[12:23 a.m.]

jeon wonwoo x f!reader

smut 18+ (unprotected sex, orgasm control); inspired by an audio by @/lustfulcrunch (iykyk)

“you’re not going to cum, are you?” wonwoo asks lowly, eyeing you warily through the lenses of his specs. his voice is stern but he’s smirking. “because you know you can’t. you know if you do, i stop. and then you won’t get my cum.”

“i-i’m trying,” you whine.

you want his cum. you need to be full of him. the mere possibility of him not cumming inside of you is enough to make you tear up.

fucking hell. you’re crying and he hasn’t even started moving. no, he’s not even fucking you yet, just playing with your clit while you clench helplessly around him.

“wonwoo,” you whimper.

“what is it, baby?” he catches a tear on his thumb and sucks it into his mouth, groaning at the taste. “gonna cum?”

“n-no,” you lie, biting your lip and avoiding eye contact.

he laughs. “you’re cute.”

“i’d be a l-lot cuter if you let me cum.”

wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you, somewhat impressed with your effort. “nice try.”

hiii!! can i request bakugou x reader pls!! one-shot where in mina announces to class 1a that she knows who the reader likes, n everyone takes there guesses. then someone jokingly says bakugou n thats when she out of character gets flustered n runs away, thanks!!

pairings: bakugoxf!reader

warnings: fluff!!!! PURE WHOLESOME SAP!!! also language

a/n: @number1bakuhoe this one’s for you! thank you for the super cute request!! this was so wholesome!! hopefully you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it!! 

You’re cool and well liked, reliable, level headed, your grades are good, you have a strong quirk, oh and you’re also beautiful.

You’re damn near perfect, except for one little thing: your secret crush on Bakugo Katsuki. 

Before class Mina gathers everyone’s attention, it doesn’t work so she stands on her desk, yelling at everyone until they finally shut up and pay attention.

Mina locks eyes with you, and announces she knows your crush.

She’s bullshitting of course, but you couldn’t help the little bit of panic you felt, maybe she did know?

Had you said anything you shouldn’t have?

Did you let your gaze linger too long?

Maybe you talked about him in your sleep?? 

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell us then?” You call her bluff, convincing yourself she’s just trying to torment you like always.

Mina pauses a moment since she wasn’t expecting you to actually call her out, now she’s standing on her desk, everyone’s attention on her, expecting her to reveal some juicy gossip.

She’s got nothing.

She looks around the room her eyes searching for a possible crush candidate.

“Mmm Deku—“ she replies, her tone lacks confidence and she looks unsure.

Deku turns to face the class his face red and eyes wide “w-w-w-w-what???” He buries his face in his hands and you smile at how easily flustered he is.

“He’s adorable but no.” You respond and Deku looks a little relieved while you’re pretty sure Uraraka is shooting you the dirtiest look she could manage with that round little face of hers.

“Sero—“ she tries again

“No.” you have your face cupped in your hands and you’re looking at Mina expectantly.

“Someone else guess i got nothing.” Mina hops down from her desk and shrugs.

Sero chimes in, “Kirishima?”

You watch as Kirishima rubs the nape of his neck nervously before you answer. “No.” You offer an apologetic smile and he blushes a little.

“What about Aoyama?” Krishima tries, desperate to get the attention off of himself.

“No.” You try not to laugh at that one.

“Me.” Kaminari adds and everyone laughs at that one.

Mintea rolls his eyes, his arms crossed, for once he looks serious, “It’s obvious it’s Todoroki—every girl has the hots for him.”

You shake your head, “No—listen you’ll never guess it because I don’t have a crush-” You start.

“What about Bakugo?” Todoroki says innocently, and you tense up involuntary.

“Pftt—yeah like Y/N would ever like Baku-“ Kaminari starts but your expression makes him redirect his train of thought.

“Bakugo??? Seriously?” He asks, leaning forward in his seat

“N-No.” you mumble under your breath.

“I don’t know Y/N, you don’t seem very confident in that answer.” Sero notes, now wearing a smug smirk. 

Mina hops from her desk cooly and walks over to you, she pauses before slamming her palms down onto your desk. 

“It’s so obvious! Good girl falls for the bad boy!” Mina says matter of factly, Kaminari crosses his arms and kicks his feet onto his desk

“It’s a classic trope, one of us should have noticed by now-” He lets out a long sigh.

You can’t speak, you open your mouth but nothing comes out, instead you bury yourself in the crooks of your elbows, trying to drown out the elevating voices of your over excited peers, and also to hide the deep red blush covering your cheeks. 

A soft hand rests on your shoulder, Momo’s voice is soothing compared to the rest, “Leave Y/N alone, if she says she it’s not him then take her word for it.” You glance up at her hopefully.

“Besides, Y/N is so nice and Bakugo is...well..” Momo adds, and you can tell she’s trying to understand the situation, but she’s only making it worse. 

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” Bakugo’s voice calls from the other side of the room and Momo jumps. 

Uraraka chimes in now, “She has a point Bakugo, Y/N doesn't really seem like she’d go for your type. It makes more sense for her to be with someone nice, like Kirishima.” 

Kirishima puts his hands up in defense, “What do you mean?? Bakugo’s great, a little rough around the edges but it’s not that weird for Y/N to like him.” He replies, his loyalty to his friend on full display. 

You had to get out. 

It was too much. 

Your entire class was now arguing about your love life, who you should like, and who you shouldn’t like, and exactly why you should or shouldn’t and you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

You stand up, head down, determined to leave, when Mina grabs your wrist. 

“Hey! You haven’t told us if you like him or not!” 

“Don’t touch me!” You tear your wrist from her grip, and the room goes silent. 

All eyes are on you now. 

You feel hot and think for a second your knees might buckle, when they don't you take the opportunity to run out of the classroom. 

Iida stands up, “I hope you’re all happy with yourselves, you’ve embarrassed the poor girl half to death!” He presses his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. 

“Someone is going to have to take responsibility for this mess.” He says looking disappointedly at Mina. 

Who shifts her attention to Bakugo, and of course the rest of the class does the same. 

“What the fuck? ME?” Bakugo snaps, but the class doesn’t budge. 

You ran until you found a nice empty spot on a stairwell. 

You take a few deep breaths to collect yourself before you sit down, burying your face in your arms again. 

Maybe you could transfer to a different school where you didn’t like a boy and your class didn’t make a fool of you and you didn't just run out of the room like the main character of a shojo manga. 

“You better not be crying.” Bakugo’s voice carries in the empty stairwell and you jump, you didn't even know he was there. 

He leans cooly against the wall adjacent from you. Vermillion eyes as intense as ever, and they were looking right into yours. 

“I’m not crying-” You snap, toying with your skirt, “I was just..overwhelmed.” You admit, shifting your gaze to the floor. 

“I needed a second to think, to breathe.” You add and he shifts his weight to bury his hands in his pockets.  

“Why didn’t you just answer?” He asks flatly and you’re a little surprised. 

“You’re telling me you would have just answered a question like that no problem?” You ask, unconvinced. 

He shrugs a bit, “Yeah, it’s not shameful to like someone. It is pretty damn cowardly to hide it from everyone though.” He adds and you can feel your cheeks heat up, annoyed at how coy he was acting. 

“Then you answer it if it’s so easy. Who do you like?” 

A hint of blush tints his porcelain skin, he rolls his eyes. “Tch, don’t make this about me because you’re too goddamn scared of what everyone thinks to admit you like me.” His tone is laced with irritation but also something else. It’s gruff but softer than usual. 

“S-Scared? I’m not scared to admit anything!” You snap.

“So you’re ashamed then?” He snaps back.

“N-No!” You’re standing now, fists balled at your sides. 

“I like you! I have for a long time and it’s a little scary to admit it right to your face but i’m not ashamed of anything.” You feel heat rise into your ears and they start to ring a little. 

“You’re mean and cold and sometimes you act like an asshole, but you’re also loyal and honest and you’re going to be a great hero someday and-” You realize you’re starting to ramble and you look up expecting Bakugo to be annoyed but he just looks..surprised. 

“N-Now it’s your turn! Do you have a crush on anyone?” You’re suddenly filled with a rush of confidence from finally getting the confession off of your chest. 

“I guess you could call it that-” He mumbles, and you jab a finger in his face. 

“Who is it?” You ask, gaze intense. 

“Tch-”

“Answer it.”

“You.” 

There’s a brief pause as you process the information. 

Bakugo shifts his weight, clearly starting to get uncomfortable. 

“Well aren’t you going to say something-” He starts but he’s cut off by your lips against his own. He falters for a minute, his cheeks stained red, he fumbles a little in an attempt to pull you near him, his arms feel so large when they finally wrap around you. 

Your chest is burning and you can feel your heartbeat ring in your ears. 

The kiss is a little clumsy, you can tell he doesn’t have much experience, but there’s chemistry and he’ll just have to practice. With you. A lot. 

You pull away, and you can tell he’s reluctant. The way he bites his lower lip almost makes you steal him away to the empty dorms but you know you have a class to face. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?” You mock, and he pinches your sides. “Shut up.” You start to laugh, and he covers his smile with his knuckles. “Let’s head back.” 

The two of you walk back to class, neither of you say anything but you don't have to. He says it in the way he lets his shoulder brush up against yours from walking too close to you. And you say it with the smile you’ve been trying to fight the entire walk back. 

