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forthegothicheroine · 3 years

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The King in Yellow, 1949

Much of this story is true. Warnings in the tags.

When I had pneumonia in my early teens, my mother brought home an armful of VHS tapes from the library to alleviate my misery. Knowing my snobbish preferences, she had grabbed copies of whatever she found in black and white. I remember something musical that I suspect was Busby Berkeley, I remember Mildred Pierce (a bad choice, as it turned out- the plot includes a young girl dying of pneumonia), and I remember a period piece called The King. I faded in and out of consciousness while I watched it, but it soothed me while I was awake and filled my fever dreams with sparkling images. I could never find it at the library again, nor at Hollywood Video or even early Netflix (once my father got the subscription service where you could order practically every DVD.) It was a bit odd that it seemed to be so obscure, given that it starred old Hollywood legend Ingrid Bergman (and, although I initially forgot it, Marlene Dietrich.) But even big stars make films that fall by the wayside in public memory, and it seemed that this was one of them. Google was no help, and at the time that was that.

I didn’t see the film again until I was watching Turner Classic Movies at my grandparents’ house. I loved watching that channel with them while filling out the crossword puzzle that came in their little TCM catalogue (all of it based on movie trivia, the only kind of crossword puzzle I’ve ever been any good at.) I recognized a certain scene where Bergman stood on a balcony, looking sadly at the moon. Her face had an expression of unutterable melancholy, and the crescent moon reflected in each of her eyes, giving the impression of two moons in one sky. I had very little time to catch up on what I’d missed before we had to go meet my cousins at the local Italian restaurant. I knew logically that the movie would be long over by the time we returned, but I turned on the channel anyway. Of course it had moved on to the lesser known Alfred Hitchcock film Stage Fright, but then I heard Marlene Dietrich sing before I could reach the remote to turn the tv off in disappointment. I knew that I had heard her sing before, and I knew it had been in The King.

Dietrich’s singing often comes across as somewhat campy today, with its Rs pronounced as Ws and it’s up-and-down tone. Madeline Kahn parodied it brilliantly in Blazing Saddles, such that it was a bit of a disappointment when I finally saw Dietrich’s western Destry Rides Again and found it to be lifeless and inconsistent next to the parody. Still, we remember her voice for a reason, and when I remembered it that night, I knew that its sardonic loneliness had rung through The King and made me shiver in my dreams.

The TCM schedule didn’t list The King in its time slot, but something else. If I had taken down the name, maybe it would have helped me find it. Sometimes the same movie runs under multiple names.

I didn’t see the film all the way through for many years, after I graduated college. I had found a web page that listed public domain film noir, including one called The Masked Guest. The website described it as a costume noir, and I curiously clicked on the link. Once I took in the credits running on the youtube window, my eyes grew wide and I did not move from my place on the bed until the movie had run its course.

The credits did indeed list it as The Masked Guest, but I recognized the strange repeating design on the title cards. They told me that in addition to starring Dietrich and Bergman, it was directed by Fritz Lang, and a character called The King was credited to “???” (I hadn’t seen that kind of credit since the first Karloff Frankenstein.) When the King finally appears on screen, though, it is unmistakably Orson Welles’s voice that booms out from behind his elaborate costume.

Here are the things I understand about The King, or The Masked Guest, or The Man in Yellow, or any other title I’ve found for it on public domain archive searches. Dietrich and Bergman play princesses named Cassilda and Camilla, respectively. Though Dietrich’s accent is German and Bergman’s is Swedish, they blend together to give the film the impression of being set somewhere on the map that I can’t quite find. The scenery and camera angles are very Freudian, with a great deal of archways and pillars.

The first act of The King involves frankly dull romantic plotlines, and the only thing that really saved it was the feeling that the suitors were supposed to be insipid, a suspicion lended credence by the fact that the love interests were listed so low on the credits. Dietrich is the scandalous sister and Bergman is the responsible one, though each takes on aspects of the other as the film goes on. Dietrich sings her song at a party, dressed in a fake 17th century gown and leaning against a piano. Although just a moment ago she had been laughing and joking with her gentleman friends, her song takes an abruptly serious tone (not seductive, not sentimental) as she tells the story of a city lost to time and memory. Bergman slips away from the party and onto the balcony, where we see that wonderful shot of the moon in her eyes. Is she mourning? Is she longing?

Dietrich cuts off the song by abruptly screaming “Not on us, King! Not on us!” She flees the party weeping and shaking, and from there on the film goes mad.

Though uncommon, it is not unknown for movies to switch between black and white and color, done most famously in The Wizard of Oz. The film The King recalls here is the silent Phantom of the Opera, which had a masqued ball scene tinted in shades of red and green that tried to provide a whole spectrum of color. The effect is even odder in the masqued ball scene in The King- the only color that appears is yellow, highlighting things like candlelight, Dietrich’s hair, a passing gown, a vase of tulips. It also highlights one particular masked figure, whose expressionless mask was decorated with a black pattern against a sickening yellow canvas- the same pattern I had seen in the opening credits. The color of his costume causes him to stand out from the crown even when he is far off in the background, just one head among many others. It must have taken long and painstaking hours of work to color in every frame.

Dietrich still seems broken up days after her song, though Bergman tries to coax her into joining the dance. Finally, at midnight, Dietrich goes out to face the party, but only to demand that every guest remove their mask. The yellow man with a voice that once warned America about a Martian invasion tells her that he wears no mask. Bergman reacts with disbelief, but Dietrich starts laughing like a woman unhinged. As she laughs, the yellow hue seeps out of the King’s clothing and face- if that really is his face- and begins to color the entire ballroom crowd. I think that what follows is bloodshed, but if there is any carnage (doubtful under the Production Code censorship), the blood must be tainted yellow and splashed across the camera like daubs of paint. Dietrich’s laughing face is doubled and tripled on screen until it dissipates, but even when it has faded offscreen, it feels as if her ghost continues to watch the proceedings.

By the end of the scene (filled with German Expressionist camera angles and mad violin screeching), only Bergman remains alive, cowering behind a grandfather clock. It does not hide her for long. The King steps towards her and extends his hand. Reluctantly, but with a fatalistic expression, Bergman takes his hand. They walk away together hand in hand. The screen shifts back into black and white, and then the credits roll before we can get a good look at all the bodies in the scene. The credits say it was based on a play called The King in Yellow, although Raymond Chandler of all people apparently had a hand in the screenplay.

As I said, that’s what I think I understand. It’s an oddly experimental art film for the era, and it may be awaiting rediscovery by the film festival crowd. I feel as if I alone know about it, though that obviously isn’t true. It is my little secret; I tell myself that my husband doesn’t need me to show it to him, it would be too odd for his taste. I’ve rewatched it many times, even if it seems like each time I search for it I have to find a different video platform or torrent. Naturally, no subscription site has it available. Maybe I am the last person who will ever watch it. Maybe no one will ever think to look for it again after me, and it will be completely forgotten.

When I was hospitalized, they let me use my laptop at night before I went to sleep (no power cord, though, in case I tried to hang myself.) I found a youtube link for The Man in Yellow, and I watched it every night. It wasn’t a soothing sort of movie, but having it in my mind all day and then watching it in the evening allowed me to think as opposed to crying endlessly while the other patients shot me awkward looks. I clutched the childhood stuffed animals my mother brought me when she visited, and I always held them extra tight when the masquerade scene started.

I watched the movie when I had to move away from my beloved San Francisco. I watched the movie when I lost the last of my grandparents. I watched the movie when a doctor unwisely took me off my medication and I couldn’t manage to eat for a month. I watched the movie when the whole world got sick and we all locked ourselves away from each other. I don’t mind that I don’t entirely know what it means. I don’t mind the nightmares. In the hospital they kept telling us about mindfulness exercises, and maybe the fact that I can focus on every aspect of the film so closely that all else falls away is the reason I keep coming back to it. I’m being mindful. I’m not letting any stray thoughts invade my head. I’m just watching and waiting for the next beat of every scene, leading inexorably to that yellow-stained bloodbath.

Streaming media doesn’t last forever, and each time I find The King, I worry that it will be the last time I ever can find it. My efforts to download it have so far been unsuccessful, odd considering that it is in the public domain.

When I watch The King, I am once again a child in my bedroom being cared for in the throes of agonizing sickness. I am once again sitting on the couch with my grandparents in front of the tv, both of them alive and lucid again. I am once again in the hospital, all alone except for my stuffed animals and the staff trying to keep me alive. The film reflects in my eyes like the crescent moon in Ingrid Bergman’s gaze. It sings to me.

I am determined to find a way to obtain The King under any name so that I never have to worry about losing it. During some of the worst times in my life, it is the only thing that has kept me sane.

#the king in yellow #cw mental illness #cw disordered eating #cw institutionalization #cw suicide

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pandoraborn · 3 years

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Cruelty of the Beast - Part 12

( previous. )

Characters: c!Techno, c!Dream, c!Ranboo, c!Tommy, c!Phil, c!Wilbur Word count: 2154 words Content: phil and wilbur bonding, discussion of morality, the official calm before the storm

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Techno paces back and forth, fiddling with his fingers. He can’t resist shooting glances toward the wall. He can hear Phil and Wilbur yelling at each other through the wall, though Phil is clearly more angry than Wilbur is. Techno doesn’t blame Phil. It’s one thing to hear your son is not only alive and heading some evil plot to destroy the world, but to actually see him in person...

Techno is filled with conflicting emotions.

He’s not happy to see Ranboo with Tommy and Dream. He’d been coming around to actually trusting Ranboo, but seeing Ranboo stand protectively over Tommy as if Tommy hadn’t just participated in kidnapping him and Phil; this entire situation still feels like a fever dream.

Techno can’t even say he’s wholly against their idea either.

It’s the ultimate form of anarchy. He hadn’t considered that Tommy would be willing to do away with it, but Ranboo had hastily explained upon his arrival that Tommy just wanted to end all the pain he’d gone through at everyone’s hands. Techno hated that brief churning of guilt -he shouldn’t be responsible for some idiot teenager.

Techno stops pacing when he sees Phil storm back into the room, red faced and breathing heavily. Phil’s hair is messy, tendrils snaking across his face and falling into his red-rimmed eyes. The way his lips are pressed together tells Techno that the conversation, despite the yelling, had not gone well.

Wilbur follows behind, looking just as frazzled as Phil. Wilbur’s hands are trembling, and at once glance toward Techno, he shoves his hands in his pockets. “It’s for the best, Phil,” Wilbur finishes the argument. Techno can hear the finality in Wilbur’s voice, the ‘my decision is final’ tone. It’s that tone that Techno knows better than to argue with. Getting Wilbur alone soon though might help; Techno wonders if he’d have a better chance of getting to understand more than Phil. Though, Techno suspects the argument was less about the plan, and more about Phil’s shock over seeing Wilbur.

He stumbles back when Tommy rushes past him to cling to Wilbur’s side. Wilbur returns the embrace, wrapping his own arms around Tommy and holding him close.

“I don’t care about your ideas!” Phil snarls, whirling back around. It’s confirming Techno’s suspicions. “I helped blow up L’Manburg, and I’d do it again. I don’t care that you want to unleash a dragon. I care that you never told me about this! Haven’t you considered for a single second that I might have wanted to see you after you came back?”

The argument is clearly not finished, and now everyone is awkwardly standing around. Even Dream is poking his head around, taking a break from cooking, to see what the fuss is about. The whole scene playing out would be amusing, if not for the silence that falls in between each man speaking.

“So why are you telling me I’m brash and stupid?” Wilbur asks. “I’ve thought for months on this. Over a decade-”

“You’re brash and stupid because this whole time-” Phil starts, but he cuts himself off. Phil is not one to cry. Techno had never seen the man cry before. Phil is the type to laugh things off and let things go. Even at his angriest, he still somehow managed to remain calm.

Phil’s crying now.

“Because this whole time,” Phil continues, through clenched teeth,”I felt so guilty over what happened between us. The letters, me coming to see you only to find you begging for death, and...”

“Oh.” Wilbur softens. His shoulders deflate, he gently pushes Tommy to the side. Even his expression seems to soften. Is it a trick of the light, or do Wilbur’s eyes seem to turn a lighter shade of brown? He’s moving closer to Phil, reaching out. Wilbur grabs his father’s hands, clasping them between his own. “Phil I made some stupid decisions in the past, but this is one I’ve thought long and hard over. Call me evil, but I still don’t think so.”

“You’re not evil, you’re my son,” Phil whispers. “Stupid and impulsive, but I’d never think of you as evil. Nor Tommy, nor Ranboo.”

“Dream, maybe,” Tommy interjects. That earns a snort from Techno. Even Dream snorts. Tommy hadn’t said anything to anyone else about how he and Dream had seemed to bond, so it’s still somewhat of an inside joke to Techno, for now. He’s happy to keep it that way.

“So,” Techno says, when he figures the other two aren’t going to continue. “I take it we’re not being killed? Or ritually sacrificed on an alter made of like. I dunno, silver or something?”

Tommy and Ranboo both start laughing. “No Techno, why would you think-” Tommy doubles over, while Ranboo just points and laughs. Techno wonders if it would be a crime to behead teenagers, just for Dream to revive them.

“You don’t have to mock me,” Techno drawls. “This all feels too normal for a group of people about to end the world.” He lifts a hand, waving in Dream’s general direction. “At his word.”

“Correction: mine,” Wilbur states. “Don’t get me wrong, Dream and Ranboo helped set a lot of it into motion, but I was the one keeping things going behind the scenes, especially when Dream got all power trippy after I died. Someone still needs to knock him down a few pegs.”

“I can assist with that,” Phil chirps. Phil’s already reaching for a weapon with a twisted smile on his face. “Dream is a bit twisted, I’d have fun.”

“Wait,” Dream says, lifting his hands up in surrender. “I’m making you all food.”

“I already got him for that, dad,” Wilbur says. “I threatened to push him into the lava, because I don’t exactly like coming back to life to seeing Tommy covered in blood.”

“Uh, I don’t want to talk about this,” Tommy says nervously. “I really, really want to change the subject. Anything else.”

“When do we get to see the the dragon?” Techno has no reason to be malicious to Tommy anymore. Sure, Tommy is stupid and impulsive (gee, wonder where he gets that from), but they’re all on the same side now, and Techno isn’t actually angry anymore about his situation. He’s unhurt, Phil’s not being separated from him, and he’s even getting a delicious meal out of it. Win win win.

Oh, and dragons. That’s definitely a win.

“I can take you after we eat,” Ranboo says. When Dream clears his throat and shoots a glare at Ranboo, Ranboo grins. “Dream can take you after we eat. I’m not allowed in the end by myself.”

Dream nods approvingly. “We need to start setting the things up anyway,” Dream says. “The next several days are going to be hell, and we still need explosives, weapons, and anything to prepare us for war. That’s why we went to you two: because we know you’re able to grind and make shit. Though, this time, we intent to make it worth your while.”

“Oh, please,” Phil says. “You’re talking about total anarchy. Look at Techno’s face, I promise you that he’s excited about this. So what is it you need from us, exactly?”

