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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months

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Hii, I hope your day/night is going well! I don’t think you’ve ever been asked this from what I’ve seen; but do you have any idea how the NRC school system works? my pea brain I cannot figure it out for the life of me 😭 I know that they have magical subjects ofc (magical history, alchemy, etc.), and they also have the more practical ones like math (unfortunately), but they also mention having electives. I know Azul and Ace have mentioned sharing elective(s) with others, which just leaves me to wonder how many periods they have or if they rotate classes around each day if that makes sense? And on top of that, the lesson chat things of the characters (including upperclassman/people not in 1A with ADeuce?) saying they’ll go along with the schedule we [Yuu] have in mind for the day.

Sorry this got to be so long and you don’t even have to answer at all, just a question that’s been in my mind! :)

As far as I'm aware, we are not told much about how class schedules work at Night Raven College. We don't know how many classes there are in a day, or if the students take the same classes every day or have them on rotation (for example, Magic History on Tuesdays and Thursdays only). We can, however, do our best to extrapolate from what we have!

We have a partial schedule shown in the Episode of Heartslabyul manga (volume 2, chapter 8). In it, we follow Adeuce, Yuuken, and Grim through the school day and right up until lunchtime. They seem to have 3 classes (Alchemy/Potionology, Magic History/History of Magic, and P.E.) and then a lunch break. In book 7 of the game, Ace is having lunch and mentions his "next class" being in the lab, though it's not said what course that is. That line (assuming the "lab class" is Alchemy/Potionology) could imply the schedule is shuffled around depending on the day, but it's at best an assumption.

We also have an idea about a decent chunk of Azul's class schedule, if you can believe that. In 3-7, we get to see his first three periods (Music, Animal Linguistics, and Potionology/Alchemy, in that order). He then goes to lunch. This would seem to imply that all students have three periods and then a lunch break. We don't know how many periods follow after lunch, but I think a safe guess would at least another 3.

In Jamil's Lab Wear vignettes, we learn that class 2-C (Azul and Jamil) take Alchemy/Potionology after Riddle's class, 2-E, does. This means Riddle and Jade take Alchemy/Potionology or some other labwork for second period. We additionally learn in Jade's P.E. vignette that he and Riddle have P.E. for fourth period, which must be after lunch. This implies that required courses are likely taken with students in one's grade level and maybe homeroom, as this is true of Jamil/Azul and Riddle/Jade combos. This doesn't appear to hold true for electives like Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles and Poison Making/Poison Refining, which receives a mix of students.

I would be hesitant about treating Lessons as 100% canonical, as the gameplay elements of TWST sometimes contradicts the lore we are given in the story and voice lines. For example, you as the player are able to put first years, second years, and third years in the same Lessons when, in reality, this would not be feasible. Some courses would require prerequisites that the first years have yet to complete, and not everyone would realistically be choosing to take the exact same electives. Additionally, second years and third years would have to be taking different sections for some subjects which cover entirely different content than what is given to first years. (For example, students don't learn about the Righteous Judge until Magic History II, which you take in your second year. This is why the first years don't know who the figure is when asked about him in Glorious Masquerade.) I'm sure that some of the information dropped in Lessons are true (ie lines from the characters' Chats and the lines they drop during the actual Lessons/when they're gaining stars). However, the things directed at Yuu are dubiously true in my eyes since the pre-Lesson lines are directed as much at the player as they are to Yuu. They're lines meant to make the player themselves feel like they're forming friendships with the boys and participating in learning with them even though this (again) wouldn't make complete sense in-universe. Yuu can't use magic, so they wouldn't be able to participate in upper-level classes which require the use of magic. They wouldn't be following second and third years to those classes. It's also nonsensical to think that the school would allow for any student to just make up whatever schedule they feel like doing on the spot for the entire year. I believe the wording is like this ("Oh, I'll do whatever you want to do, Yuu!") for Lessons to, again, give the player a sense of freedom, and feel like they're taking initiative to bond with their favorite characters.

That being said, here's what else I could find regarding NRC's curriculum:

Crewel heads the Science department, Trein the Humanities, and Vargas Physical Education.

Students are not allowed to use UMs/signature spells during class. They are, however, allowed to use general magic if directed to by the instructors.

First year students focus more on concepts and theories. The older students have classes which involve more use of magic than theory.

There are sometimes joint lessons, or classes running concurrently with one another with students of different year levels involved.

History of Magic/Magic History seems to be a required course; its materials are divided up into different sections and taught based on your year in schooling. The Righteous Judge, for example, is covered in year 2.

Flight/Flying is described as an elective class; not many Pomefiore students take it.

Alchemy/Potionology is another required course; it seems to provide the base knowledge for potion making before students qualify for other more complex science electives. For example, Crewel berates the first years for touching equipment in the manga and instead has them identify plants.

All students must take Physical Education.

Some students remark on sharing electives with others. For example, Ace and Sebek are in Enigmics/Magic Analysis together, Deuce and Epel are in the same Flight class, Vil and Cater and Lilia take Poison Making/Poison Refining, Silver and Kalim share Astrology and Practical Magic, Jamil and Azul have Alchemy/Potionology, etc.)

Though all 22 NRC students have/will have an Apprentice Chef card, we don't have confirmation that they all took the elective in the main story canon. The exception is Sebek, who has a line in book 7 stating that he's glad he took the Master Chef course.

NRC offers electives like (Visual) Art and Music/Musicology, which encourages and expands one's imagination. This is important because spellcasting is enhanced by having a strong imagination.

The TWST 4koma shows us that third years are able to infuse their artworks with magic, thus bringing them to life. It seems that first and second years do not attempt this magic yet.

There is an elective called Animal Languages/Animal Linguistics, but the name is broad and doesn't specify which animals you're learning to communicate with. This appears to be similar to a real-life foreign language course.

Practical Magic involves using spell formulas in order to achieve a practical goal, such as autocleaning. This is a required subject; failure to pass means you are held back one year.

Enchanting objects is described to be a "basic, rudimentary magic" that even first years are capable of performing.

Physical Training and Swimming seem to be P.E. electives.

Electives we don't have much information about: Protection/Defense Magic, Summoning/Conjuration, Biology,

Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles is an elective designed to give the students the practical skills to provide nutritious meals for themselves. This and P.E. are meant to help keep the mages healthy and in good shape to perform their magic.

Enigmics/Magic Analysis is a mathematics-based course. Ace describes it as solving logic questions using formulas.

Ancient Magic involves reading old texts and deciphering their meaning.

Astrology involves reading the stars and using them to make predictions.

Third years must choose between Poison Making/Refining and Changes & Comparisons of Abbreviated Spells in Ancient and Modern Magic History as an elective. The latter is a lot of writing and making chronological tables.

To graduate NRC, students must complete mandatory off-campus internships in their fourth and final year. Third years attend an orientation meeting in the springtime to prepare them for the application process.

Internships begin in September, around the same time classes start. There are three periods for the internship; students can choose to remain at the same site or take up to three different internships, each lasting 3 months.

A student's internship site options will vary depending on the individual's electives, class credits, and grades.

Some internships require special technical exams and/or interviews. It is also possible that some internship sites will scout desired students in advance. This was the case for Idia, who was given several internship offers after his presentation at a cultural fair.

Each quarter, fourth years must receive an evaluation of B or higher, as well as submit a written report about their experience. A student must receive credit in at least 2 out of 3 internships in order to qualify for graduation.

There is a final exam you need to pass for graduation.

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nenchainzz · 2 months

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𝒮𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒾𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓇𝑜'𝓈 ℒ𝓊𝓈𝓉𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝒟𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓇𝑒𝓈

Shinichiro Sano x Fem!Reader

Warnings: breeding kink, missionary, doggy style mention, masturbation, praise kink, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, dildo, vibrating cock ring, fleshlight, teasing, roleplay

NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare = Shinichiro is such a kind and giving person, so his aftercare is like gold. He’s amazing at it. Like he’s got a glass of water ready, a bath ready, if you’re hungry, he’ll cook, and if you want cuddles, he’s more than willing to provide.

B = Body Part = He will shamefully admit that his favorite on you is your ass lmao. He loves it truly, lmao. On himself, he’d say maybe his arms or hands.

C = Cum = He does love seeing his cum in you, but if you would prefer he cum on you instead, he’s perfectly okay with that as well.

D = Dirty Secret = He’s thought about casting his kind and somewhat occasional nervous disposition aside to try being more dominant. Still, it’s more something he thinks about rather than bringing it up to you.

E = Experience = Well, he’s obviously not experienced lmao. However, he has a great spirit and is more than willing to learn.

F = Favorite Position = He likes missionary the best. He likes being able to see all of you and watch your pretty face while he fucks you. Doggy is a very close second.

G = Goofy = He can be goofy for sure. He does love laughing with you, and if it happens while you guys fuck - that’s fine with him.

H = Hair = He’s got a decent look to him down there. It’s not a huge priority to him, but he takes good care of himself. His happy trail is hot asf tbh.

I = Intimacy = He is very romantic with you all the time, so during sex is no different. He’s constantly chanting how much he loves you while pounding into you. He will also do things like set up a very romantic scene as the backdrop. Although occasionally it might get somewhat tosseled because of your guys’ activities.

J = Jack Off = He’ll do it somewhat often. It’s not all the time, but you’ve definitely caught him several times. Don’t worry, you offer to help him every time.

K = Kink = PRAISE KINK. Both for you and him, like omg. He loves praising you, and omg please praise him; he gets so hot and bothered by it. He has a breeding kink like he wants a bunch of cute kids with you, tbh. Also, exhibitionism as well, like you guys fuck in his motor shop all the time.

L = Location = Fancy hotels and at home are the best, in his opinion. However, he also loves bending you over his desk at the motor shop after closing.

M = Motivation = Whenever you wear something that shows off your ass, he’s a puddle, or if you brush up against him intentionally. (It’s honestly easy to get this man hot).

N = No = He would never hurt you or degrade you.

O = Oral = He loves both equally. He really couldn’t choose one or the other. It took him a bit to master eating you out, but his determination was his biggest strength, and he got it practically in no time.

P = Pace = He prefers a faster pace in normal circumstances, but on more romantic or special occasions, he’ll instead take more time with you.

Q = Quickie = He’ll definitely do quickies with you. Most of the motor shop fucks are quickies, actually.

R = Risk = He’s not the biggest risk taker since he’s not all that experienced, but he will try and experiment a bit.

S = Stamina = His stamina is pretty good. It’s not as great as some of his peers, but it’s still more than enough to satisfy.

T = Toys = He likes using toys. He enjoys them with you and sometimes on himself. Like he likes using your dildo on you. He enjoys vibrating cock rings. He also owns a fleshlight tbh.

U = Unfair = He’s not too much of a tease; if anything, you are tease in the relationship, lmao. However, it usually doesn’t last long because he’ll let his urges take over and fuck you asap.

V = Volume = His moans are so pretty. They’re so breathy and sweet. He usually isn’t too loud and only moans enough for the two of you to hear.

W = Wild Card = He’s thought about a roleplay where you roleplay as a new customer at the shop wanting to get your bike fixed, but you don’t have money, so instead, you pay with your body.

X = X-Ray = He’s packing 7 inches, I’d say.

Y = Yearning = His sex drive is surprisingly decently high. Like he’s constantly yearning for you tbh.

Z = Zzz = It depends, but he’ll try to stay awake until you fall asleep, but there are times when he’ll fall asleep first.

.。*ﾟ+.*.。ﾟ+..。*ﾟ+ .。*ﾟ+.*.。ﾟ+..。*ﾟ+ .。*ﾟ+.*.。ﾟ+..。*ﾟ+

#tokyo revengers x reader #tr x reader #shinichiro #shinichiro sano #sano shinichiro #shinichiro x reader #sano x reader #shinichiro sano x reader #sano shinichiro x reader

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wannaeatramyeon · 7 months

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hii!!

may i get gun, goo, jake, and vin (maybe taehoon too?) w a s/o who annoys them for fun and loves being around them at all times? thank you!!

(ps you can ignore this if there’s too much rqs 🤍)

How can I say no to all my faves?

With an annoying, clingy!SO - Gun, Goo, Jake, Vin, Taehoon hc

Gun Park

This guy is not short on experience with being someone annoying. After all, his work partner is Goo Kim.

He has mastered the art of finetuning his partner's rambles, and only picking up on the details he has to know. He does not care for a play by play retelling of the latest anime episode or what happened in this week's manga release.

Gun thought that these skills would carry over to you. And he does loathe to think it, but you and Goo have some similarities. However, he often feels the urge to throttle Goo, but he feels none of that with you.

It's endearing. Which is a huge surprise in itself. He doesn't find you annoying, not really, and he actually loves your company.

When it comes to you, he has an unending well of patience to draw from.

Goo Kim

My my, someone is getting a taste of their own medicine and they do not like it.

Seriously, haven't you got anything better to do than annoy him? Can't you run along and find a lil hobby of your own or something.

Goo is used to being the most annoying, clingiest in the room so it takes a while to get used to you.

And when he does - well get used to double trouble! He thinks of you less as an annoying S/O (you can't get enough obvs, and he can't blame you) but more as his partner in crime.

In fact, it's nice to be around someone that's more his speed and matches his vibe.

There will be no peace for anyone that has the misfortune to be around you both.

Jake Kim

Out of all these guys, Jake might be the one that might not be ok with clingier traits. He's a very busy guy. His attention is on Big Deal half the time. Genuinely loves being with you, and can easily be a lot more annoying than you if that's the game you want to play.

