, all fucked out on my cock. Now that's a sight I never want to stop seeing." Another loud smack to your ass has you sobbing into the pillow, moans spilling out as your release gushes around him. "Jesus, how is your pussy so fucking wet? Are you always this wet?"

   "No. It's just for you Yoongi."

   "That's right. This pussy is mine, isn't it? Say it, doll."

   "This pussy is yours Yoongi, fuck. Hold on, I wanna ride you." He stutters, pausing before pulling out so the two of you can shuffle around. You smirk as you crawl over his lap, one hand holding onto his cock as the other grabs his arm while you sink down. You're sure you look a fucked out mess, but so does he. Sweat is making his fringe cling to his forehead, kiss-swollen lips, hickies covering his neck visible even over his tattoos.

   You neck snaps back as you sink down completely, the new angle bringing him right to your g-spot and making your legs shake in overstimulation. You fall forward onto his chest, pulling him into another kiss as you circle your hips in small figure eights. You bite down on his lower lip, pulling it between your teeth as you reach behind you and gently roll his balls in your hand. You delight in the way he groans, eyes rolling back at the sensation. "Keep doing that and I'm not going to last (y/n)."

   "That's the point. Come on, cum with me Yoongi." It doesn't take much in your overstimulated state to get right back to the point again. Hanging over the edge as you dip your hand down to circle your clit, relishing in the dulcet moans from him as the two of you climax together. His nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowing as he grips at your hips as you ride him into his own orgasm right after your third. It doesn't take long before he twitches inside you, painting your insides white as you slow down. At the feeling of him coming to his own completion you slump forward, your head falling into the crook of his neck as his hands circle your waist.

   "Wow. That might easily have been the best sex of my life."

   "Yeah, that was, wow." Your breathing is still unsteady, legs shaking as you feel him soften inside you.

   "Did you realize you squirted?"

   "Ah, yeah. Sorry to break your heart but that's actually somewhat normal for me."

   "God that is so fucking hot." You laugh into his neck, exhaustion taking over as you sigh. "You know, the first time I ever saw you I knew. I just knew. You were all sass and fire, and I just knew that you were it. You were the one."

   You wish you could reciprocate and say you thought the same thing when you first saw Yoongi, but you suppose it's better late than never. "I never would've guessed when I first met you that you liked cuddling, or saying such cheesy lines, or absolutely hated scary movies."

   "Yeah, but you love that about me."

   "Yeah. But I'm pretty sure I just love everything about you Min Yoongi."

   "You know, when you say my full name like that I get oddly turned on. Do you think you're up for a round two in like, half an hour?"

   You really should say no, you really just want to sleep. But just the thought has your mind spinning. Lord give you strength because you're going to need it, or at least better stamina, to last in survive this man.

   You never would've guessed that love could feel so right. So natural. So normal. It isn't always a crazy spark. It isn't all fire and passion, even though it certainly has its moments. No, it's softer. Gentler. It grows and evolves with you. It changes. It takes work. And the two of you do somehow make it work. Even after moving in and trying to learn how to love someone when there's only one bathroom. Even after you get married and fall into a routine. Even after you get pregnant and go a smidge hormonally insane both times. Even on days when both of the kids drive you batty. Even when they leave home and leave you with an empty nest all over again. Because love is something beautiful. It's something innate within us all, it's just a matter of both parties wanting it enough. Working at it enough. And whenever anyone asks you what love means to you it was simple from that day forward. Min Yoongi.

#btssmutclub #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi reader insert #yoongi reader pairing #tattooed yoongi

[betweenthepage]

Mini Reviews

As always, you can find my reviews on Goodreads and you can also follow my Instagram

Review’s for: 

1) Beyond the Black Door by A.M. Strickland 

2) Scammed by Kristen Simmons

3) The Kingdom of Back by Marie Lu

4) Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare

5) Ember Queen by Laura Sebastian 

6) The Beautiful by Renee Ahdieh 

7) Steel Crow Saga by Paul Krueger

8) Tithe by Holly Black

Beyond the Black Door

The book read a bit like early 2010’s YA (which isn’t a bad thing, I was fine with it. But some people don’t enjoy it). While I enjoyed the general plot, I wish some parts of the book were left out so that Kamai—the main character—could get the ball rolling sooner. I feel like it would have made for more interesting situations. I really enjoyed reading all the characters—especially Vehyn and all his villainous ways! The diversity in sexuality was beautiful and I am so glad that people are finding themselves in these characters. I think it was done beautifully, and will hopefully open the door for more books like this. Overall, I felt like the conflict was resolved very well and realistically for the book—aka no, “everything happened because I say.” 3 out of 5 stars!

Scammed

I enjoyed the first book, but this book? LOVED. The writing is great and the twists and turns? Did not see a lot of it coming! I’ve been conned! I LOVED that we got to see more of the secondary characters (Henry and especially Charlotte who I love x3 now) and I hope even more of the other students get some screen time in the third book. Beyond Charlotte, I was surprised to see how attached I got to Moore! More Moore! Lol Some of my only problems with Scammed were that a lot of the events that happened could have easily been solved with honesty (but then...no drama!) and that Brynn—our main character—was an easy pawn. For someone who’s good at what she does, she sure got played. I’m still spinning at all the twists that happened, trying to piece things from the first book. Seeing if maybe I missed clues, suspecting everyone, questioning who the real villains are and their true motives. That makes for a good book. @ Kristen Simmons/ Tor Teen, please send me the third book today, I am ready for third book, today. I will eagerly be waiting the third book, which I am ready for today. 4 out of 5 stars!

The Kingdom of Back

Marie has once again written a beautiful book with emotion and grace. As a pianist, I’ve been obsessed with many composers, Mozart being one of them. I knew he had a sister but didn’t know how she too was just as talented as Wolfgang. This books scratched the surface of her talent and used their imagination to write a different world. While I enjoyed the writing itself, I did feel like the otherworldness was a bit confusing and for me, didn’t make a lot of sense some of the time. I had to ignore things or add my own things in order to make more sense of it. Some times I was a bit bored due to the plot slowing down. Beyond that, I was filled with rage at the real life injustice portrayed in the story that Nannerl had to face. Not only from society/the world, but from her own father. I wanted SOMEONE to shout at him. It truly is a sadness and loss to the world that her compositions were lost to the world and she didn’t get her chance to be just as great as her brother. Marie Lu talked about how she believes her music lives on through Wolfgang, I believe so too.

Chain of Gold

Normally with so many characters, I mostly enjoy them but really only care for a few. With Chain of Gold, I LOVED every single character. They all stole my heart in different ways. Though, Matthew is my favorite by far. I have a soft spot for sassy men who like clothes.

I absolutely loved all the minor plot lines; I can clearly see how they’re going to develop into bigger plot lines. Though since there were so many small ones, it made for the overall plot to be...lacking? Not that it wasn’t good, but I just felt like I wasn’t at the edge of my seat. But given everything that happened, I know it’s only going to give me more anxiety as the books continue. I also had to pull up a family tree to see who’s kid was who’s because there are so many Lightwoods. They’ve kept busy haha

I loved seeing all of our characters from TID and I LOVE how much EVERYONE knows Tessa and Will love each other. Makes me feel even more lonely lmao.

And the ending with some of the main characters...it’s a troupe I haven’t read in a while but I’m so excited.

4 out of 5 stars!

Ember Queen

I’ve finally read this! I didn’t get to it because I travelled for a signed copy and then school but finally!!

Lots of moving parts to this book, which make sense considering they’re in the middle of a war. A lot seemed a little too easy, and while many were lost on the pages, it wasn’t anyone we really knew. Thus, the feeling of it being too easy.