“I got you,” Techo says. He starts listing off a checklist. “Netherite armor, enchanted bows, mending, sand, gravel, swords, more tools, I’m assuming all diamond and netherite?”

“The ground beneath us is untouched,” Wilbur says. “You and Ranboo can gather as much resources as you can find. While you do that, I was thinking of taking Tommy back into the SMP so we can start working on the perimeter. I think it’s high time we start planning for this.”

Phil nods. “I’ll go with you two, and Dream-”

“Don’t worry about me.” Dream smiles, something that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m going to stay here and keep working on the portal. Gotta make sure a dragon can fit through it, and I have the know-how to make it work. In the meantime, dinner’s ready.”

There’s a mad scramble to grab plates and divide food evenly between all six of them. This cabin doesn’t even have enough beds for six people, but they know how to make it work. It’s not like it’s hard to make and cram extra beds in the place.

Everyone sits on the floor to eat, sitting around in a circle. No one says anything anymore, too focused on their food. The lit candles cast shadows in the dim room, and Techno takes a moment to study everyone. Shadows play with the imagination, causing everyone to look more sinister than they are. But Techno knows everyone, well, most everyone, is just some form of broken and beaten down. No one can truly be evil, only deemed the bad guys by other people who don’t know any better.

He’d thought he wanted the syndicate, but this is so much bigger. Even Techno would admit he’s nervous over the whole thing, but he focuses on Wilbur especially. Wilbur doesn’t look like a bad guy, or even evil. He’s grinning at Tommy, ruffling the boy’s hair and cackling when Tommy tries hard not to spray his meal everywhere with suppressed laughter. It’s all far too ordinary.

“I have a question,” Techno asks. He sets his plate down carefully. “What makes a person the villain? What separates them between good and evil?”

Wilbur leans forward. “Do you have attachments?”

“I have Phil.”

“How far would you go for him?”

“I’d do everything for him,” Techno responds immediately. It’s true. Phil is his best friend, the only one he’s ever trusted completely and totally. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

“Phil?” Wilbur turns his gaze toward Phil next, who nods.

“I’d do anything for Techno, and you.”

Wilbur straightens up. “I care about all of you on various levels. Tommy, the most. No offense, but you know what I mean. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” His expression goes soft again as he presses a hand to Tommy’s back. “We all have attachments to people, even Dream, who pretends he doesn’t. We care about people, we care about material objects, like our weapons, especially after we name them. We care about things, we still do things for each other. Is any of that evil to you?”

“No, Ranboo says softly. “None of that sounds evil.”

“But we’re about to unleash a dragon and end the world,” Wilbur continues. “So by definition, that’d make us the bad guys. Even if we believe wholeheartedly that we’re doing it for good reasons, the others might not see it that way. Would you still call us evil?”

Tommy shakes his head. “I don’t feel like anything about me’s changed. I still feel the same as I did weeks ago. Except now I’m with you, and you’re still ugly.”

“So.” Techno picks his plate back up, using his fork to push the food around. “It’s all subjective? Basically, we’re slapped with a label we may or may not deserve because of goals we have?”

“Not everything is black and white,” Wilbur says. “Take you, for example. When you blew up L’Manburg, you did it because the government was corrupt and needed to die out. You were doing it for what you thought was a good reason, even though everyone fought you. I see this as more of the same: Everything is corrupt and we need something brash to start over. No one needs to hurt anymore.”

“So grey areas,” Techno continues. He’s understanding more. “Shades of grey is easier to swallow, because I’ve never seen myself as evil, or a bad guy.”

“I don’t think any of us are really villains,” Wilbur says. “We’re all just another shade of grey, and everyone’s version of right versus wrong is different. Extreme, but I don’t think it’s wrong. Dream doesn’t count though, he’s done unquestionably villainous shit. Almost like he was trying to get people to hate him.”

“It didn’t completely work, I’m still stuck with five of you,” Dream mutters. “And for some reason, five of you are calling me your friend.”

Ranboo snorts. “You’ll get used to it Dream. Wait, five?” Ranboo whispers ‘what?’ in Tommy’s direction.

“Yeah.” Tommy sighs. “He actually apologized to me, can you believe that? He apologized and meant it.”

“Can confirm,” Phil says. “Techno and I both heard it.”

“Wow,” Wilbur says. “Even Dream has a heart. Cheers, everyone, to Dream finally growing up and admitting his wrongdoings.”

Everyone mutters a half-assed ‘cheers’ before going back to their food. Techno leans back and stares at his plate. Wilbur is the only one to make him feel better about his own decisions. Sure, he always had Phil backing him up, but someone actively putting his own guilt to rest and telling him he’s justified?

Techno likes being a shade of grey. It’ll make the explosions of color later even more beautiful.

#dream smp #dream smp au #dark!au #cruelty of the beast #cruelty of the beast part 12 #wilbur soot #philza #dreamwastaken #tommyinnit #ranboo #technoblade #talk of morality #wilbur and phil bonding #this is the official calm before the storm #things are going to come to a head after this #the finale's about to begin #long post #miishae writes

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everafterkeiji · 3 years

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Song: Paper Rings by Taylor Swift

Summary: Hanamaki finally seals your fate by proposing to you- with a crappy ring that is.

Pairings: Takahiro Hanamaki x fem! reader

Word count: 6.9k

Genre: absolute fluff and crack, curse words

A/N: not me screaming when i had this idea, I've never felt more single in my life- brb bawling my eyes out- also let's pretend their in the same classes✋

Well, fate isn't something to be entirely trusted upon and neither should Hanamaki.

"Aw, shit."

He cusses when you bump into him, considering his incredibly tall figure, you were caught off guard on who you even crashed into. A small clink sound lands on the floor as you immediately face the boy who was looking at the ground, quite weirdly searching his pockets.

"Sorry- wait you're Hanamaki right?" You asked him, familiar with his hair color. You've seen him play countless of times due to the support of the school for each of their games yet you've never been this close with him. With his state, you immediately question what's got him so frantic.

He eyes the pen that was dead on the floor and he pouts before crouching down to reach it before he dusts off the dirt on it. He opens the cap of it before mindlessly writing on his hand and frowning even more when the ink didn't held its usual consistency- every stroke of a word had it loosing its pigment.

"Man, 'Kawas gonna kill me." He sighs before putting his hands and pen in his pocket as he looks at you surprised. How can he dismiss that he'd bump into you? He immediately bows in a way to apologize to you, completely forgetting that you were the one to hit him.

You knew he was pertaining to the well known setter but you were solely confused in what he was so worried about. Looking at the pen in his pocket, you saw how the ink was full but there were black spillage in the inside. You raise your eyebrow in confusion.

Did he just drop a new pen?

"I'm sorry I dropped your pen- I can let you borrow mine." You propose to him as he takes the pen in his hands admiring it like a wound in someone's arm. Seeing how you were scrambling in your bag to reach for your pencil case, his eyes sparkled at how it contained numerous pens, highlighters and mechanical pencils.

"Looking at the murder you caused, I'm simply asking for more than one pen then."

You tilt your head in curiosity but instead you opened your pencil case as he digs his hand in there picking three pens making you want to scoff at how he picked the gel pens that were your favorite. He looked at each one, writing on his palm if everything was working. He raises an eyebrow at you making you question if this was a fever dream because of how random it was- he acted like he was in a stationary section and it benefitted him that this particular section was free.

He then takes your hand causing you to internally yelp at his actions. Your eyes trail to what he was writing, you noticed it was his name instead. You look up at him as he smiled. Once he finishes writing, he extends his hand out while with the other hand held a pen ready for you to take.

"What's your name?" He asks processing on your features and asking himself why he's seen you dozens of times yet he's yet to get your name.

"Y/N." You say as he gestures for his hand as if telling you to write it. Somewhat following your instincts, you write your name on his hand. After it, he peeks the spelling of it and then casually shakes your hand as introduction.

"See you around, Y/N! You saved my ass with those pens so I guess I owe you one."

"Those are expensive."

"Now hold on there-"

That was how you met and the universe couldn't even joke about how they put you two together.

Now here you two are, invested in a stare off as Matsukawas sleepy eyes often switch his gaze between you and his best friend.

"Makki, it's in a week."

"I specifically remember it's the week after that."

"You two are hopeless." Issei comments making you laugh as Makki pouts at how you agreed with him. Nevertheless, Matsukawa leans his head on his arm ready to fall asleep at any moment. You return to arranging your notes while Makki twirls a pen in his hands while glancing at you once in a while.

Truth be told, it seems that fate still worked its way to the both of you. Ever since your-rather unique- encounter, a friendship was bound to happen. He surely made an impression on you and how could you miss to not be around him? Soon enough, you were also introduced to his teammates and you disliked how it strengthened your bond with him. There was comfort in his presence and to see him fool around with his teammates always radiated an amazing energy between you and him.

You also wanted to thank Oikawa for being somewhat the reason your conversation led to where you are now.

"What'd the pen do to make you this- scared?" You asked as he puts both hands behind his head, leaning on the seat.

"It's a scary pen when it belongs to Oikawa." You turn to him confused as you rest your chin on the palm of your hand, ears perking up at how interesting it was.

"You're telling me you don't own a single pen and you always borrow Oikawas?" He scoffs with a smile before looking at you.

"Of course I bring pens, it's just better if it was from him." You let out a loud laugh, finding it hard to believe this was the sole reason Oikawa would commit murder on him. Hanamaki smiles at the sound of your laugh before shaking his head, at awe at the situation.

It was a coincidence how Oikawa always found a way to strike a nerve to Hanamaki when you visit them in the gym. He knew that beyond his teammates calm composure was a boy who undoubtedly likes you. Ever since Hanamaki returned the pen to him, he knew it wasn't his and in his mind, he asked himself who could've lent him a pen, more so that he had three brand new ones.

So when he sees you tagging beside him, he's taken his first lead to figure the two of you out. After a few more observations, he's convinced that you two were just blind to the feelings that were lingering around.

He's told Iwaizumi about it but all he got was a lecture on how he should let Hanamaki take it easy with asking you out. Which he also argued since it was taking too long, making Iwaizumi land him a smack to the head.

He had his boundaries, maybe not for himself, but for his friends he was more than willing to wait for this relationship to come together.

"So- a date? That's cool right? I mean arcades and shit."

"Makki, you're a loser."

"Arcades are awesome shut up."

"Yeah, for sure. Like Y/N is interested in 'arcades and shit'." Mattsun chuckles as Hanamaki lets out another pout as he sinks in his bed.

"I mean- we've gone on hang outs, she likes them anyway!" He argues making Mattsun shake his head with an amused smirk on his lips.

"So you're telling me you've actually had dates with her then?" Issei asks as Hanamaki shrugs making the other boy groan at the lack of response. Hanamaki raises his head, pursing his lips at the actual thought.

You have actually gone on multiple dates with him. If you could even call it that. To Makki, he thought they were just subtle friendly things but he realizes how he's actually grown some fondness in each place.

"Y/N no I'm telling you- if I were the mastermind, we'd be successful." He argues before taking a sip from his drink. You rolled your eyes as you let your mind ran through the scenarios of having a heist with him and the boys.

You two just finished a heist movie and now you had to endure Makkis fantasies of how it would go down if the characters were him and the rest of the volleyball team. He was so invested in it that you actually had an entire plot and characterization for each teammate.

He argued that he'd be the best mastermind to ever conjure a plan for a heist. A stealthy ninja is what he says he mimics. You tried to argue that Iwaizumi would be good at it, since you noticed how responsible and at control he was but it had Hanamaki listing his reasons.

"No one would ever notice me! Because you know what- their attention would be on Oikawa! Then boom, get in the getaway car with a shit ton of money and thanks to who? Me of course." You let out a laugh making him stop his occupied thoughts to take a look at you. He adores the sound of it too much, especially since he was the usual cause of it. He sees the way you were wiping your eyes with the scenarios he'd told you.

Then your laughter slowly fades when you started to eat again as Makki admires you and how you've effortlessly got his mind to set more dates just to see you this happy.

You look up from your previous position, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Wait, where am I in the heist then?"

He looks at you, almost blurting out the initial idea he had for you in this specific role.

Honestly, I'd spend the money on you. Take you anywhere you wanted to go, Y/N.

That was what he wanted to say but his mouth translated it to a different saying.

"You could die-"

"Makki!" You shouted playfully, ruffling his hair. He laughs but unknowingly, his hand lands on top of yours when you sat back down.

"Excuse you, I can be a good distraction and assistance for action." You commented making him scoff.

"Yeah like you'd be able to hold a gun for a second."

"Please, I had Oikawa beg me to delete a photo of him."

"Okay maybe you are powerful."

You laughed once again, not even feeling how right it was for you to be holding hands like this. It felt comforting yet it brought your heart to speed up like it was in a marathon. You wondered if Makki felt the same, or was this another act of friendliness?

"I wouldn't want you to get hurt though." He whispers, making you smile and blush at the same time. As if it was another point on the score board for how many times he's had your heart go on a frenzy.

"Well, that's what the great mastermind is for right? To keep us safe and succeed?" You say, making him give a gentle squeeze to your hand, as you glanced down on them enjoying the way it looked.

As if I'm gonna let anyone lay a hand on you, Y/N. You're safe with me always.

After a few sly times where he'd hold your hand while you crossed the street or even tugging on your jacket when passing through a huge crowd so he doesn't lose you, he's realized he would absolutely drop the stars for you. He doesn't know whether he should feel terrified because of how he could put your friendship at risk but then he feels- almost relieved that the first person he could ever love is you.

It shouldn't even be difficult to ask you to hang out. You'd usually respond a second after he asks you, it's not even that big of a deal.

Now it's different.

He's finally gotten a clutch on his feelings and he thinks about his next moves. He often just let things happen, loving the way the moments just flowed naturally and perfect in some way but now he's choosing his words since he didn't plan on confessing in such a dorky way- especially when he just says it out loud without proper practice.

"Why don't you ask Oikawa for help then?" Issei suggests making the boy shake his head at the thought already.

"Do you know how much blackmail that idea comes with? He'll never live it down." Hanamaki says as he scrolled through his phone, almost frowning at the thought of humiliation coming from their captain.

"C'mon! He knows a lot of shit about flirting and dates! Maybe even help you in confessing, idiot."

He thinks about that deeply. Each member of the team would have completely diverse answers. As of the mean time, the only proper suggestions he'd get is from Iwaizumi, Oikawa and Mattsun. Though Mattsun has given him plenty of advices, he knew Oikawa was at the top for someone's idea of romance. The man has fangirls, he's obviously heard and experienced many hopeless romantic scenes in his life.

Iwaizumi would've actually been a lot of help knowing the guy is very good at maintaining control and responsibility. He'd give the proper date ideas, the mood to set. He looked like the perfect blueprint for Hanamaki to copy. He also believed that Iwaizumi would think nothing of these advices so it's a win-win if you ask him.

"Right, okay. I got this."

"Why me though?" Iwaizumi asks as Hanamaki spikes another ball.

"Look Iwa- I genuinely trust your judgment more. I just need help." Iwaizumi chuckles before collecting another ball.