You both pause at the door and Bakugo offers one of his signature smirks. “Mina is going to shit herself.” 

i think i finally get mad men and im not happy about it

Two weeks ago I started watching Mad Men for an assignment and accidentally became obsessed with a show that had no premise other than Don Draper bedding various women. 5 seasons in, I bought myself a mechanical keyboard just so that I can live the aesthetic of the show while writing this.

(I will write this post assuming you have read my first blog post about this show but you don’t have to worry about missing any info because the first blog post was me predicting an unpredictable show and cursing at characters)

So turns out, I did not really figure out anything by only watching the first seven episodes. No surprise there. But by diving deep into the first 2 seasons I realized that Mad Men is actually deeper than it lets on and the cheapening effect of its over-sexualized characters don’t really do a great job at hiding it. Actually after a while sex in the show is more symbolism than actual sex. It especially signifies a mental state that is special to Don and you actually start feeling sorry for him whenever a sex scene comes up. 

Well, Don Draper is a villain as well as the hero or to put it more accurately, a tragic hero and as the seasons progress you develop a love hate relationship with him. And if you binge watch 5 seasons and use all your spare time to think about it, you start relating to Don. Surprisingly Don had all the odds against him and lived an awful life without ever doing anything to prompt it. As I learned more about his life I actually started getting mad at the alternative reality of Mad Men because goddamn let the man breathe and be happy for once. 

At the start I was mad about him cheating on Betty with every single powerful women that looked his way and I am still mad, you can’t really excuse that, but as their relationship was revealed more and more I kind of started to understand why he preferred spending the nights somewhere else. Betty is incredibly hard to put up with and no offense but even I’m not sticking around for her character development. She is overbearing, childish, overall a pain in the ass. If I knew her in real life I would have thought that she was pampered too much and was unable to grow up and get a grip as a result. She has mommy issues though and I respect that. There are also moments that she shines and she especially prefers shining only after they get a divorce and when she knows she will get Don’s approval. Before I lose track and continue talk about Betty know that Don is always worse and let me wrap up his analysis. 

Don is, in my opinion, someone who experiences love by avoiding it. (A love avoidant may be the term but I am not really sure). He marries Betty because he falls in love too hard and starts avoiding her right after their marriage, he likes the artist woman too much so he leaves her to be with someone she is more compatible with, same thing with the most of the women he chases. I only realized how hard he avoids the people he likes during season 4 when he decides to marry his secretary (who mind you spend like 4 days with him in Los Angeles to take care of his children) rather than building a healthy relationship with Faye who was probably the best person he could have ended up with. This also relates back to his self-destructive tendencies. He never truly believes that he deserved anything so he makes sure that he ruins it.

He excessively drinks and smokes, cuts ties on a whim, cheats and only ever feels truly like himself while he’s with Anna (who dies later in the series). Anna is and was the friend he needed all along. Even in his stolen identity Anna was the only person who accepted him as who he is and didn’t leave his side even in his darkest times. The man literally went to Korea by himself to defend an area and came back with a stolen id and lots of trauma and adopted himself into the life of her (the wife of the person he stole his identity from) and made sure she lived a life full of love. He shines the most when he can be himself but his old identity is and probably will always be an enigma to him. 

I think he’s slowly starting to find his way and make up for his mistakes but since he is used to self-destructing his set backs get more and more brutal each time. I start relating to him at this point the most. Relapsing in situations like these is brutal and it always feels like it is the last time and for once, for Don, it is the last time. He starts writing to understand himself and starts doing things like, regularly going to swimming or getting into a healthy relationship with someone who will be with him and help him through his ups and downs. He relapses when he decides to marry his secretary and from then on his relapse will only get worse but I believe that he is getting somewhere…

I will update this post once and for all, when I finish the entire series but for now I weirdly have hope that everything will end well for Don. 

And since I overstayed my welcome by going way over the word-limit I will speed run the thoughts I have about the other characters.

Betty, despite my comments earlier is actually misunderstood and deserves more than she gets. She truly loved Don and did everything in her power to make him happy. She even left her very successful modeling career to get married with him while SHE DESERVED BETTER THAN HIM. Her parenting is questionable but it can be overlooked because right now (in the middle of a global pandemic) we can all agree that being stuck with our family 24/7 is not ideal and we have been doing it for only a year while she has been doing it for more than a decade with more children adding up. LEAVE BETTY DRAPER/FRANCIS ALONE. 

(Also, watch the scene where she shoots at her neighbor’s pigeons because he threatened little Sally with killing her dog then talk to me about good parenting…)

Pete Campbell, turns out I really like him and his work ethic. I wish he ended up with Peggy but he is doing just fine with Trudy good for him. good. for. him. Thank god they didn’t follow up Trudy’s ‘old lover’, ‘the one that got away' plot line because it would probably be the thing I hated the most about watching this show. She is not an interesting character and she’ll never be. Good for Pete though, good for Pete. He never gets anything and I don’t know if he deserves getting it because we are not that exposed to him. But he is loyal to the ones he loves and even though his morals can get a bit questionable at times he is hardworking and will build up a great life as far as I’m concerned. (And if he doesn’t you can find me on ao3 re-writing his plot because I am no longer appreciating Pete-slander in this house).

Peggy. GOOD FOR HER GOOD FOR HER. LEAVE THAT DAMN CATHOLIC CHURCH AND HANG OUT WITH WANNABE REALEST OF THE REALEST ARTISTS. Also love the gay girl she should have ended up with her instead of the wannabe artist who only talks about capitalism. Peggy’s job is capitalism their relationship don’t really make sense.

Joan… Joan deserved someone who treated her right but fell into the lap of a charming locker-room-mouthed jock, who tried to be a surgeon and failed then tried to be a psychiatrist and failed and finally got drafted for Vietnam (ngl I hope he dies there). Unpopular opinion she should have ended up with Roger because while I hate ‘the perfect girl fixes boy with problems’ trope I would have eat it up. I like them together and surprisingly they are good together. I think she is the only one smart enough to actually lead cis-het white men who think they own everything because they are men, within their company and she deserves more than she gets with the shit she deals with. 

On a last note, the topics Mad Men deals with sometimes can get a bit triggering or upsetting but I think it is worth a watch.

➹types of kisses➹(peter parker x reader)

A colorful collection of your many types of kisses, because a kiss can have more than just one meaning.

a/n: i know i’m three days late, but this is my christmas present :) (sorry for the shitty title) it’s kinda different to what i usually write because there’s really no... plot? it’s just one big but short compilation of fluff and tropes that will give you real bad diabetes. i was gonna include a break-up kiss but bc i’m nice, i decided against it lmaoooo. also !! i wrote this for ps4 peter, but i honestly can imagine it with mcu peter as well-- just choose whatever you prefer ! anyway, i hope whoever is reading this has a wonderful new year, ily.

warnings: making out, a lil bit of grinding but nothing more than that, cursing.

——-

FIRST KISS - KISS ME IN THE PARK, WE’LL MEET UP AFTER DARK

It wasn’t exactly how you wanted it to be.

Not that you thought about kissing Peter Parker too much, anyway. He was one of your best friends, and who thinks about kissing friends? Definitely not you.

Alright, that was a lie— you used to think about it. A lot. And unbeknownst to you, he did as well. However, contrary to your lack of knowledge about his urges, you did know that, for a while now, his feelings towards you changed. And, similarly, he was aware that your own feelings for him, too, transformed into something more. Further than friendly embraces or innocent sleepovers when you were little kids. Bigger than platonic emotion. More than a simple friendship.

It lingered in your minds and was evident in everyone’s eyes, yet neither of you had the courage to move past friendship.

One night at eleven-thirteen, as the two of you— two grown-ups— were in a playground, doing the spider on a swing together and laughing enough that your stomachs ached, that craving to meet his lips resurfaced with such vigor, it spilled out of your mouth.

“Can I say something?!” You laughed as you swayed higher into the air, a yelp involuntarily fleeting past your lips and your legs tightening around Peter’s waist since you feared you were close to falling off the swing and on your back. “Thank you for picking up— shit!— the phone! I really missed you, you know— ow, okay, this really hurts!”

“Okay, I think you’ve had enough,” Peter’s feet immediately skidded against the ground to put your swinging to a halt, sand flying everywhere. Once you were still, you both remained giggling and with youthful smiles that reached your eyes. “Of course I was gonna pick up the phone. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?” He said, and you had to hold yourself back from making a face at the word ‘friend’. You couldn’t complain— that’s that you were, after all. Except that this didn’t feel like merely hanging out, rather it appeared like a date.

“It’s pretty late, though.”

Peter shrugged. “Even if it were three AM, I’d still answer any of your calls.”

Your face softened and you bit the inside of your cheek, staring down at your lap. “That’s cute. But if you called me at three AM, I’d tell you to fuck off and then go back to sleep.” Peter opened his mouth in disbelief at your honesty, shaking his head.

“Wow, thanks. I’m glad our love is mutual.”

“It is mutual,” And it was indeed. “I just express it differently. For example, I tell you to stop working yourself to the bone so you can hang out with me and do adult stuff.” You placed one hand on his shoulder and gestured with the other to the empty playground you were in.

Peter chuckled, quirking a brow whilst he unconsciously began to move the two of you back and forth a little. “Adult stuff, huh?” You nodded solemnly.