However, his overwhelming feelings when he can't spend all his time with you is guilt.... and you really don't want to make Jake feel sad or guilty.

He doesn't have the luxury of being able to spend whenever and however long he wants with you, and he truly does want.

Being annoying though? Good fucking luck. Jake has no shame. If you choose to be annoying, he can outmanoeuvre you in a heartbeat and in the most flamboyant and over the top way.

Vin Jin

Look, Vin is hot shit. You being clingy comes as no surprise. He's the hottest bachelor around so of course you wouldn't want to let go.

Annoying? He can put up with it, as long as you don't embarrass him. He has appearances to keep up, including being the best rapper so make sure you're up to par, mmkay?

Ok - just kidding. If Vin is with you, actually with you, he's pretty ride or die. Otherwise he'll keep you as some filthy little secret pretty much forever or until you've had enough of his bullshit.

He can put on the cool guy facade all he likes (and 'cool' is a reach) but he forever loves how much you're all over him, the attention you pay him. Despite any of his words or evidence to the contrary.

Seong Taehoon

Taehoon will tell you you're cringe, to piss off, cut it out. He only half means it. Although catch him waking up on the wrong side of bed then he will be serious.

Doesn't really deal that well with how annoying you are, especially if there's an undercurrent of sincerity and affection. It makes his head hurt and heartache, in a good way.

He doesn't exactly return your annoying traits like for like, but who are we kidding, this guy is bitchy and a dickhead in his own way. But the fact he puts up with you, and lets you get away with how you are at all speaks volumes.

Clinginess he surprisingly loves from a practicality point of view. If you're by his side all the time, there's no need to worry about what sort of nonsense you're getting up to and it's easier to protect and look after you when you're within arm's reach.

#lookism #lookism x reader #gun park x reader #goo kim x reader #jake kim x reader #vin jin x reader #viral hit x reader #how to fight x reader #seong taehoon x reader #seong taehun x reader #seong taehoon #seong taehun #taehun x reader #wannaeatramyeon

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hxney-lemcn · 7 months

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Oh no OG Finn 😭😭😭

Please, PLEASE, alternate ending PLEASE.

I love og finn sm 😭😭😭

summary: reader has trouble figuring what universe they want to stay in. Prismo gives them some leniency and lets them visit Farmworld. Finally, reader makes their decision.

tw: ANGST! bittersweet

a/n: YES!!! I love og Finn sm omg. I made this so angsty but idk how else it would go otherwise...I might make a chapter six of this B section, but it would probably be short lol (This starts like the other one, obviously ends differently tho)

wc: 1.2k

Chapter Five [B]

Master List | Chapter One

“Heeeeeey,” Prismo drew out, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry about leaving you there for so long.”

I blinked, unsure how to feel. On one hand, I did want to leave my previous scenario…but leaving forever? And without saying goodbye, or letting them know that I was safe? I bit my lip glancing to the side only to see the tv wall still on. My eyes widened as it showed Finn trekking through the forest, a worried glare set on his face as he followed the lantern light in the same direction I took off.

Prismo followed my view, “Oh, sorry. Don’t mean to distract you.” Then he turned the tv off, turning the wall back yellow.

I blinked, turning to face the pink wishmaster, “I have to go back.”

This time Prismo blinked at me, “You don’t wanna go back to your old world?”

I hesitated, and Prismo seemed to notice. He turned the tv back on, revealing the Finn from my world. Turning the volume up, it revealed Finn on the phone with Marcy.

“You haven’t found them yet?” He asked in a worried tone, desperation filled his expression.

“No,” Marcy was heard from the phone. “I’m sorry man. But I’m sure they're fine, maybe they went on a trip?”

“Without telling me?” Finn asked, slightly hurt. “They’d never do that.”

Suddenly, the situation got 10x worse. I felt torn. How do I have two different Finn’s searching for me? I frowned looking towards Prismo. I suddenly felt like crying. No matter which world I choose, I’d be leaving people behind. I started pacing, thinking of all the pros and cons. My frown started to wobble, as no matter what I did, it would be the wrong choice. The thought of Finn endlessly searching for me throughout Ooo, once again being left behind by someone he cared about. Or Finn going back to his family, having to explain the person they’ve grown so used to had run off, and only glob knows what happened to them.

“Whoah, whoah,” Prismo spoke up, turning the tv off once more. “Hey, since I kinda caused this whole mess…sorry ‘bout that…I can be a bit more lenient.” I looked up at the pink deity, unsure of what he meant. “How about you go back to Ooo, talk with Finn, and then make your decision. I’ll put a sticky note in your front pocket to send you back. If you’re still unsure, I can send you to the magicless world and you can talk to that Finn. How does that sound?”

Pursing my lips together, I replied, “Could…I actually talk to the Finn from the magicless world first?”

“Sure,” He shrugged, snapping his fingers. Like that, I was back to my campsite, this time, Finn was sitting against a tree. He stared at me with wide eyes, unsure of what just happened.

“Hey,” I said awkwardly. “I just…I really wanted to apologize for what I did, and…I think I might go back to my world.” He blinked, eyes turning cold. His gaze fell onto the embers of the fire that were close to dying.

“Why did you come back?” He asked, the barriers I managed to tear down seemed to be up once more.

I fiddled with my hands, not sure if this was the best thing to do anymore, “I…I didn’t want you to worry about me…and I wanted to say goodbye to the kids if I could…”

“Leave,” He snapped, glaring daggers at me. “I can tell them you’re gone.”

I shrunk down, shoulders tensing, “O-of course. I’m sorry. Bye.”

Fumbling under his scrutiny, I pulled the note out of my pocket and once more, I was in the yellow cube.

“Yeesh,” Prismo mumbled. “You really seemed to stomp on his heart.”

I felt guilt churning in my stomach as the tv projected Finn, now alone. He scowled and stomped on the fire before taking his lamp. Leaving back towards his house. I didn’t mean to, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I played with his feelings, and just left.

“It's for the best,” Prismo tried to reassure. “I’m not exactly allowed to let you stay in an alternate universe. That’s probably a rule for a reason.”

I bit my lip, looked down and nodded, “Yeah…could…could I go to Ooo now?”

“Yeah,” Prismo replied softly. Once again, I was snapped away, only to find myself in the Candy Tavern. Soft music was playing, and there were only a few patrons. It felt like there was a lump in my throat when I saw Finn sitting at the counter. Walking over, I sat next to him, staring at the table.

I heard him call my name, only to ask, “Are you okay?”

It was like he broke the dam with that question, and I felt unwanted tears start to fall. Without a word, Finn pulled me into a warm hug, letting me cry into his shoulder. I hugged him back like my life depended on it. I took in his familiar smell, focused on the feeling of his shirt under my fingers, and the sound of the soft music that surrounded us. I slowly calmed down, reluctantly pulling away, only to find a drink set in front of me.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“...it's kinda embarrassing…” I mumbled before taking a swig of the drink.

“I won’t judge,” He replied softly.

The warmth in his eyes seemed to envelope me, and I broke down, telling him about how I found myself in an alternate universe. How I managed to find an alternate version of him and how I may have grown feelings. How I even ended up kissing him only for him to not reciprocate. Then how Prismo found me, and gave me the option, and how I went back to say goodbye, only to realize how much I must’ve hurt and twisted his feelings. And how I currently felt like a monster for doing so.

“...why did you come back?” He asked somberly.

I paused, eyes watering once more, “I couldn’t leave you.”

I continued to stare at my drink, missing the way Finn’s face grew into a light rosy color. Missing the way his heart skipped a beat at such a bold confession. Missing the way he stared at me with so much love and adoration, he looked like he was going to explode. Missing the way his eyes watered as well, coming to a realization that he still had a reason to be here even after Jake had passed.

“It seems that no matter what universe, I’ll always fall for you,” Finn confessed, bearing his heart.

I tensed, looking over to him in surprise. My heart beat faster and my face felt warmer. I searched his eyes, which held no sense of joke or lies. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed with an abundance of emotions. Confusion, gratitude, guilt, warmth, shame…love. It was all so confusing.

“I-I probably shouldn’t have said that,” Finn said, shoulders tensing as he stared down into his cup, voice raised slightly. “Forget I said that.”

“That was really romantic,” I mumbled, my ears felt like they were burning. “But…maybe we could take it slow. Let me get over…whatever in the nightosphere I went through.”

“O-of course!” Finn exclaimed. “I-I wasn’t expecting anything, I’m not sure why I even said that…well…I mean I do like you…a lot. But I don’t want to pressure you! Especially when you just got back from all of that.”

I couldn’t stop the fond smile that fell over my face at his rambling. I missed him, more than I realized.

I chuckled fondly, “I missed you so much Finn.”

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#adventure time x reader #fionna and cake x reader #finn mertens x reader #adventure time #fionna and cake #finn mertens #x reader #fionna and cake imagines #adventure time imagines

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senjuushi · 9 months

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Antique Gun Character Intros

Since a good few people have asked for this now, here's a character intro post covering the Rhodoknight Antiques! o3o Disclaimer that I do not know these characters anywhere near as well as I do the Moderns, and as a result, my takes are subject to change as I get a better feel for them. Still, I hope this post makes the Antiques more accessible to y'all and gets me some more requests for them... XD

. . .

This is Enfield. Outwardly, he appears to be polite, good-natured, and normal. He’s very much not that. A lot of Enfield’s character is shaped by his younger brother, Snider, whose terrible behavior and constant threats of remodeling Enfield to be “just like him” are a real handful to deal with. They deserve each other. Underneath his noble exterior, Enfield is a little freak. He’s obsessive, smothering, and neurotically desperate to be of use, with stalker-y tendencies and a bad habit of idol worship. He wants to be good and helpful, and he’ll do some highly disturbing things to accomplish that. His relationship with Snider also has a weird amount of tension... of the suspiciously suggestive variety.

. . .

This is Snider. He’s awful. Snider’s whole personality revolves around the fact that he really, REALLY doesn’t want to be a person. His belief that he’s still nothing more than a weapon leads him to a fixation on combat and an utter rejection of anything too human for his liking. This includes eating, sleeping, and bathing. His gun is a special case that was made right on the cusp of what separates a Modern and an Antique— and as a result, Snider is technically both. He can function as whichever side he chooses to and only defaults to Antique because that’s what he finds most useful. He’s Enfield’s younger brother, a directly adapted and functionally superior model of gun, and because of that, he’s constantly trying to “remodel” Enfield into the same type of gun. They have a weird relationship where Enfield babysits him, Snider is unfailingly bratty and threatening, and the suspicious levels of maybe-sexual tension are just plain weird.

. . .

This is George. For the most part. He’s the embodiment of the “cheerful, stupid American” stereotype that’s so common in anime. An all-around sunshine boy, George is good-natured, friendly, sweet, and more than a little oblivious. His main issues come from the fact that he shares a body/gun with the “Brown Bess” personality (the poster boy of the first game). George feels inferior to Brown Bess in both his capabilities as a weapon and his value as an individual, and he repeatedly expresses a belief that everyone around him would rather have his counterpart in his place. Though he tries his best to be good and useful, he’s painfully aware that his existence is kind of a disappointment. He’s way too self-sacrificing for his own good.

. . .

This is Kentucky. He’s more or less an overexcited puppy who REALLY wants to prove himself. Passionate, energetic, and with very little volume control, he’s somewhere between adorably earnest and annoyingly intense. He has a sort of one-sided rivalry with his older brother, Pennsylvania, where he’s aggressively trying to surpass his big bro... while Pennsylvania just wishes they could get along better. Kentucky is also pretty short-tempered; he’s perfectly respectful to his Master but ready to throw hands with other guns whenever the chance arises. He cares a lot about aesthetics and his appearance, wants Master’s attention desperately, and is definitely compensating for a lot of internal insecurity.

. . .

This is Pennsylvania. He’s a laid-back guy with a love of hunting and the outdoors. The level-headed parallel to Kentucky’s hot-tempered enthusiasm, Pennsylvania is calm, independent, and a bit aloof. He can get caught up in his own way of doing things to the point of forgetting about others’ feelings, but he’s well-intentioned and generally kind. A reliable “big brother” type who looks after others, he very much seems like the type who’d willingly get hurt if it meant protecting someone he cares about. He doesn’t have a lot of pride in the sense of how he appears to others and is more concerned with doing what needs to be done than getting his way or looking good.

. . .

This is Charleville. He’s a sweet little guy who’s very damaged. In the game’s story, his previous Master (before the player owns him) is literally renting him out. For his healing abilities as an Antique, technically, but the more sexual implication is still very much there. Because of this renting out and his previous Master’s general mistreatment, Charleville has an intense fixation on purity, perfection, and being appealing to everyone around him. He’s delicate, gentle, polite, and affectionate, but also has a bad tendency of hiding any problems in an attempt not to bother people. He values his physical appearance and holds himself to a strict standard of behavior, though his more attention-seeking side does slip out from time to time. Charleville desperately wants to be loved, especially by his Master, but he’s convinced he has to be all but perfect to earn it.

. . .

This is Chassepot. He’s Gras’s older brother and the source of MANY of Gras’s problems. Like Gras, Chassepot initially comes across as a polite, charming gentleman. That’s very intentional. He wants Master’s affection and approval desperately and does everything possible to come across as the kind of capable, pleasant person who his Master can rely on and be close to. Under that surface, though, Chassepot is dangerously prone to feelings of jealousy, inferiority, and comparing himself to others. He’s easily provoked and can have a violent temper with other guns, and his past failures haunt him endlessly. It’s likely that he has the same tendency for rabies as Gras, but is just better at keeping it contained... in the short term. We know from the previous game that Chassepot can snap, and when he does, it’s bad.