"Fine fine. Just meet me after practice."

Hanamaki cheers when he hears him, even smiling now that he can figure out a way to show you how much he likes you.

Sure, he's doing it unintentionally sometimes. Tiny signs that should show you how he is absolutely in love with you. He'd show this in various ways as well. It comes as an instinct in some way. He'd hit you with a "let's have lunch" and you'd gladly accept. Mattsun has pointed out that Makki has already made a move on you countless of times but it had Makki questioning the depths of being friendly and going through courting you.

You haven't even made things official yet these so-called dates had your classmates wondering how your relationship started, even if it hasn't. Makki would always lean his head on your shoulder during lunch, to rest his brain from the lessons. For you, it's nothing. Makki has always been like this after you got comfortable with each other. This affectionate side of him even had Mattsun wonder why on Earth would he ask for help when he clearly doesn't need it.

The three of you are now seated in a lecture, boredom crossing your minds but Mattsun's mind was rattled by Hanamaki. After their conversation about asking help from Oikawa, he thought that Makki would actually go through the plan. Looking back on his motives with you, he just doesn't see a reason why he needs assistance from the setter. He can handle this all on his own, so scribbling down on a piece of paper, he throws it to Hanamaki who awakens by the action.

Hanamaki yawns as he opens the crumpled paper, his eyes widening and cheeks heating at the group of words.

'You can literally just confess to her now, even without shittykawa.'

He glares at Mattsun while the other boy shrugs with an expression that says "seriously, it's not that deep." He huffs before grabbing a pen and replying to his previous statement, then throwing it again.

'Try confessing to the girl you like during a lecture, Sherlock.'

Mattsun chuckles as Makki crosses his arms in front of his chest. His eyes land on you, who is fixated on the lecture. He smiles softly at the idea of a date with you, but this faint moment was ruined when Mattsun directly throws the ball of paper to Hanamakis face, earning a chuckle from some of his classmates.

He opens with eyebrows furrowed, annoyed at the shot.

'Not now dumbass, after classes. Just go up to her and say you like her, it's that easy dude.'

Hanamaki turns to him mocking his words while Mattsun rolls his eyes as Makki writes again. As he was about to throw the paper in Mattsuns direction, a student raised their hand hitting the paper and it suddenly landed on the floor beside you instead. The boys had their eyes widen as you saw the paper.

In a flash, Hanamaki picks up the piece of paper before you could grab a hold of it and you let out a gasp when he suddenly appeared in front of you. You blinked at him as he slowly walked away, wide eyed, to avoid conflict with the teacher.

You and Mattsun share a look together as you looked away, utterly speechless at what just happened. When you looked away, Mattsun hides his laughter by stuffing his face in his arm as Makkis cheeks never grew out of its red shade.

Meanwhile, Mattsun finally held a memory that he can never forget.

"It's not a big deal. You guys have been friends for so long. I don't think Y/N would mind." Iwaizumi comments making Hanamaki silent.

Can you really feel the same way?

A year of knowing you- should that be enough to fall in this deep? Is there even a requirement before someone can confess? Because in a span of time knowing you, there wasn't a moment where he regretted anything. He could thank the universe for one stupid pen, maybe even Oikawa. Everything that led to where you are now, he's never been more contented in his life.

During movies, your favorite spot was to lean your head on his shoulder. To just sling your arm around his waist on the way home, holding his hand while walking through crowds, it just fits. No matter where you were, what you were doing with him, it seemed like there wasn't an extra space in the puzzle pieces, it all connected.

But you two couldn't figure it out for yourselves.

"Well, does every confession need some sort of grand gesture?" He asks Iwaizumi. The ace bites his lips before kicking a rock on the path he was walking on.

"I don't really know. What does Y/N like anyway?"

"Hopefully me." Hanamaki jokes, but he deeply wanted it to be real. He figures if all of this asking for help was going to guarantee him something good, better yet, a yes from your lips. But first, he had to answer Iwaizumis question.

"She likes simple things- you know how she likes it when I like hold her stuff and all? She also likes those weird food thingys at one date-or hang out we had- you know that scent that reminds you of a romance movie-"

"Makki, you know her this well and you're nervous for nothing. I'm sure that she'll love whatever you do- you're friends for a reason." Iwaizumi says making Hanamaki sigh, hearing those words again.

"Exactly! That's the problem. Fuck- I can't even act like I don't like her. Am I being too obvious or friendly? I don't know where the line ends or starts. I shouldn't get nervous cause it's her- she doesn't care what I do- she's happy with whatever but I just want it to be.. perfect." He rants and ends it with a tired sigh. God, he was getting frustrated. At this point his feelings were overwhelming him, he just needed an outlet for it.

He can't just act like the sight of your smile doesn't make him smile as well, or even just seeing your sleepy state when you walk into class. If his heart didn't flutter whenever you were around, maybe by then you couldn't call it admiration but he just fell and there wasn't a way to stop him.

He didn't wanna stop either.

"Mattsun." You say as Mattsun lets out another laugh as you roll your eyes. It was after practice and since Takahiro couldn't walk you home because he told you he had to talk to Iwaizumi about something, Issei was the one to walk you home.

"This is gold." He states making you shove him a bit. He smiles when he sees you pout. This is where he decides. He could literally say how Hanamaki was asking him for advices like you are right now, but a side of him just wants to see what Makki could do. It was all too funny for him, even if hated how oblivious you two were.

If Hanamaki was falling for you with each day, you did the same. It was inescapable. You met him during second year and the fact that he had you tugging on your heart strings, it was something you can't ignore.

"What exactly are you doing?"

"I'm studying, 'Hiro. What's up?" You asked him as he raised an eyebrow at you. You stopped writing to look at him fully.

"We're at a mall." He states like you didn't know. It was bizarre to go to a mall cafe and your purpose was to study when you were with the spontaneous Hanamaki. That's on you for getting distracted on your strict teachers subject.

"Yes, Makki. I know that." He lets out a pft then takes the notebook of yours, closing it. Even putting on the caps of your pens and placing them back in your pen pouch. He also grabs your bag and placing all of those items inside.

You didn't stop him though. You've had enough with 'studying either way'. You'd die if saw how you weren't even taking notes, you were actually writing about how beautiful his eyes were. You were just purely lucky that he didn't care what you were writing because he thought it was about school.

"Happy now?" You asked him as he nods with a childish grin.

"Super. Let's go, cutie." Your eyes widened with his statement so you turn your head away to sling the backpack on your shoulder but he stops you before you could.

He removes his hoodie and hands it to you, making you stare at him.

"What for?"

"It's hot- well duh it's cold, Y/N. C'mon I wanna go to cinema. " He says nonchalantly as you take the hoodie and wear it. What causes you to stop midway was when he pulled down your blouse to prevent it from rising up when you wore his jacket. After placing your arms in, you blushed at minimal gesture.

It made Hanamaki let out a cough, when he did it like a reflex, not even thinking about it.

"Cutie huh?" You teased making him roll his eyes, though he was thankful that you broke the silence.

"Yeah no shut it."

There were many more memories that could list out why you liked him but maybe they just held the same reason.

"Leave him a note then if you can't say it in person." Mattsun suggests, even though he wishes he could've said something else. He doesn't know if that was a good suggestion or not. This could ruin whatever Makki was planning on doing. He should ask him about his plan later on so he can tell you what not to do in order for his best friend to succeed.

You reached the front of your house as you gave Issei a hug, to thank him. He pats your hair as your pull away from him.

"Hey, you've got this. It's you and Makki." He says smiling, assuring you. You nod at him as you sent a wave, him doing the same then walking away.

When you entered your room, your phone rang. Seeing Makkis name light up your room had you answering it in a heartbeat.

"Makki, what's up?"

"Hey, I just called to say I'm sorry I couldn't walk you home today. " He says running his fingers through his hair. He did want to walk with you but he trusted Mattsun. He couldn't waste the time Iwaizumi gave him for advice.

"It's fine, 'Hiro. Mattsun and I are fine." He smiles at what you said, while you left your phone on the nightstand you decided to change out of your uniform. While Makki decides on what to say next.

"Hey Y/N?" He calls for you, once you were done dressing up, you took the phone lying down on your bed.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna go out, for real this time?"

"I'm gonna go sleep." He says, biting his tongue, despising how he couldn't say it. He hears you yawn on the other end of the line.

"That's a lie but night Makki Makki!" You said chuckling as his ears turned red at the nickname. He shakes his head with a smile.

"Goodnight, dumbie."

"Hey! I called you a decent nickname."

"Wow okay then. Goodnight, princess."

Hold up, he said what?

I said that?

He quickly ends the call before you could let out a comment on what he just said. A wave of panic rushes to him not knowing your reaction. You covered your face with the pillows the surrounded you, letting out a frustrated scream.

Fuck.

The morning comes and Hanamakis heart was racing like he going to attend a deadly match but in reality he was just going to confess. He's set all the things that he needed for today, mostly the materials but he himself wasn't nearly as ready.

He's going to wear a uniform. How the fuck do you make that look presentable and polished? Should he wear a new hoodie for you to wear afterwards? Just- how?

He's been staring at himself for too long then he hears his parents call for him saying that Mattsukawa was at his front porch. He sighs before grabbing his bag and heading out of his room.

"So you ready?" Issei asks as Hanamaki shrugs. He wanted it to end right away but then again he wants things to slow down while he sees your reaction when does it.

"Fuck no. Iwaizumi helped me with a few things, he said something about gifts so I searched for some." Mattsukawa nods, as he thinks about what you were up to. Can it actually happen now? The two idiots would finally have the guts to confess on the same day?

"Honestly, this will be very entertaining. What time?"

"I was thinking kind of like after school." He says making Mattsukawa agree with him. It benefits the both of you. Never in a rush to admit, it could also give Makki some time to accomplish some of his plans.

"Do you think it'll go ok?" Hanamaki asks, almost nervous for his answer. Mattsukawa only smiles, knowing the possible ending.

"Yeah."

Betrayer. Oikawa thinks.

He lets out a pout of annoyance and when he spots you, he immediately walks over to you before Hanamaki could.

"Morning Oikawa! Have you seen-"

"Y/N-chan! I'll walk you to class today!" He says sweetly making you question in what was going on. He sees you peer your head over his shoulder, looking for Hanamaki which made him scoot a bit so your vision was blocked. Realizing that Hanamaki probably hasn't arrived yet, you shrugged.

"Okay, Tooru."

As Oikawa slings his arm around your shoulder, he could feel Takahiros stare as he walked with you. Even Iwaizumi had to double take on what he just saw.

"What's with him?" Hanamaki asks, feeling a slight burn in his heart when he sees you laughing with the pretty setter.

"I don't know, maybe he's just bugging her." Iwaizumi comments, making Makki roll his eyes. Mattsun takes notice of his behavior and lets out a chuckle.

"Aww, seriously. It's Oikawa! He's not going to steal your girl." Hanamaki blushes at his words and the boys eye his reaction, making them laugh at the change. Makki rolls his eyes before letting out a sigh, an act as if to reassure himself that things would go according to plan.

When Makki enters the room and meets your eyes, you already flash him a smile gesturing for him to seat with them. Oikawa sends a glare in his way making Mattsun lazily raise an eyebrow to the setter. Oikawa turns his attention to you once again, his chin on his palm as he stares at you.

"You're so pretty Y/N-chan! Wouldn't want that to go to waste do we?" Your ears couldn't really believe what you just heard. A sea of gasps echoed through the room when the compliment left Oikawas mouth. Murmurs of how luck you were started to spread and Makki was stood frozen.

"Flirting with my best friend isn't cute, shittykawa." Hanamaki comments, a distinct tone in his voice that didn't sound all too jokingly. The word best friend rings in your head as you actually felt a strike to your heart with his words.

How can you confess like this when you're down to rejection?

You felt like Hanamaki gave you a wake up call. Is this really the farthest you could go? Just friends? You let out a sigh, suddenly throwing away your previous plans of admitting your feelings for him. You gripped the pen in your hand as you tried not to be controlled by the pain.

Mattsukawa sees how your hand was trembling, replaying what Makki said, he nudges the boy next to him who was busy giving a cold shoulder to Oikawa. Mattsukawa prays that Hanamaki realizes what he just said.

Hanamaki feels the harsh nudge of his best friend making him look your way, a downcast evident in your features. Before he could ask you what's got you upset, the teacher walks in making Oikawa and Iwaizumi leave. Oikawa passes by Hanamaki making the tension even more noticeable.

Mattsukawa grips Hanamakis arm, to stop his mouth from sending a snarky comment and to hold him back from a glare. Hanamaki sits in his usual place as he ponders on what's gotten you this down. Was it Oikawa? What did he tell you? Could it be something that included him?

He sincerely hopes it doesn't involve him or else his hearts going to keep aching with jealousy.

What the fuck?

That was the only question that lingered in Hanamakis head.

Throughout the day, he figured that he'd be able to avoid you without you knowing what he was doing but instead, he found himself getting distracted in the fact that you sat with Oikawa between breaks. He couldn't even focus where to put the gifts in, he's totally forgotten about his locker and the possibility of you finding about it makes him panic.

He just hated how he feels the envy consume him. It took him a while to not give in to it. He had to continue, if he didn't- he would cower away. He wasn't going to waste another chance because of Oikawa, he can promise you that.

"You think Oikawa knew something? Maybe he's actually stalling you." Mattsukawa suggests, to remind Hanamaki that he was sure the setter isn't a barrier to his plans.

"He said something to her- I just know it. She's distant with me." He says tiredly, Iwaizumi leans on his arm to whisper to Hanamaki.

"Maybe he figured out you were going to confess." Iwaizumi says shrugging, Hanamaki shakes his head.

Are you turning him down then if this was real?

A way to softly push him away and tell him that your friendship mattered more?

If this was the case, he's leading his heart to a trap.

And it went like this until Makki had to confront Oikawa, sick of the change in you. It was practice time so he had the setter to himself. He knew you were waiting for him so he decided to take matters into his own hands.

He just wanted to be yours already.

"Oikawa, what did you tell her?" He asks quietly. Even if his heart held its beat because of jealousy, he's sure that the boy he was talking to had no interest in you the same way he has. Oikawa has never shown you signs of love or any affection at all. Sure, it was fun to be around him but he looked at you as a friend, a company he can find comfort in but who's to say Makki doesn't feel nervous?

"I didn't tell her anything what are you talking about?" The boy answers making Makki sigh.

"She's avoiding me. It doesn't make sense then." Oikawa raises an eyebrow at Takahiros expression. He looked so- distraught. It starts to sink in him how the lack of your presence takes a toll on his friend and there was the tiny ounce of regret that hits his mind.

When he sees Hanamaki open his locker to reveal a boquet of flowers, his eyes widen. He then closes them immediately, cursing himself for the misunderstanding.

"Isn't that what you were supposed to give Aika?" He asks, his throat dwelling with nervousness. Hanamaki furrows his eyebrows, evidently confused in how their classmate who he is even close to, got dragged into the situation.

"What-"

"Shit."

"Oikawa!"