“This is very mature.” You raised your nose in a not-so-mature way. Peter copied your previous gesture, humming.

“You’re right. Playgrounds were made for twenty-three-year-olds, after all.”

You giggled, but then changed your expression into a more stern one. “For real, you gotta give yourself a break.” You warned him, shaking your finger at him to add more of an emphasis, however, instead you amused him more than anything in the process.

He raised his hands. “Hey, it’s the city that never sleeps.” He defended, but you narrowed your eyes, giving him a look that was enough to communicate you were not accepting any humor. He dropped his hands and hung his head dramatically, sighing. “All right, I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything.”

You smiled sadly. “I know you can’t.” You quickly exchanged your frown for a smirk. “But if you don’t listen to me, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” You joked, and Peter cocked his head to one side, wearing a crooked smile.

“How, exactly?”

All playfulness vanished and the warmth within your stomach took the spotlight yet again. Kiss me, a thought popped into your head, threatening to control your tongue. But you couldn’t. Even if your eyes accidentally flickered down to his mouth, and he undoubtedly noticed, for he gripped the swing’s chains tightly. You really wanted to say it.

So you chose to do it.

“Maybe you could…” You trailed off as soon as you caught onto some movement in the background, your sight shifting from Peter’s face to it. Suddenly, your eyes grew wide. “Oh, fuck.”

“W-What?” Peter turned to look behind his back, but before he could observe anything, he felt your legs unwrap from his body followed by a heavy object hitting the ground. His head whipped back to stare at you, and now his eyes were the ones about to pop out of his sockets when he saw you on the ground. “Y/N! Jeez, are you okay—”

You jumped to your feet, not bothering to dust off the sand off your clothes before you yanked Peter away from the swing, shushing unnecessarily louder and completely opposing your intention. “Shut up! We have to hide!” You hissed at him, peeking behind his body.

Peter tried following your gaze a second time, but you pulled at his arm harshly. “Why?!”

“Just— just follow me!” Was your explanation as you dragged him to hide behind a tree. You put your hand against the wood, slowly leaning to your side until the tree trunk uncovered your eye. Pointing at a woman standing up from a bench and a guy walking up to her, you glanced back at Peter. “You see her?”

Peter furrowed his brows, momentarily looking down at you. “...Y-Yeah? Isn’t that the teacher you told me about? The one who teaches at your cousin’s school?”

“Yes! And look at her!”

Peter’s attention returned to the woman who hugged her jacket close to her body and now spoke to the man, not discerning anything suspicious at the moment. “She’s talking to someone.” He pointed out the obvious, unimpressed. You groaned, rubbing your eyes.

“That someone is one of her students.”

Peter blinked and eyed the man who turned out to be a teenager. “Oh, he looks much older—”

“Because he’s a fucking drug addict! And I bet she’s his dealer!” You scream-whispered at him, flailing your arm towards the pair.

“I thought you were just joking when you first said that.”

You rolled your eyes, and continued watching them. Whatever the conversation was, it had all of a sudden turned into an argument as the woman poked the kid’s chest with her finger. “Why are they just talking, though?” You asked quietly, as if Peter somehow would have the answer. The volume of their voices increased, but you couldn’t make out any of the words. Scoffing, you shuffled away from Peter. “I gotta hear what they’re saying—”

Before you could tip-toe away from the tree, Peter gripped your arm and pulled you into him. “No. She has a gun.” He motioned to an object peeking out of her pants’ back pocket, and upon further squinting your eyes, you realized it was, in fact, a weapon. Peter gently pushed you towards the tree and he took a step back. “I’ll go make sure nothing bad happens while you stay here, okay?”

You stuttered, your brows snapping together. “No, this is my fucking case, you dickhead.” You began to speed walk past him, but you couldn’t get too far— he grabbed your arm and tugged you back once again. “Peter!”

“Y/N, you’re not a goddamn private investigator—”

“Well, tonight I am!” You broke free from his grasp; however, he quickly had you back in his hold.

“No, what are you doing?!” He embraced you tighter when you squirmed wildly.

“Peter, the kid could be in danger!”

“You don’t even know how to fight!”

“Oh, and you do?” You retorted without thinking. When he processed the absurdity you’d just uttered, he let go of you and stared at you dumbfounded, struggling to speak. Finally, he pointed at himself, his forehead creased.

“I’m Spider-Man!”

You scrunched up your nose, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know why I said that.”

You totally did. As he remained puzzled, you took the chance and started a race to a tree standing near the woman and the kid. Completely forgetting about Peter’s super-speed, you thought you had succeeded until halfway there, he quickly caught up to you. Without a warning, he tackled you to the ground, falling on top of you whilst you cried out in pain.

“Ow! What the fuck, dude?!” You groaned loudly, but then you slapped your mouth when you recognized how noisy you’d been. Their conversation stopped abruptly, crickets singing whole-heartedly as you and Peter stared at each other wide-eyed.

“Did you hear that? Did you bring someone with you?” You both heard the woman ask. To your horror, footsteps approaching you were the next sound to reach your ears. “Hey, who’s there?!”

“Great, look at what you did—”

“You fucking tackled me to the ground!”

Peter surveyed the area promptly, and his gaze fixated on the tree you initially sprinted towards. He didn’t hesitate before he lifted his hand and aimed his wrist to shoot a web to get both of you out of there. But you had other plans.

You gripped the collar of his shirt, distracting him. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do, but just— just trust me and follow me, okay?” You breathed out, eyeing him. Peter opened his mouth, about to ask for you to elaborate.

“Wh—” You pulled him down and crashed your lips into his, muffling his exclamation of surprise. Stunned, his eyes stayed open, and when he didn’t react, yours fluttered open to signal at him to play the part. As soon as the hairs of his arms stuck up, he shut his eyelids closed and kissed you back, cupping your face and fully getting into it.

The woman jumped from behind the tree, confident she’d found the culprits of the noise, and— well— yes, she had. However, she didn’t expect to walk upon two people on the grass, in the middle of a make-out session. She grimaced the moment she saw your legs around Peter’s waist and your hands running all over his back as you fucking moaned to a point that it was forthright pornographic.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, her cheeks reddening perhaps more than your face and Peter’s, and she instantly turned around, leaving you two alone.

You two continued, waiting until the woman made an excuse and abandoned the teen. Ten seconds passed and you finally broke the kiss, panting heavily as Peter unknowingly searched for your lips again. “That worked like a charm, huh?” You laughed, dazed and the speed of your heartbeat only incrementing when you saw Peter’s swollen lips.

“Yeah, yeah… a better warning would’ve been nice.”

“Shut up.”

“And was the moaning really… necessary?”

“I saw it on a show. It makes people more uncomfortable.” You explained, out of breath, and he nodded. You both stared at each other, not bothering to move yet. “For the record, you’re a good kisser.” You blurted out and grinned sheepishly. Peter returned the expression, chuckling and unbelieving of your existence.

“S-So are you. But my plan was better.” He smiled bashfully, holding himself up with his hands next to your head. You doubted his statement, narrowing your eyes.

“Did it involve kissing?”

“No.”

“Then it wasn’t.”

You might have forgotten about your drug deal case and continued making out.

HELLO AND GOODBYE KISSES - TOOTHPASTE KISSES

Two months into dating, neither of you thought much about them anymore. Once they became part of your routine, it’s an absent-minded action, not much different from brushing your teeth, or Peter entering your apartment through your window instead of the door like everyone else. But then again, Peter wasn’t merely everyone else. And your unconscious routine kisses weren’t exactly just another bullet point in your ‘to-do’ list, either. If one of you forgot, or simply did not have enough time to spare, you’d both find yourselves missing it.

Which was why you tried your best to follow through with them, despite what situations either of you found yourselves in.

The alarm did not go off that morning (or perhaps you both passed out before you could set it in the first place— you couldn’t remember precisely), reason why you nearly choked on the lather of toothpaste while you brushed your teeth as if your life depended on it. In a way, however, it did, especially your job: you were now running outrageously late, and you could already imagine your boss’ blank expression as he told you he needed to ‘have a talk’ with you since this was the third time it occurred. You whined. You were doomed.

Peter joined you in the bathroom, jumping on one foot as he slid his other leg into his Spider-Man suit. He made a noise and caught your attention— finally, you noticed he had an entire piece of toast in his mouth. He tried to say something with the bread in between his teeth, but it was incomprehensible. You raised your brows, attempting to communicate with him without taking out your toothbrush. You both went on like that for thirty seconds: doing hand gestures and mumbling without getting any idea across until Peter finally put on his suit and bit off a chunk of his breakfast.

“Have you seen my phone?” He asked, his mouth full. You spat out the toothpaste and he couldn’t help the smitten smile that his heart painted onto his face when he saw the froth around your mouth.

“I put it right next to my keys.” You said as you washed your brush. Peter hummed and swallowed before he walked up to you.

“Alright, thanks. I really gotta run now, though.” He planted a kiss on your temple and you groaned in disgust when you felt the crumbles of his toast on your skin.

“Gross,” You wiped your forehead and Peter rolled his eyes, shoving you playfully and about to leave until you grabbed his arm. “Wait!” You encircled his neck with your arms and pecked his cheek for longer than usual, purposefully smearing his face with toothpaste.