The big heart ache towards the end of the book, I knew was going to happen. It no longer had a plot or arc to move the story forward unlike everyone and everything else so it was made clear to me. Regardless, I was still incredibly sad as it was one of my favorite things. (Trying to be vague and avoid spoilers lol)

I LOVED that after everything Theo has gone through, even all the growth she has had, she still remained a soft hearted person, unafraid of her emotions. Embracing her tears and everything she felt. I love a strong willed woman, but we need more soft hearted women. Both are equally strong and Laura did an amazing job at capturing that.

The ending was great, I think. It took something Theo often thought about and was a big thorn to her plan and made her embrace it. It was fitting.

I was fortunate enough to start this trilogy early via an arc, and I’m so glad I got to see it to the end.

4 out of 5 stars.

The Beautiful

Right from the start, I fell in love with Celine. I love everything about her but especially that she wasn’t afraid to want power AND love. The setting and time that this beautiful (haha get it?) book was written was a time where POCs were still treated badly. I liked the fact that Celine—and others—acknowledge this as well as enjoy that all people from everywhere could have a place where they could work side by side. There wasn’t a character I did not like or love. I enjoyed them all, even when they annoyed me or broke my heart. Even the potential lives interests (plural). I love both though I have my heart set on one boy. I didn’t like that even though a lot of things were revealed, those things were still vague. I have to think it’s because grander things will be revealed in the next book, but for now, it’s left me a little confused. This would have made this a 4 star read for me. But I just loved Celine SO MUCH that I have no choice but to make this a 5 star read. She literally made this whole book for me. 5 out of 5 stars.

Steel Crow Saga

Listen...it’s an Asian inspired book filled with LGBTQ+ INCREDIBLE characters, found family, POKEMON-ESQUE things? Just buy the book already. Don’t even finish my review.

This book was great. Every character in this book was amazing in one way or another. Lee warmed my heart (we love a sarcastic thief) but Tala owns it. She was by far my favorite character. Everything she went through, has done...she’s amazing and her growth through the book speaks loudly. She fought a lot of inner turmoil (NO ONE WOULD BLAME HER IF SHE PICKED DIFFERENTLY THAN WHAT SHE DID IN THE BOOK...but I’m glad she didn’t) and all the emotions she felt? I felt them too. I just want to wrap her in a hug and make sure nothing bad ever happens to her again. I did find one of the characters, Jimuro, annoying up until the end, where his growth was finally tangible. He was big talk but finally led with actions. Good job, dude. Still want to mildly slap you, but it’s all good. The pacing of the book was perfect and I want to live in this world where I basically can get my own Pokemon. Or metal bend. I do wish some smaller details were talked about more, as it left me with a couple questions, but overall I enjoyed it. And I hope one day there’s a sequel. :(

4.5 out of 5 stars!

Tithe

Story wise, I felt it was rushed and definitely could have been longer for the pace. But I liked it for the most part. Beyond the pace, everything felt a little too easy. If that’s the case, I can make it in the Unseelie court too lol The main character, Kaye, was something. While I generally liked her, she’s very selfish and unaware of the emotions or well being of her friends and family. Possibly it could be because of what she truly is...but still. And while she apologized for some of her actions, it seemed very surface based and it just rubbed me the wrong way. Her one real friend, Corny? LOVE him. Felt for him too. I hope if he pops up again that he gets nothing but happiness because poor king. Roiben? He was cool. I generally liked him! He was kind of the calm to Kaye’s chaos. He didn’t have much character to him but I know the later story revolves around him more so I’m excited to see his development. 3 out of 5 stars.

#book reviews #ya books #cassandra clare #holly black #mini reviews #rose speaks #review #my review #my reviews

[mattzerella-sticks]

i’d like to teach the world to sing - 2: bad rap sheet, man

Mar del Vista, California - 1972

The groovy counterculture that dominated conversation in the past few years still clings to the landscape, floating around like smoke off a burning joint. Changed by the fires of war, Manson, and life into something new. Less trusting, optimistic, and innocent.

Cas is just one of many disillusioned hippies, saddled with a general distrust even before the movement self-imploded. Wary of about everything. Perfect for his line of work, where what’s on the surface might not match the truth underneath. It’s not an easy life, but he’s comfortable with how it goes. Coasting until he hears a case he has no business accepting. For one, it’s about a missing teen. And another, it’s personal.

Except Jack’s disappearance, like every other case he’s worked, isn’t so cut and dry. Like a rock skipping across a then-placid lake, the ripples stretch far and wide. Those waves slamming at Cas; of cops, federal agents, hippie cultists, and a certain green-eyed detective who’s a little too interested in Cas’s investigation.

Will Cas find Jack? Or will he drown in the tides.

           Smoke curled up from the joint dangling between Cas’s fingers, rising in puffs that flatten when they hit the roof of his car’s cabin. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a riotous boom that thundered alongside a sickening power chord. He chuckled, “Mother Nature must really be digging this groove.”

           “Of course she would. Only dull plastics can resist Hendrix’s power…” Jack coughed, gesturing for the joint. “You gonna hand that over?”

           “I don’t know, did you roll it?” Cas surrendered it, snickering. “Kids these days… all this talk about sharing the wealth, but not when it comes to their grass…”

           Jack brought the joint to his lips and sucked deep, its cherry bright red amidst the manmade fog. Highlighted further by the currents pouring across the windows and curtaining the outside streetlamps. “Yeah, it’s my grass,” he said on an exhale, “it’s been my grass the last three times. When are you bringing your own?”

           “Not my fault I somehow smoke my stash before we hang.” Cas grinned, leaning over and rustling Jack’s shaggy hair. “Like the universe knows or some other philosophical shit…”

           “Or you could buy more?”

           “Or I could buy more.” Jack and he laughed as another thunderclap echoed across the sky, overpowering Cas’s speaker system. Cas sighed and looked out the window, “Great night for a stakeout, huh?”

           When Cas first told Jack about his plans, he thought it would be perfect for field learning. The case was low risk – a husband suspecting his wife of having an affair with her coworker. He sat three tables away while they shared lunch and overheard pointless gossip between her and another woman through grocery aisles. No hint of any adultery. Tonight, he intended on hammering the final nail in by taking pictures of her enjoying a dinner with overseas client. Present them and then school his client on how being a working woman and a cheater were two ducks that didn’t swim in the same pond.

           But then Mother Nature’s heart won out, and she let loose fierce tears over the city. He heard the first rain drops hit when he showed Jack how to operate his camera. By the time Cas finished explaining, their golden hour was up.

           Now they sat hoping for a lull that seems farther and farther away.

           “Hey Cas,” Jack started, “Can I ask you something?”

           “Free country, man, no matter what Nixon thinks. What’s weighing on you?”

           Jack paused, taking another hit from the joint. “How would you go about…” He shifted, pulling a knee up and resting his arms on it. “If you were asked to find someone, how would you go about it?”

           Cas raised a skeptical brow and snatched back the joint. “I would tell them to hit up another idiot who’d be willing to take the bait.”

           “Well, what if you were that idiot. What would you do?”

           He mulled over his options. Deflection could work if he tried it until Jack gave up. But Cas knew Jack’s patience ran longer than his. With how he chewed on the love beads dangling around his neck, Jack waited eagerly for an answer. Jack would not budge no matter how many times Cas pushed. Useful if he ever fully committed to Cas’s life, but right now all it gets him is his way.

           Plus, Cas has a nasty habit of rolling over easier than a dog with a treat for the kid.

           “I guess I’d begin with where the client tells me to go,” Cas said, shrugging, staring at the joint instead of Jack. “Usually they have their own ideas, and while it’s never right… it’s a jumping off point. There’s probably a clue there that will lead me where I need to go next. Like breadcrumbs in a forest.”