. . .

This is Tabatiere. He’s a laid-back, inoffensive person who’s perfectly open about the fact that he’s meant for a support role, not the front lines. Usually functioning as Chassepot and Gras’s babysitter, Tabatiere sticks to the sidelines, minds his own business, and tries to be helpful where he can. He’s deeply insecure, however, and his self-esteem is so low that getting too much attention, even positive, makes him highly uncomfortable. He has the atmosphere of someone who willingly accepts anything bad that happens to him because he can’t imagine deserving better.

. . .

This is Dreyse. He’s an ultra-strict, ultra-serious sort who values rules, order, and hard work. Between his massive body and imposing personality, he comes across as highly intimidating... but he’s as respectful and obedient as can be when it comes to authority figures. Dreyse has high expectations of himself and his performance, to the point where he’ll accept nothing less than perfection. No matter what physical or emotional distress it causes him, he’ll do everything possible to fulfill his orders and succeed as a Musketeer. Deep down, he has a lot of guilt over his past and personal failings, and the only value he sees in himself is as a weapon and tool. Herme respects him massively, and the two are close in a kind of weird way. Dreyse ends up as his caretaker during Iron Days, for example.

. . .

This is Jitte. He has that kind of happy-go-lucky, easygoing personality where he’s both pleasant to be around and kind of a ditz. Very much “drunk goofy uncle” energy. When his self-esteem issues aren’t getting in the way, he can be quite affectionate (especially with Master). Sensitive, earnest, and emotional, Jitte has nothing but good intentions in mind with everything he does. He has the typical bizarre gun insecurity, though, and worries a lot about if he’s as useful and worthwhile as the other Musketeers around him. His gun also functions as a jitte, which is more or less an Edo-period police baton. Though he seems pretty carefree, Jitte is surprisingly hardworking and takes pride in being able to protect people. He’s very moral, with a strong sense of justice.

. . .

This is Karl. He’s a dignified little man who, despite his youthful appearance, is the oldest gun in the series. As in, he’s from the early 1500s. A unique weapon who belonged to Emperor Charles V, Karl has a long and prestigious history, and he knows it. He’s proud and well-mannered, takes his status as a famous piece of history very seriously, and is quite concerned with how he appears and behaves in front of others. Showing weakness is hard for Karl. He does a lot to hide how lonely and weak he can be, including active attempts to remain aloof and relatively unattached to his Master. The most he can tolerate is a professional, weapon-and-wielder relationship, since anything else would be opening him up to even more loss. I think he’s also weak to stress and VERY bad at dealing with unfamiliar situations; being esteemed as a valuable relic for so long means that he’s pretty sheltered and more unused to physical pain than he wants to admit.

. . .

This is Lorenz. He’s kind of insufferable. The mad-scientist intellectual type, he has a massive ego and a superiority complex to match. His type of gun was made in both government and private factories, with the government factory-made ones being notably superior in function— and this Lorenz is one of those. Like a lot of the Antiques, he’s eager and insistent to prove that he’s a useful, high-quality tool, even and especially when that means making himself look good at others’ expense. He’s extremely loyal to Karl, to a kind of pathetic degree... and also absolutely terrified of Dreyse. That leads to the part where Lorenz is very much a coward who’s playing tough in the hopes no one will see through the farce. He’s easily agitated, neurotically stressed, and can’t stand things not going his way.

. . .

This is Cutlery. He’s a little brat who has the typical bizarre-gun problem of pathetically low self-esteem. His gun is a weird one— it’s technically three guns disguised as pieces of silverware that were used on pirate ships as a covert weapon. Cutlery has a whole complex about how “cowardly” he is, and despite his prickly attitude and initial rudeness, he’s painfully shy, insecure, and unable to handle attention of any kind. He’s prone to idolizing people and desperately wants close relationships, but is too anxious, defensive, and afraid of being hated to open up to people without panicking. That said, he can be awfully needy and clingy once he’s attached. He also has a strong fixation on food, to the point where hoarding behavior and general food insecurity seem likely.

. . .

#Senjuushi #千銃士 #Info #Everyone #Enfield #Snider #George #Kentucky #Pennsylvania #Charleville #Chassepot #Tabatiere #Dreyse #Jitte #Karl #Lorenz #Cutlery

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tossawary · 1 year

Text

I finished rereading SVSSS Volume 2 and was focusing more on the story this time, because I remember Volume 1 best, so I didn’t really stop to post about it. A random assortment of thoughts in no particular order:

Gongyi Xiao is the Bestest Boy. I remembered him being good, but reading it again was like, “Awwwww, buddy.” Poor guy. He deserved more!

Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe are such a mess in this volume. It’s like two people trying to play chess against each other but they’re somehow using two different boards for it. No one wants to be playing this game! But everyone keeps insisting on it while crying and boards are getting flipped! (I guess in this metaphor, Zhuzhi-Lang is eating the pieces when no one is looking.)

The sower demons are genuinely creepy.

I want to call Luo Binghe’s invasion of Cang Qiong a clown show, but that would be an insult to clowns. Moshang have such limited appearances in the main story, but they are ridiculous.

Sha Hualing having a Bad Guy Lair is really funny. I forgot about that.

Over the course of this volume, Shen Yuan suggests that Liu Qingge is asexual and then suggests that Luo Binghe is asexual (before figuring out that Luo Binghe is into him). But he’s definitely an ordinary straight guy, for sure!

Every time Sha Hualing loses her top (which is... at least three times... I think?), Shen Yuan mentally censors her breasts. I didn’t forget this because I see people mention it periodically, but I forgot just how funny it is.

Shen Yuan scheming to get Liu Qingge to take on Yang Yixuan as a disciple was really cute, actually. He’s such a softie. He just wants to be nice!

When he’s talking about Liu Qingge’s lack of disciples at the very beginning of the volume, Shen Yuan describes how Bai Zhan works, and the phrasing kind of suggests that Bai Zhan changes peak lords every time that a Bai Zhan disciple bests their shizun. It does not work like this, but it would be kind of funny if the other peaks are strictly following some cycle to choose the next generation of peak lords and Bai Zhan is just switching peak lords whenever.

I don’t forget this trait because it’s one of my favorite things about him, but I’m always struck rereading by how quiet and thoughtful Luo Binghe can be. He gets extremely attached to Shen Qingqiu in Volume 1 and he’s dealing with severe mental and emotional instability throughout Volume 2, but Luo Binghe is often reserved or somber or even cold when not dealing with Shen Qingqiu.

Binghe really just took over Huan Hua Palace and says that the Old Palace Master has gone “traveling”. Yeah, he’s doing some wandering cultivation. It’s like a vacation. Don’t worry about it. :) The Little Palace Mistress is clearly becoming impatient with this excuse and I’m betting that the number of people at Huan Hua Palace who 100% believe the excuse is very, very low.

Shen Yuan returning in the plant body only to have to listen to how he’s become gossip fodder is funny. But Liu Mingyan going, “Ah, that’s how it is,” and then proceeding to write the Resentment of Chunshan is even funnier. Shen Yuan is in the middle of being kidnapped by Zhuzhi-Lang and suddenly has to listen to a song about him and Binghe fucking all the time. Zhuzhi-Lang desperately trying not to lose his shit laughing in the background is my favorite part of this scene. Shen Yuan’s horror at least works well as a distraction!

Also, I love that Shen Yuan went, “You have money? I want women,” and Zhuzhi-Lang just went with it. It’s so obviously an escape plan to the readers. Zhuzhi-Lang probably also suspects that something is up. He’s not an idiot. But maybe a part of him is accustomed to absurd demands from Tianlang-Jun and kind of views “Hey, let’s go check out what music the brothels are playing now!” as a normal desire for people to express?

It’s tempting to write fics in which Shen Yuan just gives the false jade pendant back immediately. Do I think it would automatically fix everything? Nope! But it sure would be fun to watch the characters spin.

#tossawary svsss #tossawary rereads svsss #zhuzhi lang #shen yuan #luo binghe #liu mingyan #sha hualing #gongyi xiao #xiao gongzhu #liu qingge #Yang Yixuan

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tumblingxelian · 23 days

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Okay so, given Mercury Black's and Cassandra Cain's backstories, what do you think both characters would feel after an encounter with each other where neither dies?

Sorry I've been neglecting asks recently, been kind of down and so just doing low effort reblogs with the occasional burst of energy.

Anyway!

This is a fun and interesting question I actually sought help in answering from but a humble good, who always has good Cass takes and loves RWBY!

Off the cuff and for anyone confused, the characters being asked about are:

Cassandra Cain - who was raised by master assassin David Cain to be the perfect killer. She was never taught to speak and only learned through physical action. Because of this she can essentially predict what a person will do before they act and she is functionally the best martial artist in the DC Universe, or always in the top 3. Said body language reading ability though also means she can experience her targets deaths by proxy which... Yeah basically led to her adopting a 100% no kill policy after her first mission. Thus leading her to running away, living homeless for several years before joining the Bat Clan and becoming Batgirl.

Mercury Black - Like Cassandra his father Marcus Black raised him to be an assassin like himself. Marcus may not have denied his son words but he instead stole the manifestation of his soul (His Semblance) claiming it was a "Crutch" and he would get it back eventually. He never got it back & instead had his lower legs mutilated to be replaced with robotic prosthetics which he then used to kill Marcus. Unlike Cass he's not the best of the best, but is definitely skilled & unlike her he's doggedly committed to the role of playing the villain with a veneer of jocularity he uses to hide that he can't imagine any other life.

Conclusion:

So we have two teens/young adults coming from very similar places as far as what they were trained and otherwise horrifically abused to be, but who ended up on seemingly opposite ends of the spectrum.

Cassandra's reaction when encountering most killers tends to be one of two things. A very stern "You need to grasp the enormity of what you are doing and stop or be stopped painfully." Or "Oh, you actually think this is in someway necessary, please do not do this, there is a way out, there has to be."

She's also very chill with people who did kill but choose not too, she's not... Preachy or judgmental in that sense, doing so would be hypocritical in her eyes.

So she'd likely emphasize a lot with Mercury, being able to see him as something of a "Therefore but for the grace of empathic body language go I." So she'd very much want to both stop him from killing but also show him that he can go down another path.

This doesn't mean she'd be inclined to be a doormat, quite the opposite but she'd definitely be working to communicate with him as much as fight him if she had to.

Mercury meanwhile would hate this. He is deep in denial about himself and hates being read for what he is, as local serial killer Tyrian Callows did in Volume 6:

Tyrian: (mocking) Oh yes, the world is mean, and I'm a big, bad man now just like the others. (laughs)

Mercury: (growls as he angrily walk over to Tyrian) How long have you been standing there?!

Tyrian: All you ever learned was pain and violence, and now you're too afraid to leave it. Such a tragedy.

Mercury: You don't know me!

So while he would see the connection the moment he had any details he'd throw up an aloof façade and claim Cass was weak and lacked the stomach for what he does or something to that effect.

Internally he'd be seething with resentment, or more, a blooming sense of inferiority about how someone who proves his beliefs wrong seems to so casually exists and wants to help him of all things.

He'd not welcome or trust her, not a first at least.

#RWBY #Batman #Cassandra Cain #Batgirl #Black Bat #batgirl (2000)#Mercury Black #Marcus Black #Crossover I guess #Text Post #Meta #Analysis #CRWBY #Bat Clan

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loyaltykask · 2 months

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Chapter 27

@journeythroughjourneytothewest

Wukong just has to scream and that sucking works

I forget that the White Bone Demon Arc is actaully like.... super early in the jounrey. Like they have been only on 3 adventure together AT MOST and that is no including getting Bajie And Wujing. At this point they are all still strangers to one another. They are barely a year in to a 14 year journey and this is like their first real test of faith in one another. Sanzang has only see a Head monk commit suicide, get kidnapped by Yellow Wind Demon and face the Immortal Equal to Earth at this point, all that I will admit aren't Wukong's best moments. But he still has this arrogance that Wukong can and should do anything he says. I think it says a lot where this chapter is going to go when this is there first test after coming off the Ginseng Fruit arc as a team and whether this will break them or they can come out strong for it.

WHAT relatives BE TALKING ABOUT THIS?

OOOOOOO THey got CLOUT

And Wujing was a Captain i thought he was a general, need to remember that. Never thought "clowning" would be used in this context but damn good for them

Sanzang STILL Be scolding even to some rando woman DAMN

Again I just imagine Sanzang holding a 4ft monkey in his arm holding him back

See because later it is shown that Wukong HASN'T eaten human I really think he trying to push the point the demons (he including himself in this to make a point) lure human with falsehoods all the time that Sanzang shouldn't be so trusting

This also makes the idea that Bajie, Wukong, Bailong, and Wujing are all parts of Sanzang that he fighting with himself. Bajie is his worldly mind seeing a beautiful woman and trusting her for that beauty. While Wukong is the rational part of Sanzang's mind that is trying to warn him about the dangers. Sanzang not listening to Wukong is him not listening to himself, rather choosing what he want to believe instead of the truth in front of him.