“Ugh, gross!” He mimicked you and leaned away from you, laughing. You puckered your white lips, still trying to reach him but his arms pushed you back. “Nuh-uh, I gotta run.”

“No toothpaste kiss from your love?”

“No.”

“Toast kiss?”

“You’re gonna get fired.”

You let him go.

Later that night, Peter entered your living room, his search for you coming to an end once he saw you asleep on the couch. He laughed quietly, in the back of his head wishing he was sleeping, too, with you, and he kneeled down in front of you. He kissed the tip of your nose— the way he liked to greet you in spite of what state you were in. When he stood up, you blinked your eyes open and you lazily grinned up at him. “Peter-Man is back.”

His gaze moved down to you, guilt appearing after he saw you let out a long yawn. “Ah, man, I didn’t want to wake you.”

You had to return his hello kiss, and so you clutched his hand and pressed your mouth against his gloved knuckles. “C’mere. Join me in my slumber.” You said with an overdone accent.

He didn’t even consider telling you to move to your bed. He plopped down on the small space left and snuggled into you, his own yawn overpowering him. You hugged him tightly from behind, and within minutes, you were both deep into your sleep.

The next morning, you woke up late yet again.

HEATED KISSES - WE’VE GOT ONE THING IN COMMON, IT’S THIS TONGUE OF MINE

It’d been your first date in four months, and you swore your sex drive had never been higher. 

Peter noticed, of course, and took the decision to ditch the dinner you had originally planned once you finished the movie you were watching— or tried to watch, since you couldn’t take your hands nor lips off him during its entirety. As the credits rolled, you straddled his hips, sucking on the flesh of his jaw. You itched to see his face when he groaned— and my God, that sound did not help your case at all.

You began to trail your mouth down his neck, decorating it with a whole masterpiece of bruises, and Peter wondered how he was going to cover those up; but at the moment, it did not matter a single bit. The two of you were too into it to pull away—

“Ugh, wait—” Or not. Peter stopped you and you blinked at him as he sat straight, taking out the TV’s control remote from under him. “That was really bothering me.” He immediately pulled you back into a kiss, tugging your hair and provoking a small moan out of you.

He broke away from you, his smirk transforming into the fuel feeding your lust. “You really like that, huh?”

“Shut up.” You mumbled and your lips continued to mold into each other with desperation, the sexual desire which had build-up since your last encounter brimming as your tongues met. Peter slowly began to lift the hem of your shirt, and your excitement erupted in the pit of your stomach at the fact that you finally wouldn’t have to wait anymore—

Your phone began to ring. You tried to ignore it, but your ringtone made it impossible. “Hold on,” You sighed, disappointed, and turned your phone off, your jaw set in annoyance. Yet again, you resumed where you left off, more urgent than before. Your hand moved his own back up to your hair whilst the other ran up his thigh. He failed in holding back the jerk of his hips as he pulled at your hair yet again, your moans synchronized. You couldn’t have been more elated you both wore your pajama bottoms as you began to grind down onto his crotch. 

Peter dug his fingers into your hips and he threw his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he gulped to keep his noises down lest your neighbors heard you. “No, no, I wanna hear you—” You breathed out, speeding up your pace, whining yourself. He collided his mouth against yours, grunting into your kiss.

You didn’t know what had gotten into you, but you really, really, really did not wish to stop. And you weren’t going to this time, no matter what—

“Tonight’s our last party as high school people!” A voice and music blasted from the TV and you both jolted away from each other, startled. The credits had gone on long enough that the streaming service began to play a trailer for another movie, the volume at its fullest from where you’d left it earlier. You let out the most exasperated groan in your lifetime and furiously moved off of Peter to go and unplug the TV; however, he slipped his hands under your butt and picked you up.

“The bedroom—” He panted and stopped neglecting your lips as he carried you and ran towards your room, the two of you giggling maniacally when he stumbled through the door and then slammed it shut.

The trailer played all night long.

EMOTIONAL KISSES - STOP YOUR CRYING, IT’S ALRIGHT— SHUT UP, KISS ME, HOLD ME TIGHT

Peter had lost the fight.

Although you were useless, you tried getting there in time, hoping you could cause any distraction that would give him an advantage. But you heard the explosion, the walls and the ground rattling, and you dreaded you were too late.

You fell through the double doors, nearly losing your full balance and dropping to the floor. However, you maintained your composure, and tried to scan the room. The smoke hit your eyes and they stung, tears forming in your eyes which grew redder as the seconds passed.

Fire blazed throughout most of the room. You went down on all fours and shrugged your jacket off before you rapidly fastened it around your lower face. Your trembling hand grasped the pipe you’d kept with you in case you came upon someone, and you began to crawl into a cloud of smoke, praying Peter was still alive and breathing.

You fought hard to hold in the sobs that clawed at your throat. You couldn’t break down. Not right now, when Peter needed you.

“Peter!” You called out, coughing as a trace of fumes managed to sneak into your system. You went on with your search, nevertheless, even after your hand accidentally touched a scorching piece of metal and left your flesh screaming. Keep going, you told yourself when you cried out in pain, shaking yourself out of it. “Peter, it’s me! I-I’m here!”

A minute went by at most, but it seemed like an eternity. A minute and ten seconds, until you caught a glimpse of Peter’s body surrounded by flourishing flames. “Pete!” You stood up and ran to him, uncaring of your knees as you collapsed next to him. “O-Oh God…” You saw his burnt suit and whimpered, not knowing anymore if the tears pouring down your face were due to the smoke or the appalling despair poisoning your veins. You didn’t waste a single moment dwelling on the sight in front of you, though— right away, you grabbed him under his armpits and took in a restricted breath before you dragged him with you. You only moved him a few inches before you fell to your knees, heaving.

“Why are you so fucking heavy,” You sobbed, the terrifying realization that you might not make it out of there hitting you at full force. “N-No, you’re coming with me. We’re getting out of here, okay, baby?”

You didn’t know why you were speaking to his unconscious body. Perhaps it was the faint desire that he wasn’t gone yet, and he could somehow hear you. You could sense a coughing fit coming, but you stood back up and started hauling Peter across the floor again, this time mustering every last shred of strength your body possessed.

You had no answer to how you made it. But soon, you had gotten Peter as far away from the room as you could, and your arms gave out. You ripped his mask off, cupping his face with your dirty hands. He barely breathed. “Don’t leave me. Don’t you fucking dare. I’m gonna be so mad if you do.” You wiped your nose with your forearm and shook your hands, coughing. “Okay, okay, CPR.”

You placed the heel of your hand on his chest and put the other on top to push down hard. Push, push, push. You carried on begging him to stay with you as you did the compressions, your arms already too weak from having to carry him, but you continued pushing. Push, push, push. When you realized he still wasn’t breathing, you cursed loudly and began to blow into his mouth. You went back to doing compressions.

At the third rescue breath, he began to cough.

“Peter!” You bit back another sob as you watched consciousness slowly return to him, and when he blinked his red eyes up at you, you grabbed his face and pecked his mouth countless times, your shoulders shuddering.

Not too long after, he finally understood what was happening, and he held your shoulders, viewing you up and down. “Oh, thank God you’re okay—”

“No, thank God you’re okay—”

“I was so worried about you.”

“I was worried about you!”

“I tried getting to you as soon as I could—” He pecked you back, his voice raspy. “—but more guys just kept coming at me—”

“A bomb fucking exploded, Peter. I thought you were gone.” You were now weeping. Peter kissed you one last time before he embraced you close, against his wounds’ wishes. As you both tried to calm down, he glanced down at your hands and saw your open knuckles.

His eyes widened. “What happened to you?!” You looked down at your hands, the pain only just setting in once you became aware of your cuts.

“I had to get up here somehow,” You laughed weakly, and pointed at the abandoned pipe a few feet away from you. “I also had that. I’ve got a mean swing you’d be surprised. And a taser.” You took out the taser from your pocket wiggling it. Peter stared at you, his eyes moving back and forth between the taser and the pipe.

“That’s kinda hot.”

“Almost as much as that explosion?”

He had to give you a high five before you finally took him to the hospital.

‘YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL’ KISSES - YOU’RE JUST TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE, CAN’T TAKE MY EYES OFF YOU

A comedian’s podcast played in the background as you knelt beside Peter on your bed, using a brush to spread a skincare product evenly on his face. Peter watched you, adoring eyes inspecting you closely while you caught your lower lip in between your teeth and giggled after you heard a joke which you found too amusing. 

He drew patterns on your knee with his thumb and he squinted at you with curiosity, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards. “Since when are you a fan of this skincare stuff?” 

You squeezed a dab of product onto the brush before you grasped his chin gently, leaning closer to his face. “This coworker of mine, his skin is, like, so damn soft and flawless. I asked him what kind of black magic he used and he gifted me this,” You motioned to the bottle next to you, “and so I thought: ‘Well, might as well try it with my poor boyfriend who fucking sweats into a mask most of the time’. Seriously, I feel so bad for your pores—”

“Hey, my skin isn’t that bad, though. It’s beautiful.” He joked. You smiled at his comment, agreeing with your head.

“You’re right. But it doesn’t mean it can’t be better. You also deserve to sit back and relax after that job interview you had today.”

Peter frowned when he saw your excitement at the mention of the interview, self-doubt sabotaging his attempt at relaxing. “I probably didn’t get the job.” He muttered. 