           “What if the client didn’t have any idea?” Jack asked.

           “Then at least they’d have a name – I’d hope. You get a name, you can get anything,” he explained, “County records, newspapers… hell, if they’re shady I can hit up a few seedier parts of town and see if anyone knows them. We all leave a trail, and the harder we go about trying to cover that up the more intricate the web gets, and the easier it is for you to make a mistake. If there’s one there’ll be a whole lot more.”

           Jack hummed, Cas using the brief respite for a quick hit. He barely has the smoke in his lungs when the younger man continued. “Is it hard? Finding people? Is that why you wouldn’t want to take it?”

           “Listen, Jack,” Cas sighed, pinching the space between his brow. “Missing person’s cases they’re… it’s a tricky thing. Sometimes people disappear because they played the wrong game and ended up losing more than they bargained for, other times it’s random and can’t be pinned down with a good enough reason. But then there are… there are the people who follow the wind on their own call. Make the choice and disappear because they know where they were, who they were then, it wasn’t working. And I get that. Sometimes you just wanna not exist…” Cas sucks on the dwindling embers of Jack’s grass and stabs it into the dashboard, dropping the nub at his feet. His shoulders hurt from how low they hang. “Who am I to get in the way of freedom?”

           “Is that what you think about me?”

           “What?”

           “Do you think that’s why I left?” Jack asked, voice hollower than earlier, “Because I wanted the freedom? To get away?”

           Cas turned and faced Jack, gasping. Instead of red-rimmed hazel eyes, gaping black holes stared at him. Jack looked deathly pale. He jumped back, slamming into his car door. Broke the window and let the rain in. Torrents of it stabbed him, soaked through his jacket and rushed past him and into his car. He felt the water rise up to his ankles. “Jack?”

           Jack leaned forward, smiling. “Do you think you can find me?” Faster than he could blink, he reached out and struck. Squeezed his neck and dragged him until their foreheads touched. Jack’s breath smelt like rotten eggs. Water kept pouring in and now sat at his chest. “Or do you think I don’t want to be found?”

(continue reading on ao3)

(read chapter 1)

#destiel #deancas #castiel #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #destiel fanfic #deancas fanfic

[evilmorticiadraws]

Cyran’s Advisory or An Ill Omen

Cyran cracked his knuckles and looked at his friends around the Hexes Over Hoaxes table in their meeting room. Losana met his gaze evenly as he dealt the cards, placed markers on the board. Everyone whistled and clapped in anticipation. He was acting as dealer for the first round, but he would become a player on the second round.

This was the Rainglen Certification College tournament. Winner would actually win a scholarship to the college and a free seat on the highly-venerated debate club. Cyran aimed to win today. A queue of participants had formed around the table, but the existing members were selected first since they had the experience and had won the qualifying round.

To win Hexes Over Hoaxes, you had to play with precision. Sometimes, it was even expedient to aim to lose... loss wasn't confirmed until everyone was dead in a geopolitical landgrab game. It was even possible for characters to come back from the dead, using necromancy. Never say die until the final dice is cast. And he always aimed to win.

With his quick wits and sharp thinking, he was a shoe-in to win. Everyone took their starting positions and discussed invasion and trade strategies. They took the obvious spots. Where could he go, second, that was less obvious? How could he make his play?

Surprisingly, he chose a less-used position in the north, on an island. From this point, he would have to draft many trade treaties and start an armada of boats to get those goods to other countries and players and also start construction a navy.

Games could last hours. Some of the early attendant players left. Only the current boardgamers and judges remained, close friends, families, and fans of the tournament. It was always like this. Popular at first, then whittled down to the hardcore enthusiasts or those that had real reason to be here and participate.

It wasn't about pride. It was about power. It was about control of the board, even when you were at a disadvantage.

Cyran's mind was whirling, calculating the wins and losses he had sustained in battle. It was close. In fact, his closest competition was his girlfriend, Losana. God, he loved her sharp mind. Everything he loved about that woman and in playing this game was the reason why he wanted to marry her someday. Maybe even start a family. No, stop, Cyran! You're getting distracted...

He had a boat send a peace treaty offer with a white flag.

She shot it down before it even got to shore. So much for that.

With his last remaining forces, he made a suicidal charge for her borders. Through careful play and use of his remaining units, he whittled down her military. She might have a fortress, but he would starve her out and he did. Cyran was frequently known for his ruthless final plays.

This time, it won him the game.

Losana cried tears of both happiness and anger that he won and not her. He hugged her, crying, promising to make her proud. When they got outside for a picture to be painted, he erupted his breath of fire into the air to make a column of smoke, he was so happy. The wyvern finally made the dragon proud. So much for not being a "real dragon."

They handed him his plaque for winning the tournament, which he took beaming. A full year of college and he owed nothing, all thanks to what his mother once called "a huge waste of time." The next week, he was on the debate team. By the end of the year, he was the advisor to the debate team.

Cyran thought of all this as he prepared to kill one of his subordinates in the Artifact Guild for thievery. The man had already lost a hand and this was the final cost for disobeying Cyran's directives here. Even the tighter regulations and rules hadn't stopped some from stealing what has rightfully his.

Every dragon has a right to his hoard. No one wants to lose what they've worked for, what they've earned, no matter what the cost or means to get it.

And Losana was dead now. He had only Omen to look after and he was determined to completely own Mistseek by the time she came of age. Here, baby, an entire city just for you. Just like in Hexes Over Hoaxes.

All those lessons served him well now.

Cyran Moonsplit lowered his trident as the handless guild member quivered and cried. His name was pointless. Cyran didn't even remember it. He just remembered the twisting feeling of betrayal in his gut, the darkness. Just like the night he found out Losana died of Devilstongue. Finding out it was possibly genetic in origin. Just like her own father had died of it, so too, she had gone.

The guild member was trying to crawl away. Cyran made a motion and the bodyguards kicked and punched him into submission. Cyran raised the trident and pushed the sharp ends directly into his heart. The guy screamed and cried more, wailing. Musical, almost.

This was what thieves deserved. This was what all thieves deserved.

Cyran made this guild into what it was based on order and clarity: we regulate the unsafe curses. We protect this town. We sell what we make, we buy more supplies, we expand and we keep everything running. Without order, what did you get? Chaos. And he hated disorder and chaos.

Cyran burned the poor stallion alive and ground him beneath his claws. He was nothing but charred embers by the time he was done. Then he pumped his fist over his head, still clutching his trident. It wasn't about just pride... it was about power.

It was about control.

"Clean up this mess!" he told his underlings and they obeyed. He went to the washroom to clean his suit until it was immaculate again and then washed his trident under the taps. Here, the water was filtered from safe groundwell sources and water-trees. By Losus, someday, he would have this town curse free again. Then no one would have to suffer like he had.

Maybe, if they hadn't all been beset by the curse, Losana might still be alive and Omen might still have a mother. Now, he was the mother. He was the mom. It was a heavy burden for him.

Mocha took his coat as he left. The loyal boar was always at his side with a quick quip or funny joke. Today, no joke. He looked extremely serious and coughed.

"Sir, your tie too? Now that we're done?"

"We're never done," Cyran growled. "There's always another traitor out there coming to get what I've build and they'll all get what's coming to them. I hate thieves. I hate thieves more than anything else in the world. They're cowardly and they're scared. They don't want to earn what they have, they just want to take."

Mocha just nodded, a little pale. His older brother was one of Cyran's best fighters in a pinch. Everything here, he made! Not without help, certainly, but he deserved this. He deserved to enjoy the fruits of his labors. He came from nothing and he gave Omen a home, a future.