Also lmao his bald head is a red

Funny enough this does suggest she was using dead bodies as her shield So the illusion is very convincing as it was once a real person but they should be long dead by now

Even here Sanzang is 1/3 convinced (kinda strange way of putting it) as though Wukong is sure of himself but Wujing and Bajie are not, hence why Bajie is vocal about his objections and Wujing opts to say nothing as he too wants to see the best in everyone, hoping that what the woman said was true.

Such symbolically filled chapters and also show the dynamics and where they stand one year into the journey. Like they are just starting to understand one another from what we see in the Ginseng Fruit arc and starting to understand their roles not only in the party but to one another as well. Sanzang is the one here who needs to grow the most in order to get past his arrogance and grow not only as a master but as a person as well. It was very smart to put this chapter early in the book, I know it’s in the second volume but this is legit just the third large trial arc on this journey setting the tone for the rest of the journey and how they interact with one another here. Sanzang still doesn’t fully trust Wukong here and Bajie letting his jealousy for his brother show I honestly think Bajie is more just wanting Wukong to get in trouble and like tease the other, cause he is disappointed by the lack of a free meal, but he is never intended for Wukong to be so far gone as to be sent away.

Still not over Wukong calling Sanzang a whore and saying "I'll build you a bed so you can just fuck you're self out of the monk lifestyle you floozy"

It just occurred to me that Neither Wujing nor Bajie has seen Sanzang use the spell until now. Like Sanzang told them about it in the Ginseng Fruit arc but they had never seen it in action because he hadn't used it in the past 6 months. I think he only used it when they were at the Temple with that evil monk dude and Wukong lost the cassock but he hasn't used it since.

Yup, just check he only used the spell when he lost the cassock and hasn't used it since. Shit they really are in for a bumping ride.

I don't know why but the idea that being kind to even bugs and Sanzang is the Golden Cicada speaks to me on some

SO LIKE Sanzang has admitted that he doesn't mind dying, sure he doesn't want to but he gives off the vibes that he knows it can happen to him at any moment and he would just accept his evitable death (I'm not sure if that is low key suicidal but deadass not really saying he wants to live either). Wukong on the other hand knows this guy is going to die and being a monkey of his word wants to repay him for freeing him under the mountain. Wukong has been shown before to have a lot of gratitude to people that help him in the past, his own Master Puti and Guanyin for starters as he never forgets when he owes a debt (unless you are Ao Guang then tough shit). Sanzang thinks he hit an innocent person that hasn't wrong them yet while Wukong argues otherwise and even goes on to say that he will fight again even if Sanzang uses the spell, he isn't going to be unruly again. Clearly Sanzang is in the wrong here but also this highlights just how loyal and honest Wukong is as a character, sure he is a trickster and known to be cunning and can use deceitful tactics to get his way but overall him as a person is always honest with his intentions and what he thinks and believes, which is very interesting wonderful dichotomy.

Also, love that Wukong just..... straight out points out that an old lady probs can't give birth as his reasoning. He really is the Monkey of Mind.

Okay so like..... he was RIGHT to do so but ALSO YOU COULD HAVE GIVEN SOME WARNING SHE WAS A DEMON BEFORE DOING THAT

He uses the spell again and tries to send him away, harsh words deadass. At this point, it is clear that Sanzang is just digging in his heels refusing to trust Wukong after already set in stone in his mind that the last person they killed was an actaully person. Now any trust they have built over the last year is gone and it is only going to get worse.

I can't tell if Cheng'en is trying to make the pain like.... funny like in a cartoon but it def leaves disturbing mental images.

Even being sent away they still bicker Wukong more offended by his pride as a monk is being questioned than being sent away

Wukong this time uses the excuse of having the fillet to keep him around, that he would be dishonored coming home with it on his head, and that if Sanzang can't take it off then he better come along all the while. It is a different excuse than the first one, rather than using Sanzang's natural compassion against him, he is using Sanzang's need to bear responsibility over him. That as the master if he can't loosen it then he has no right to send him away with it still on. Which is interesting in Buddhism culture as any action Wukong does so reflects on his Master, meaning that every life Wukong takes, whether human or demon is on Sanzang's hands he is responsible for Wukong during the whole journey. It is that kind of Shifu-Tudi mentality that students are an extension of their masters and that they carry on their will through their actions. Anytime Wukong does something 'unruly' in Sanzang's eyes it is because he himself as failed as a master to teach Wukong properly. To Sanzang, Wukong's failures are his own and sending him away would be him trying to give up not only on Wukong but also on himself for not being able to properly teach Wukong.

Bajie shut the fuck up your giving the party anxiety.

Wukong be weighing his options of whether to save Sanzang from his demon if and when she catches him or just kill her now. He had a calculated risk that he will be able to talk himself out of this one.

He willing to keep Sanzang safe even if it meant getting that Spell. never was there a more brave soldier.

Deadass Wukong finally got the proof he needed cause White Bone Spirit BE FINALLY DEAD Only when true death can that the corpse be shown. Also weird that her name was in his spine but hey who am I to judge.

NO BAJIE YOU FUCK SANZANG WAS THIS CLOSE TO JUST SAYING "You were right Wukong thank you" THIS AINT YOUR TIME TO LAUGH AND TEASE THIS MONK IS SERIOUS

Out of everything Sanzang said saying that they don't need Wukong cause Wujing and Bajie are there hurt him the most. Sanzang goes on saying "I have been with you since day one! Not them!" Funny enough that Sanzang DOESn't even bother with the spell the third time, like just as he was about to recite it Wukong stopped him and they just argue. He just.... tell him to leave.

This is the most formal banishment damn, got a letter of resignation and everything Sanzang being a petty stubborn fool like this Wukong refuses to leave without bowing and even Sanzang try to dodge a bow but could not.

Wukong only be trusting Wujing here for this mission Both Wujing and Bajie not saying much, which allows for a lot of interpretation in what they could be thinking. But Sanzang still thinking that Wukong was being deceitful in his actions Wukong gives WUjing to use him name but only that.

CRYING HE IS CRYING I HOPE YALL HAPPY

#jttw #journey to the west #book club

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gofancyninjaworld · 1 year

Note

Tbh, sometimes you're way too hardpressed on intradiagetic explanations in opm that you don't much factor in extradiagetic explanations.

Murata puts emphasis on detail yes, but I'm pretty sure there are just instances where he draws something doesn't have a deeper explanation behind. Like, idk, maybe Murata just got better at drawing leather, not bc Saitama got gifted better boots by Genos to replace his "plastic" ones. Tatsumaki doesn't wear pants isn't bc she's stupid, it's bc Murata is kind of a pervert.

Or like how Fubuki's boobs got bigger over the course of the manga, what, you're gonna tell us she got a boob job in between? :/

True, all analyses devolve into absurdity when followed too far. However, I hope I can justify my approach in this specific instance beyond 'it's fun', which is a sufficient answer to all things fannish.

First of all, it is true that a lot of the changes in the characters' appearances derives from Murata making stylistic changes. In particular, when he started drawing One-Punch Man, he was very keen to break out of the expressions and visual shorthands he'd developed during Eyeshield 21 (see volume 1 of One-Bukoru for more on that). It would seem that in time, he's developed an OPM visual shorthand that still leaves him scope to present the characters semi-realistically when the story demands it.

Let us stay outside the story a little while longer. It would make no sense to consider an intradiegetic explanation for Saitama's clothing in the webcomic. ONE draws clothes on his characters because they normally need some sort of clothing -- once he gets a look for them, that's it. Except where the choice of clothing is plot-relevant (like Teru choosing a terrible t-shirt for Mob), 'clothes were provided' is all that one need to say about it. Murata is very different in this regard. Outside of his art, he has a lot of interest in clothes: for example, he regularly promotes his uncle's kimono store on his Twitter. He spends considerable time referencing outfits for characters (and it's a fun sport for fans to find -- and price up -- those references). He spends a lot of time agonizing what a chracer's outfit says about them. See, for example, this titbit from his 11 June 2018 stream on King's clothing. His awareness of how clothing is an expression of a character's personality and the social signalling it provides has made it explicitly into the text, where Saitama asks Genos if his clothes make him look poor.

Therefore, let us get the first thing straight: the state and type of clothing has meaning within the context of the OPM manga, much more so than it does in the webcomic.

Let us consider the second party in this. Within the manga, it is canonical that Genos is well dressed -- and has been becoming more fashionable with time. Conflict between himself and the shoddily-dressed Saitama would seem likely. Let us consider what we see, therefore.

It is canonical that Genos cleans and repairs Saitama's clothing, including his precious hero uniform. He even goes so far as to have it professionally tended to on occasion (complete with dismay when Saitama gives it away...). He is very invested in Saitama looking his best.

Building on this, Saitama's cheaply-sourced outfits are disliked by Genos. When Saitama asked about looking poor, Genos changed the subject as he wasn't comfortable with telling Saitama bluntly that yes, he does look *that* poor. Genos being unhappy with Saitama's appearance extends to that hero uniform, which Genos has offered to replace as a gift (see 'Road to Hero').

So, we have in place, without an ounce of speculation, a man who dresses cheaply and badly. We have his closest associate, his disciple, being well dressed and distressed on occasion at his master's appearance. It is also well established that his disciple actively tries to improve things for said man.

Given that Genos's care extends to repairing Saitama's clothing, it is not unreasonable to impute that at least some of the improved fit and appearance of Saitama's wardrobe in the story is due to Genos's efforts.

Onto the other side of Saitama fitting his clothes better: food. It is established both within the text and supplemenatary to the text (ONE's interview in the Hero Encyclopedia) that Saitama had difficulty on consistently affording enough to eat before he met Genos. At times, he was even glad for food handouts from grateful people.

Since Genos's arrival, Saitama eats three good meals a day (eating three times a day is non-optional according to Saitama, what is optional is how much to eat: a banana will do if there is no other food available), both because Genos cooks and because pro-hero employment has meant a steady paycheck. It is not plausible that two months of eating well after being undernourished should have no effect whatsoever on how he bulks out.

Notwithstanding changes in Murata's art, it is unreasonable to presume that all the changes in Saitama's appearance can only be due to the art changes. I agree that one should not be overly speculative in one's analyses, but where there is good grounding for inferences, failing to make them is poor reading (1).

Then and now

If you're looking for extradiegetic readings of OPM, I can't recommend better than the Youtuber keatsta https://www.youtube.com/@keatsta2928/videos A long time fan of One-Punch Man, he's unfortunately not been reading the manga since chapter 165, but is still reviewing the webcomic. He's always got something interesting and insightful to say.

As I hope you're able to tell, I do consider the context and authorial intent in deciding how heavily to lean into an intradiegetic reading. Extradiegetic readings often carry the air of objectivity, but that is not necessarily justifiable or even the point. I'll give an example from my own life. Back when I was a snarky teenager, I attended one of my grandfather's art exhibitions. At the reception, I happened to overhear an art critic explaining to someone the signficance of of my grandfather's use of yellows in a painting. I thought (but thankfully did not say) 'how silly -- Grandpa just happened to have a lot of yellow paints to use up at the time.' I knew this to be so because I'd been around at the time he'd painted that picture. My grandfather has been gone for getting on a decade now, and I have no idea where the painting is hanging but I hope that its bold, yet nuanced use of yellows is stil speaking powerfully to someone.

Aside

(1) The inference that Genos has had a hand in improving Saitama's appearance would be 100% uncontroversial if he were a woman and Saitama's girlfriend. It is a deliberately jarring element of One-Punch Man that Genos has the concern for Saitama's appearance and well-being more normally reserved for romantic partners. Without necessarily being romantic.

Like I was saying, beware false objectivity. It often conceals a bias.

#OPM #asks #Genos #Saitama #extradiegesis and its abuse #yes for sure it's damn annoying when people try to use their headcanon as fact #but refusing to make good inferences is also illogical

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cherry-pop-elf · 5 months

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Hi! My name is Belladonna. I am a TransMasc Disabled Hispanic. Yeah, I’m some peoples worse nightmare. Slay. Anyway, I am disabled. With Fibromyalgia, which has forced me into a wheelchair. Along with PTSD, Chronic Migraines, Chronic Fatigue, Brain Damage, and a laundry list of other things. But those are the things that have GREATLY affected my life. You are probably wondering why you are seeing this in your Harry Potter Tag. Right? I’ll explain’

So, I’m trying to spread disability awareness and normalize it in media. REALISTIC disability. Not just anime scar over the eye brow. Stuff that is real. Because the media glamorizes its horribly. Uses it as a plot point. I can go one for hours. You get the point here. Social media can suck, BUT it can also be wonderful!

So if you guys have like requests of like Harry Potter Style “How would X react to X type reader-“ Disabled Headcanons and stories, shoot them my way. Or like requesting to see my headcanons on X person. And their disabilities. I’ll give it my best, and properly research. Along with speak with people who have those issues. I specifically choose Harry Potter as it has been very important for me in processing my disability grief, and over all a massive comfort. And since the fandom reclaimed it from You Know Who, it’s our turn to design it to what we like. So, hell ye

I won’t get it perfect, and I refuse to say I will, but at the same time that’s the beauty of it. Even fictional disabilitys, like Werewolfism, is rooted in real bodily functions. Every disability is different. Most people who have Fibromyalgia don’t need a wheelchair. I do. So just because I’m not getting it “100% accurate” doesn’t mean someone out there can’t see themselves in it.

These will be stories written by a disabled person, through a disabled lenses. So even if I don’t get it 100% right, the exhaustion and trauma of what it’s like will be there. There’s gonna be soul, and no corporate sugar coating.