I hate running.

He says to himself whie doing it, he's never ran this fast before. God, now everything was at rush. He had to pack his things immediately, make sure the sweat didn't cling to him like it did. He even had to rummage through his locker to make sure everything was inside his bag. Mattsukawa was also frantic. Iwaizumi was calm enough to knock some sense into Oikawa after Hanamaki tells the news on what exactly happened.

So here he was running to your neighborhood, flowers and all because he'd be dumb enough to be the guy in Oikawas misunderstood scenario.

"Oikawa!"

"Wait okay fuck I'm sorry- I might have heard something wrong earlier." He says, a hand to the back of his neck. Hanamaki isn't sure if he should feel relieved that Oikawa doesn't have any admiration towards or feel the fucking rage to strangle him for whatever led to this.

"What exactly did you hear anyway?"

"I can't just give the flowers to Aika. I can't act like an admirer of hers, I have to confess to her myself." Hanamaki says sighing as Iwaizumi and Mattsukawa nods.

Oikawa turns his back on the trio as he frowns at the idea of you and Hanamaki not being a couple. It seems that his friendly gestures didn't actually hold anything else, he'd fallen for Aika instead. Though he feels slightly pissed that Hanamaki led you on in some sort of way.

Once he sees you, he immediately goes your way in order for you to not witness the heartbreak that was about to unfold.

"Oikawa, I was planning to confess to Y/N. Mattsukawa suggested that I try to give her the flowers anonymously at first by letting Aika bring it to her but like I said, I didn't wanna look like an unknown loser." Hanamaki lets out a puff of annoyance as Oikawa rests his hand on the boys shoulder, now that tiny ounce of guilt grew and grew.

"I'm really really sorry, Makki." He says sincerely, Hanamaki sighs before nodding at Oikaws, accepting his apology knowing Iwaizumi could lecture the boy after his slip up.

"I need to go to Y/N now." He says but Kindaichi looks at his teammate with a water bottle in hand.

"Y/N-san left hours ago." He says as Hanamaki sends a glare towards Oikawa then he looks at Kunimi just to confirm Kindaichis statement. Kunimi nods before returning back to his unbothered state. Hanamaki lets out a scream of frustration as he dashes towards Mattsukawa and Iwaizumi, Oikawa being dragged along by his shirt.

"Oi, did you two fight?"

"Long-story short he thought I was giving the flowers to Aika. Now please, lecture the damn asshole- I need to find Y/N." He basically hands Oikawa to Iwaizumi who already landed a ball to the captains head as he runs off to his locker to leave immediately.

He could never adore someone else when you remained to stay at the top of his list- since no other name follows it.

He pats down his sweat with a towel before drinking water then spraying his cologne all around him. He was in front of your room door since your parents gladly invited him in while he mentions to be quiet at the sight of the boquet of flowers in hand and now it's finally happening. He was either going to face a prize or a bucket of tears.

Here goes nothing then.

He knocks on the door as you continued to scroll through your phone but you spoke, "It's open!"

He opens it softly, before stepping in your room, closing the door in the process. You look up from your phone only to get the life knocked out of you when you see Hanamaki.

"Hey Makki-"

"Y/N please I just need to tell you something okay."

He takes the vacant spot next to you on your bed as both your hearts pounded loudly with each second. Your mind couldn't stop racing at what he was going to say if it was just flat out rejection, meanwhile Hanamaki doubts what he bought you. He carefully takes your hand with his, caressing it gently while your cheeks were heating at the moment.

"Y/N I-"

You roll your eyes before ending the call, not even caring to know who called. Meanwhile, Makki wanted to stop himself from coughing from the embarrassment.

The phone rings. Oh, fuck me.

"Go on- really sorry." You say with a slight chuckle, as he smiles, thankful you read the room at how nervous he was. Instead, he went to his bag to find a certain box. Once he finds the blue box, he takes your palm and places the object on it.

You smiled at him you opened the box, praying that you don't let out a squeal when you see what's inside.

"Paper rings?" You say chuckling as Hanamakis eyes widen, threatened to pop out of his sockets since he was in full disbelief. You laughed as Hanamaki tried to get the back from you but you ran from your bed to wear the damn thing.

"Y/N!" He yells trying to reach the box from your hands but your laughter echoes through the room.

You're too fucking cute for me. You think to yourself.

"It's a perfect fit on me, Takahiro." You say even holding out your hand with the paper ring as Hanamaki hides his face on a pillow, an attempt to hide the humiliation. He can never bounce back from this. Where was the actual matching rings that he bought? The one with yours and his initials were embedded on? Did he leave it on his desk when he was trying to figure out your ring size? He was truly fucked.

When you tried to reach for him, the ring broke since it was surrounded by tape and it didn't really held strength to it. Realizing that it was folded paper, you opened it seeing scribbles and doodles from Makki.

Y/N's ring size is 6 maybe 7?

Get the flowers that Iwaizumi suggested. Which flower was it again? The ones that symbols love? Fuck it.

Does she prefer me with this perfume or not?

She smells amazing all the time, I hate it.

God, I like her too much it's unbelievable.

I feel like I'm proposing to her but I'm not complaining.

You immediately drop the paper to look at him, switching your gaze between him and the paper. You hid your face in your hands as you wondered if this was actually reality. Hanamaki likes you back? Proposing? It was overwhelmingly cute.

Hanamaki lifts his head from the pillow and he sees you looking like you were embarrassed for him. He immediately goes to you, hands on yours as he tries to lift them off your face.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" He teases, hopefully it was able to grab your attention, and it did. You slap his chest from how flustered you were as he laughs before taking you in his arms, playing with your hair as your mind goes blank.

"Okay maybe the secret is out but I'm serious, Y/N. I like you- so fucking much it makes me wanna buy all the shit you want if we succeed in a heist- and I never wanna stop feeling this. The ring is crappy but I've got the actual one in my room so" He pulls away from your embrace as he lifts your chin to meet with his face who was intoxicatingly close.

"Do you accept my proposal of being my girlfriend?"

"If I said no?" You teased with a smile as he chuckles before locking his lip with yours, his hand finding its way to your cheek as you immediately kiss back, the pieces finally clicking in its rightful place. He deepens the kiss as your hand finds its way to the nape of his hair, pulling him closer while his own hands make a trip to your waist who he soon finds addicting.

He pulls away, caressing your cheek as your forehead touched, smiles plastered on either faces.

"I gladly accept, 'Hiro."

"Not like I'll take no for an answer, princess."

#haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#hanamaki x reader #mattsukawa x reader #mattsukawa issei #hanamaki takahiro #oikawa tooru #hajime iwaizumi #aoba johsai #xine's world of romance

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b1ksh88p · 4 years

Text

Be Mine ⛏

Plot Plot: You’ve been in a few relationships, unfortunately all ending in tragedy. You had a reputation for being a bad omen. Truly you were a sweet girl but it seemed like every single one of your lovers ended up dead or horrendously disfigured in the long run. This Valentine’s Day your boyfriend decides to jump ship for some blonde crushing the little hope you had left for your love life. In a slightly drunken haze you sneak into the mines for a rant about the cursed corporate holiday and to drown your sorrows in the solitude of the mines. But it seems like you’ve got a listener.

Tags/Warnings: Lots of cursing | Sprinkle of angst | Fluff

The cold air of the abandoned labyrinth did nothing to cool you down as you ventured further into its clutches. To put it lightly you were on fire. Every part of you wanted to tear someone apart. The auburn liquid sloshed around as you clumsily stomped past heaps of forgotten debris. If not for your drunken stupor you would’ve turned back. Everyone knew the horrific tale of the pickaxe cannibal murder. Although you were sure the story was somewhat embellished you’ve heard worse. Poor fuck did what he had to do to survive. Anyone else would’ve done the same, it’s human nature to do anything no matter how gruesome to survive.

“Give a girl a box of cheap chocolates and a fucking bouquet of withering roses and she’s supposed to repay ya by sucking your fucking dick and acting like yer the best thing since sliced bread.” You grumble.

The deeper you go the darker it gets. Stone walls become suffocating and everything looks like the enemy. A fight or flight response may have kicked in but you were in no place to think rationally. When your heel broke you fucking snapped.

“Stupid Roses, fuck ass chocolates, fake relationships for fake people who wouldn’t know love if it fucking stabbed them in the face!” You yell throwing the broken heel piece deep into the darkness. “A corporate holiday with no fucking insignificance! Just a money plot and a excuse to fuck and act like you like that worthless pathetic fuck you’re dating that you like them. When all 364 days you’ve been with em ya fucking loathe them!” You continue on tearing up the damned holiday in partially incoherent babbling until you hear glass break.

Despite your conditions you aren’t stupid. “Fuck is that?” You call out whilst backing up. At first you’re sure it’s a group of horny teenagers but through the gritty lights you see a single foreboding silhouette. This was where you run. Or at least you should’ve. Instead you squint your eyes like some tourist taking in the sights and step forward. “Bud y’know the mines are abandoned cuz of the poor guy who had to eat his friends right?” You call out. “I mean do you if this is your thing I support it but it’s kinda weird since you look exactly like the serial killer guy. Spot on cosplay.” You compliment. The figure doesn’t move. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. You feel your hairs start to stand up and goosebumps pepper you skin. It seems your liquid courage was fading.

“Welp I’ll leave you be, don’t wanna bore you with the details of this fucked up holiday.” You let out a wry laugh before turning your back on the figure. You get about 12 good steps in before the stride of death crescendos behind you. Now you were running. Your broken heels doing wonders at making this chase the easiest for your attacker. In the midst of running you take them off and throw them off behind you. Now look you weren’t aiming for the guy but when you heard the hit connect and a surprised grunt you got the feeling you were fucked. Instead of running in a straight line you dip into a little crawl space. Maybe he’d give up and fuck off you. To your horror the man crouches down and starts to crawl his way inside.

Without thinking you take the whiskey bottle and crash it on his head. “Leave me alone I don’t even like this fuckass holiday you fucking weirdo!” You cry. He looks up at you and stops trying to fit.

“Why not.” His voice was eerily calm. As if he weren’t some insane pickaxe murderer but a man.

“Well because it’s stupid and to lovy dovy. And because it feels wrong to celebrate it when such a tragedy had occurred.” You explain. “And...and I got dumped today so there’s that.” You huff.

“...You pity me?”

You shake your head. Words weren’t really your strong point and you didn’t need him thinking you were coddling him or anything. Instead you just stare into the glossy eyeholes with your own praying he’d just fuck off. You practically shit yourself when he continued to scramble through and stand up. You grab a rock and stand ready to knock him upside the head with it only have your wrist harshly grabbed mid throw.

“I don’t want your pity.”

This was it. You were gonna die. And it was gonna be painful and super fucking lame. On your headstone it would say:

“Loser girl no one cares about got dumped on Valentine’s Day...also got murdered lol”

Even though you wanted to sob and cry your eyes out you were way to stubborn to go out pleading and begging. “I was being empathetic you weirdo! We do what we gotta do to survive, and you did just that. You aren’t some crazy murderer. You’re just angry and traumatized and that’s ok!” The grip on your wrist only tightened. “Gah! Th-the system failed you dude. The whole fucking city failed you and still is failing you! You ha-have a right to be mad! I’m not excusing what you’ve done b-but shit I would’ve done the same!” You squeal feeling the blood flow completely cease as he tightened his grip.

Suddenly the pain stopped. You open your eyes and rub your poor wrist hoping the feeling would return. He seemed more docile. It was as if his entire aura had changed. The man sat down on a hunk of rubble, his weapon clenched in his grip. If you didn’t know better you could’ve sworn he was crying. It was a silent sob. Nothing overtly dramatic, kind of how like you’d expect a man who’s rarely cried to cry. It was unnerving. The only man you’ve ever seen cry was your dad and that was when he laughed to hard. This...this was gut wrenching.

This monster that was hellbent on killing you seconds ago was now a sad man huddled up in a corner like a child. You could never feel the pain he’s felt, relive the days of utter darkness and skewed rations. Never could you imagine the gritty taste of human flesh. The depravity one must have for themselves. The survivors guilt. The nightmares he must relive. He kept muttering something about the dark and the how he wasn’t a monster. How he just wanted to see the light again.

“It’s ok.”

You weren’t sure you could touch him so you just sat in front of him. He was still shaken up but the sound of your voice seemed to get through to him. “It’s ok and you’re safe. I’m here. I won’t go anywhere I’d you don’t want me to...” You could bare the cold for a night. You’d rather be frozen to death then brutally murdered.

Both of you sat there for what seemed like ages until he moved. You were on the edge of slumber before seeing a gloved hand slither towards yours. You wanted to move it. Make haste and dip but your body had become heavy. Your eyes seemingly weighed down by stones. Before you knew it he was oddly holding your hand. You saw him looking at you intently. Probably waiting for you to scream or pull away but you stayed put. One hand held up your head whilst the other was his to experience. It had probably been awhile since he’s been so vulnerable so you let him have this. It wasn’t like you had anything else to do tonight but sleep and pray that the hang over didn’t beat your ass in the morning. Before you could fall asleep he pulls you into a really awkward half ass embrace against the cold stained suit. It was far more comfortable than the back straining position you were in a second ago but man this guy was bad at ‘snuggling’. You felt like he was gonna smother you! When he found a comfortable position he rested that stupid ass mask on top of your head with a satisfied grunt before you gave up on protesting and fell asleep. How the hell were you gonna get home

When you wake there’s no cold embraces or odd masked men. Instead you find yourself wrapped in some dusty old quilt at the entrance of the mine. For a moment you think everything that occurred was a mere fever dream. A whiskey fueled hallucination. You scramble to your feet and notice a little note that had fallen from the tattered cloth. The paper, or what you hoped was paper and not dried human skin, had fairly neat handwriting. It was short and morbidly sweet.

Thank you.

There was a part of you that was absolutely mortified. The note solidified your suspicions of what had taken place last night. But the other part of you was strangely elated. You turn to the mine and put your hands to your mouth to amplify your words. “THANKS FOR NOT KILLING ME ILL MAKE IT UP TO YOU!!!!!!” You yell happily before heading back into town. You were pretty sure he didn’t hear you but it calmed you to know that he not only spared you but someone actually appreciated your presence.

This was definitely not your final encounter ⛏

#⛏

#slasher #horror #slashers #harry warden #my bloody valentine #slasher x s/o #slasher x reader #im not good at writing lmao #potential series maybe idk #i really loved writing this 🙈#harry warden x reader

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stayndays · 3 years

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𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 & 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃

time to dive into this hellhole of a series once again

if you haven’t read killer king, there are MAJOR spoilers in this post! you have been warned.

So! This was highly requested in the final survey of Killer King: to reveal the other routes if you didn’t choose the Escape Route. To start off, though, I first have to talk about something that was brought up multiple times throughout the voting boxes of Killer King, which is:

“Why is Jisung helping Minho/Is Jisung aware that Minho’s the killer/What is Jisung and Minho’s dynamic?”