He still had Losana's boat in the harbor. All that work to become a certified captain and she never really got to sell her own vessel unattended. He hoped someday soon, Omen would show interest in sailing again and she would take the rudder just like Losana had wanted her to someday.

In fact, he let his feet take him outside the Artifact Guild building (a massive white square edifice dominating the center of the city.) His wings took him further, out to the harbor beside the hollow burned-out church to Losus. Against the pier, it bobbed quietly. It was a massive craft and would have made any dragon proud. Harmonywood, still polished. He kept it painted. About once a week, he would take it on the sea and fish and look for fresh sources of new cursewater for the deadglass artifactory. Her name was Losana now.

Once, Losana had named her boat after him.

Now, he had named in after her, in memory of her. The years weighed down on him, like a stone. Times like this, facing the salty air and the open skies, he wondered if it was worth it. His daughter was showing a worrying interest in thievery and had taken to common burglery herself in the guild. He was trying to crack down on it, restricting her hobby time, increasing chore time, giving her time-outs and restricted quarters to her room but it just didn't seem to be working.

She was smart and resourceful, just like him. His favorite artifacts kept going missing and he pretended not to notice, but he knew. In his own way, he was proud of her. She was fighting what she saw as an unfair system and taking what belonged to her. In her own way, just like him. Truly his daughter.

Everything he did, he did for her. His precious Omen.

He still remembered picking out a name for her. His precious blue hatchling in his arms, with her big red eyes looking up at her. He picked out Omen... a religious name that Losana had suggested. In Losan literature, there would be an omen of hope born that meant that the tree would eternally return, over and over, to the coast of Pendalosa and always grow anew every year.

Even though they lost their Losan god, people still believed in their hearts that the stump would begin growing again, when faith was strong enough.

In his heart, Cyran believed it too. And that's why she was called Omen.

He paced up and down the pier for close to an hour, just thinking. How to handle his unruly child? The thieves, the traitors, the spies? They all wanted to bring down what he built but he couldn't allow that, obviously.

At that time, he began work on the Tear.

It started as a coin with a single frozen curse imbued in it: the power to see and hear for long distances. Then a quadruplicate curse was overlain.

In time, the coin would carry seven curses in all and become The Tear In Reality. It would never leave Cyran’s side.

Omen always was a word with more than one meaning.

#omen #cyran #writing #sparse #oddments #oddments shop #pevrea #original #backstory #villain #cyran moonsplit #hoaxes over hexes #losana moonsplit #losana #omen moonsplit #writingcommunity #amwriting #amwritingfantasy

[lights-up-divine]

Monster in the Night

Hey guys! So just finished with this one, and I am so excited to share it. I’m literally starting school tomorrow so expect this to be my last post for a couple of weeks.

This short story is about 6k words, I know, very long. But I love the premise and the story and I hope you will too. It’s about a newly turned vampire, Kiera, who is trying to survive in the city on her own while holding up her morales.

I braced myself as the butcher threw me out of the shop by the tattered collar of my grimy shirt. I wanted to turn around and deck him, just punch him in his big bearded face, but I knew better than to cause a scene. I couldn’t afford to get banned from another butcher shop. 

I clenched my teeth as my skull collided with the cold pavement. I could feel the slimy residue of the storm the previous night coat my hair and I could smell the moldy scent of mildew. I winced as I got up shaking from the bottom up and trying not to think about the state that my clothes must have been in. I looked at the scratches on my cold grey hands and noticed how badly I was shaking. I cursed as I stumbled into the dark alleyway to collect myself. I sat down on the dryest pile of boxes I could find clutching my backpack to my chest and trying to hold back my tears. Head in hands I felt a migraine coming on. I tried to stifle my pain as I ignored the squeaks of mice and the scattering of roaches. I knew that if I was going to make it to the end of the week if I needed to focus, but hunger was making my mind cloudy. Inhale, exhale, I took a deep breath and tried to focus my churning brain. Right now the only thing that I needed to focus on was how to get more money. Not on my ever-increasing bloodlust, not on my continued homelessness, not on the fact that I had lost everything in my life a few short months ago. The only thing I needed then and there was more blood, and the money I would use to buy it. 

When I finally got up off my butt and started walking it was around noon. Clouds blanketed the entire sky but I knew by the smell of the air and the calls of pigeons that it was about midday. I stalked silently down the busy streets, the people there giving me a wide berth. At the time I wasn’t sure if it was because my clothes were filthy or if they somehow knew that I was a vampire, but I didn’t mind the space all that much. I liked being alone, and being left alone so I encouraged the extra room. I walked down the stairs to the subway platform and smiled before it would have been impossible for me to get a seat, but now things were different. As the subway train pulled into the station I used the people’s repulsion toward me to push my way to the front and board the car fairly easily. As the car pulled out I closed my eyes and relaxed for what seemed like the first time all that week. I was a city native so the loud car blaring, low murmur of people in the streets, and the faint mellow sounds of pigeons cooing in the distance formed a sort of lullaby in my mind and lulled me into sleeplike calm. The train lurched to a stop and I reluctantly opened my eyes. I walked out of the underground and into the world above.

I was staring at a green oasis in the sea of rigid concrete. Union Park was my favorite place to go to escape everything. That was true before and after I was turned, and is still true to this day.I stepped out of the subway station and smiled for the first time all that week. My tattered sneakers carried me through the lush grass and I practically beamed as saw bright leaves dancing through the wind. The only thing that was missing was a bright sun in a blue autumn sky, but I knew that seeing sunlight was far too much to ask for anymore. I walked slowly through the park and embraced the quiet nature of the place. I sat down at a stiff wooden bench and did my best to lay down. I stared at the canopy and tried to think of how I could make money. I didn’t have time to do any odd jobs, and begging would take too long. I sighed and admitted to myself that my speculations were pointless. There was only one sure-fire way for me to make my money fast, and I already knew what it was.

I needed it to get darker before I could set my plan into motion so I gave in to my fatigue and laid my head down on the bench. It took a while for me to finally fall asleep. I tossed and turned trying fruitlessly to find a softer piece of wood for my head to rest on, before I finally gave up and realized that I would never truly be comfortable, not anymore. Defeated, I laid on the bench and tried to pretend that I was back home in my own bed, with the fan on, and my dog Dune resting peacefully by my head.

When I finally woke up it was later in the day and I felt at least somewhat rested. Even though my fatigue had ebbed, as I got up off the bench I heard my joints pop and crack. I sighed as I realized that sleeping on park benches was probably not the best thing for my back. I walked through the park once again and was relieved to see that it was still empty. I got to the public bathroom without any fuss and went into the women’s stall, making sure to lock the door behind me. Thankfully the park was never that popular so the bathroom was just regular dirty instead of a complete mess. Still, I got my change of clothes out my backpack and put them on as quickly as possible. Touching the sink gingerly I turned on the water and washed my face, making sure to rinse any gunk out of my hair as well. Even though I had heard that vampires were more resistant to disease than humans I still didn’t want to spend more time in that bathroom than I needed to. 

I stepped out of the stall and into the park once again. Pulling out my phone I typed in the password quickly and opened the camera app. I raised it above my head and looked into the screen. I didn’t know if it was just the lighting or the angle but my skin looked really gray. My shoulders slumped when I realized that it had something to do with my transformation or the fact that I hadn’t seen sunlight in months, probably a combination of both. Either way, I didn’t open the camera to look at the state of my skin, I opened it to see if my new outfit looked fancy enough. The eggshell white cotton sweater and green skirt combo wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking that I lived in a penthouse, but it did make me look solidly middle class, and that was what I was aiming for. I closed my phone with a smile and picked up my backpack. I walked confidently out of the park, and toward the subway station, the next part of my plan could begin.