Disabilities aren’t pretty, and that needs to be normalized. We aren’t freaks of nature. Not every disability is stemmed from a accident or trauma. Disable people exist. And if you have a problem with it, ask yourself this. Who’s the one able to walk to the bathroom with out fear of collapsing? Who can go get the mail? Who can leave their bed? Who can go to school with no wheelchair? You, or me? That’s what I thought

So, send me your asks. I should have a master list made soon! Thank you all! And don’t be shy in asking me questions, in general, about disabilities. This is a safe space. No stupid questions. The fact you even ASKED is speaking volumes. You WANTING TO LEARN is all that matters. Love you lots! 🫂

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sweetchcolate · 4 months

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I LOVE your posts about Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and just read your fanfic about Rafael visiting a pregnant Ann and loved it! I hope you write more fanfics on Sugar Apple Fairy Tale and can I request you write about Ann and Shall's wedding. IT WOULD FILL ME WISH SO MUCH JOY THAT YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE!

fandom: sugar apple fairy tale words: 5677 title: wedding prep shenanigans summary: A humorous glimpse into the weeks leading up to Anne and Shall’s wedding as their friends and guests show up one after the other.

also available on ao3!

A/N: Hiya, this ask is from late august/early september, so thank you for waiting all this time!

It's more on the funny/gen side since my last fic (spillover) was 100% pure fluff, but there was no way I could write about Anne and Shall's wedding without involving all the friends the two made over their adventures.

Thank you for waiting! I hope it was worth it!

As a heads-up, there are some spoilers for events in future LN volumes in Keith's section. It starts when he says "Ah, I was thinking out loud…" and ends when you read "It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy."

(And the changes of spelling between Cat and Kat are on purpose, depending on who talks to him. When it's Cat, it's because they're referencing the animal).

Despite the distance separating them, when Alph Hingley, Keith Powell, Hugh Mercury, Bridget Page, Elliot Collins, and the many other friends Anne and Shall made over the years received a notice for the wedding ceremony of a certain sugar master and an obsidian fairy, they all shared the same thought.

It’s about time.

Followed immediately by: wait, if I received an invitation, then who’s planning this?

Bridget, with her fiancé Orland and her ex-fiancé Elliot in tow, was the first one to arrive, of course. She greeted Anne with a warm hug, gave a solemn nod to Shall fen Shall and Mythril Lid Pod, and went straight to the crux of things.

“The wedding is only weeks away! Do you have everything planned?”

“Yes.

“Your dress?”

“Almost done. The seamstress wanted to see me one or two more times to make the final adjustments.”

“And Shall’s outfit?”

“All set!”

“What about the reception?”

“Right next to the church. The head priest and the mayor said they’d lend us tables and chairs so we could eat and party outside.”

“And how many people are you expecting? Do you have a guest list?”

Anne handed over the list, which Bridget briefly skimmed through. She nodded in satisfaction.

“Who’s in the charge of the catering? Oh, and what about the sugar confection? Did you order one? Who did you ask?”

“A-about that…”

“She was planning of making her own,” Shall said, his first intervention since Bridget started grilling Anne over the details. He hadn’t looked up once from whatever he was sewing, but it was obvious he’d kept up with the conversation. “She said she didn’t want to trouble anyone.”

“Shall!” Anne cried, betrayed.

Elliot frowned. He threw an arm around Anne’s shoulders, drawing her to him. He ruffled her hair.

“That won’t do, Anne. Do you know how many people would die to make your wedding sugar sculpture? Just think of it: Hingley, Powell, Mercury, Nadir, Valentine, King, Orland, Bridget—"

“Why did you cite me last, Elliot?”

“— and of course, saving the best for last: good old me. The silver sugar viscount and the best sugar masters of this generation at your beck and call. Soooo, who’s going to be the lucky sod?”

“Can’t I pick myself?”

“Ah ah,” Elliot tutted, wagging a finger. “No, no, no. Don’t you know it’s bad luck?”

“You guys should all make a sugar confection, and then we can choose a winner on the wedding day!” Mythril piped up.

“We? I wasn’t aware this was your wedding, Mythril Lid Pod,” Shall added.

“Ugh, you know what I meant!”

“Yes. You meant to stuff yourself full of silver sugar.”

“I’m going to gnaw on your wedding tunic.”

“No you won’t!” Bridget cut in. “Do you know how expensive those clothes are? Oh! I almost forgot! What about cosmetics? And your hair?”

Anne blanched, and that was an answer in and of itself.

“Anne, I can’t believe you! Come on, we’re going to Lewiston right now!”

“B-but the wedding isn’t for another mont—”

Shall, Mythril, Elliot, and Orland watched the blonde woman drag her friend. They were all quiet. Elliot made the prayer sign one would for the deceased.

Orland smacked him. To Shall, he said: “Aren’t you going to help Anne out? She’s your fiancée.”

“And she’s being dragged around by your fiancée,” Shall retorted. The implication was clear: if you’re not going to stop her, don’t expect me to.

“Hm.”

No one pointed out that the obsidian fairy, a one-man army of his own, could easily have prevented the women from leaving if he was so inclined. Keyword being ‘inclined”. No one could convince Shall (or Bridget for that matter) to do anything they didn’t want to unless you were called Anne Halford.

Mythril repeated the gesture Elliot made moments earlier.

“Yo.”

“Kat!”

Anne’s face positively lit up, shrieking when the older sugar master lifted her up in a bear hug. The gesture might be uncharacteristic coming from him, but hey, it wasn’t every day that his apprentice-figure was getting married. She deserved the rare show of affection.

“Hiya Anne,” Benjamin said once she was back on the ground. He was as cool and relaxed as ever. “Congratulations on the wedding~”

“Thank you, Benjamin! But it’s still two weeks away.”

“Oh good, we’re early~ The weather was just awful in Snowpoint, I thought we wouldn’t make it.”

“It smells good in here, small stuff,” Kat said. “What’s cooking?”

“An apple pie! I wanted to make a big one for the wedding, so Bridget and I are trying to figure out the right proportions. Want to be our taste-tester?”

“I won’t say no to free food.”

He followed Anne, finding Bridget, Orland, and Elliot huddled around a stove. Or rather, it was more accurate to say Elliot was huddled around the stove. Orland was holding the hearth door open while Bridget put a knife to a delicious-smelling pie. The air was filled with the scent of clove and cinnamon.

“Oooo, Hingley. That’s a nostalgic face if I’ve seen one.”

“Why am I not surprised to find you here, you freeloader.” Kat rolled his eyes. “Langston, Page. Congrats on your engagement again.”

“Thank you,” they answered in unison. Bridget added: “I think the pie is ready. Once it cools, we can eat.”

“Apple pie?” someone shouted from outside. “Wait for me! Don’t you dare eat without the great Mythril Lid Pod!”

It wasn’t long before Mythril showed up, perched on Shall’s shoulders. The two (or rather, the latter) had gone to chop some wood, the supply depleting faster with the addition of Bridget, Orland, and Elliot.

It was also a good way to keep the insatiable Mythril out of the way, lest he try to eat the apple pie dough raw.

“Oh, hi Kat! I thought I recognized your wagon outside! See, Shall fen Shall? I told you it was his!”

“Thank you for your wisdom,” Shall answered, more sarcasm than actual gratitude.

“Rude as ever, huh, Shall,” Kat said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

“Done hibernating, mister Cat? Glad you could make it to the wedding.”

“Hey, play nice.”

“No, no, let them, Anne.” Elliot snickered. “It’s free entertainment!”

“At least I’m doing something. You’re just lazing around, Collins.”

“Hey, hey. I’ll have you know I’m here on official Page workshop business.”

“Oh, really? And what is that?”

“We’ve got a wedding sugar confection for a very important client.”

“And where is that sugar confection? I only saw a regular carriage outside, not a crafter’s wagon.”

“Oh, that’s easy. It’s still in my head!”

“You lazy ass—”

While Elliot and Kat bickered, Anne scooted over to Shall, helping him put the wood away.

“It sure has gotten more lively,” she whispered.

“Has it? I tuned them all out since day one.”

Anne shoved him slightly, but the grin on her face betrayed her amusement. “Don’t tell Mythril Lid Pod, or we won’t hear the end of it.”

“Ha. I don’t think we’ll ever have trouble hearing him.”

She held her hands out to take another log. Shall took the opportunity to bring her hand to his mouth, using his body to hide the gesture from their friends. It wasn’t like he had trouble with displays of affections, but Anne and he could do without the teasing.

Especially Collins’s.

“Only two more weeks,” he murmured, voice pitched low, just enough to reach Anne’s ears. She felt every twist of his lips, every syllable pressed in her skin. In the low light, Shall’s eyes gleamed a beautiful dark amethyst.

She blushed, feeling warm, and squeezed his hand back with a shy smile.

“Hey, lovebirds! Get over here before the shrimp eats your share of the pie,” Elliot interrupted with his oh-so-great timing. True to his words, Mythril’s cheeks were full, resembling a squirrel.

Shall and Anne exchanged a look, sharing similar thoughts. Those would be the longest two weeks of their lives.

“I wasn’t expecting everyone to be here already… I’m a bit embarrassed.”

“You’re right on time actually, Keith! Bridget came in early because she wanted to help with the wedding prep, and Elliot and Orland tagged along. And Kat left Snowpoint ahead of time because he didn’t want to be stuck if the roads got snowed in.”

“Still, if I had known, I would have pushed for mister Radcliffe to let me out much earlier.” Keith pointed to the back of his wagon with a hopeful smile. “I hope my sculpture will make it up to you. It’s one of the pieces I’m most proud of!”

“I’m looking forward to it! What did you make?”

“That’s a secret. I can’t have you spoiling your own wedding gift.”

Anne pouted. “Everybody’s so cagey! First, it’s Bridget kicking me out of the venue, then Elliot telling me I can’t go home because he and Orland are making my wedding candy on behalf of the Page workshop.”

“What about Shall? And mister Hingley?”

“They’re checking with the innkeeper if we have enough rooms for all the guests.”

So far, all five artisans and three fairies had piled up in Anne’s and Shall’s home, with Anne and Shall sharing the master bedroom, Bridget in the guest room, Elliot and Orland in the other, and Kat and Mythril sleeping downstairs in the living room. However, after the reception, Anne and Shall would want for intimacy on their wedding night, and so their friends needed somewhere else where to sleep.

“The two of them? Will they be alright?” Keith asked, referencing to Kat’s short temper and Shall’s ability to get a rise out just about anyone with pinpoint precision. The two men got along like… well… cat and dog.

“Mythril Lid Pod’s with them, but if I had known everyone would give me the boot, I would have gone with them,” Anne sighed.

“In that case, do you know what to do when something’s bothering you?”

“Run and leave it all behind, right?”

Keith blinked, but a pleased smile appeared on his face. “I’m surprised you remember that. It’s been so long ago.”

“Of course! I was under a lot of stress back then, you know? Your words were a big help, they really cheered me up.”

“Just my words?” he teased.

“You know what I mean!”

He laughed. “I’m glad I could help.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the flowers sway in the slight spring breeze. All the snow had already melted, and the land was slowly regaining its colors, waking up from a long deep sleep.

“To think you’re getting married…” Keith murmured under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Ah, I was thinking out loud…” He sighed. There was something wistful, but also peaceful about his smile. “Talking about the past got me feeling nostalgic. To think that back then, our biggest worry was whether we’d make silver sugar master.”

True. A lot happened in just a few short years: Anne and Shall’s abduction by his brother Rafael fen Rafael, Shall taking his responsibilities as a potential fairy king and bargaining with the human king to slowly give fairies back their autonomy, Rafael fen Rafael’s return, and Anne and Shall almost dying at his hands and paying the price of surviving such an ordeal with their memories (Anne of her painstakingly hard-earned sugar crafting skills, Shall of his meeting with Anne and all those she brought to his life)…

It had been a worrisome whirlwind of drama and tragedy, but their happy ending was finally within reach.

And not just Anne’s and Shall’s… everyone’s: Bridget and Orland were engaged and most likely the next to get married; Elliot had assumed the reigns of the workshop, taking the strain off Glen’s shoulders; the Page workshop was flourishing ever since the Holy Beginnings exhibit; Kat and Keith kept up their work as sugar masters, refining their skills and gaining in recognition.

Everyone was moving forward towards a bright future.

But a part of Anne missed the old days, a time where life was much simpler.

“This might sound silly, but I hope we all stay in touch. I… I don’t want us to drift apart,” she said, fighting to get the words out of her tightening throat. She was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of sadness and bittersweetness.

“Of course.” Keith patted her on the back, kind and comforting, and the gesture almost made Anne lose her composure. She sniffed the tears back. “We can meet up for the Royal Fair, for the Holy Beginnings, for Valentine’s day… Your birthday’s on the sixth month, right? So that will be our summer reunion.”

“If we only gathered for my birthday, that’d be unfair.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s come up with our own summer holiday, then. That way, no one’s jealous.”

Anne laughed, shaky. “As long as I don’t have to come up with the name.”

“You can design incredible sugar sculptures to wow royalty, but you’re stumped by names?”

“Hey! I’m a silver sugar master, not a name master!”

He laughed. Keith kept on patting her back until she felt better. She was truly lucky to have such an attentive and thoughtful person as a friend.

“Keith?”

“Hm?”

There was so much she wanted to thank him for, but she doubted she could ever convey the depths of her feelings, so Anne poured all her gratitude, her happiness, and her appreciation into two simple words: “Thank you.”