Your brows knitted together and you pulled the brush away from his face to run your hand through his hair. “Shut up, you totally did. You’re the smartest guy I know.” You winked at him teasingly and he rolled his eyes, although his mouth twitched nonetheless. “Okay, you’re done! Now, look— let’s see my new glorious skin.” You gestured to your dried face, patting it to make sure it was ready.

“If our skin isn’t softer than a baby’s butt, I’m gonna sue.”

You snorted at him before you started scratching the product off your jaw. You hissed as it peeled off, pulling at your skin. You attempted to go on, but your pain tolerance was a joke at the moment. “Fuck, I think this now officially gonna be my face for the rest of my life.” You groaned. Peter gently pulled your hands away from your face.

“Lemme try.”

“No!” You playfully slapped his hands off you. “You’re probably gonna rip my face off.” And so he simply stared as you resumed your torture and voiced your complaints, until you gave up once you’d managed to free half of your face. 

Needless to say, you looked like an absolute clown.

In the midst of your battle against the face mask, Peter himself struggled to keep a serious face as he watched you and the product hardened, limiting the range of his expressions. You heard him laugh strangely, and you glanced up at him only to see him with his mouth half-open, his shoulders bouncing up and down with his chuckles, but he remained with a straight-face. 

You quirked a brow when his laughter increased, his eyes tearing up. “What is wrong with you?” 

“I-I can’t laugh.” He gasped, his face starting to twist. You began to laugh at him then, spreading the hilarity further like a virus. “N-No, don’t laugh! You’ll make laugh and I can’t laugh!” He shook his head frantically, his face mask starting to crack.

“You look like an idiot,” You wheezed, and all he could do was admire you as you cracked up and held your stomach, your beam making his chest swell. 

Your appearance was ridiculous at the moment, yet you mesmerized him nevertheless.

When you noticed he’d stopped laughing, you wiped your eyes, trying to calm yourself down, and saw his small smile. “What?” You questioned him, wondering if perhaps he gasped so much he was now dizzy. His grin grew. He didn’t care about the mask anymore. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

You pretended to gag, although your face heated up and your mouth curved into a smile. “Shut up, you’re so lame, God.”

“But you are!”

“Stop!”

“You’re so beautiful!” He yelled out dramatically to tease you. All of a sudden, he pulled you closer to him and grabbed your face, determined on peppering all the visible skin of your face with kisses. Your giggles were out of control as you tried squirming out of his grasp, but he continued pecking you over, and over, and over again. 

“I’m gonna throw up!” You laughed, and he smooched your cheek. “You’re a loser, I swear.”

He was your loser.

HOLIDAY KISSES - BABY, I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU, AND IF YOU SAY YOU LOVE ME TOO, IT WOULD BE CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY

It’d been eight months since you started dating, and neither of you had said ‘I love you’ yet.

It’s not that there existed no love. Just like you had said the night you first kissed, the love was mutual, but— again— you preferred to show it differently other than verbally. Or at least other than being straight-forward. It was expressed loud and clear whenever Peter squeezed in time in the morning to make you breakfast, every time you both teased each other or you told him to ‘shut up’, and, of course, in the most simple and obvious way: with every single kiss you shared. But you couldn’t have cried it out louder when you told Peter you’d take care of planning the Christmas Eve celebration at F.E.A.S.T.

You knew everything about Peter. You saved a special place in your brain with every detail about him: his fears, his wishes, his regrets, his shoe size— everything. It’s a perk from knowing him since middle school, and now that you were together, you’d only uncovered the remaining information buried deep within. Therefore, after he got a new job that made him as content as working with Otto Octavius did before everything went downhill, you were aware that if you hadn’t intervened, Peter would have overloaded with stress from trying to juggle every aspect of his life plus dealing with the Christmas Eve party.

However, that meant you transferred the restlessness from him to yourself.

Two months of relentless planning, and at last, it was Christmas Eve. At the back of the room, you watched your friend’s band play a Christmas song from afar, anxiously supervising that everyone enjoyed the night. Suddenly, you felt a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind and a chin atop your head. 

“Hey,” You heard Peter say and you smiled, leaning back into his embrace. “I haven’t been able to hang out with you at all during the night.” 

“I know, I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure everything was going well.” Your voice, distant and distraught, deepened Peter’s frown. He turned you around and held your face, brushing your cheek with his knuckles. 

“I’m proud of you. You did a great job.”

Although his words made your chest glow, you glanced back at the performance. “Thanks. I was able to add in a few things since I convinced Harry’s dad to donate some money. I guess being his favorite out of you, Mary Jane, and I helped after all, huh?” 

“Well, you can relax now,” He rubbed your shoulders, and you just then realized how tense they were. “The night’s almost over.” Peter reassured you and you sighed, closing your heavy eyes.

“Anything could happen, though.” You forced out a laugh, worry forming a crease in between your eyebrows. “What if something catches on fire? Actually, did you know that people can randomly combust? There’s this one case—”

“Y/N.” For once, he was the one stopping you from rambling. 

“There’s still five songs left of the set.” You pouted at him, trying to convince him to let you off the hook, but he simply stared at you, concerned.

“I talked to Miles, he’s going to take your place while you take a break.”

“I don’t need a break, I just have to watch—”

“Remember the night when we first kissed, and you told me that I needed to stop overworking myself?” He recalled, raising his brows. You pressed your lips together, recognizing how hypocritical you appeared at the moment.

 “This is different, though. I need this to be perfect.” You mumbled. Peter’s brows drew together in confusion. 

“Why?”

“Because of May!” You said, raising your voice a little. The floor now seemed more interesting than Peter or your surroundings. “She deserves it. She really cared about F.E.A.S.T., so I know how important this is for you, too.” You admitted, all of a sudden quiet. 

The corners of his mouth turned downwards. He grabbed your chin and kissed your forehead before his soft gaze interlocked with yours. “Y/N, I bet she’d be so proud right now that she wouldn’t shut up about it, like, ever.” You both laughed, but you smiled weakly, hugging him strongly. “And spending time with you is really important for me, too.” He whispered.

Peter took in a sharp breath and dug his hand into his pocket. “I know it’s Christmas Eve, but I wanted to give you one present today.” 

You tilted your head, your heart falling as remembrance dawned upon you. “But I left my gifts back home.” 

“It’s alright, I-I just…” He took out a tiny box and your eyes widened in panic. “Before you freak out, it’s not… it’s not what you think.” He chuckled nervously and opened it, revealing a silver band ring.

You covered your mouth with your fist while your other hand grasped the ring carefully, inspecting the diamond cut running through the middle. “Pete… it’s so pretty, oh my God. I can’t even imagine how much you spent on it.” You said, guilt etched onto your face.

Peter tried to shrug nonchalantly, but he had to admit the expense stung a bit. “Don’t think about the price tag,” He joked, and then pointed down at the ring. “Look inside it, though.”

You followed his orders and spotted something engraved inside. You lifted it closer to your face to read it properly, squinting your eyes, and once you did, you looked up at Peter’s nervous face with a grin growing on yours. “You… love me?”

It was about damn time.

“Y-You… you like it?” He asked rapidly, his own heart mirroring the speed of his words. 

In the blink of an eye, you met his lips with a deep kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling into it. “You’re so fucking dramatic, you could’ve just told me but you had to buy a whole ass ring to tell me you loved me.” You nudged him playfully.

“I wanted to be cute!”

“You’re automatically cute, you don’t even have to try.” Peter proved your point as the color of cotton candy painted his cheeks. “But I love it. And I love you, God, I love you so much, Peter, you have no clue.” 

He did. And he loved you back just as much.

SethKate for the 10 sentence meme?

one sentence per genre for a pairing

How can anyone do any of these with just one sentence?! At least I tried.... there’s a lot of run on sentences in this, btw, although after a few I just decided the one sentence rule could shove it and went with keeping each one short, and at least one I said screw it and made it pretty long for a one-sentence story.

1. Angst

A shadow self, that’s what Amaru called them, the ones she twisted and turned and brought forth from the other side, and logically Kate knows he had no choice, knows he did what he had to do to save Richie and her and the world, but logic has no hold in the face of screaming gaping wound in her chest that pulses and weeps grief and guilt when she looks at Seth’s face. It’s a cruel and ugly twist of fate, to still love the man who killed her brother.

A/N: A mild AU I will never write (but have thought about what would happen before) in which Amaru did her shadow-self thing on Scott and Seth is forced to kill him.

2. AU

There’s nothing wrong with the school itself, she decides, even if she does find some of its rules and traditions a bit odd. She wouldn’t even need to be here except Our Lady of Sorrow holds the only duel credit program with both an opening in Statistics and Intro to Psych that was willing to let Kate in given her... unusual circumstances (being homeschooled, a devout Baptist, and technically enrolled at a local public high school - a PE credit apparently requires a bit more than her daddy and the internet can provide - had her sure that even applying was a lost cause). She only has to spend half a day on campus and only one of her classes is even near the annex building so she hardly sees Seth (she refuses to call him “Mr. Gecko” on principle. She’s only somewhat a student here, and he is certainly not her teacher, even if he is a teacher.. she thinks).

She’s counting the weeks until the semester ends.

A/N: I would love to read this as a full fic... just not sure I want to write it, lol. 