Minho and Jisung, to say the least, is probably the most interesting duo in the series. They didn’t met before the party, but rather, at the party before the mansion owner was killed, and quickly formed a strong bond. You could infer that Minho wanted to pull in a party guest that would most likely stay and solve the murder, just so he has a puppet to control if things go haywire. Minho was also inspired by Jisung’s poem, which results in how his killing techniques were put into place.

Because Jisung is kind of naive in this story, he ends up being manipulated by the killer himself, and accidentally becomes Minho’s #1 ally for the entire series. Minho grabbed the key from the mansion owner’s coat, and gave it to Jisung for him to protect, saying something along the lines of “If anybody tries to flee the mansion like a coward, they won’t be able to because you have the key.”

Oh, also, Minho attempted to frame Jisung by leaving the white glove in Jisung’s bag. I’m like.. slowly recovering info from this series because I already forgot most of the plot.. October was a fever dream guys wheeze

But now, this duo leads us to our first route I’ll cover today! The duos all have a certain goal: Hyunin wanted to escape, another group wanted to kill the killer themselves, and another group simply wanted to solve the murder. This duo is different, however, because Minho is literally the killer.

So the route would’ve played out somewhat like this:

You choose to align with Minho and Jisung, regardless of whether you lie or not

When the house fight occurs and everybody is split off into groups, you have the option to stay with Chan, Changbin, and Minho. If you choose this, you would get an additional chapter where you have the decision to come with Minho upstairs, or to stay behind with Chan and Changbin.

If you choose to come with Minho, you would be forced by him to throw a knife at Jeongin, who’s alone on the stairs. (this would’ve been REALLY fun to write)

Even if you chose not to follow Minho, as long as you prove that you’re truly loyal to him, he’ll eventually reveal to both you and Jisung that he’s the killer, and urge the both of you to work with him to eliminate the rest of the house members.

THIS IS THE FUN PART

Basically: Jisung doesn’t want to team up with Minho. Instead, he wants to try and kill Minho (I assume that Jisung has multiple reasons as to why he doesn’t want to tell the other members, probably because he has no evidence). As a result, since Jisung also trusts you, he tells you his plan, and now you have to choose between the two.

And according to my notes, no matter if you team up with Jisung or go solo, if you choose to betray Minho, you will die. It is impossible to succeed in this scenario. You have to team up with a murderer in order to win.

You could also try and convince Jisung to come with you and Minho’s side. Knowing me, I’d probably spin a wheel to see whether Jisung would agree with you or not LOL. If he doesn’t though, he’s gonna die. That’s that.

So if you team up with Minho (regardless if Jisung is still alive or not) and the two/three of you are able to successfully eliminate the rest of the members, you win! And you get the ending “The Killer’s Sidekick” (even better: if you identity as a female and/or use she/her pronouns, you could be “The Killer Queen” :D)

The other two routes don’t have nearly as much info as Minsung’s route, though. One of them wasn’t even planned at all. Let’s talk about them!

Changlix’s Route: Kill the Killer

Basically, if you openly state to either Felix or Changbin that you’re also interested in killing the killer, you’d be put into this route!

In this route, you’ll tend to make more impulsive decisions without thinking straight (aka your choices will be pretty dumb) because you’re after blood, not justice.

If you kill the wrong person, that’s an automatic game over.

If you hesitate to kill Minho, he’ll kill you first, and that’s a game over.

And if you successfully kill Minho, you’ll get one of those “You won.. but at what cost?” endings, kinda like the ending you guys got! (it’s because you killed somebody, that’s why.)

Chanmin’s Route: Catch the Killer

I have nothing written down for this route. It’s pretty self explanatory. Find the killer, and trap him in a room until the police come. That’s pretty much the route, along with trying not to get killed yourself.

If you chose this route, it would probably be even more stressful than the escape route, and would probably be the most boring route to write.

If you have any questions, let me know! But now let’s dive into the questions you guys put in for the survey.

1. Was Hyunjin super suspicious in the beginning as a red herring?

I think they were all super suspicious in the beginning just so the reader jumps into the story completely blind. It wasn’t intended as a red herring, but it definitely could be to you!

2. Why does Felix and Changbin want to kill the murderer?

Simple: bloodlust. I just needed that violent duo, y’know?

3. Were Jisung and Minho conspiring together? If not, was Minho going to pin it on Jisung?

No and yes, that was his intention!

4. Why does Minho have a hankering for murder?

He wants revenge on his step father, the mansion owner, for neglecting him all those years. Also the dude has anger issues. Bad temper.

5. Why could Minho pass the mattress but not 5 guys?

He is immortal. He is god. He is- just kidding. He was probably doing something stupid and unplanned, like using the bathroom on the downstairs floor. That’s the best answer I can give you for now.

6. Why did Jisung decided to team up with Minho? I mean what benefit will he get from it if there is a chance Minho might even kill him too? and also did Jisung know that Minho is the killer king in the first place?

He didn’t realize he was teaming up with the killer, and if Minho did reveal that he was the killer, Jisung would most likely try to turn on him (and fail). Nope!

7. What was Minho's motive (was it just him hating the victim or was there something deeper)?

Both that, and probably bloodlust as well.

8. How did Minho get the white glove to blame Jisung later when he wasn't with us while we were searching the room?

He bought a fresh pair of white gloves before the party started. He also, most likely, placed it in Jisung’s bag before committing the murder without him noticing.

9. If we were to just body search everybody at once, would we find the throwing knives on Minho and just end the whole thing? (this was on my mind the whole time lmao, like why didn't we search OURSELVES too??)

yeah true ngl i can’t argue with that Knowing Minho, he probably has a bunch of knives hidden all around the house, secretly planting them here and there while mingling with party guests.

10. Were really 2 killer kings?

Nope! Only Minho. There would only be more than one killer king if you ended up choosing the Minsung route. However, good idea! I should’ve thought of that.

11. Why in the hell was jisung helping minho like how did they end up as a team?

e x p l a i n e d a l r e a d y. see i told you guys a lot of people were asking this

12. I still don't understand changbins fascination with the blood type.

This was an easter egg I was proud of but nobody caught!! The same blood type mentioned by Changbin (I think it was A?) is the same type Seungmin has! After a google search or two, I learned that blood types were passed down by family members, so if you arrange Seungmin’s family tree correctly, you’d learn that him and the mansion owner shared the same blood type, meaning that Seungmin is related to the mansion owner. Far stretch, I know, but I think it works out! If you figured this out, you would realize how smart Changbin really is as a scientist.

13. Why did jeongin light two matches?

Extra precaution! Also, he’s the youngest. He thinks fire is cool.

14. Was Minsung a team for the ~ Minsung Vibes? ~

It was not intentional at first, but then I realized the rest of the duos were popular ships in SKZ (minus Chanmin) so that was interesting!

15. Just in general why were the teams aligned the way they were?

Minsung - They’re good pals Changlix - For the bloodlust similarity Hyunin - They were both emotional enough in this story to want to escape Chanmin - It’s literally Chan and Seungmin, and Seungmin is close with the mansion owner

16. Which one was your favorite route?

MINSUNG’S ROUTE!! I wanted you guys to choose this one because it would so different from other murder mysteries!! But the escape route was my second choice, thank god.

17. Will you be doing another series similar to this next year?

90% no because of how physically and mentally draining this series was to write, but you can get a sequel if the finale somehow gets 50 notes! That won’t happen for a while. Just FYI.

18. Did the knife in y/n’s hand ever come out or was it just stuck in there the entire time?

It was there the entire time until Hyunjin pulled it out at his house. I actually still don’t know if this is medically accurate or not, I literally had to ask my mom what to do in this situation. Our text messages went something like:

Me: If a knife goes through your hand, should you pull it out or leave it in? Asking because of a TV show Mom: Leave it in and go to the hospital... Me: Ok thanks mom

I think that’s it? I still have a lot I want to talk about, but that information will only come out if people ask me! So come ask me hehe have fun. Thank you, so incredibly much, for following Killer King. It is my pride and joy, literally.

taglist: @desertofdessert @crscendoforsung @cotccotc @leggomylino @skzctnightnight @freckledberries @nizhonimoon @hanniiesuckle17 @binniesbabybear @tsuki-moons @lbxgsunshine @csbverse @mangoisawesome @peachyhan @worldtriiiip @golden–rain @bubblyjisunq @kimpchi @loey-letters @pokyloky @wherevermyway @avrea-tt @bossuns @sunoo-luvs @katherineee19 @ph0ebevix @qt-k1mb @444scb @grandmasterslickfox @k-pop-valda (now we can all abandon this series for good!)

#stray kids killer king #stray kids #skz #stray kids killer king spoilers

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onebedroomvoid · 3 years

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My open letter to Star Wars Fans that have not watch The Clones Wars and are considering it

So, maybe you got super into The Mandalorian and had that one friend that kept saying a or z was from one of the animated series. And while yes there are a lot of Rebels references you reeaaaaalllyy need to start with the Clone Wars animated series even if it's seven seasons long. They swear, it's really good. You'll love it.

So look, I want to be a voice of honesty to tell you it will be hard.

You will not enjoy this show the whole time. You will want to quit. You might actually quit. It may take you three attempts to finish and there will be points where you stare at the screen in despair when you realize yes, there is yet another episode of the arc staring droids featuring a droid that speaks in a voice reminiscent of Napoleon Dynamite and a Patton-esque alien. You may hate those characters by the time that arc is out, and that is okay. It's also okay if you love them, no judgment because I love Trace and Rafa and I know plenty of people who decidedly do not, and acknowledge that is also fair.

And yes, watching them in chronological order may help. Also yes, it will be a pain in the ass that will involve consulting the watch order page constantly - at least if you're like me, maybe you have better memory - and stopping the next episode from launching to hunt down the one you need in another season and enjoying the jarring change in animation quality.

Does it get better? Yes! Definitely! It will also get worse again. And then slightly better, then even worse, and then you'll hit some sweet sweet arcs - not going to lie, I will almost grantee they focus on the clones or Ahsoka but I'm bias - and it will feel so worth it as they rip out your heart and laugh at your tears. Hell, you might even finally get to see and understand Padme as a character in and of herself and not just through the obsessive love gaze of Anakin. And yes, Anakin will be there! A lot. He uh….look I just don't like Anakin, so let's move on.

You will learn to tell the clones apart, you will start having your favorites, and then realize you will likely never see them again, and given the body count of this show you might consider that a good thing. This will also be true of other Jedi you get to meet and some super interesting side characters you encounter. Want more episodes of them? Get used to disappointment or consider looking into novels or comics. Additionally, you may find the children staring in one arc cute or annoying, but I will remind you because the thought kicked me in the gut either way, all those children will likely die come Revenge of the Sith time. Yeah, fun thoughts.

Also, also, the opening narrator will reference events in the first couple of seasons that did not in fact happen in the previous episodes. I am passing on this warning so you do not waste time as I did scanning through all the previous episodes trying to find the event being referred to convinced I had fallen asleep in front of the TV again. I did not. This was a deliberate narrative choice that has been explained to me many many times, and while yes, I understand what they are going for I don't have to like it.

But wait, you say, did you even like this show, it sounds like you hated it. Why should I trust your opinion on this beloved animated series my trusted fellow Star Wars fan recommends so fervently? And that is a fair question. Because yes, there were points I hated this show. I gave up multiple times, the words "fuck it, I'm just going to watch Rebels, references be damned" were uttered and followed through, as were "you know what, I think I'll just do a rewatch of Rebels". Look I really liked Rebels okay? Like seriously, fuck the droid arc, fuck it so much especially for that one plot point you threw in at the end that makes it so I can't tell others to skip it. But in the end, when it was all tied together and we hit those beautifully animated, scored, and written final episodes it somehow glossed over everything else and made it come together in a wonderful whole that made my jaded little heart feel things. I mean no, not all your questions are answered, but you'll be somewhat okay with it. Maybe. I mean I was at least, but I might have also been relieved I finished it.

To all the fans that fell in love with the show and got the rest of us those last couple of seasons, you're the real heroes. Those seasons are honestly what made me love the Clone Wars. But wait, you say, can't I just skip to the end? And sure, you could, but to quote a line thrown at me by many a fan, you really do need the context of the seasons leading up to them. And I'm not just saying that because if I had to suffer through them you do too. Well, not entirely. In all seriousness though there are a lot of wonderful episodes in the early seasons. There are a lot of "meh" episodes, and there are some that I might have slept through and fever dreamed, but somehow come the end of the series you truly appreciate that they got you to that point. You too have survived the Clone Wars, especially if you resorted to alcohol and drinking games for some of those earlier episodes.

And in conclusion, at the end of it all when the fan who insisted you watch this seven-season death march because it will make you understand Star Wars so much better like them, asks you in a confused note where exactly the Bad Batch is set in the Star Wars timeline, you are completely and totally allowed to punch them. I'll speak for you at court, I'll bring the droid arc as evidence.

#the clone wars #star wars #What could be seen as criticism #i mean i do like it but our relationship isn't as healthy as it could be #getting the thoughts out of my head #but seriously #i hate the droid arc #rambling stream of conscious

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

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Summary: “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M *THIS CHAPTER HAS SMUT*

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Oh god, it’s officially, this story is M and I wrote my first actual smut scene. I’m so nervous my stomach is flip flopping. Thank you for all of your support! I could really use some feedback on this one, guys! Like, ah! This was different! I hope you enjoy it! If you don’t want to read the smut, stop reading after the italicized part and pick back up on chapter eight whenever I finish that! Okay, I hope you enjoy! -Jen

Chapter Seven

"If it hurts too much, we can try again tomorrow."

Dracula's words seemed distant to Agatha as she bit down on her lower lip, her injured hand grasping the wooden stake. Three weeks had passed since the incident and it had been the vampire's suggestion that she work on regaining the strength she once possessed. He'd even gone so far as to give her a stake-a humorous take at inspiration, to squeeze in order to test her muscles. It hurt. Like Hell. Every fiber from the tips of her fingers to her palm burning. But she kept on despite this. Van Helsings weren't weak and she sure wasn't going to be the first one.

"Good," Dracula coached. "You're getting stronger." His lips curved into a smile as she met his gaze, her forehead speckled with droplets of sweat. "Perhaps I should start becoming a little nervous again."

"Your sarcasm needs as much work as my hand." She snorted, rolling her eyes as she loosened her hold. "I like to visualize thrusting this through your chest."

"Whatever motivates you, Agatha," the vampire smirked. "I would expect nothing less."

She huffed softly, the pale purple of her dress complimenting her fair complexion. It was surprisingly comfortable and not overly elegant-something she had expected when it came to the Count and his taste for the finer things in life. And of the few he had given to her, this one was her favorite. Though, she did her best not to overly flatter him. He was still the enemy. The target. And she kept that in mind. Even if the thought did occasionally slip the forefront of her mind.

"So, what are your plans for today, hm?" Dracula eyed her curiously. In a way, it was almost an inside joke at this point. There wasn't much in the castle to do and though Agatha swore each day would be her last, she had yet to leave. "Any new plots? Motivations?"

"As if I would ever share them with you." She responded curtly, pretending to be mildly interested in her piece of wood. "Did you find the books I requested?"