As the subway train pulled into the station, I took a deep breath and plastered a serene smile on my face. For this plan to work, I needed to get into character. The moment I walked up the stairs and onto the streets it would be like I was on a stage. Even though I had quit theater a month before my transportation, I still liked to consider myself a good actress. And a good actress always prepares herself before she goes up on stage. I needed to look like I had no care in the world like I was just there to help.  I needed to really feel like I didn’t belong there like this was just a visit, nothing more. I closed my eyes one last time and walked up the stairs into what seemed like a different world entirely.

Instead of the close confines of throngs of people going about their lives, and the busy atmosphere of midtown where I got off seemed broken and desolate. There were cafes with boarded up windows and not a skyscraper in sight. I walked on a sidewalk that was cracked and in desperate need of a repair. I regarded buildings that were mostly old, corroding brick and weathered wood. Even if it was my first time there (and it wasn’t) I would have known that it was a bad part of town. More than the boarded-up windows and the cracked sidewalks what really told was the demeanor of the people. There were three to four people leaning against the walls of what seemed like each ally way, who eyed all of the passersby hungrily. Sitting on the streets were people wearing filthy dollar store clothes, and ratty jackets peeking out of their cheap tents, eyes empty. I walked around the town for a bit, regarding the homeless folk with a special interest. For me to properly act out the scene I couldn’t just choose anybody, I needed to be selective. I found one that looked right, and it didn’t take me long. There were so many people like him that I pretty much had my pick. 

“Excuse me, Sir?” I asked in a high voice as I bent down to talk with the old guy.

He looked up at me with searching brown eyes and sighed a long sad sigh, “What is it, Miss?”

I smiled sweet and fake as I pulled out a crisp twenty-dollar bill from my backpack and handed to the man, “I want you to have this!”

The old man shook his head and blocked my hand, saying that he couldn’t possibly take it. Externally I frowned, though on the inside I was beaming. Good, I thought, he had refused. From the cut of his hair to the smoldering embers in his brown eyes, I had been able to see right away that he was the proud type. The proud type was exactly what I needed for everything to go smoothly. He had played his part, albeit unknowingly, and now if I just stuck to the script everything would go as planned.

I thrust the twenty dollars into his face and did my best to convince the man to take it,“ It’s alright Sir, you need it more than me. And besides my mom says that giving back is the duty of the more fortunate among us. So please, Sir, take it.”

The man shook his head again, “No can do. It wouldn’t be right for me to take money from a kid, no matter how fortunate you are.”

Internally I groaned at the old man. I had already gotten all that I needed from him, I thought, just take the money already. 

I smiled stiffly as I tried to retain my composure as I pleaded with the man, “No please, Sir! Take it you need it more than me, I would hate to see you suffer!”

“Fine,” the man said as he roughly grabbed the twenty dollars out of my hand, “If you hate seeing me suffer so badly, then I’ll just take it.”

I smiled and took a deep breath as I prepared to say my final line. I needed to really sell the fact that I was fortunate and had money and that required some overacting. 

“Are you sure you don’t need more Sir,” I offered loudly, “I have plenty more to give.”

The old man waved me off and I was almost jumping for joy as I turned the corner and walked down a dark alley. The guys who were standing outside the ally had hopefully noticed the entire scene with me and the old man. I just hoped that they were smart enough to peg me as a happy-go-lucky girl with money and follow me down the alley. I had just begun suspecting that they were stupid and that I should try a different street when I heard a loud, false cough behind me.

I turned around and sighed with relief as I saw that the guys were behind me, “Thank god you guys were smart enough to follow me, I thought you guys would never show up.”

They were the usual street thugs, close-cropped hair, black clothes, I could tell from the looks in their eyes and their stances that they thought that they were the toughest people to ever walk the streets. I snickered as they turned to each other with confusion written all over their faces. Finally after a solid few seconds of blank staring the biggest one, obviously the leader stepped forward and roughly grabbed my arm with a gloved hand.

“Cut the small talk,” he growled, “Just give us your all your cash and you won’t get hurt.”

I snickered as I looked at him sideways. Now came the last part of my plan, usually either the hardest or most fun part. I grabbed the guys forearm and took a deep breath. Even with my vampire strength I still needed some concentration. I steadied myself and yanked hard on his forearm, throwing him roughly to the ground. His skull hit the concrete with a thud and blood started seeping out the impact wound. I stared at the scarlet liquid seeping out onto the ground and drooled. It had been so long since I had last drank and human blood had the sweetest aroma. Lost in thought I paid no mind to the guys who were now rushing at me. A fist to the jaw finally broke me out of my trance and my mind was back to the task at hand. I saw that the other three guys had surrounded me, leaving me no chance of escaping. It didn’t matter to me though, escaping wasn’t part of the plan. One of the guys aimed another punch at my jaw, but this time I was ready. I grabbed his hand and pulled his body downwards. This time I wasn’t going for a flip, I aimed the pull carefully so that the guys stomach collided perfectly with my knee making him clutch his stomach and sink to the ground. As I turned around one the guys aimed a kick to my ribs, and I used another grab. This time I grabbed his leg and pushed him forcefully, sending him barreling down to the ground, back first. Another cracked skull on the concrete, another guy down. I turned to face the remaining thief and found nothing but a shadow spiraling away from the alley.

“Tsk, coward,” I scoffed as I watched the guy high tail it away. I knew that it wasn’t worth it chasing him, I had all that I needed right there.

I turned to the collapse thieves on the pavement with a hungry grin. Shakily I bent down to the first guy and tried desperately to ignore the pooling blood. I was a vampire, so it was natural for me to drink blood, even still there was something about taking blood from another person that just seemed wrong to me, morally speaking. The last time I had drained a living being it hadn’t gone so well. Stealing was another issue, though. I justified my thievery by saying that these people would have robbed me if I had let them, though it still left a dark mark on my conscious.

It took all of my concentration to not start licking the blood off the ground as I rummaged through the guys' pockets. I pulled out his wallet and laughed with glee as I opened it, 100 dollars, cash. I rummaged through the other guy’s pockets with similar results. At the end of it, I come out with 400 dollars, all from a single gang. Even though I didn’t like stealing that much, I couldn’t deny the rewards. I thought of pulling the trick again, but the ever-increasing tremor in my spine made me reconsider. Now that I had the money I needed I knew that it was long past time for me to finally buy some blood. 

I got out of that part of town quickly, but not before stopping at a bathroom to change. As much as I loved wearing clean clothes, drinking blood was messy and I didn’t have money to spend on washing my clothes. A place to stay was pricey in the city, and I needed to save all that I could. I got on the subway with a satisfied sigh, knowing that my thirst would soon be quenched. 

I arrived at the butcher shop without any incident. There were a few stares as I lined up but no one tried to throw me out again. I waited in line for an excruciating ten minutes. The bitter metallic smell of animal blood invaded my nostrils and made me hungrier and hungrier. So much so that by the time I reached the counter, I couldn’t stop myself from trembling. 

“Four gallons, f-four gallons of cow blood, please.” I stuttered as I placed two hundred dollars on the counter.

The butcher looked at me strangely, eyebrows raised, eyes looking concerned, but eventually he went to the back to fulfill my request. When he emerged from the back carrying two double gallon container I could barely stop myself from jumping over the counter to get them. My breathing was heavy as he took the two hundred dollars and handed me the jugs. I stepped away from the counter and pressed the jugs to my chest. I felt comforted by their cool weight, they told me that everything would soon be okay. Even though I prefer my blood warm, I would take what I could get. I knew that I needed to ration if I didn’t want to come back next week, but my instincts took over and I couldn’t control myself. As my mind fogged over I tried to tell myself to wait, to at least get out of the shop before I started drinking, but my body wouldn’t listen. I watched as my hands  popped the top off of one of the jugs and brought it to my lips right there and then on the tile of the butcher shop. My body didn’t care about the stares, the looks of horror, or even the shrieks. All it knew was that it was fulfilling it’s bloodlust.