Keith wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. He whispered, barely a murmur on the wind, “Anytime.”

“Anne! Anne! Congratulations on the wedding!”

“Actually, it’s ‘congratulations on the engagement.’”

Noah ignored Valentine’s correction, clinging to Anne. “Can I see your dress?”

“Not today!” Anne laughed at the fairy’s pout. “Don’t worry, you’ll see it in two days.”

“But that’s too faaaaaaaar.”

“Noah.” It was Glen who spoke. The older man was on the edge of his seat, waiting for Anne and Noah to clear the way so he could get off the carriage. “If you’re that excited, why don’t you go check the church? That’s where the ceremony will be held.”

“Oh, in that case, could you tell Bridget, Orland, and Elliot that mister Glen is here?” Anne added.

“Will do!”

And just as quickly as he had latched onto Anne, Noah was off. Nadir and Valentine sputtered, giving Anne their regards before running after the fairy. Noah might be older than them both, but he was as innocent and carefree as a child.

“Mister Glen. You seem to be doing well.”

“I am. I feel much better these days.” Glen stood and Anne hovered nearby just in case, but the older man managed to make his way out of the carriage on his own. He regarded her warmly. “I believe you’ve grown. I don’t remember you being this tall.”

“I think you shrank, mister Glen,” King said. He waved at Anne. “Yo, thanks for the invitation. And congrats!”

“Thank you! I’m glad you could make it!”

“Of course. You’re one of us, even if you don’t work for the workshop officially anymore,” Glen said. “If you had told us earlier, we could have organized you a grand wedding. But what’s done is done. Are you all set?”

“Yes! Bridget was a big help. I thought I had everything handled, but there was so much more left than I expected!”

“The missy planned her own wedding months ahead. She knows her stuff.”

“Before I forget. Here.” Glen handed Anne a leather pouch, heavy and thick. There was a tinkling sound when he moved it, almost like that of coins. “For you.”

“Wait, why are you giving this to me? Are you not staying?”

“Don’t look so alarmed. I wouldn’t miss your wedding like I wouldn’t miss my daughter’s. This is a long overdue payment.”

“For what?”

“For your time as our head artisan.”

Anne blinked. She had assumed that role years ago, her goal to retrieve Shall’s wing, then to fulfill her promise to revive the Page workshop. It had never been about money.

“Mister Glen, I can’t—”

“Can’t accept it? It’s rude to refuse a gift, you know?”

“Just take it, or he’ll just ask Noah to hide it so you can’t return it to us,” King said.

Anne sighed. All her friends said she was stubborn and impossible to sway once her mind was set, but they were as equally headstrong when they wanted to be.

“Thank you, mister Glen. I appreciate it.”

“Treat yourself, Anne.” He patted her shoulder. “It’s good manners to make use of the gifts you’re given. It shows your appreciation more than saying thanks ever will.”

She was working on that, on relying on her friends, on accepting their goodwill and affection (whether through money, gifts, food or kind words) without falling back on old habits of doing everything on her own.

“Then I’ll buy myself some strawberry cakes. I’ve been craving those for a while.”

“That’s the spirit,” he laughed.

Anne flopped around like a fish out of water, sleep eluding her. Shall sat up from the bedding they’d laid on the ground, next to the bed — he would have been more than happy sleeping with Anne, but she’d claimed it improper before the ceremony. His guess was that she was still shy with anything beyond hugs and kisses, but also didn’t want to risk Mythril finding them twined together which… fair enough — and leaned in, cheek against his palm.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“I can see that. Too excited for tomorrow?”

“I… I kind of don’t want tomorrow to come.” Anne gasped and put her hands to her mouth, as if she realized how her words could be interpreted only after the fact. “Ah, no! I didn’t mean it like that! I…"

He let her talk. With her tendency to ramble, her true feelings would come spilling out sooner and later. And his patience was rewarded.

“I’m so happy, you know? The past few weeks were so fun, with everyone coming and staying over. I didn’t realize how long it’s been since we were all together. But once the wedding’s over, everyone will leave… we’ll all go back to living our own lives…” She sniffed, voice shaking. “I know it’s silly, but I miss everyone. I miss them even though they haven’t left.”

Shall was reminded of Hugh’s words, many years ago — words he knew true, but words he’d never forgiven the man for since they meant to separate him from Anne. “Humans get used to comfort so quickly, they forget how to go back to their old lives.”

They seemed to sum Anne’s feelings perfectly.

“The Page headquarters are a day of travel away from here, and Lewiston less than half a day. Cat also gave you his shop, but you know him. He’ll show up to check on you once in a while,” he told her, cupping her face. This caused Anne’s unshed tears to bead at the corners of her eyes, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “Those you love and who love you will always be close to you, no matter the distance. But if the feeling gets too unbearable and you want to see them again, then let’s hit the road together.”

Anne’s smile was wobbly, but it was a start. He opened his arms, and she gladly went for a hug, burying her face against his chest as her shoulders shook quietly. He patted her hair, and she relaxed in his embrace after a while. She smelled nice and she was soft to hold.

“Thank you. I feel much better.”

“You should go to sleep. You have a long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, and you don’t?”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you.”

“I know. It’s so unfair. Do you know how much more work I could get done otherwise?”

“You’d just throw yourself at silver sugar until you passed out from exhaustion. Which you have before.”

“What if it’s just an excuse so you’ll carry me to bed?”

Such underhanded schemes weren’t like Anne, but he humored her just the same. “Just ask me then. No need to go to such extremes.”

“Hey, you guys still awake? Is this a bad time?”

At Mythril’s voice, Anne scooted out of Shall’s laps, putting a respectable distance between them. She ignored the disgruntled expression on his face. “No, we were just talking. Did we wake you?”

“Nah, I wanted to check the moon. It’s overhead, which means it’s now officially your wedding day!” He sauntered over to them and held out two small boxes. “And I wanted to be the first one to give you your gifts!”

Shall and Anne shared a look before taking the gifts. Shall’s was a pendant in the shape a golden full moon, the metal so polished it reflected his face. He glanced over to Anne. She had received the same thing.

“They’re matching necklaces!” Mythril exclaimed, taking his own out. “When we’re apart and you get lonely, just look at it and remember we’re all under the same sky, watching the same moon.”

Huh. Did he listen in on them or was it just an incredible coincidence? Then again, it was possible Mythril had picked up Anne’s underlying fears over the past weeks — he could be surprisingly perceptive.

Anne, whose emotions were already running high, was once again on the verge of tears, but she looked touched, rather than sad.

“Oh, Mythril…”

“H-hey, are you crying? Why are you crying? Do you hate it that much? Don’t cry, Anne, I’ll get you something else! S-shall fen Shall, help! Do something!”

“They’re tears of happiness, dummy.”

“Huh? Don’t be stupid, how can you cry from being happy?”

Anne shook her head with a small laugh, scooping the tiny fairy and bringing him close to her chest. She cupped one hand around his body and gently laid her cheek on the top of his head in the best approximation of a hug she could manage considering their size difference.

“Thank you so much, Mythril Lid Pod. I love it,” she whispered, overflowing with gratefulness.

He clutched at her front, cheeks pink and eyes downcast in embarrassment. “...you’re welcome.”

Anne set him down, wiping her eyes, and stood. “I just keep crying lately. I’m going to freshen up. I’ll be right back.”

Shall nodded. Mythril sat down on Shall’s pillow, playing with his necklace. It was quiet, if not for the occasional sniff coming from the small fairy. Shall didn’t comment on it.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?” Mythril said after a while.

“Hm?”

Another sniff, longer. “I think I get it. Happy tears.”

Shall snorted softly.

“Hey, Shall fen Shall?”

“What?”

“Can I sleep on your pillow tonight?”

Looked like Anne wasn’t the only one hit with a bout of nostalgia and dreading separation.

It had been a while since they all slept in the same room. It was a necessity at first, born from the fact Anne barely had enough money to afford even a single room in inns. Even after she’d won the thousand cress prize in Philax, she kept her frugal ways.

It was only after the second royal fair, once Anne made sugar master and established her reputation, earning herself a commendable wage, that they started to rent extra beds or, on rare occasions, extra rooms.

And then everything went down the drain when Rafael fen Rafael returned, upheaving their normalcy. Once things had settled down, their new normal was for Mythril to sleep on his own while Shall kept watch over Anne, sitting in a chair or lying in nearby bedding.

This would be the first (and probably the last) time in months they would share a room.

“Fine.”

“Please, please, please! I promise I won’t make a peep! I’ll even— what did you say?”

Shall laid down, covering himself with his blanket. “Go to sleep, Mythril Lid Pod. It’s late.”

When Anne came back, she found Shall and Mythril lying side by side. The smaller fairy was sprawled out like a star, his eyes closed. Not wanting to be left out, she slipped in with them. Shall scooted backwards to give her more space.

“Good night, you two,” Anne said.

“G’night Anne… Shall fen Shhhh…”

It wasn’t long before the two were asleep. Shall adjusted the covers over them and watched over the two people most precious to him.

“Don’t!”

“You can’t!”

“Someone, stop him!”

“Easy for you to say!”

“What’s all this ruckus about?” Bridget asked, pulling away from where she was putting the final touches on Anne’s make-up. She frowned at the muffled screaming. The door to the dressing room shook and rattled, as if someone was leaning against it.

“Bridget, you gotta help us!” Elliot shouted from behind. “Lock the door!”

“What’s going on, Elliot?”

“Move aside,” Shall said. His voice might be muffled, but his annoyance was clear.

“I told you man; it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony!”

“That’s ridiculous. I should be able to see my wife whenever I want.”

“You’re not married yet, you dumbass. Show some patience.” It was Kat.

“Actually, they are. They signed the paperwork months ago.”

Mythril gasped, as if realizing he had let slip something he shouldn’t have.

Too late. It was like someone had sucked all the sound out. You could hear people’s breathing with how quiet it was.

“What?” pretty much everyone shouted in unison. Bridget turned to Anne, gaping, whereas Noah tilted his head in confusion, not understanding the fuss.

Anne would have buried her face in her hands if she didn’t risk ruining her make-up. Of course this would get brought up right before the ceremony and in front of all of their friends. Gathering the poofy skirt of her wedding dress, she made her way out of the dressing room, intent to explain the situation.

Instantly, six pairs of hands blocked Shall’s line of sight. The fairy huffed.

“When Shall and I looked for someone who could officiate our marriage, most of the priests we asked refused to.” Many of them had squirmed at the idea of a human and a fairy marrying, the result of decades, if not centuries, of subconsciously ingrained bias. “I told Hugh about this, and he said that as silver sugar viscount, he was authorized to oversee our marriage. So we signed the paperwork with him and Mythril as our witnesses.”

The silent was thick and heavy, everyone processing the information. It was Elliot who broke down first, bursting with laughter.

“That’s— that’s—” He could barely speak with how hard he was laughing. “Oh man, and you guys call me a schemer.”

“It wasn’t like we were trying to hide it!” Anne retorted, cheeks puffing. “It was just a formality.”

“Only you would call being married on paper ‘a formality.’”

“Because it is!”

“Sorry to break it you, kiddo, but that paperwork is as binding as any vow. As far as the kingdom’s concerned, you’ve been husband and wife for months now,” Hugh added with a smirk. He looked all too pleased and amused at Anne’s embarrassment. “Though I suppose if you asked Shall, he’d say it’s been even longer.”

The fairy crossed his arms, but didn’t deny Hugh’s claims. Anne was glad for the heavy layers on her face because she was sure her blush would have been as bright as the sun. She certainly felt as warm.

“You look very pretty, Anne,” Keith said, changing the subject. It triggered a flood of compliments from the other guests, their kind words overlapping.

“Yeah, you look great!”

“Beautiful.”

“Hey, where’s your veil?”

“I got it!”

“You’re all doing this on purpose,” Shall grumbled. He could easily have plowed through the crowd to check on Anne or moved aside the hands blocking his vision, but he had grown tolerant of his friends’ shenanigans.

Anne was filled with a surge of appreciation for her fiancé. He had come so far compared to when they first met.

“If you’re all ready, how about we proceed with the ceremony?” Glen said.

“Go on ahead, everyone. There’s something I want to say to Shall.”

Her friends looked at Anne, then back at Shall, uncertain.

“Shall, are your eyes closed?”

“They are.”

“There you have it. I promise I’ll be quick.”

Satisfied, they all filed down the hallway, headed for the altar, leaving Anne alone with Shall.

Given the opportunity, she took in her fiancé’s (husband’s) appearance. He had always been a beautiful man, with fair smooth skin, glossy dark hair, high cheekbones, and a sharp jaw. His striking features made people’s heads turn.

Some might find his wedding outfit simple — a long dark tunic over breeches, with jewel-patterned embroidery lining his shoulders, his sleeves, and his lapels — but in Anne’s opinion, it only made him more handsome, if that was even possible.

“So you’re allowed to stare all you want, but I can’t look at you?”

“Just a little longer. Once the ceremony starts, you can look.”

Anne grabbed and squeezed his hands, a small compensation for all his patience. His hands slowly traveled up her arms, her shoulders, and curled around her jaw, as if trying to perceive her through touch since his eyes weren’t allowed. Anne felt goosebumps at the feel of Shall’s strong and slender fingers on her bare skin.

“You better not shy away,” he breathed.

“I-I won’t.” Anne felt tongue-tied by their proximity. She felt like she was getting sucked in, but she resisted the urge to move in for a kiss — she wasn’t sure she’d find the strength of will to pull away. “Sorry about earlier. I forgot to tell you about that little tradition.”