"Ah, so I've become your servant now, have I?" The vampire mused, leaning back in his chair. "First-no, twice I've healed you now, provided you with clothing and food, and now you ask for reading materials?" She gave him a look and he smirked. "I would forget about your precious books even though you have an entire library here at your disposal."

"We have different tastes," Agatha merely shrugged. "And since I'm being held captive, I don't think it's too much to ask."

"Perhaps I should've purchased a dictionary so you could've read up on the difference between captivity and free will." The Count snorted, shaking his head. "Honestly, Agatha, sometimes I question you."

"Question me about what?" She asked in genuine curiosity.

"Everything," he replied. "Take that as an insult or a compliment is your choice. But I'd personally think of it as a good thing."

Agatha eyed him for a moment before looking away. Sometimes she found herself questioning him. Had she really stayed in the castle for this long? It was hard to keep track of time some days. Dracula tended to keep things in the dark, torches being the only light to brighten what little space they cast down upon. There was one way to know. A way she very much didn't like or approve of.

"I'll be hunting tonight." Dracula informed her, rising from where he sat. "I shouldn't be too long."

She knew what that meant. He already had someone or several people in mind. The vampire was calculated, meticulous. Dracula knew who he wanted and when he wanted them and she truly despised it. The loss of innocent life. Absentmindedly, her fingers began to tap on the table, dangerously close to the stake. But even she knew that for whatever reason, she had no intentions on using it.

"Don't let them suffer." It was an odd request, before she'd spat at him to refrain from killing to begin with. What was she becoming? "If you must, have mercy."

Now the vampire even looked somewhat taken aback by her words. "I let them dream," the Count replied. "It's as humane as one can get when taking their life. In the end, wouldn't you wish the same?"

"When I take my final breath, I want it to be quick and painless." Agatha said, locking her eyes on his. "I don't think I even wish to know what is happening. Dreams can be a nightmare on their own. I'd rather fade away into the thoughtlessness of the unknown."

"No white light? No ringing bells as you arrive at your believed gates of the Silver City?" He inquired with a small smile. "My, what an interesting nun you were indeed."

"I've been told that quite a lot." Agatha answered with a small, half smile. "Isn't that the reason you spared me?"

"There is not a singular reason for me deciding to save you." Dracula replied simply as he fetched his cape. "You are a rarity of your species, Agatha. Like a fine aged wine. And I quite like that about you."

"But you don't drink." She replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Wine," he grinned. "And as much as I love our conversations, the moon is full and night only lasts for so long." The vampire seemed to study her for a moment before speaking once more. "Goodbye, Agatha, I suppose I shall see you shortly."

"Don't get caught up in the Sun," she merely smirked. "Ashes aren't the easiest to sweep up."

And with a quiet snort, the nun watched as he disappeared. Something in her stomach twisted. A rather strange feeling manifesting from within as she rose from her chair. But the cool draft from the castle halls soothed her troubled mind.

Agatha wrung out water from a cloth she had soaking in a bucket and dabbed at the beads of sweat on her grandfather's brow. Abraham Van Helsing's chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his lips speckled with blood. Tuberculosis. She knew how dangerous it was. How infectious the disease could be. But she wasn't about to let him die alone. Not after everything.

"Agatha."

The name came out as a croak and she couldn't tell if he was addressing her or mindlessly saying the word. She gripped his hand, feeling how hot and clammy his skin was. He smelled of death. A sickening stench. But she swallowed the bile in the back of her throat. Down, down to the pit of her stomach.

"Yes, Grandfather?" She whispered, hearing her own emotion in her voice. She had to remain strong. Abraham hated weakness. And in the end, she would give him what he desired.

"Don't…" He heaved before hacking up another spray of bright red blood. "Don't let him win…"

"Who?" She said, leaning in closer as his tone grew faint. "Who shouldn't I let win?"

"The vampire," Abraham coughed. "Dracula...no matter what, destroy him. Do what I…" He was panting, struggling as his lungs fought against his own body. "...Finish what I couldn't."

"I promise, Grandfather." Agatha murmured, pressing her forehead to his still hand. "I'll take down Count Dracula even if it kills me. You have my word…"

It was the sound of howling that caused Agatha to sit upright in her chair. She sucked in a breath, nearly knocking a book onto the floor that she had been reading. Had she really fallen asleep? As she rose from her spot, the castle doors flew open and there Dracula stood. Stripped down. Completely, utterly naked. Their eyes locked onto one another and, as if drawn to him by an unknown power, she drew closer. Fainter and fainter become the words of her grandfather. A dream lost as something else surfaced in her mind.

It reminded her of the night back at St. Mary's Convent. The black wolf with the soulless eyes. Agatha stepped forward and hesitantly reached out a hand. Dracula remained still as she touched his chest, the thick slime of carnage coating her skin like that of a newborn babe. It was surprisingly warm, the scent strong. But not as foul as she had expected. No. Earthy. Wet. And her fingers traced lightly over his flesh, creating shapes that held no given name.

"You're a monster." But there was surprisingly no malice in her tone. "A beast."

"I am," the vampire agreed. "Are you frightened?"

"No," Agatha shook her head, finally meeting his gaze. "No, I'm not."

This time he touched her, hands moving to slide the shoulders of her dress down. Her skin was creamy, but held more blush than his ever would. She was alive after all. Dracula could hear Agatha's heart rate begin to increase, the succulent vein that was her jugular throbbing just enough to where he could visibly watch it thrum against her throat. He paused momentarily, dark eyes holding her blues.

"I could kill you right where we stand now." His voice was low, calm. "Break you in two. Drain you dry of every drop of your blood." The Count's index finger trailed down the curve of her cheek. "You should be terrified of me."

"I've survived with you this long, haven't I?" She countered, inhaling deeply. "And I could've easily killed you as well." He smirked at her words. "So it seems we've spared each other."

"For the time being," he answered.

"For the time being," she agreed.

When his fingers undid the back of her dress with such precision, Agatha didn't protest. Unlike before when she stood naked before him, she didn't cover herself. Dracula's tongue trailed across her skin like a serpent, flicking against the perk bud on her right breast. She trembled, but it wasn't in fear. Far, far from it.

"Agatha…"

His mouth brushed against her stomach, cool air from his whispers bringing forth goosebumps. He was moving slow. So slow. Whether or not he was doing it on purpose, she wasn't sure. It was violent or done in fury like the first time. And when his hands went to part her legs, she let out a breathless gasp.

"Bed…" She managed to choke out as he looked up at her in amusement. "Move to…" Christ, she couldn't even get a sentence out. The bastard had bewitched her. "I'll…"

"I won't let you fall." Dracula finished as if reading her mind. "Let me take control."

Control. Like Hell she'd give him the upper...oh. OH. Agatha couldn't stifle back the moan that escaped deep from within her throat as Dracula drug his tongue against the sensitive, pink slit. The Count supported her with one arm as he nuzzled his face against her. Her toes curled tightly together and she whimpered. Whimpered like a frightened animal that was hunted by a hungry wolf.

"Please…" She swallowed, so close on the edge. "I need…"

"Hm?" Dracula paused, seemingly delighted by the former nun's state. "What do you need Agatha?" He touched her gently. Teasingly soft. Testing her. "You're quite hard to understand."

"You." She finally forced out through her teeth. "I need you!"

Apparently that was all the Count needed to hear. Swept up as if she was as light as a feather and whisked her away. Dracula laid her spread eagle across the bed. It was only then that Agatha realized how hard the vampire's length had gotten. He loomed over her studying his prize. Before she could utter another plea, he plunged himself deep within her core. She gasped, arching her back as he began to thrust, both of his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress.

It wasn't right. It was so wrong. So wrong that it was right. So very, very right. And Agatha relished in it. Her eyes closed as the sound of her heart racing filled her ears. She grew closer. Ever so closer. Right to the edge. And as his name hung to the very tip of her tongue, Agatha Van Helsing felt the sharp, white hot pain of fangs piercing into her neck.

And her eyes flew wide open.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #A Bad Moon Rising

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popwasabi · 4 years

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Lockdown Lookback: Catching up on the past months’ Pop Culture

Aaaaannnd we’re back!

It’s amazing what a little pandemic can do to shake you out of your creative cobwebs but if we’re all going to die, I want to make sure all my pop cultural hot takes are up to date at least.

Many of us are already on lockdown and many major movies including “007,” “Black Widow” and ummm I guess “Mulan” are all getting pushed to the backburner as no one is leaving their God damn homes unless they’re told to!

(Didn’t realize the thing I wish I had more of in the apocalypse would be sweatpants...)

But there’s still plenty to talk about from the previous months and other hot topics I have been meaning to write about but just hadn’t found the time or energy for. Life has been hard I think for just about all of us these days thanks in no small part to this pandemic. For me personally, I’ve had two different vacations canceled because of the virus and currently working understaffed at my job which is considered essential. Not to mention my therapist is on call only at this time and both my martial arts schools have been suspended, so I can neither talk nor punch my feelings out of my system.

So, I might be just a LITTLE on edge at the moment.

(My internal monologue for most of these past few weeks, more broadly years...)

Anyways, I digress, you come here because you like to read my highly unprofessional takes on pop culture and genuinely to those who have cheered me on from the beginning thanks, you guys are my prime motivators. But anyways let’s talk about all the shit I was supposed to write about these last two and a half months.

“Birds of Prey” was a hot, but needed, mess

Earlier last month I got to see the sort of sequel to the much-maligned “Suicide Squad” in “Birds of Prey and the…waaaay too long of a title for me write here.” I had cautious optimism for it because it looked strange and off the beaten path of most comic book movies and seemed to promise at the very least a fun time at the theater but it’s still also a DCEU movie so the floor was pretty low on its possible quality as well.

In the end, the movie is kind of bit of everything; the best and worst parts of the DCEU.

In terms of the good, it’s definitely outside the box, a sort of fem Deadpool first person story as told frenetically by Harley herself. Margot Robbie is, of course, still quite great at this role and you can tell she’s having a blast as this character. The humor is mostly good and visually the bright colors and cinematography pops on each screen and on that front there isn’t much to complain about.

But as a DCEU movie it does suffer from some narrative imbalance partially due to it’s psycho storyteller but mostly, and more than likely, due to corporate editing that probably axed an entire dance number that I was honestly looking forward to from the trailers.

(Seriously, I actually wanted to see the full unedited version of whatever hell this ended up being.)

It’s definitely in the “could’ve been better” camp of comic book movies but you know what? I’m still glad it exists. You know why? Because comic book movies dominate our blockbuster culture right now and if the genre wants to survive, at least artistically, it needs some outside the box films like this. I HATED “Joker” but I appreciate that it opened the door for stranger, more unique takes on a genre that is getting increasingly more stale. This movie falls into that unique category too.

(Also, to all the faux-intellectuals and alt-right nerds making a culture war out of “Sonic” vs “Birds of Prey” *kindly* reevaluate your lives please...)

We’re at the point now where comic book movies should be getting weirder, not more formulaic, and that means swinging for the fences even if a couple don’t quite make it out of the ballpark. If it takes a few not so stellar takes on the genre for Hollywood to greenlight a truly fantastic one I’m all for it.

In any case “Birds of Prey” doesn’t quite end nor continue the DCEU’s recent hot streak but it is enjoyable enough to where I would be more than open to a sequel. It’s worth a watch.

The Mandalorian and The Witcher: Two shows about violent mercenaries and fatherhood

Both these shows are old news at this point, but I did want to talk a little about both for a bit if you would have me.

First, “The Mandalorian” which was Disney+’s flagship production to begin its streaming chapter late last year is definitely a more than welcome addition to the galaxy far, far away. It’s pretty easy to feel fairly jaded about Star Wars these days given how flat the new trilogy ended but for what it’s worth “The Mandalorian” was a good mix of nostalgia bait and something new and interesting for fans to chew on. Its production value is obviously top-notch, no doubt because of all the Disney money pumped into it, it’s well-acted and thrilling and fun from start to finish. It plays heavily on the genres that influenced the series, primarily westerns and old samurai flicks, and fans of those will certainly enjoy the homages to them all.

The series was something of a coming out party for Deborah Chow who directed two of the season 1’s best episodes. Her steady hand, eye for details and tributes to Asian cinema throughout really gave the series an extra kick at times and showed how Star Wars can evolve still. Chow is set to helm the upcoming “Kenobi” series and one can only hope that she *really* leans into the samurai genre for that show.

(Hopefully, there are some “Yojimbo” vibes in there somewhere...)

The Mandalorian’s best and worst parts though are its semi episodic nature making each episode easy to digest as a one-off but also lacking some narrative tension between each. It plays kind of like a Saturday Morning cartoon to both its benefit and detriment with bite-size easy to digest plots and dialogue for the viewers but not offering a ton of depth beyond that.

The Mandalorian himself is also kind of a Gary Stu. His armor is basically impenetrable and far and away the best killer onscreen typically, making more than a few action scenes lack real stakes and tension. Baby Yoda certainly helps at times to make him more vulnerable and puts him in precarious positions plenty of times but outside a few moments (mainly episode 2 and to a lesser extend the final episode) he’s just a little too overpowered to be a more interesting character.

But this show and frankly the Star Wars series as a whole is meant for kids, no matter what the neckbeards try to tell you (violence =/= adult), and that’s not necessarily a bad thing either. Plenty of kids productions can be both great and even sophisticated and while I wouldn’t say “The Mandalorian” is either of those it’s a good and fun kids show for the fans.

(And yes I’m aware that the books, some comics, and games have touched on more adult stuff, you weirdos. But how would you describe the overall tone and presumptive audience of the movies and TV series as a whole, guys??)

As far as “The Witcher” goes it also has a bit of an episodic style to it as well with an overarching, albeit, convoluted story that runs parallel to it. The first 3-4ish episodes can be classified as a quasi “Game of Thrones” clone leaning perhaps a little too heavily into the tropes of that series. Once the series finally starts leaning into its real identity, a dry-witted hack and slash fantasy, the series is much more consistent both tonally and narratively.

Henry Cavil is solid as Geralt of Rivia and the supporting cast of Joey Batey as Jaskier, Freya Allen as Ciri and even more so Anya Chalotra as Yennefer are all great in their respective roles delivering some great moments throughout the season.

(And lest you forget this earworm...)

“The Witcher’s” early season struggles keep it from being as tonally or narratively consistent as “The Mandalorian” but where the monster slayer beats the bounty hunter is that it has overall more compelling drama and has more to say, leaning much more heavily into the thematic greys of the plot. There are tons of problems with “The Witcher” on a story-telling level but you can definitely say it cares more about adding some depth in between the more pulpy aspects of the story which is something you can’t say as much for in “The Mandalorian.”

Of course, I’m partially overselling “The Witcher” a bit here, it’s not anywhere near “Game of Thrones” best (yet at least), and on the flipside one could argue that “The Mandalorian’s” more subtle sense of story-telling does its themes better. But when it comes down to these two shows you get somewhat similar story-telling ideas, mostly involving both characters and their smaller counterparts, in two very different genres with equally diverging conclusions to their respective seasons.