I would be the first one to tell you that the blood didn’t taste good. In fact, it was absolutely horrendous. It was bitter and dirty tasting, like licking iron soil. In fact, consciously I wanted to put the jug down and wash my mouth out with soap. But the vampire part of me craved it, needed it. That was the part of me that was still hungry even when I lowered the jug from my lips and put the cap back on. 

As I looked around the butcher shop I found that the people inside it were even more disgusted with me than usual. I knew that it was because I had just drunk a gallon of blood right in front of them, but it still stung. Next thing I knew I down on the concrete in front of the butcher shop with a badly bruised tailbone.

I stared at a now fuming butcher as he bellowed, “You, girl are banned! Now get out of here you wannabe, vampire, freak!”

I got up from the pavement and chuckled. Wannabe vampire, I thought with a sad grin, I wish I was a wannabe vampire. Every time I would go to sleep I would pray that everything in the past four months was just a bad dream. That I would wake up in my bed to my dog Dune barking and my mom making breakfast. I would give anything to rewrite my history. Pushing back tears I pulled out my phone from my now even more battered backpack and opened the notes app. I added Middle Side Butchers to places I was now banned from with a sigh. They were one of the few butcher shops in the city that sold blood I could actually tolerate drinking. I knew that I needed to find another soon before my blood supply ran out. 

I hopped on the subway and rode it only a short way before getting off. The area wasn’t as crowded as midtown, nor as shady as where I had beaten up those thieves. It was currently going downhill, so people were leaving left and right. That meant that there was enough foot traffic to make it safe, without it being overwhelming. I walked through the mostly deserted sidewalks and glanced around at the decently clean brick buildings. Pulling out my phone once again I used my maps app to find my way back. Along the way, I thought back to an issue that had been bugging me. Even though I hadn’t been home in a few months my mom was still paying my phone bill. I knew that my mom was forgetful, but I still liked to think that she still cared about me, even if she had thrown me out. I arrived at my destination and switched off my phone. It was a four story brick building that by my estimates had been abandoned for years. I went around the side and climbed up the fire escape. On the roof hundled next to a large air duct was my tent, weighed down by some loose bricks I had salvaged from a demolished townhouse. 

I unzipped the flap and went inside. One dollar thrift store blankets covered the yellow plastic floor and two overstuffed pillows joined them. Strewn about the tiny space was a portable charger, two empty jugs that used to contain blood, and a spare jacket. I laid down inside my space and connected my phone to the portable charger. My mind begged for rest, but I knew that I needed to refuse it for as long as possible. I couldn’t keep waiting for cloudy days to go out. If I was going to survive I knew that I needed to finally get a vampire sleep schedule. I groaned as I realized that if I was going to stay up all night I needed something to do, and that meant leaving my cozy tent and going out into the city. I checked the time and realized that I should start looking for butcher shops. It was almost time for places to close and if I wanted to find one before that, I knew I needed to start then. I steeled myself, pulled on my jacket and stepped out into the cloudy twilight. 

I decided to head to old town, I heard that there were a lot of butcher shops open there. I walked briskly one foot in front of the other, head down, trying not to draw too much attention to myself. With my sensitive hearing, my ears picked up the chatter of the crowd and the engine garble. I followed my nose to a particular scent which I assumed to blood, but when I finally looked up I wasn’t where I was expecting to be. 

“Yorkie Harmon Public Library,” the sign proclaimed.

I groaned and realized that I must have been just following my feet all of that time, muscle memory was strong after all. I smiled and I remembered all of the times my mom had dragged me there, saying that I needed a quiet place to study. I chuckled and reminisced about how there was never much studying, but always a lot of fun. As I started walking in the direction of an actual butcher shop I wondered if my mom was doing well. Even though she hadn’t depended on me financially, I knew that my mom must have been having a hard time without me, especially since Dune was gone too. She had always loved talking Dune out on walks.  A part of my mind wanted my mom to be struggling, after all, I didn’t just leave, I had been kicked out, by my own mom no less. Though, I mused, it was pretty much my own fault.

As I followed the smell of blood to the butcher shop, I remembered that my friend had invited me to a party. The old me was so excited, I had been trying desperately to be cool. I quit theater and stopped going to the library as much. Finally, it seemed like my work was paying off. I had spent practically the entire day preparing. Prepping my outfit, practicing my dance moves, rehearsing who I was going to talk to and how I was going to talk to them. My mom had originally been apprehensive but eventually was no match for my supreme powers of persuasion. I giggled and thought about the hour I spent thinking up my argument.  As long as I was back by eleven and didn’t drink any alcohol my mom was allowing me to go. Even though I didn’t know how strictly I was going to follow those rules, I didn’t protest, I knew that it was either go with the rules or stay home. When I got the party it was exactly what I had imagined. Darkroom, rainbow lights, mellow dance music on the speakers, I loved every second of it. Until he came along.

I looked up and found that I had already reached the first stop. Gorgon’s Butchery, I read. Opening the doors carefully I stepped inside and was greeted by a muscular woman wearing a leather apron. I approached her cautiously and asked about the shop’s blood sales. I was a bit deflated when the woman told me that they didn’t sell any animal blood of any kind at that store. Not even pig blood. I left the shop and tried to be hopeful on my way to the next place. 

As I was searching for the next butcher shop my mind wandered back to the night I had been turned. At the party, I was approached by a guy. His face was clean shaven and smooth, his hair pulled up and back into a dark messy bun. I had been fascinated by him and flattered that he decided to talk to me of all of the people who were at that party. He had pulled me upstairs and into a bedroom. At this point warning bells had started flashing in my mind, though there was no way I would have guessed what was about to transpire. I quickly asserted that I wasn’t interested in him that way, and he had laughed. Even then, four months later, the words he said next haunted me.

“You don’t even know what’s comin’” He smiled darkly.

The next thing I knew I was waking up the next morning, limbs sprawled all over the bed. I could barely remember the night before, and my vision was blurry. My body was throbbing all over and there was blood on the sheets. I felt faint and woozy. I had the owner of the house call me a cab back home. As I sat in the back, my exhausted brain tried to think of a good excuse to give my mom. When I returned home at eight o’clock the next morning with no excuse and a feeble apology my mom had grounded me and sentenced me to spend the rest of the day trapped in my bedroom. I hadn’t really minded the rest then, though now I was thankful for it. I hadn’t known it at the time but that was the last time I had slept peacefully in my own bed.

I walked into the next butcher shop and waited for someone I could talk to come out. This time I was elated when I heard that they sold blood, by the gallon. Though my spirits fell severely when I heard that they only sold pig’s blood. I had sampled many varieties of blood in the past several months and one thing that I was certain about was my hatred of pigs' blood. Even though the sun was rapidly setting underneath the cloud cover I knew that if I ran I could get in one last butcher shop before nightfall.

My feet pounded the pavement, and I thought about the sickness. During my grounding after the party, I had barely been able to get out of bed. At first, I had no appetite and even a cup of water was too much for my stomach, then I was ravenous, it seemed like nothing in the world could satisfy my hunger. My mom did her best to try to take care of me, but she had to work so most of the time it was just me and Dune, my dog. I had to slow my pace as I thought of what had happened to Dune. My hunger had been growing worse and even though I was insatiable the thought of eating made me nauseous. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was playing with and petting Dune. 