3. Crack

No. Nuh-uh. No way. Seth is not some pansy assed prince charming setting out on a quest or one of those glory seeking wannabe knights who graduate from the Fairytale Training Academy, and he’s certainly never wanted to be anyone’s goddamn hero, so little miss damsel in distress, who’s probably some secret lost princess because Seth’s read this tale before and he hated it the first time around, can save her sob story for some other guy because he is absolutely not-

“Please.”

...fuck.

A/N: A reluctant Seth who is entirely too aware of fairy tale tropes and trying everything he can not to be in a one? Way more amusing than it should be to me.

4. Future fic

Seth eyes the group of sparkly wrapped boxes sitting on the counter with distrust, part of him already counting their numbers and trying to figure out how many have his name on them. After last year, when Seth managed to sneak a peek at every single last gift and “ruined the surprise,” Kate had managed to hide every Christmas present so well he’d begun to wonder if she’d decided he didn’t get any this year.

He reaches for a small, shiny box, the tag just peeking out from the curly bow and revealing a “th” in a familiar loopy penmanship, when Kate suddenly hisses behind him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

A/N: “Future” makes me think domestic fic (at least in FDtD), and that’s not an area I’m real familiar with, so *waves hand* this is what you get. :P

5. First Time

Her hands are shaking. Not visibly, but enough to make her fingers feel weak and the gun in her grip far too dangerous.

“You ready?”

She doesn’t know if she’s imagining the doubt in Seth’s voice, regret bleeding through at agreeing for her to play a bigger role, but she nods firmly anyways, tightening her grip and stepping forward.

A/N: Kate’s first heist... although I doubt Seth let her use a gun the first time. Too dangerous in the hands of an amateur. And I’m pretty sure Seth kept Kate’s role as danger-free and background as he could, because she was still fighting so hard to be considered an equal partner at the beginning of S2.

6. Fluff

She’s just managed to settle into the perfect spot when the bed shifts slightly behind her and a familiar hand fumbles sleepily at her arm and over her stomach before finding the hollow dip of her waist. Kate lets out a half-hearted protest, bits of warmth escaping at the blanket slips down and the sheet bunching beneath her as Seth wastes no time tugging her across the mattress, the sound dying into a soft laugh as he tucks her half under him and grumbles wordlessly against her temple without even opening his eyes. She shifts, tugging the corner of the pillow down a bit so its not digging into her neck before letting out a happy sigh. Perfect.

7. Humor (I had a hard time with this one, so I just wrote something random)

Kate makes a noise of frustration, pushing herself from her chair and snapping, “I’m gonna die a virgin. Again!”

“You know,” Richie says with far too much brotherly glee, “if you’re looking for someone to-”

“Shut up, Richard!”

8. Hurt/Comfort (another one where I didn’t exactly want to go full hurt/comfort, so instead I went Hurt? As in injury? Yeah, lets go with that.)

“Ohgodohgodohgod.” She can’t seem to stop the litany of words, repeated phrase cycling through her mind as she presses harder. There’s blood, so much blood, seeping red and too thick through her fingers that she can’t even feel the pain.

She should feel it, she thinks, she did before. Or maybe its better that she can’t, she doesn’t want a repeat of the well.

She takes another step, seeing the door just a few steps away. There are people beyond it, Seth and Richie’s people (Seth’s going to be so pissed, she thinks with a kind of worrying detachment.) It’s a simple goal: get to the door. Everything will be alright if she can just get to the door.

A/N: Kate is totally OK in this. It’s bad, but not as bad as she thinks, and while she doesn’t make it to the door before collapsing, someone comes through really quickly and sees her.

9. Smut�� Hand holding?

The leather is soft against his skin, well worn from years of near continuous use and Kate’s dedicated care. He remembers when she first got them, the fancy looking box with its folded tissue paper holding them inside like they were a gift. He had hated them, hated the way they covered Kate’s small, deadly hands, the way Dad expected for her to be grateful, how necessary they were.

He slides his hand up, pad of his thumb brushing over the expensive leather covering her palm before it presses against the soft, vulnerable skin of her inner wrist, and he swears for a moment her can feel the nervous flutter of her pulse before he curls his fingers to lock around her wrist.

She looks at him, an amused quirk of to the edge of her lips as he raises her hand between them and he meets her gaze, not bothering to measure the redness of her eyes as he reaches his free hand up to pinch the fabric just above her pinkie.

“What’re yo-” She cuts off with a choked gasp when he tugs, but doesn’t jerk back. He’s inexplicably proud of her for it.

Her eyes are wide and a little panicked, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she watches him tug at the top of each finger, loosening the well-fitting glove until it sits loose on her small hand.

He takes in a shaky breath, feeling unaccountably nervous as he grips the empty tip of the glove’s middle finger, like he’s removing far more than just a simple bit of leather. But then again, maybe he is. After all, Kate’s almost never lets any of them see her without her gloves, not willingly.

He pauses at the thought, gaze flicking away from his task to look at Kate. He regrets it almost immediately. He wasn’t going to stop once he started, wasn’t going to give Kate cause to think he held any of the fear she’s convinced he must feel. But maybe she sees the question in his eyes, or feel it in the sure way he holds her wrist because she nods, small and hesitant but there. He pulls the glove the rest of the way off and lets it fall to the floor.

He lets out a breath just as Kate seems to suck one in, her gaze locked on her bare fingers and Seth loosens his grip, fingers already turning so he can run the flat of his palm up her wrist, forearm pressing against forearm as his hand aligns with hers.

He’s grinning, sudden and full of too much smug satisfaction if Kate’s affectionate eye roll is anything to go by, but Seth doesn’t care, already lacing their fingers together so he can hold her hand proper for once.

A/N: This is part of a tUA inspired AU that has no plot and therefore will never be written. But I know exactly what Kate and Seth’s abilities are, which is part of why this is such a thing for Kate here and why Seth feels her fears are unfounded.

10. UST (Unresolved Sexual Tension)

She doesn’t blink, barely seems to be breathing, holding herself so carefully behind her desk, straight backed and fingers laced together as she stares stubbornly up at him. He smiles, slow and measured and knowing, letting his gaze sweep over the cardigan she’s begun buttoning all the way up since he joined her little class, before leaning close, meeting her gaze and dropping his voice low, like a secret between them.

“And what do I get if I get it right?”

A/N: Seth goes back to school to get his GED, Ms. Fuller is not what he was expecting. I actually had a whole scene playing through my head for this, because I like build up, and it was really hard to pick just a small part to put here.

None of these are edited, despite how long it took to post, meaning I have mixed feelings on them, lol. I think I like more of them than I expected to, so yay!

BnHA Chapter 255: "Hospital”

Previously on BnHA: Aizawa and Present Mic found out their dead best friend Shirakumo was necromanced by All for One and Ujiko and turned into everyone’s favorite villain mom bartender M.D., Kurogiri! Gran Torino and Naomasa were all “hey you guys should talk to him and see if you can restore his memories through the power of friendship” and so they all sat down together to do that. Kurogiri was all “so tell me how is my son Shigaraki Tomura, I love him so much, he is so emo and I must protect him” and Aizawa and Mic were all “THIS GUY HASN’T CHANGED ONE IOTA” and Aizawa started crying and was all “SHIRAKUMO LET’S GET MARRIED AGAIN AND BE HEROES TOGETHER LIKE WE ALWAYS WANTED.” Oh and also we found out Aizawa only fake expelled his previous students and it was just so that he could PREPARE THEM FOR LIFE!! and afterwards they got to go back to U.A. again and live happily ever after. And so basically I’ve lost track of how many hugs Aizawa needs here now but it’s a lot.

Today on BnHA: Shiraguri’s brainwaves start going all wonky and everyone is like “OH SHIT IT’S WORKING” and Aizawa and Mic decide it’s time to shift this drama into overdrive, so they get right up against the glass and start shouting “YOU’RE OUR FRIEND!!” and stuff over and over until IT FINALLY WORKS!! and Kurogiri’s face shifts into Shirakumo’s. Somehow the effect is incredibly sad and moving rather than terrifying as fuck, but unfortunately all Kumo can manage to get out is “hospital” before his mind overloads and he passes out. Fortunately for our heroes, “hospital” is actually an awesome clue which can totally lead them to Tomura and Ujiko’s location if they play their cards right, probably! Or at least Hawks seems really psyched about it, idk. Anyway so the chapter ends with Ujiko going FULL MAD SCIENTIST and wreaking havoc on Tomura’s body in order to -- I’m pretty sure, anyway -- turn him into some kind of fully sentient ultimate high end Noumu. Welllllll shit.

so that sure was a fun little wrinkle last week, huh. the two biggest scanlators deciding that in the spirit of the holidays, they were going to stop translating WSJ series and instead support the official releases out of the goodness of their hearts and definitely not at all because Shueisha was eyeing them threateningly and making little throat-slitting gestures. that was a ride. these are interesting times lol

but at any rate, if this is how it’s going to be for now then I’ll adjust! it is nice to have everyone support the official release, and obviously the image quality is way better, and Caleb’s translations are by and large pretty good. and obviously we’ll get used to reading the chapter on Sundays instead of Fridays (hell, I remember when the SJ leaks still came out on Wednesdays, so it’s not like we haven’t done this same old song and dance before lol). but Friday did happen to be a more convenient day for my schedule personally, so it might take a bit of adjusting for me to figure out what my posting schedule is going to be moving forward

anyways so I’m sorry this recap is so ridiculously late, but here we go at last!

so the Tartarus guard, who by the way is very clearly Seiji’s dad (WHEN ARE THE SHIKETSU KIDS COMING BACK), is tapping frantically at his touch screen even though it’s not doing anything, and he says he’s detecting unusual brainwaves. omg

WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK IT MEANS, OBVIOUSLY THEY UNLOCKED THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP, MAN! THEY DID IT

omfg. the guard just says “he’s agitated.” I’m going to need you to have more hype than that my good sir. please

holy shit Nao

attention everyone, HAS ANYONE SEEN NAOMASA’S FUCKING CHILL, BECAUSE HE SEEMS TO HAVE FUCKING MISPLACED THAT SHIT. someone please explain to this man that there is a time and a place to play good cop bad cop and this is not it. “oh, Shirakumo is starting to recover his memories? well then [busts into the prison cell and grabs him by the collar and slams him against the wall] WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR!?”