(🎵 Toss an “Oof” to your Witcher...🎵)

All in all, they’re both good and worth a watch and I think they deserve a chance to evolve and hopefully showcase more of what they have to offer moving forward.

“Parasite” wins Best Picture! Many people have some hot takes, including the president...

Last month one of my favorite films of 2019 “Parasite” won Best Picture at the Oscars. It’s a movie that is becoming increasingly relevant as elites and celebrities alike are getting front of the line testing despite being asymptomatic in the middle of pandemic and think they can assuage our concerns and dread by poorly singing “Imagine” together within the comfort of their McMansions.

It’s about as a good time as any to revisit this movie, I mean where else are you going to go during this timeline, and at a later date I’ll write something more extensive about it eventually (hopefully) but first here’s a helpful video on one particular thing that came out after director Bong Joon Ho took home the night’s top honors:

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“Cats” is still a fever dream of madness

Back in late December, I watched “Cats” for science, as I had AMC A-List and a friend crazy enough to join me. I figured it would be bonkers and unlike anything I had seen before in the worst way but even then, I don’t think I was truly prepared for what I ended up seeing that fateful night.

I remember quite vividly going to the bar inside the theater and ordering a stiff drink beforehand to numb the pain and the bartender asking “So what are y’all watching tonight?” and beginning to laugh manically like an insane asylum patient at the innocuousness of the question. Walking into the theater was like that feeling you get before getting on a particularly scary-looking rollercoaster at Six Flags but instead of the pre-ride jitters eventually subsiding to the eventual fun and joy of the ride, only a deep sense of existential dread built up and sustained itself through what felt like six hours of the most baffling thing put to screen in front of my eyes ever.

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(The music that played in my head as I exited the theater...)

Have any of you watched the Stanley Kubrick movie “Eyes Wide Shut” before? You know the scene when Tom Cruise is walking around in his mask observing the strange occult sex orgy going on around him at the mansion? That’s kind of what “Cats” felt like except way more terrifying, somehow MORE sexual, and definitely crazier.

(Is...this some type of...intepretative dance to summon an eldritch horror??)

There’s a voyeuristic terror that comes from sitting in that theater room as you watch bipedal humanoid looking felines dance to confusing songs about “Jelicle” cats (whatever the fuck that means) and all other manner of things that should NOT take human form throughout it’s near-endless runtime. A lot was made about Rebel Wilson and the disgusting roach people she consumes but NO ONE warned me about the frankly HORRIFYING mice children in the same scene!

(I am not perusing the internet to find that image again for y’all. I have enough nightmares each night...)

The saddest thing about the whole movie is everyone, save for Ian Mckellen who seemed to be acting as if a gun was pointing at him offscreen and Judi Dench who looked 100 percent like a geriatric in her digi fur, was giving the movie their fullest effort in what can only be described as a Titanic-sized level of hubris by all parties involved. This movie really needed a “Chaostician” involved in evaluating the production for studio heads and shareholders because there were definitely NOT enough people on this project wondering whether or not this film SHOULD exist...

(Dr. Ian Malcolm coming to Universal Pictures to access the film.)

What has “Cats” wrought upon this world? The universe has been clearly out of balance since this movie came out and while I’m not saying it’s director Tom Hooper’s fault, I’m not saying it isn’t either.

“Cats” is one of those things, much like The Matrix that cannot be simply described but must be seen to believe. It’s one of the worst things I have ever seen onscreen but with the right group of people and a few stiff drinks it’s certainly an experience you won’t forget. Consider it for your next Google Hangout during this apocalypse.

Anyways, that about wraps up my thoughts on the last few months. Going to try to be more consistent going forward especially given how much more time I have now to write, for better and worse. But more importantly, just want to say stay safe y��all. It’s going to be a process to get through this and while things are more likely to get worse before they get better there will be a day when this all ends and some normalcy may yet return to our life but in order for us to get there we need to remain vigilant.

So stay at home, wash your hands, and if you want to watch movies just order it online for now and we’ll just wait until aaaallll this blows over…hopefully.

Don’t panic...

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kaye-scheidsblogs · 4 years

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Ascendance of a Bookworm Review

Ascendance of a Bookworm is an isekai light novel written by Miya Kazuki and illustrated by Yu Shiina. It follows Urano Motosu, or rather Myne as she is known in her new world, as she pursues her one true passion: books. In her past life, Myne had just graduated college and was set to start her dream job as a librarian until an earthquake hit while she was in her book-filled bedroom and she was crushed to death by her massive book collection. As her consciousness fades, she wakes up as the 5 year old sickly Myne in a world where paper is made of parchment too expensive for anyone but nobles to buy and use.

It's anime adaptation has two 14 episode seasons. The first season aired in Fall of 2019 with the second closely following up in Spring of this year. Both the anime and light novels are incredibly enjoyable, but I will actually be focusing this review on the light novel series as I found that I prefer it over the anime. That's not to say that the anime is bad. The light novels simply offer a lot more detail and depth to the already detailed world building that appears in the anime.

As you can see, the anime adaptation’s animation and art style is not much to look at. It certainly is not a sakuga filled series, but it does have its charm. Personally, it reminds me a lot of late 2000s series and fills me with a sense of nostalgia whenever I watch it. The art style is quite cute and simple. The light novel’s illustrations are similar, but have a bit more detail and shine to them. As is also true for the characters, world-building, and writing in general.

Given how detailed and intricate everything about Bookworm’s writing is, you may be surprised to know that the series is heavily character-driven rather than plot-driven. With a world as detailed as this, one might expect it to be filled with political intrigue and plot-driven drama. However, our main character, Myne, is so incredibly defined by her straightforward desire to have and read as many books as possible that there’s simply no time for the writing to expand on plot-driven story beats. As proven by when some volumes add more plot-driven story beats and end up being longer than usual.

With all that said, Ascendance of a Bookworm is very slow paced. In a series about making books, the anime doesn’t even give Myne paper until episode seven and proper books aren’t produced until later in the second season! That may make some people turn away. If you like your fantasies to be action packed, then Bookworm may not be for you. Even so, I implore all of you to give this series a shot. The slow-pacing does have its pros for readers looking for that sweet sweet cathartic feeling. Miya Kazuki has a talent for knowing the exact time and place for when certain things about her world should be revealed. And as such, she has developed a writing technique that reaps all the benefits of an isekai story while also not making it jarring for the reader.

By that, I am referring to exposition. Isekai stories have protagonists that know nothing about the fantasy worlds they live in, but with all the knowledge of their previous world. This gives authors the excuse to have the main character ask questions that the world’s inhabitants know as common sense, but still have things explained to the audience. If authors aren’t careful, these exposition dumps can be boring at best and immersion-breaking at worse. But Miya Kazuki has created characters and a world that creates perfect circumstances for seamless exposition.

First, we have Myne or Urano Motosu. A bookworm among bookworms. With a one-track and somewhat forgetful mind, all she knows and loves is books. She is an absolute delight of a character and while her development is just as slow as the story’s pacing, it is a wonderful experience to read it all unfold. Her desire for books leaves her selfish and uninterested in everything else, which does her no favors. Myne is a low-class peasant. Born the daughter of a soldier and seamstress, she already shouldn’t know much about the world outside her lot in life. But to make things worse, Myne’s body is very sickly. Racked by a mysterious fever that has forced her to practically spend all her time inside and thus, doesn’t even have the knowledge of most kids in the same class.

Her first real source of knowledge about the world she’s been reborn into is Lutz. A neighbor and youngest son of four, whose perpetual hunger and desire to eat the tasty food that Myne makes leads to him becoming close friends with Myne. Lutz is with Myne throughout her entire journey and learns just as much as she does about the world they live in. Afterall, Lutz is also just the kid of a low-income family. The life Myne was born into not only serves as a fantastic way to immerse the reader into world-building, but also ends being a great vehicle for exploring the issues of a heavily class-based society. Even in this world completely separate from our own, somehow Miya Kazuki manages to make some pretty bold commentary on class-based society as a whole.

Most light novels use fairly simple language, but even knowing that I think Miya Kazuki's writing style is even on the simple side of that. I don't blame her for that though, since her world and characters are so incredibly detailed that if she used flowery prose, her series would probably be the biggest and longest light novel series ever made. Some may not like how her style leans more toward "tell don't show" but it is still an incredibly well-written story with very compelling characters. Not to mention that this simpler writing style lends itself to some really great comedy.

That being said, Miya Kazuki’s writing often does that weird thing that happens in anime where something happens on screen and then the characters say out loud what just happened, except in written form. Which sounds terrible, but actually works a lot better in practice. It allows character interactions to flow a lot more freely and the simplistic writing allows for a lot more detail to be added. And due to Miya Kazuki writing the characters the way she does, there’s no boring or immersion-breaking exposition.

This writing style is not a product of the translation either. I have had the absolute pleasure of picking up (searching up) the web novel and experiencing Bookworm in Japanese as well. And as a side note; if any of you are upper-intermediate Japanese learners and are looking for Japanese reading material that’s simple enough for you to understand most of it (not mention fun to read), but also offers a bit of a challenge then check out Ascendance of a Bookworm’s web novel here: https://ncode.syosetu.com/n4830bu/. Bonus tip: Download the yomichan and/or rikaikun extensions on your browser for optimal reading time. Anyway, I can assure you that the translator behind Ascendance of a Bookworm is not muddling the writing style or the reading experience in the slightest. Miya Kazuki’s story and writing style comes through very nicely in the official releases.

Ascendance of a Bookworm is one of the most thoroughly realized stories I have had the pleasure of reading and watching. The anime is, of course, quite good, but I also highly recommend the light novel series even if you’ve seen the anime three times over. Miya Kazuki is an amazing writer and the official translations are quite good. If you’re like me though and like to binge series as quickly as possible, you might find yourself waiting aimlessly for more when you finish the anime and current English light novels. If you’re of intermediate or higher Japanese level, you can always read ahead in the Japanese web novels. Or you could seek out similar series. I recommend everything written by Nahoko Uehashi. Her novels are similarly well-realized fantasy stories with anime adaptations. Or, more obscurely, check out the fantasy series, Saiunkoku Monogatari. Its animation and art style gives me a similar sense of nostalgia and also has a great story with compelling characters. Anyway, I hope this review helped to convince you to give Ascendance of a Bookworm a shot, whether that be the anime or light novels.

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theprodigypenguin · 6 years

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Make Peace: Part 3/4

Ratings: violence, blood, PTSD, angst, nightmares, fluff

Pairings: James Griffin/Keith Kogane (mentions of sheith and vague klance)

Notes: Yay now I’m caught up, I’ll post the fourth part as well, gonna be late for work but I don’t really wanna go anyway so I don’t care _(:3 」∠)_

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4(final)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nightmares had become pretty routine for Keith, ever since meeting Ulaz, quickly followed by the revelation of who, what, he really was. Those nightmares just got worse with every day that past in space, every battle, every sour look from Allura and attempt at comfort from Shiro's gentle hand on his shoulder.

They seemed to get worse when Keith left the Castle of Lions to instead train with the Blade of Marmora. The dreams depicted darkness, death, and left him with a feeling of echoing guilt, panicked thoughts of I should've been there, why wasn't I there, I could have helped. His terrors settled somewhat during his two years travelling through the Quantum Abyss with Krolia, but they still lingered even then, bringing him out of restless unconsciousness with a start.

Sometimes he would scream himself awake, once he even struck out at Krolia from pure terror. She didn't blame him, of course, said it was okay, but he wouldn't let her get near him for days after the fact, worried he'd go crazy from PTSD and hurt her again.

It seemed the dreams had just gotten worse since rejoining Voltron and taking a place as the Black Paladin. Ever since his fight with Shiro, and Lotor, and especially the war with Sendak back on earth, it seemed that every time he shut his eyes he saw destruction. He saw a world he couldn't save, fires burning homes and destroying fragile families. Even though they'd managed to fix everything, he was still so scared of failing.

He got Shiro home and safe, but what if something else happened and Shiro disappeared again? They managed to defeat Lotor, but what if he was still out there, waiting, plotting revenge? Earth was safe and Sendak was dead, but what if more Galra cruisers showed up and Voltron couldn't fight them off? The success didn't matter, because Keith's dreams were plagued by overthought fear of failure.

Being hurt the way he was now, causing a fever to settle in his body, made his mind even more vulnerable to the terrors of darkness.

James was blissfully unaware of Keith's distress, as he was crouching beside the window, watching the sun rising in the distance before peering over the sill and down at the street, cringing when he noticed the sentries marching by. He quickly hid himself back in the room, holding his gun higher when a trio of drones flew by just beneath the window, letting out a slow exhale of relief when they were gone.

He'd been awake all night, moving from the window to Keith's side the entire time. He wasn't a doctor, but he was certain the Paladin's fever had just gotten higher through the night. The shirt James had tied against his side had long been soaked through with blood, and frankly James was too worried and scared to check and see if the bleeding had stopped or not. All he cared to know was that they needed to get out of there, fast, because Keith needed a doctor. If he wasn't treated properly...

James was yanked out of his thoughts when Keith literally jerked into consciousness, his body jackknifing into a sitting position as he gasped. He continued to gasp, as if he hadn't been able to breathe just moments before, and James set his gun down so he could slide over to Keith's side.

"Keith, take it easy, you're okay."

"No, no, no, where's Shiro?"

The question had James blinking numbly, noting the pale haze in Keith's wide eyes as he looked frantically around the room in a panic, "Y... uh."

"Where is he? No, where's Hunk? Where's Shiro? Where is everyone? No, I have to-have to get to them!"

"Whoa. Whoa!" James grabbed Keith's arms, moving in front of him as he tried to get up, "Keith, look at me, calm down!"

"We can't just sit here, they need me!" Keith screamed at James, surprising him at the fact he could raise his voice like that, "I can't leave them again, I can't-!"

"Hey!" James squeezed Keith's upper arms, leaning in close and fast until their foreheads had knocked together, "Listen to me, numbskull! Everyone is fine! Hunk, Lance, they're fine, Gunderson and even that Altean chick, everyone is okay! The captain is perfectly fine! Are you listening? Voltron is fine, your team is fine, they're safe!"

"You don't understand, I have to be there," Keith said, voice trembling, eyes wide, "I left them, I left them before and I-I can't do it again. I left them, I almost lost them, you don't understand. I almost lost Shiro, he was almost gone for good, I almost-."

"Hey," James lifted his hands from Keith's arms and instead grabbed onto his face, fingers burrowing into the his black hair and squeezing his cheeks a little, forcing his head up so their eyes were locked, "You almost did, but you didn't. Your team is alive and safe, all of them. I can almost guarantee they're in better health than you, you colossal dumb shit. You're the one stuck in a building bleeding to death, they're probably worried sick about you."

Keith's unstable breathing was slowly starting to regulate, clouded eyes still somewhat glazed, though he was definitely calming down. James glanced down, teeth gritting when he saw fresh blood pooling around Keith. It was only small splotches, but clearing jerking up the way he'd done had restarted the bleeding.