One night I had been energized and stir crazy, I had taken to pacing around the living room and clutching my roaring stomach. Dune chased after me as I went around and around, knowing in her instinctual dog brain that something was wrong. After hours of pacing and trying to suppress the pain, my mind was clouded and dim. I knew that if I didn't do something that I would go crazy if I hadn’t already become insane. I had regarded Dune with wild eyes and let my instincts and drives taint my thinking. I had called the pup over, looked into her eyes and saw the infinite trust the dog had in me. At that moment I thought nothing of living breathing creature in my arms, and only of my own hunger. Not even stopping to guess what I was doing, I stuck out my now sharp incisors and pierced the pup’s soft flesh. Dune had struggled and wined, but slowly, ever so slowly, her strength began to fade until I was left draining a limp corpse. Consciously I knew that the blood tasted rancid and acidic, but my subconscious couldn’t get enough. That’s how my mom found me, curled up on the living room floor my teeth still deep inside my now dead dog. Next thing I know I was out of the street with nothing but my backpack and a change of clothes, staring at the face of my horrified mom.

I got the final butcher shop just as the owner was standing outside and locking the front door. I asked him about blood and with a firm headshake he told me that they didn’t sell any. I walked away and weighed my options, it was either pig’s blood, or starve. Though, I thought, I did have one option if I was really desperate.

When I had been walking away from my home and trying desperately to think of somewhere to go someone had tapped me on the shoulder. Thinking that it was my mom I turned around gleefully and recoiled in horror as I saw his face. Some subtle had grown on the once bare cheeks but I recognized the guy from the party, the one I now knew had turned me into a vampire.

“Come on, “He gestured as he started walking, “My place isn’t far from here.”

I clutched my backpack and spit in his face, “I’m not going anyway with you, monster!”

He laughed, “Don’t get fussy, Kiera we’re both monsters now. You were just kicked out and you have nowhere to go. If you come now I’ll even teach you how to drink from an actual person. Dog blood is good in a pinch, but tastes hella nasty”

Hot tears pricked my face as I looked into the guys' dark eyes in defiance, “I will never be a monster like you, and I will never drink human blood! Just LEAVE ME ALONE!”

As I stomped away the guy yelled that I would always be welcome and I held myself back from shouting something in return. I remembered the entire incident like it was yesterday. I remembered gazing at the night sky and telling myself firmly that there was no way that I would ever drink human blood. I didn’t want to be like the monster who had made me kill my dog,  I didn’t want to be a monster.

I walked down the shadowy city blocks and regarded the growing moonlight as it seeped through the clouds. I thought about my mom, without me and Dune my mom would be all alone. Every rainy night, every hard bench bed, I had thought about just going back home, but I knew that I couldn’t. I knew my mom well, and I knew that she would never accept me as I am now, she could never accept me as a vampire. 

I got back to my rooftop without incident and was surprised to see the silhouettes of people moving around up there. Thinking that they were city workers or repair people I quickly dashed up the fire escape. When I finally pulled myself onto the roof I gritted my teeth. Six guys, none of them wearing any sort of uniform of any kind were trashing my tent. The yellow plastic was ripped and my blankets were strewn out everywhere. I rushed towards them and geared myself for a fight.

“What are you-” I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence before someone came at me from behind and hit the back of my head.

I turned around, floor spinning dizzy and regarded the person who had just hit me. He was tall and muscular, with a cruel smile emblazoned on his tan face. I pushed him down and made sure he was knocked out, but by the time I finished with him the rest of the guys had come over. They started beating on me. Punches and kicks were thrown my way and I did my best to dodge most of them. But five against one was hard and I was losing ground. One landed a heavy roundhouse kick to my stomach and knocked me off balance, sending me stumbling backward. One of the guys got in front of me and I caught the punch that was being thrown my way. I used my signature move and used his arm as leverage to throw him to the ground. As I was leaning forward, making sure my victim was out, disaster struck. One of the guys came up behind me and landed a solid kick on my back. I landed face-first on the concrete and tasted my own dark blood in my mouth. I heard the remaining three guys laugh as one of them place his boot on my head and pushed down. 

I tried to roll over and fight, but I didn’t have the strength. I was tired, I was hungry, I had been living on the streets for months. I blinked back tears as I heard the words “kill her” thrown around. I felt more helpless than I had in months. For months I had tried to live on my own, to survive, but it seemed like that was coming to an end. I sobbed and realized that this was the end to my life as a vampire. 

“These guys are the real monsters,” I thought bitterly.

As this thought crossed my mind it seemed like something in my head finally clicked. No, I told myself firmly, these were just people, these were just humans. The only monster that rooftop was me, and I was allowing myself to be killed. I had been resenting my mom for not being able to accept who I had become, but it seemed like I hadn’t accepted it either. I didn’t want to be like the one who had turned me so much that I had been ignoring crucial parts of my new existence. I was a vampire, and that meant that I needed human blood to survive. As felt my skull being pressed into the concrete I realized that drinking animal blood had been doing but weaken me. I realized that if I wanted to thrive I needed to do what was natural, not what was right. 

In a burst of strength, I turned over and grabbed the boot that had been pressing my face into the concrete. I used it to pull the man onto the ground and I stood up triumphant. I wrenched the guy up by his collar and held him above my head. I looked him in his once cruel, now deeply terrified green eyes as I lowered him down slowly. I breathed on his pasty neck and was reminded of my late dog, Dune. Only this time I remarked, as I drank deep from his arteries. The blood wasn’t rancid, it was sweet.

#amwriting #writing #creative writing #vampire #urban fantasy #writers #My writing #writers on tumblr #writblr #spilled ink #spilled words #spilled prose #spilled writing #spilled thoughts #prose #original #words #Original Work #original writing #original fiction #original characters #original prose #story #short story #short fiction #fiction

[mellz117]

Mellz plays KH Re:CoM, Reverse/Rebirth (Riku’s Campaign) part 3

Check out parts [1] and [2] if you haven’t seen them yet. Part 1 also has a link to Sora’s campaign

Below the Read More is the endgame and my final thoughts

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Riku is met with Ansem, Seeker of Darkness, yet again, who still can't fathom why Riku's resisting his advances. Close your damn jacket!

Final battle! I lost twice? I think? Not many times but I think it was 2. But god damn not as many times as I lost to Repliku. That sucked. I don’t get mad about dying multiple times in a final boss, that’s kind of the point of final bosses...

Ansem has a great voice btw, like if there’s gonna be a voice for G-Dorf in Breath of the Wild 2, I want Richard Epcar or Dave Boat (Lexaeus) to voice him. I doubt it’ll happen but those are my picks!

This guy sure does talk a lot for someone who's supposed to be dying.

Ansem explodes in a thick fog of darkness that envelopes Riku and Mickey comes to the rescue. Technically Riku won so he’s allowed to relish in his victoy AS WELL AS be carried off my a floating mouse.

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 IDK where the basement is supposed to exist here because the door Riku reaches the ground floor through is the same door Sora goes through to LEAVE the ground floor. Is it like a hill? Gotta go upstairs to go downstairs?

Idk. I wanna see the full interior of the castle, I want blueprints.

“What now Riku? You going home?” Your Majesty. Mickey, my dude. You can’t just GO HOME after killing a man. Riku’s got some shit to go through, he can’t return to a normal life after this. There is so much more tha nthis!

I’m glad a MOUSE can understand darkness is a thing that just exists, can coexist with the light. Good on him for keeping an open mind! It took how long for anyone to realize light and dark are two sides of the same coin? Twilight Princess was all about this. ...Riku is the twilight princess.

Mickey wants to follow Riku down his path of light and dark and they’re friends now. When did they get the time to bond between KH1 and CoM?