(ETA: so apparently Nao’s detective instincts are cleverer than mine. he saw that Kumo was potentially going to emerge, but probably not for long, so he gave him the most important question so he could focus on answering that. good job! still not a lot of chill but hey.)

meanwhile Aizawa is all “if what they said is true I’m looking at my friend’s corpse”, while still crying by the way, and yeah, so MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE. this year Santa decided to change it up and just make everyone real sad. happy holidays

lord he’s leaping to his feet and shouting “WHO DID THIS TO YOU”

meanwhile I can’t stop staring at Present Mic with his tongue sticking out. why are you sticking your tongue out. why are anime characters like this. you know, Stain also used to stick his tongue out. Present Mic U.A. traitor confirmed

also!! so many people have beef with Ujiko, though! pretty soon they will have to take a number and get in line

oh no Kumogiri is malfunctioning

Aizawa’s all “ANSWER ME SHIRAKUMO” and OH MY GOD LOOK AT THIS

I HAVE NEVER SEEN AIZAWA SHOUTA SO INTENSE AND I CAN’T TEAR MY EYES AWAY FROM THE SCREEN AHHHHH

so there’s some more of “WE WANTED TO BE HEROES TOGETHER” and “YOUR NAME IS SHIRAKUMO OBORO” and all of that other “SNAP OUT OF IT ALREADY” stuff, and you’re damn right I am eating ALL THAT SHIT right up, hell yes. IT’S A TROPE FOR A REASON PEOPLE

oh my god

bwo...hh...?

(ETA: I feel like I should explain that although I have a subscription to Viz, I really hate how their chapter viewer is set up, so I read the chapter on one of the vertical scroll-to-read sites instead. I prefer scroll-to-read for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one is so that I can read the chapter slowly (since I’m writing as I go) without spoiling what’s in the next panel. that being said, this next page is one of the few where Viz obviously got it right, so I’ll be posting the full image.)

SDFLSDLFKHSDLKJGOISDJFOSK

（┐° o °  ┐） ( ｣｡╹o╹｡)｣

feelingsfeelingsfeelingsFEELINGS

(ETA: on a reread I am fascinated by the fact that that bandage on his nose actually seems to be A PERMANENT PART OF HIS FACE APPARENTLY lol what.)

READ THE FUCKING ROOM, DUDE. also look how tiny Gran Torino is. he thought we wouldn’t notice through all of our tears. but we did. would you like me to fetch you a box

ha ha ha so now back to the drama

heh so anyway, the fact that this smoke Shirakumo face still looks like a child is straight up destroying me. how are you guys. how is everyone. feliz navidad

FKSLDJSLK HOLD UP

IS HE TRYING TO SAY “SHOUTA”, I CAN’T, I’M?!?!!!!

ADSLFKJALSKDJW

(ETA: I think you can see Shirakumo’s eye rolling back here as he fights against the brainwashing omg. this chapter’s fucking art, though.)

YESSSSSS you keep on ticking off that checklist of clichés, Horikoshi!! I’m so weak for this shit it’s not even funny. actually that’s not true, this plotline is usually hit or miss with me, but I’ll tell you what though, if there’s one guaranteed way to have me freaking the fuck out rather than sighing and rolling my eyes, it’s to have AIZAWA FUCKING SHOUTA be the one pounding on the wall of glass and screaming at his former lover to fight the layers of conditioning waging war on his mind. ohhhhhh god

lol the brainwave detecting screen is losing its fucking shit also and beeping like crazy. this tension is so thick you could plant a flag in it yeesh

is this Kumo remembering stuff??!

(ETA: thank you to the anon who pointed out I posted the wrong image earlier lol.)

why do shounen characters always recall events from a third-person camera view. curse this ambiguous flashback

AHHHHH

HOSPITALLLL ahh what??? “SHOUTA, HOSPITAL.” oh my god. Shirakumo I commend you for not having your first words after dying and being brought back to life and brainwashed for 15 years and then waking up in a straitjacket in a prison cell be, “FUCK ME OH FUCKING SHIT WHAT THE FUCK.” you and I are very different people but I respect that

HOLY SHIT HIS HEAD EXPLODED

so now everyone’s freaking out and we’re zooming in on Kumo’s eye again. by the way this is going to kill me when it’s animated oh god

OH NO THE PANEL WENT BLACK AND IT GOT ALL SILENT

(ETA: hmm I don’t think Caleb Cook knows what “whump” means nowadays. whump is what I wish we had here. instead it’s just lots of hurt but very little comfort. JUST LOTS OF PAIN AND SADNESS.)

Horikoshi please have mercy oh lord. also I see their hands touching, you. they honestly should be gripping each other fucking white-knuckled, this is all very traumatic. I think that if Shouta was holding Mic’s hand while his other hand was pressed against the glass I would probably start sobbing for real

what the fuck

did they knock him back out?? they seem really calm and optimistic about all this lol

oh godddddd

HE’S NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING SHUT UP. GOD, MIC, WOULD YOU PLEASE JUST GIVE HIM A HUG ALREADY??

so now they’re bidding farewell to Nao and Gran -- and HOLY SHIT --

okay hold up -- I just realized -- Kumo was trying to give them a hint about Ujiko’s location. holy shiiiiit. PLEASE START INVESTIGATING HOSPITALS, NAO AND GRAN. holy shit the Noumu arc is heating uppppp

Aizawa’s asking what’s happening with Kurogiri now, and I feel like he maybe should have asked that immediately after the fact rather than as an afterthought while they were getting ready to leave but okay

Nao says he kind of “short-circuited or something” and yeah that tracks with what we saw. though it sure does make that “THAT’S ALL FOR TODAY FOLKS, GOOD JOB BOYS, YOU GET A GOLD STAR” business just SUPER WEIRD though, but let’s be real, Nao has been swinging and missing with striking the right tone all day today

and now Gran is apologizing to Mic and Aizawa for the exquisite emotional torture he just put them through, but he says something is bound to come from it. WELL YEAH NO SHIT IT HAD GODDAMN BETTER

Aizawa apparently hasn’t run out of sad/tired/haunted expressions yet, if you can believe it

pretty soon everyone is going to be sad, tired, and traumatized! heh. it’s going to be so fucked up hahaha crying smiling emojiiiii

oh hey and we’re cutting to another flashback of AFO doing what he does best, being callously dismissive of human lives!

this guy. right here. is a rat bastard. for real. also Horikoshi sure picked a hell of a chapter to go all out on the art again, jesus. this is probably the first time I’ve looked at AFO’s fucked up face and actually thought “yep, that’s a mutilated human man” rather than “shouldn’t you be out floating in space with your asteroid friends trying to smash the Millennium Falcon?” so anyways yeah this panel is a big NOPE from me, thank you

but on the other hand, when Horikoshi uses those art powers for good, such as carefully penciling in every last individual hair of Aizawa’s perpetual five o’clock shadow, that I don’t mind so much!

yes. yes good

so now they’re vrooming off, and we’re hanging back with Gran and Nao for a minute

YESSSSS GOOD JOB NAO!!

looooool it’s ringing up the head of the HPSC and her phone’s buzzing and she’s giving it this hella dramatic look. like this is some patented Todoroki-level dramatic whooshing right here

that’s just how dramatic this entire arc is going to be, hopefully

WAIT WHAT’S HAPPENING NOW

IS THAT A CODED MESSAGE FOR HIM TO GO CHECK OUT THE HOSPITAL. AND HOW BUSY ARE YOU, HAWKS. ARE YOU THE “I AM IN SOME DEEP, DEEP TROUBLE” KIND OF BUSY, OR JUST THE STAYING-IN-CHARACTER KIND OF BUSY. YOU CASUAL BASTARD, WHO CAN EVEN TELL WITH YOU, I’LL JUST HAVE TO SCROLL DOWN TO SEE

oh hh my go

“LITTLE LATE TO ASK ABOUT THIS STUFF” so he comes from the Bakugou Katsuki school of tutoring, eh

I love that he actually followed through on explaining the PLF’s philosophy to Twice. and Twice is such a good boy. he’s studying so diligently. look, he didn’t ask to join a doomsday cult, it just kind of happened so now he’s just doing his best to figure it all out

and it definitely was a coded message, then. smoooooth, HPSC lady, smooth. so I wonder if the fact that she gave him a specific hospital implies a time jump. because I don’t think she’d have him investigate just any old hospital until they had a better lead and/or a more solid idea of what they were looking for

lol what the fuck

well I sure do not have any idea what this man is talking about

-- HOSDFLKJDLY SHIT WE’RE CUTTING TO UJIKO WE ARE CUTTING TO FUCKING UJIKO RED FUCKING ALERT!!!