"Lie down, you're okay," James soothed, helping Keith back down, "I'm going to get you out of here, got it? I'll get you back to your team."

Keith shut his eyes and James pulled his hands from his face, moving back to the window to ensure no one had heard the Paladin screaming while giving him a minute to collect himself into consciousness.

"Sorry," Keith whispered vaguely, and James hummed.

"S'fine, understandable," he looked over his shoulder to watch Keith rub at his eyes, "With the fever you're suffering from you probably won't remember a lot of this, which is super convenient."

"How are we?"

"Well I feel great," James said with false enthusiasm, "There are sentries passing now and then, but I haven't seen any sign of that Galra from before. It's been quiet, I think we might be able to make it to the MFE if we go fast. My only concern is how far you can walk yourself."

"We won't know until I try," Keith grunted, pushing himself up and leaning his shoulders against the wall at his head, "God... this would be so much easier if my head was clear enough to call my lion. I can't concentrate on anything, my head aches, feels... like there's blood in my lungs or something."

"It could also be the interference from the Galra's distress signal," James offered, "The micro satellites that Commander Holt shot up into the atmosphere have limited range as it is, they can only do so much until he updates them or the Garrison shoots a bigger dish to clarify signals."

"I don't need a satellite dish to contact my lion, James," Keith sighed, "It's hard to explain this, but they aren't just ships. They're... alive in a way, the Paladins of Voltron have psychic connections with the astral consciousnesses of their lions."

"Satellite dish."

"No, you're not listening," Keith poked his forehead, "I'm connected to my lion with my mind and my quintessence, not-."

"No, no, Keith, the satellite dishes!" James moved closer and got to one knee beside Keith, "There's a satellite dish on top of this building! We could hack into it, connect your helmet to the tech and boost your range of comm system to contact the Garrison!"

Keith stared somewhat blankly and unresponsively at James before his brow drew together, "But wouldn't that Galra be able to locate us?"

"Who cares? If we can contact the Garrison it won't matter!" he held his hands out and up, "Look, you're not going to last like this, we don't know if we can reach the MFE, and you can't tap into the psychic link with your lion. We need to do something."

Keith breathed out through his nose and reached over for his helmet and broken gauntlet, securing it best he could over his wounded arm before looking at James in the eye, his own a lot clearer than they'd been since he got shot.

"Help me up," he said, and James gave a sharp nod, taking Keith's right arm and pulling it over his shoulder, wrapping his left arm around his waist as Keith grabbed hold of his helmet with his left hand, cringing and clinging to James' shoulder as they started to stand.

"Let's get the hell out of here."

"Block the door," Keith ordered once they'd stepped onto the roof and into the morning sun rays, pulling his arm from around James' shoulder and reach over to hold his left side as he started for the satellite across the roof, "At least lock it somehow. Buy us time."

"Got it," James shut the door before he began looking around for something to jam it closed with.

Keith wasn't a tech wizard, he certainly wasn't Pidge, but after spending so much time around her, he'd learned one or two helpful things, falling to his knees and breaking open the panel at the base of the satellite so he could flip familiar switches and break off one of the wires, connecting it to his helmet and messing around with more knobs and switches until the blue light of his helmet flickered, prompting him to yank it on over his head.

"Reaching out for contact with the Galaxy Garrison or Atlas, this is Keith from the MFE Aries Alpha field team, please respond," white noise met him, and he shut his eyes, listing forward and propping his forehead against the satellite.

He repeated the same phrase as James wandered over to join him, sitting down rather unceremoniously and propping his gun against his shoulder as he side-eyed Keith.

"Contacting the Galaxy Garrison... contacting Voltron... Shiro, it's Keith, please respond... anyone?"

His body kept curling in on itself, and he pulled his hand from his side to look at the blood staining his black glove. It was almost hard to make out against the fabric, but it was slick and shiny, and made his vision swim at the reality that his injury was so much worse than he had expected.

"Shiro, this is Keith, are you there? Guys, please respond," Keith pinched his eyes shut, clinging to his side, teeth gritting, "Damn this."

"Keith," James reached over to set a hand on his shoulder, "Don't push yourself. Give it a minute, be patient."

Keith gave a shaky exhale and sat a little straighter, "This is the MFE Aries Alpha field unit contacting the Galaxy Garrison, please respond! Shiro, please respond!"

"-eith? Keith, is that you?"

"Shiro," Keith breathed, "It's me."

"Keith, thank god! We haven't been able to contact you for the past twenty-two hours!"

"Has it been that long...?"

"You were cresting on the deadline with no check-ins, I was getting worried. What happened?"

"Bit of a delay, there were complications. We need backup and an extraction."

"Why? What happened?"

"More sentries than theorized, and an unknown Galra soldier on the ground. He's using the remnants of a destroyed fighter to cast out a distress signal to any cruiser passing, but it's so weak we were unable to pick up on it. It's been interfering with the communication in my suit so I haven't been able to get a hold of you."

"Are you both okay?"

Keith hesitated visibly, Shiro probably heard it, and he looked at his hand again, "I mean, define okay."

"Keith-."

"Griffin is fine, we're both alive."

"Keith, are you okay?"

"I'm alive, Shiro, but I can't say for how long. I can't call my lion, my head's... my head's a mess, we need help."

"Damn it, alright. We're going to lock in on your position and head over now."

"Don't overreact, just send Lance and Hunk, they should be enough. This is still a simple mission that can be handled by a small team, I just happened to trip up. I'm sorry, this is my fault," James winced and looked over at Keith, "I wasn't paying attention and got a little hurt, ended up putting the mission in jeopardy, and I apologize-."

"That's a blatant lie, captain!" James yelled, leaning into Keith's space and slamming his forehead against Keith's like he'd done before, only this time the helmet acted as a barrier between his head and Keith's, "Keith jumped in front of me and took the hit in my place, he didn't mess up at all! I was the one not paying attention!"

"Griffin, shut up, my injuries are my own doing-!"

"He's lying again, captain, I can vouch for him saving my life!"

"Dude!"

"Okay, I'm glad you're both safe," Shiro said, amusement in his voice, "I'll send out Lance and Hunk now. Are you sure things can be settled with them?"

"Yea, and don't worry about me, Shiro, I'm fine. It's barely a scratch-."

"He's lying yet again, captain, I'm requesting you send a physician with the Red and Yellow Paladins, your Black Paladin needs treatment as soon as possible."

"James would you shut up?!"

"What are his injuries?" Shiro asked, sounding somewhat panicked and exhausted, like he already knew Keith was hurt and lying about his own condition, and James felt honestly smug at that.

"Suffering a fever in addition to a deep abrasion caused by the hand canon blast," the smile fell heavily and his eyes shifted down to the sloppy bandages stained red around Keith's side, "I did my best to stop what bleeding I could and bandage him up, but he needs medical attention as soon as possible. His condition is getting worse and he's not gonna last much longer like this."

"Understood, thank you."

James just pressed his lips into a tight line, feeling tense, and looked up only for his eyes to clash with wide indigo. He'd almost forgotten he'd been leaning his forehead against Keith's, only the glass visor of his helmet separating their faces. Keith's eyes were wide in surprise, and James couldn't be certain, but that discoloration across his cheeks looked a little like a blush, lips parted slightly as if he wanted to speak but couldn't.

The MFE pilot jerked back, his eyes widening as heat lifted onto his cheeks, "Uh, no-no problem, captain," he cleared his throat and turned away, reaching for his gun again as Keith dropped his head to stare at the roof.

"We're... we're on a roof of one of the buildings."

"Hold your position, we'll be there in two ticks," Shiro said, and Keith nodded slowly.

He wanted to speak, to say something to James. Just then, the expression on his face, the guilt, was heavy enough that even Keith could feel it settling over him. James felt helpless, useless, and Keith could empathize with those feelings. Being a leader meant... reassuring his team, and Keith was a leader.

"Listen, James-," but he couldn't get anything else out as the door was broken down.

The sheet of metal that James had jammed into the crease of the door flew out, and a group of sentries flooded onto the roof. Keith caught sight of purple skin and yellow eyes, the Galra making his way to the front with the same hand canon he'd used before, and Keith squared his shoulders in fury as James scrambled forward, positioning himself in front of Keith without a moment of hesitation, down on one knee and gun raised.

The group didn't attack immediately, which Keith decided was a good thing. They had to stall as long as possible until Lance and Hunk got there, so he reached his hand out to set on James' shoulder, whispering to him.

"Don't engage, Griffin," he ordered, and James locked up, finger hovering over the trigger and teeth gritting.

"Keith? What was that just now? What's the situation?"

He was still connected to Shiro through the comms, that was good, but he couldn't make it obvious that he was talking to him, so he went for an indirect route, "How many are there, forty? Fifty? Surprising you can fit all your sentries on the roof."

"Oh no; Lance, hurry it up! They're cornered on the roof!"

"Ah of course they are!" Keith heard Lance in the background, and idly wondered if Shiro had tagged along with him.

That was kind of a pleasant thought, that he was worried enough to come here himself, but at the same time Keith wasn't pleased. Shiro didn't need to put himself in even more danger, especially because of Keith's own mistake of underestimating the situation.

"Call if overkill, Paladin, but don't worry, I have no intention of you losing your life," the Galra spoke, "If I bring you back alive, all the better. Your friend, however, is in my way."

"No shit," James snapped, and Keith frowned a bit.

"He's not really my friend, more like an acquaintance. Former school bully, rival, whatever."

"Whoa bitch what?" Lance's voice echoed, and Keith almost blanched at the fact he'd been insulted at the whole rival thing.

"Then what's he protecting you for?"

"He's always been a stickler for following the rules, and losing a team mate is clearly not on his agenda."

"Hardly," James agreed, "Now, why don't you and your ugly friends get back through that door before you get yourselves hurt?"

"What can you do, human?" the Galra sneered, "With a primitive weapon that's nearly useless against sentries, and a broken Paladin, you'd last twelve seconds, top."

"That's so inconsistent math there," James noted, "Besides, I never said I'd be the one kicking your ass," and as if on cue, the Red and Yellow Lion appeared overhead in a blast of air that buffeted across the roof violently.

The sentries shot at the lions, but the Galra kept his wild, violent eyes on Keith and James, teeth grit as he shoved Sentries aside and lifted his hand canon. Keith turned away and yelled into the comms.

"Shoot the roof up!"

"What?!"

"You're both still up there!"

"You'll get caught in the crossfire!"

"Not for long!" Keith yelled, breaking away the wire connecting him to the satellite and grabbing James around the wrist, hauling him to his feet and sprinting around the satellite, "Shoot it up, now! Don't let any of them off, especially the Galra!"

"He's charging the gun!" James yelled, "Where are we going?!"

"Jump!"

"Keith your fucking jet pack was blasted off!"

"Then I guess we're gonna fucking die!" Keith yelled back, and despite how casually he said it, making James worry greatly for his mental health, he decided to just go with it.

They didn't stop running, and when they got to the edge, they jumped, clinging to each other's hand as the canon blast just barely missed them. James cringed midair as the lions made good on their word and let loose on the sentries on the roof, debris raining around them and dust enveloping them.

His grip around Keith's wrist tightened when it occurred to him that they were actually falling through the air, and would absolutely die if they hit the ground like this. He whipped his head back and forth, searching the air wildly for something, anything to make the fall easier, a lightbulb flashing into existence when he caught sight of the drones baring down on them.

"Hang onto me!" he yelled at Keith as he threw his gun aside and reached wildly, grabbing one of the spherical drones.

It held their weight just barely, bobbing as it dropped fast before hovering again, the light blinking as if it didn't know whether to shoot or shut down. When it flashed purple James assumed that meant he was going to lose his hand like that, so he let go just half a second before a laser shot out.

It was pure luck they were so close to the ground, but it still hurt like a fucking bitch when his back hit the concrete of the road, sliding across it for a few feet before coming to a stop, blinking as he stared up at the blue sky. He took a silent moment to assess himself, wincing from the sting at the back of his head and lifting it so he could cup a hand around, pulling it back to see red smeared across his fingertips.

"Ouch."

A moment passed before he remembered his other hand was occupied, and he sat upright, looking to see he was still clinging to Keith's hand, but Keith was on his side, eyes pinched closed in clear pain. The bandages had been torn off when they'd slid across the ground on impact, showing the bloody wound in his side that he was clinging to with his left hand, blood slipping between his fingers as he grunted lowly.

"Keith," James got to his knees, left hand still clutched in Keith's right, grabbing onto the Paladin's shoulder and shaking him gently until his eyes peeled open, shifting to the side to look at James.

"Is it over?"

James looked up, his shoulders sagging as the two lions approached before touching down, then sighed and shut his eyes, "Yea," he looked down at Keith, squeezing his shoulder, "Told you I'd get you back to your team."

Keith's lips twitched a bit, James saw the ghost of a smile, pulling his hand away from Keith's so he could instead pull him upright to sit as the lion's opened and three worried pilots ran down the ramps.

"Keith!" Shiro was the first to reach them, dropping to his knees on Keith's other side as the Black Paladin managed to get the helmet off his head.

"I'm okay," he assured, looking at Shiro and this time, he did smile, eyes tired but grateful, and it made James' feel somewhat ill, "Thank you."

Shiro smiled back, setting his left hand on Keith's shoulder before looking over at Lance and Hunk, who stayed standing in front of them, "That's the last time you go on a mission without us as backup!" Lance decided.

"Let's get out of here before something else unexpected happens," Hunk added, looking around.

"Right, we'll send another wave in later to ensure everything's been dealt with," Shiro agreed, turning his attention to Keith and frowning down at the torn bandages on his side, "We need to get you to the Garrison now. I'll be a crutch, put your arm around me, can you stand?"

"Yea, I'll be fine," Keith grunted, looping an arm around Shiro's neck so he could cling to Keith's hand, the prosthetic supporting the small of his back to ease him to his feet.

"Get his other arm, Lance," Shiro ordered, and Lance quickly did as asked while Shiro looked at James, "What's your status?"

"What? Status?" James stared blankly at Shiro before lighting up, "Oh! Sorry, no, I'm fine."

"Can you fly the MFE back?"

"Yea, definitely, I'll take care of it."

"Good. Head to the infirmary when you return to get yourself checked out. Hunk, stay on him in case something else happens."

"You got it, Shiro."

Lance and Shiro then started to help Keith towards the Red Lion, leaving Hunk and James to watch, and James bent down to pick up the helmet that Keith had left on the ground, dusting it off pointlessly before looking at the trio hiking up the ramp into the lion. He probably imagined it, but he could've sworn Keith looked back at him, but then the ramp closed and the lion raised its head, eyes glowing before it shot off the ground, and James suddenly felt worry and panic crowd his throat.

"We should get going, I'll carry you as far as your MFE so you don't have to walk there," Hunk said, turning, though he immediately paused in his steps to look back at the pilot, who was standing silently staring at where the Red Lion had disappeared, "Uh, you okay?"

"What?" James dropped his head to meet Hunk's eye, then locked his jaw and tucked Keith's helmet under his arm, walking past the Paladin, "I'm fine, just tired. Let's go home."

"Yea, let's go home."

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