How old is Mickey? He’s BFF’s with a teenager now, how old is he? I’m not saying child and adult friendships aren’t and shouldn’t be a thing, I may use Tumblr but I’m not THAT Tumblr. I’m just wondering what kind of grown-ass adult WANTS to be friends with a teenager lol. Mickey tells Riku, since they’re friends now Riku should call him my his name, rather than his title. So... No one else gets this talk? Donald? Goofy? No? OK.

I deadass expected Simple and Clean to start playing after a hard cut to black despite actually remembering the final confrontation with DiZ.

Riku and Mickey don the black coats DiZ presented earlier then they leave Castle Oblivion behind. The duo meets up with him at a crossroads and immediately Riku’s on the defense. I love Riku, he’s tired, he’s annoyed, he knows the world isn’t black and white, light and darkness, and the literal path he chooses reflects that. He’s accepting the darkness and using it to fight for his friends. I’m so proud of him. I wonder where these paths actually lead.

THE SUN IS RISING I DIDN’T NOTICE THIS UNTIL EDITING THIS WHAT?KJVBLSDFKJVBDLJ

NOW Simple and Clean plays, albeit after a fade to black.

During the credits cinematics we see Riku and Mickey travelling through Hollow Bastion, the same location where the 1,000 Heartless battle in KH2 takes place if I recall correctly! That was cool to see. Riku is having a difficult time. Help him.

The next one we see Roxas again. He stops and looks at the Twilight Town gang when they pass him and Axel tries leading him away. I can only assume the following went down:

“I wanna try that”, Roxas says and gestures to the ice cream the aforementioned group was eating. So he and Axel buy some ice cream and go up the clock tower, Roxas seems to be enjoying himself but Axel doesn’t seem to like this treat at all. I think he just eats it now for Roxas’s sake, he pretends to like it to make him happy.

So I don’t know the timeline of this part of the game. Is Roxas not part of the organization yet at this point? Is Axel trying to recruit him? Is this after Roxas defects and is forgetting his time with them?

The third clip we see a very brief shot of Riku a few months later and he’s looking good. Doesn’t cut his hair.

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Final clip, after the credits shows Roxas and at this point he’s either friends with Hayner, Pence, and Olette or they’re inviting him for the first time to hang out with them.

“Beyond the path without you is a forgotten promise to keep. We may have walked side by side, but now we go on back to back. And though our paths may not cross, all paths are connected somewhere. When I arrive at where you are, we may not appear to be as we were...”

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So, final thoughts of the game overall. I enjoy longish games but when the length is just padded out with such shallow worlds I get bored really easily. I like to explore the map but I can’t do that in this game. Riku’s campaign is very short in comparison to Sora’s, for better or worse. For someone who just REALLY, REALLY wanted to move onto KH2, this was welcome lol. Sora’s half put me to sleep and I had a hard time trudging through it. Not that the story wasn’t engaging enough for me, I just didn’t want to play.

Didn’t care for the card based battle here. I preferred the combat more in Riku’s half because card management wasn’t really a thing which I ended up growing to appreciate for Riku once I got used to it. All I had to do was level up and get an extra card if I felt like it. The duel system was really fun and made boss battles go quickly, when I actually took the time to INITIATE them. Most of my frustration was just me NOT doing what the game aggressively suggested. At least I admit when it’s me and not accuse the game of poor gameplay like a certain grumpy gamer but that’s none of my business. I think this game may have felt better on the Gameboy Advance, I wouldn’t know.

I wanted to cry. I missed these kids so much. I love them so much. I’m a god damn crybaby now so a lot of moments just ended me and sometimes I needed a moment to sob while I hug my cat.

The (original) characters.

I can feel bad for Vexen to a point, he was a bastard but he just ultimately just wanted to do sciency stuff. A lot of questionable science but whatever. He creeps me the hell out. I know he hated Marluxia but was he really willing to spill Marly’s plans to Sora JUST TO SPITE HIM? Or was he actually trying to help Sora? That might explain some things later on down the road...

Lexaeus was always boring so no comment.

Zexion is a cutie pie, I don’t know why I think this I guess it carried over from 10 years ago. I have a soft spot for him. And I didn’t post a single picture of him so here’s one.

Axel, my favorite bastard. I will always love him. Chaotic neutral. He’s not much of an antagonist in this game, more of an obstacle, but he’s certainly working in favor of his own interests. I’ve been reading Inkheart and he reminds me of Dustfinger? Fire and all i guess.

Marluxia is also a bastard but as an antagonist I don’t dislike him. He mostly has his good looks to help him with that. I’m not sure why he wanted to overthrow the Organization but it got him dead so GG my dude. Not sure why Xehanort invited him and Larxene back.

Larxene.

Repliku. Brat, very much a brat. He immediately had beef with Sora because apparently it’s too unreasonable for Sora to “forget the quiet girl who moved away” when you were four and five years old. I could barely remember this game let alone any memories from when I was 4. I would have liked to see him interact with Riku during the time he thought he himself (Repliku) was the real one. Imagine the DRAMA. I do feel bad for him, his struggles with his identity and his jealousy towards Riku. I love how he is with Namine, so soft spoken and gentle. But we all know that’s based on false memories which is so sad. But like Sora said, the memories might be fake but the feelings are real.

Namine is a very good girl, a victim, a child who, when given the courage to, will stand up against her captor to protect her friends. She’s very sweet and smells like Kairi! (Riku, that’s weird) She’s brave as hell and I stan her. She just wanted a friend.

Sora... He’s so pure, so wholesome. He’ll do whatever it takes to save his friends. He had a little moment of weakness and cast Donald and Goofy aside but he got better pretty quickly. He was willing to give Repliku a chance despite their interactions being negative. He forgave Namine, knowing she had no choice but to do what she was forced to do. Sora. Just Sora. Love him.

Riku. I couldn’t stand him in the first game, he was just a punk-ass teenager (which makes me wonder why he and Sora were ever friends in the first place) with a super inflated ego who just, kinda does a 180 after you beat Ransem and is good? But my god. I just fell in love with this precious bean in Re:CoM. I remember the best of Riku from KH2 (let’s pretend KH3 doesn't exist for a second here because that is in my opinion the BEST Riku) and it was so welcoming and CoM really bridged the developmental gap between 1 and 2. It’s nice to see him struggle with this darkness and then learn to utilize it in a safe manner. We see a lot of vulnerability from him too, when he’s being constantly mocked by Ansem and the few embers of Org13 he meets here, his own doppelganger touting how much better he is, not having his one form of support physically be there on the majority of his journey. Riku’s super snarky throughout the game overall though and I love that. He’s the complete opposite of Sora at this time and he’s absolutely done with everyone’s bullshit.

Ansem is really persistent. He’s the guy who just can’t take a hint, I can’t imagine his dating life is very successful. I don’t like him but I don’t hate him either. He definitely makes more of an impact as a bad guy in this game, frequently showing up to harass Riku. Obligatory mentioning my mistake in saying that HE was guiding Riku in the beginning of the game when it was actually DiZ.

DiZ is formally introduced in this game and he’s cryptic as shit. I dig his design but what the hell made Ansem the Wise take this form? With all those bandages he looks like a burn victim (I haven’t played BbS if this is what happened Im sorry) but the call of fashion still rings in his ears. Why belts on his head though? That was this series aesthetic until KH3 pushed plaid. Anyway he is also a character I don't have any particular feelings towards

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I think I’m going to take a break from KH for a bit. I got the Spyro Reignited Trilogy the other day for XBOne, so I’ll be playing that. I’ve never played Spyro before, I hope I like it!

#mellz plays kh recom #kingdom hearts series #kingdom hearts re:chain of memories #kh recom #PlayStation 2 #kh re:com #square enix #mellz post