“It’s fine. I waited years, I can wait a few more minutes.”

She smiled, even if he couldn’t see it. “Then let’s not waste any more time. I’ll be going first.”

She turned around, but was stopped in her tracks as arms wrapped around her waist, firm and unyielding. There was a puff of hot air on the back of her neck, and Anne’s whole body tensed when she felt a pair of lips on her skin. She squeaked as they moved up to behind her ear. Her legs trembled and her heart was pounding in her temples.

“S-Shall…”

“Tradition says I can’t look, not that I can’t touch or taste.”

Anne’s mouth was dry. She was frozen in surprise and excitement, but just as quickly as he had embraced her, Shall let her go. There was a satisfied and smug look on his face, even with his eyes closed.

“See you soon, my future wife.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, and basically sprinted out of there before Shall got more handsy and frayed her nerves. She met with Glen right outside the doors leading to the altar. He had offered to give her away, as she didn’t have any blood family, and Anne couldn’t think of anyone better suited for the role than a father himself.

“All set?”

She took a deep breath. Her heart was doing flip-flops in her chest and her hands were faintly shaking as she linked arms with Glen. “All set.”

He smiled at her, calm and reassuring. All their friends were seated and chatting with one another, but the second she stepped in, they turned to look at her. Elliot, Nadir and King hooted, Kat, Keith, and Valentine waved, Orland nodded and Bridget smiled at her, and Mythril jumped up and down in joy.

Anne waved as she passed each row of guests. She deliberately avoided looking at Shall, waiting for her at the altar. She knew whatever expression he made would make her weak in the knees.

Glen led her down the aisle, and she swapped his arm for Shall’s. She kept looking at her feet. It would be embarrassing to stumble and fall at this point.

Finally, once they stood in front of Hugh, their officiant, she allowed herself a glance at her fiancé (and on paper husband), immediately regretting and glad for her earlier choice.

She had been right. Shall was looking at her like she was the sun and he a sunflower. His eyes were intense, half-lidded and heady, and his strong features showed a fierce warmth and passion. She felt both like running away and wanting to stay in place to bask in such a rare expression.

“Alright everyone, I’ll be officiating this ceremony. I won’t bore you with a long speech,” Hugh said. The attendees got quiet, expectant. “Anne Halford, will you take Shall fen Shall for a husband?”

“I do.”

“Shall fen Shall, will you take Anne Halford for a wife? Will you love her from now on for better or for worse? In sickness and in health? In silver sugar obsession and in creative drought? In—”

Everyone snickered and even Anne giggled quietly. It was obvious Hugh was doing this to aggravate Shall, who bore the unnecessarily prolonged vows with admirable patience. Anne could tell when he tuned Hugh out, because he rolled his eyes and decided to look at her instead. They shared a smile, expressions soft with love, as they waited for Hugh’s speech to end.

“I do.”

“Good. Any objections from the guests?”

“None! You know there’s none!” Mythril yelled. “Hurry it up!”

“Then by the powers conferred to me as silver sugar viscount, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss—”

Shall didn’t need to be told twice nor was he going to wait a second longer. In one swift move, he’d lifted Anne’s veil and leaned in to kiss his proper wife.

“—the bride. You know, it’s rude to interrupt people when they’re talking.”

Cheers and shouts and clapping and confetti and flower petals burst all around them, swallowing Hugh’s friendly teasing. Not that Anne and Shall paid any mind to anything that wasn’t their spouse. They pulled back from their kiss, grinning, forehead and nose touching. Their happiness was obvious.

And just as all those weeks ago when they received the invitation, everyone shared the same thought.

It’s about time.

#sugar apple fairy tale #my fanfiction #shallanne #happy early new year and belated s.hall bday gift!#sweetchcolate's nonsense of the day #fanfiction

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tennessoui · 9 months

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kit i just want you to know that when you update a longer fic where it’s been a little bit since the last update i usually like to go back and reread it before reading the newest chapter just so it’s all fresh and hits hard and i’d been trying to reread foolproof foolhardy for nearly two weeks so i could read the new chapter but life kept getting in the way, until i remembered 1) that i had a trip coming up this past week that included a 15+ hour train ride each way with spotty-at-best cell service, and 2) that i possess the ability to download fics to my kindle

anyways, finished it on my way home tonight and all this is basically just to tell you that i’m obsessed with the way you write obi-wan’s intrinsic need to be a bitch at even the most inopportune of times regardless of au or universe, and that i would protect stacys mom au obi-wan with my life. also that i can’t wait to see what happens when they’re essentially shoved into a closet with the door locked and told that they’re not getting let out until they talk to each other

good news is that we are officially 6k into the last chapter; great news is anakin finally has a line !! and he will have many more for the rest of the fic in various tones and at various volumes!!

i'm glad you reread all the other chapters before the new one i usually do the same thing when i have to write the next chapter after a while lol but the next and last update will be before enough time passes that you have to go through the whole fic again

bitchy baby obi-wan <3 my beloved though <3 truly. here is the last bitchy line he's said in the rough draft:

“I enjoyed having you as my padawan beyond measure,” Qui-Gon says slowly, as if trying to force the words through the air and into Obi-Wan’s throat. “You must know that.” “I sense a however brewing,” Obi-Wan mutters before he can stop himself. He deserves the cutting eyebrow raise Qui-Gon bestows on him. “However,” his master allows, rather reluctantly, “I did not imagine myself taking another padawan after Anakin became a Knight.” “He is rather exhausting, isn’t he?” Obi-Wan quips, licking at his lips to distract himself from the tiny suckerpunch this admission delivers to his gut. He had asked. He had asked. “I seem to have a habit of choosing that sort, yes,” Qui-Gon’s lips quirk up, and they share a slight smile for a moment before he continues.

#asks #hope your trip was nice!!!#i am trying to get thiis finished before i go on MY trip #next saturday #stacy's mom au

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yvesdot · 2 years

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Alright fine after FOUR PEOPLE asked me about Dracula Daily I will in fact be participating if only to satisfy the masses. Instead of memes I am going to be talking about what's going on subtextually and my varied vampire-as-metaphor thoughts. Also, I really do not like Dracula. Alright? Alright. See reblogs for later additions.

NAVIGATION:

May 7 (here) | May 8 | May 9 | May 11 | May 12 | May 15

May 16 | May 18 | May 19 | May 24 | May 25, 26 | May 28 | May 31

June 5 | June 18, 24, 25 | June 29, 30

July 1, 8, 18, 19, 20 | July 22, 24, 26-30

August 1-10 | August 11-20 | August 21-31

May 7: In which Jonathan Harker is racist about books, and the Count declares his intent to fondle England.

In the library I found, to my great delight, a vast number of English books, whole shelves full of them, and bound volumes of magazines and newspapers. A table in the centre was littered with English magazines and newspapers, though none of them were of very recent date. The books were of the most varied kind—history, geography, politics, political economy, botany, geology, law—all relating to England and English life and customs and manners. There were even such books of reference as the London Directory, the "Red" and "Blue" books, Whitaker's Almanac, the Army and Navy Lists, and—it somehow gladdened my heart to see it—the Law List.

Aside from Harker liking English books because they're familiar to him, there's also a sense of racist/anti-foreigner bias here. He's relieved that the Count does in fact value the same knowledge as him, and especially the same laws as he does. Foreigners are creepy spooky, but this one is willing to accept that England is the best, so clearly he's fine.

The Count enters and says some interesting things that also reveal a certain degree of racist fear about him.

"I am glad you found your way in here, for I am sure there is much that will interest you. These companions"—and he laid his hand on some of the books—"have been good friends to me, and for some years past, ever since I had the idea of going to London, have given me many, many hours of pleasure. Through them I have come to know your great England; and to know her is to love her. I long to go through the crowded streets of your mighty London, to be in the midst of the whirl and rush of humanity, to share its life, its change, its death, and all that makes it what it is. But alas! as yet I only know your tongue through books. To you, my friend, I look that I know it to speak."

It's interesting (and I refuse to believe incidental!) that the Count genders England as female amidst his declaration of love for "her." How many times have you heard a racist fearmonger about foreign men raping white women? There is a sense in which white men see white women as their property, and men of color (especially black men) as "stealing" said property, even when white women choose to be in consensual, happy partnerships with men of color—or when men or boys of color are just existing, somewhere where white women might be.

Has anyone here heard of the "the great replacement"? If not: it's the fear that all these immigrant foreigners are going to "replace" the assumed white majority citizenry and culture they are "invading." (Recommended: YouTuber Shaun's video on the subject.) There's a tension running under the Count's desire to "share" the life and change and death of London, particularly when we later realize he is following our protagonists to their home turf. I mean, hell, look at the line just a little later—"I have been so long master that I would be master still—or at least that none other should be master of me." Stoker couldn't be louder about how the Count wants to dominate this new country.

Then, of course, we get a little discussion of the Count's English, because we need to know that this MAJOR FOREIGNER talks JUST LIKE US. He's virtually indistinguishable from the white Britishers... but, don't forget, he's foreign! He can't even remember to order Harker's given name before his surname!!

This is why I really can't stand Dracula. I'm sure I miss things in white-written classics all the time, but Dracula is so unconscionably racist, anti-immigrant, Christian-dominant... one could even say misogynist, though I've been repeatedly assured that the book is actually critiquing misogyny, so I'll leave the jury out on that for now. It gets to the point where I'm irritated when people call it a bisexual book (we'll see if I understand why on this reading) because I can't stand ignoring how first-and-foremost, purposefully racist it is. There may well be bisexual subtext behind the scenes (and I can't speak to Stoker's real-life sexuality, of course) but the racism is right there in the text, increasingly as we go deeper into the book, and it bothers me.

General thoughts so far:

This is actually one of my favorite scenes in the book (though I'll probably say that again) because the interaction between the Count and Harker is so... nearly friendly. I keep seeing articles floating about the Internet about how Jonathan is getting pegged by the Count, or something, and this is one moment where we really see them connect. But, of course, the erotica-writing Jewish vampire would want Harker and the Count to be friends.

I read the first few chapters of the books a year or so ago and assured my beloved Beta Reader immediately that this book would be boring as hell. I told him I know how to read and I can tell when an author doesn't have a good enough grasp on plot to make a book interesting to me, but no, he insisted... and he took months longer than me to finish the thing because I was right. His words on the ending: "It was anticlimactic." He still disagrees that I predicted it, of course.

What did I predict? Well, you could argue it's just genre, but the book opens with multiple chapters of Some Guy (no known internal goals or personality or anything aside from general limpness, really) exploring Some Place, which has Some Kind of Supernatural Things Going On. This is, to me, the equivalent of a Wattpad book opening with "A/N: sorry the beginning is boring i'm SO bad at beginnings xP just skip to chapter 5 if you need to!!"

But then, obviously, if an author isn't very good at writing on page 1, they're unlikely to be very good by page 100. And this is my issue with Dracula—it is so obsessed with its Band Of White Men vs. Monster plot, and so convinced we'll be on its side (of the White Christianity vs. Weird Foreigners conflict), it fails to flesh out any of its characters in genuinely compelling and emotionally resonant ways.

With that said, I do acknowledge that my approach to books is different from others'—I find boring your reader to be an unconscionable crime, and I believe to some extent that much of the progress of literature over time has been better understanding how to meet the reader's needs, in all ways. Also, of course, books were written for different audiences in the 1800s, and so much of this isn't Bram Stoker's fault to begin with. Still, I reserve the right as a modern homosexual to call Dracula as bad as I want.

Thoughts on Tumblr's reaction:

I'm anticipating a massive tank in interest once Jonathan becomes far less important to the story. I'm not telling you what happens; I'm just saying that he is not always going to be our narrator and the book gets a lot more boring when you have to listen to a non-limp guy talk. I do love Lucy's romance dramas, but, well... Tumblr is also less inclined to pay attention to female characters.

Also, greatly amused by the people who were worried when Jonathan didn't update for one day. Oh, you sweet innocent babies. Did you really think he'd die before the vampiress scene? (Have people really not heard enough about Dracula to remember the vampiress scene?!)

And, finally, has anyone picked up on rumblings in the DD fandom of watching a film adaptation after we finish reading the book? I quite like the original film, and I think Bram Stoker's Dracula is vaguely worth watching if you can get through the stomach-churning misogyny. Keanu Reeves plays Jonathan Harker, which is the only good news about that film. Also watched Buffy vs. Dracula, which was... ick. If you're interested in watching or hosting a watch of some film adaptations after we read the book, please let me know!

Support the author: all posted writing | book | ko-fi | Patreon

#txt #yves talks books #dracula #dracula daily #You had better read this if you bothered me about DD because I wrote it for you!#...over the course of an hour. Good Lord.#yves talks reading

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dancingtotuyo · 11 months

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Scathed (Javier Peña) Chapter 4

As my friend Ashley put it, "The hip really is the main character."

Comments are always welcome! I love hearing your thoughts and reactions!

Rating: Mature (Again probably more like pg-13 but with language)

Chapter Warnings: death, celebration of death (Padblo Escobar's), brief mentions of the violence in Colombia, mentions (no descriptions) of rape, kidnapping, & abuse. Mentions of power dynamics and underage- age gap, anxious stream of consciousness, anxiety/panic attack

Words: 2,817

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry December 3, 1993

Pablo Escobar was killed yesterday. Dad’s having guys from the office come over tonight for drinks.

It seems weird to celebrate death like this, but I also understand it. Escobar was responsible for the death of countless people. I wonder if I would sleep better at night if Mig He was dead.

“Emily, can you grab the poppers out of the oven?” Anna asked as she busied herself over a mixing bowl.

“Yeah, of course.” Emily threw on the oven mitts. “Is Dad expecting the entire DEA or something?”

“Or something,” Anna sighed. “You’d think it was Thanksgiving or something. I think he thinks this will double as the office Christmas party.”

“Good, one less thing to host.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Speaking of which, this is his party, where is he?”

“He’s out grilling.” Anna pushed two pans of dessert into the fridge to set. “Have you decided if you’re going to stay out with us? I know these aren’t your favorite things.”

Emily shrugged. “I might, but I know there’ll be a lot of shop talk.”

“Kids all taken care of?”

“Ale and Miguelito are at Jen’s for the night and Mateo is out with the sitter. I think they were going to the movies. I’m sure he’ll be passed out when they get back.”

“Don’t push yourself, okay? Choose what’s going to make you enjoy the night best. You don’t get the night off very often.”

Emily nodded. “At the very least, I’m going to eat some of this delicious food.” She grabbed a cracker off the plate Anna was working on. She smacked Emily’s hand.

“Emily Louise, párale!”

Emily grinned. “Tengo hambre, mamá.”

Anna rolled her eyes, but Emily could see the smile threatening to break on her face. Anna always smiled when Emily referred to her as mom. She swiped another cracker. Anna pinched at Emily’s side hitting her ticklish spot. She jerked back in laughter.

Someone knocked on the door. Anna frowned. “No one is supposed to be here for 30 minutes.”

“I’ll get it. There’s no way it’s anyone from the DEA. They’re always late.” Emily headed for the door. “I’m guessing it’s the babysitter. Mateo probably left something behind.”

She checked out the window. It wasn’t the babysitter. Her eyes fell on a pair of too-tight jeans and a hand resting on a popped-out hip. She opened the door. “Javier?”

He looked almost surprised to see her. “Emily, Hi.” He wore a dark leather jacket and a flannel that was appropriately buttoned for once.

“I didn’t know my dad invited you.”

“It’s good to see you too.” His lips tipped up.

“Sorry, that was rude. Come on in.” She stepped aside. “You’re early.”

“I can leave and come back if you want.” He pointed toward the door.

Emily sighed, fighting back her smile. “Nah, we’ll just put you to work.”

“No, we will not! He is our guest!” Anna called from the kitchen.

“I didn’t know she could hear us.”

Javier lowered his tone. “She sounds stressed.”

Emily matched his volume. “She is.”

Their shared laughter turned into awkwardness that hung above them like a cloud. It was a weird thing to open up to a person and then not talk for a while. What do you say? Thanks for listening to my trauma. The right words felt unachievable.

“My dad is out back. You can put the whiskey in the kitchen.”

“I was planning to hold onto this all night. No need to dirty a cup. It is a celebration you know…”

“Yeah.” She forced a smile. It didn’t convince either of them.

...

“Okay, okay,” Walt Breslin spoke, hushing the small group of agents. One would’ve thought the group was much larger from their sheer volume. He raised his cup in the air. “To another motherfuckin’ drug trafficker in the grave.”

“Here, here.” The group chorused. Glasses clinked against each other. Discussion rose up.

Emily stared at the group from a distance, her back pressed to the wall. The label of her soda felt gritty under the back and forth of her finger. They wore satirically large grins on their faces as if they’d chased after Escobar themselves. Yet the one person who had, wasn’t even with the group. She didn’t know where Javier had disappeared to, only that he was still here. His leather jacket hung by the door, and she could just see his untouched bottle of whiskey on the end of the kitchen counter.

Fucking Walt Breslin. He couldn’t stand that he was stateside when he-who-shall-not-be-named was arrested, and now Javier was here the night they were celebrating Escobar’s death. It must have been driving him mad.

In all fairness, Emily didn’t think Walt was a bad guy, but she felt uncomfortable around him more so than she did the other men her dad worked with. Walt knew most of the truth. Her father’s right-hand man, he was on the tarmac when her plane landed in Texas that night. He knew the parentage of her children and whose bed she’d warmed. She felt that judgment from him, whether it was there or not.

She’d hit her limit. If she hung out here much longer, she’d be fighting an anxiety attack, even now her chest ached with tension. She disappeared down the dark hallway toward her room. Emily pulled the crochet blanket she made off her bed and around her shoulders. She slipped past the intoxicated DEA agents and out the back door, grabbing Javier’s bottle of whiskey on her way out. The door shut behind her and all was right in the world.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

The whiskey bottle hit the group. She jumped to avoid getting her toes smashed. “Fuck. You gotta stop scaring the shit out of me, Javier.”

“How else am I supposed to let you know I’m out here?”

Emily rolled her eyes as she felt around for the bottle. Her fingers connected with the cool glass. It was surprisingly still intact.

She walked over to Javier. A cigarette glowed between his fingers. “Careful with my whiskey.”

He sat on the bench swing, her spot. It was big enough for two, but just two. If she sat, their shoulders would touch, probably their legs too.

“Y’all’s patio furniture is more comfortable than ours. This one has a cushion for my ass.” He wiggled in his seat for emphasis. “I gotta get me some of these.”

Emily plucked the cigarette from his grasp. She savored the pull before handing it back to Javier.

“Please help yourself.”

“You were going to offer anyway.”

“Would be rude not to.”

Emily twisted the top off the whiskey. She brought the bottle to her lips and took a long sip.

Javier’s eyes widened, the moonlight flickered off of them as he did. “I was going to say that you look like you’re doing well.”

She removed her lips with a pop. The whiskey sloshed within the glass bottle. “You look like shit.”

“Would you like a glass?”

“No need to dirty a cup.” Her lips ticked upward.

He shook his head, putting the cigarette between his lips. She tipped the bottle back again.

“Might wanna slow down there. It’s a school night.”

Emily stopped. She cocked her head to the side and just looked at Javier. So much of the time, she felt like a newborn foal, timid and shaky on its legs. Something else was growing inside her. She felt like an untamed horse, wild and reckless, stomping down fear and anxiety. Maybe it was the whiskey or maybe frustrations outran her anxiety for once. She did something that terrified her. She plopped herself down on the bench swing next to Javier.

Their shoulders brushed and she let them, separated by the thick crochet blanket hanging around her shoulders. It helped. She crossed her legs so they didn't touch him. Javier looked at her. She kept her eyes straight ahead.

“Why aren’t you celebrating?” She pulled the bottle back to her lips.

“I am.”

“No.” Emily looked at him. “You’re sulking.”

Javier sighed. He grabbed the whiskey bottle from Emily’s hands. He drank from the bottle looking at her the whole time.

“Thought it would feel different…” He handed the bottle back to her. “But people are still dead. Nothing is going to change that.” He closed his eyes, pictures flashing behind his eyelids. So many people. He ran a hand through his hair. Some he’d been responsible for, people he knew.

“I don’t think true justice exists…” She picked at the whiskey label. “He would’ve died thousands of deaths in all the ways he ordered it. He’d know all the pain and grief and trauma and all of its intricacies that he’s responsible for inflicting.”

Emily lifted the bottle. Javier stopped her. He took it and set it on the ground. She stared at her empty hands

“Do you wish He was dead?”

They were no longer talking about Escobar.

“Sometimes I think it would help. I always hear he was brought to justice. He’s going to rot in prison for what he did.” Her hands shook. She clenched them. “But not for kidnapping, or abuse, or rape-” Her eyes turned glassy.

Javier sucked in. He’d assumed. It wasn’t a stretch by any means, but hearing it struck something deep down.

“It’s okay that my story isn’t known. I prefer it that way, and I know there’s a slim chance he’d actually be convicted of anything he did to me, but there’s not a lot of closure because of it.”

“I think closure is a scam because if this is it, it sucks.” Javier picked the bottle back up. He gave it to her first.

She thanked him as she tipped it back. “If you want to get real existential about it, they’re all just made-up concepts: justice, closure, and all their friends.”

He took the liquor. “That hurts my head.”

Emily laughed. “I know.”

Cicadas sang around them. Emily picked up on the faint sound of laughter inside the house.

“How-” Javier stopped himself. It wasn’t his place to ask.

“Hmmm?”

“Nothing, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Emily bit her lip. “Were you going to ask how it happened?”

Javier looked away. He felt bad for bringing it up.

“It’s okay… It piques curiosity.”

“It seems like something you don’t like to talk about.”

She took a deep breath. “I was 15. My mom took us on vacation to Mexico. We stayed in the hotel He owned. My mother was all too thrilled when the rich hotel owner started taking a liking to me, and I-” her voice quivered. She picked at her jeans. “I was too young to know any better.”

She slid her palm in a long single motion down her thigh. Javier could only imagine the pictures running through her mind.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

She shook her head. Her motions continued. She was quickly drifting away from this. Her breathing quickened.

“Give me your hand.” He held out his hand.

She stilled, staring at it like it was a grenade. She could feel the warmth from it, but he didn’t touch her. Her lungs trapped the air in her chest. He looked at her for permission. She managed the briefest nod and extended her hand.

His thumbs dug into her palm. It almost hurt, but not quite. It brought her off the edge saving her from falling into a cloud of memories.

He lowered their hands just above her knee. His fingers edged over her jeans. He could feel her muscles move and twitch beneath him. He gently increased the pressure. Her knee stopped bouncing. Her shoulders dropped, and her lungs released.

His thumb moved back and forth with long, firm strokes. It grounded her, made her feel less detached from the world, and chased the panic away.

Javier’s eyes were still trained on her. She looked at him. The words came out quiet. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Feel better?”

Every voice in her head screamed and fought, but her body relaxed. “Yeah.”

He didn’t move his hand, and she didn’t want him to. They stared up at the December sky. Javier slowly eased his motions until his fingers stilled against her jeans. The whiskey hummed through her body, making everything feel warm around her.

She tilted her head to the side. “How is it that you know exactly how to handle me?”

“Handle you?” Javier’s lips ticked upward.

“You know what I mean.”

He took a moment to contemplate his answer. His forefinger thumped against her kneecap. Emily watched it. She still couldn’t believe her body allowed this to happen. She felt a little less broken.

“I know we went through different things, but-” He stopped. They locked eyes. “People should make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m never okay, Javier.”

“I know.”

“Neither are you.”

He looked back at the stars. His Adam's apple bobbed. His hand disappeared from her knee leaving a rush of cold in its wake.

“I’m not a good person.”

“So you’ve said.”

“You don’t believe it?”

“You know what I think.”

“My family thinks I’m this big hero.”

“Do you want to be a hero?” Emily wrapped the thick blanket tighter around herself. She shifted and their contact lessened.

Javier bit his lip. “I want to do things the right way.”

“You want to go back.”

“I don’t know.”

“I can see it. You’re already thinking about who’s going to pick up where Escobar left off.”

Javier bristled. “And what are you thinking about?” It came out a little shorter than he wanted it to.

Emily took it in stride. “Right now, I’m thinking that I can still hear everyone in the house which means no one is missing us, but nobody’s left. I know that Mateo is sound asleep in his bed. That I should probably go check on him. Not because I think there’s anything wrong, but because there’s this all-consuming need to lay eyes on him so that I can assure myself everything is right. Ale and Miguelito are gone for the night. They’re with people I trust implicitly, but I’m still expecting the phone to ring and say something has happened.”

Javier bit his lip.

“On a normal day, I’m wondering if Felix will get out and try to get us back. I’m not that far from the border, or will it be someone coming after us because they don’t want a child of His posing a threat.” The words tumbled out in growing succession. “Or maybe they’ll get bored and do it just for fun. Maybe it’s all irrational because we’ve been here for so long, and many of the people who know about us are dead, but what if someone has kept tabs on us all this time? What if I can’t get better? What if I get worse and I can’t be there for my kids? How can I be a good mother when I don't even feel like a whole-”

He reached for her knee again. Emily smacked it away. “Just because you’ve touched me once doesn’t mean you can do it again, Javier Peña.” She sprung off the seat, her chest heaving. Wildness burned in her eyes. It was getting harder to pull air in.

“Shit.” She sank to the ground. Her chest ached as she struggled to breathe. She pulled the blanket tight for pressure as she curled into a ball. Her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on her breathing. It wasn’t getting any easier.

Javier was trained to handle crises to operate under pressure, but he froze. His hands were useless. His feet carried him through the backdoor.

Anna was in the kitchen drying dishes. “Javier? I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Umm.” He pointed haphazardly toward the backyard. Why was he out of breath?

“What’s wrong?” Anna set the dishes down.

His tongue felt heavy and dry in his mouth, unable to form shapes and sounds. Laughter roared like a freight train from the living room.

“Javier,” Anna said firmly. It snapped through the fog.

“Emily.”

Anna’s eyes darted toward the door. “Shit..” She moved instantly. “Panic attack?”

“I-” was that what it was? How was he supposed to know what a panic attack looked like? “I think-”

Anna was already out the door. He followed her tracks.

He watched as Anna kneeled beside her. He couldn’t hear what she said in Emily’s ear. She didn’t move. Anna rubbed her hands over Emily’s back. Javier lost track of how long he watched. She eventually rested her head on Anna's lap. He imagined the tears on her cheeks, but he knew they were there.

He’d done that. He’d pushed her.

Guilt settled on his shoulders. Just another weight to carry.

Javier slipped out the back gate

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