HE’S TALKING ABOUT TOMURA I’M NOT CALMMMMMMMM AHHHHHH

FUCCKLKL FUCK THE WHAT HOLY SHIT WHAT DID HE DO

oh my god oh my god oh m

he made Tomura a Noumu. holy fucking shit that’s what he did. of course. so he’ll be able to possess multiple quirks, but because he benefits from Ujiko’s years of high end Noumu research, his sense of self will remain intact

AND DOESN’T THIS PROCESS JUST LOOK EVER SO PLEASANT. jesus christ. he’s not even allowed to lie down, for some reason this procedure can only be done while he’s hovering over the bed Exorcist-style with his mouth locked open in a silent scream (ETA: or is that actually his laughter we’re seeing?? because this panel wasn’t raw enough already I guess??) while random spurts of blood come chucking out all over the place. well that’s just

and Tomura fucking volunteered for this. how many scores of others didn’t?? holy fucking shit Ujiko. it’s not easy to be the most evil man in a chapter where a foil-wrapped potato with eye holes started waxing poetic about all the children he harvested and killed like some kind of bloodthirsty sommelier, but YOU FOUND A WAY. dancing a fucking jig while your so-called masterpiece is being gruesomely tortured in the foreground. man if there’s any justice in the world, we’ll find out in this arc that Ujiko used science to make himself immortal so that once he’s finally captured they can just keep killing him over and over again. I do not like him!!

so that’s it! we really are doing this thing, holy shit. Noumu arc here we come. see you guys next decade har dee har

Zodiac Age

It’s no secret that i am a massive fan of the Final Fantasy series. Essays abut that franchise riddle this blog. My adoration for their world building and storytelling is profound, even is they kind of devolve into a Star Wars-esque retelling at time. Square sure does love that Hero Journey literary trope. Things like that don’t bug me because there are little unique changes to that specific plot, little dashes of creativity that take the form of setting, characters, or overall plot. It might follow the trope in the sense of character development, but the story told to get there is wholly it’s own. And let me tell you, some of these stories are the best that’s ever been told.

Final Fantasy VII is my favorite of the entire series. Great characters, vivid world, and a plot simple enough to follow but embellished to near mythic levels. Final Fantasy IX is another favorite, though, that one is more a fairy tale than anything. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a goddamn masterpiece and epic in it’s own right, but that story is more than at home with those old Grimm tales we were told as kids. It’s mad endearing that way. Final Fantasy Tactics, spin-off title, is probably the best story, overall, told under the FF banner and it’s not even a main title. The War of Lions is a tale of political intrigue, familial bonds, and devastating betrayal sprinkled with magic and demons and summons and dragons. It’s f*cking incredible and can give Game  of Thrones a run for it’s money. I imagine, in time, i’ll revisit these stories and gush about why i love them so but that’s not what this essay is about. No, this essay is about the second best narrative in the entire FF franchise; A narrative that has been written off because people couldn’t get passed the gameplay. This essay is about my fourth favorite Final Fantasy title, Final Fantasy XII

The strongest part of this game is easily the story. It starts with a wedding. A beautiful affair between two nations to solidify a peaceful relation and treaty of prosperity but that bliss would not last. War, a bloody coupe, the death of a prince, and the betrayal of a king. All of this happens in the intro to the game. As you play, you take the perspective of a common street rat. You follow along with his misadventures, exploring the oasis city of Rabanastre withing the annexed kingdom of Dalmasca. During his various excursions, Vaan finds himself entwined with the charismatic sky pirate and main character, Balthier, as well as his longtime Viera companion, Fran. After a heist gone wrong, the group find themselves thrown into the same lot as the presumed dead princess of Dlamasca, Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca, and the man framed for murdering her father, Basch Fon Ronsenburg. The party is eventually completed by the final addition of Vaan’s childhood friend, Penelo. What starts as a tale of rebellion and unrest, evolves into something so much more. The dismantling of the current world system, the shattering of chains binding man to malevolent gods, wresting control of human destiny back into human hands, and a destiny laid forth by a visionary painted as a tyrant.

Final Fantasy XII is a grand epic that feels very intimate, very small. You’re never far from the characters or their plight. Indeed, it’s their development and relationships that drive this story. Political intrigue and human destiny aside, the interactions between these individuals are absolutely wonderful. Vaan is a chump but, having played this game several times and looking back on this story with the eyes of an adult who appreciates great storytelling, his blank personality is necessary. He’s the vehicle the audience uses to immerse themselves in this world. He’s our allegory so ll that bland that colors him is simple place holder. an is who we make him. On the other end of that spectrum, you have the “villain” Vayne Carudas Solidor. Vayne is easily one of the best written characters in the entire franchise. His characterization and development can give Delita from Tactics and Ardyn Izunia from XV. Holy sh*t, Ardyn is magnificent. I can write an entire essay on him, alone, but that’s one for later. Maybe. XII is one of the best written of all the FF titles but Vayne, specifically, is written on an entirely different level. There’s never a time when you do not understand his motivation. There is never a time where you do not agree with his logic. There is never a time when you condemn his deeds. They are all necessary for the ultimate goal of human prosperity. Vayne is the antagonist of this story because of circumstance and he understands that better than anyone. He even prepared for that eventuality with his brother, Larsa. Even in defeat, he still wins; A victory for all that cost him everything. F*cking brilliant writing, man. Brilliant.

The world of Final Fantasy XII is absolutely gorgeous. It takes place in Ivalice, the only recurring setting in the FF franchise. It’s a staple, like Chocobos or Moogles. Vagrant Story and the Tactics games all take place here, to varying capacities. I love how meaty the lore and systems are for this universe. The Judge system permeates almost every title taking place here and they are to be heeded. Ranging from consequences of battle to outright characters in the narrative, these judges often have ornate armors and insane strength. Gabranth, the main Judge of XII, serves a rather dubious role throughout this tale. He and his contemporary, Cidolfus Demen Bunansa, the Cid of this game and father of Blathier, work together with Vayne to further his ambitions. Chasing their wake leads our team all over Ivalcie, visiting Ordalia, Valdenia, Kerwon, and Purvma. We follow Fran home to the Salikawood and hunt some powerful monsters in the rolling dunes of the Giza Plains. This world is gorgeously realized with loving passion and gentle renders. It really is a feast for the eyes.

Now, the reason everyone passes on this particular title lies in the fact that the gameplay doesn’t feel like an FF title. In that regard, the discourse is correct. XII does not play like a traditional Final Fantasy title. It skews closer to their MMO titles rather than their offline fair. It can be difficult to learn but is it really so different than what you’re used to? Is it really so alien? XII does a pretty decent job teaching you how to manage your party. Admittedly, yo can’t directly control what everyone does at every second but all titles in this franchise are kind of like this. I can see how that aspect can be disorientating wit the pseudo-action RPG aesthetic. That’s why there are Gambits. These things are little predetermined commands that allow you to program your party while you handle the heavy lifting on wither offense, defense, or support. It’s kind of like the system they use in FFXIII but, you know, good. You still play XII. You still have the ability to control your characters, in a limited capacity. Sure, i would have liked to have more direct command over my party but this workaround is fine once you get used to it. Besides, i think they fixed this in the international Zodiac version or whatever. I haven’t played that one yet but what we have in the vanilla game, the License Board, Tecnicks, Magicks, Quickenings, and Espers, all add a variety that gives you copious amounts of strategy. Building a character strong enough to trust to the Gambit system has it’s own reward.

Final Fantasy XII is an outstanding title that deserves so much more respect than anyone gives it. Your requisite hitters like IX and VII are rightfully mentioned in a much greater capacity but lesser titles like X and VIII have no business holding their position in the fandom zeitgeist in lieu of XII. This game has one of the most epic stories, a brisk plot rarely marred down by melodrama, one of the greatest villains in the entire franchise, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. The world is lush, full of life and vibrancy, hiding a sinister undertone that grips your attention until the very end. If you can manage the learning curve of the battle system, if you give it a chance, you’ll be rewarded with one of the all-time great games in the Final Fantasy pantheon.

Hi, Ais! I had read The Foxhole Court trilogy thanks to you and I loved it! (not as much as I loved ICoS hehe). Can you recommend me more books as good as TFC and ICoS? It can be fantasy or fiction, M/M romance would be great too. What are your favorites? Please help me find something good!

Yaaay! I’m so glad! God I love that series T_T Nora write more everything plzzzzzz

It’s like me with One Piece, lol; it’s a life’s goal to keep recommending AFTG/TFC to everyone I meet who may be even a little bit interested XD And like OP, if I ever hear anyone ends up reading/liking it I get so happy lol

[[Oh damn - also I always fail to tell people this and just realized, RIGHT BEFORE POSTING, I should probably go back up and mention - FYI I’m working on an LGBTQIA+ fantasy/sci-fi series called Wildwood Rising, first book is Incarnations. In case you’re curious. I’m editing it super slowly atm, but on my Patreon I give updates here and there on it. Anyway read the glossary + first 4 chapters for free here, although I’ve actually done some editing which will make the chapters change so keep in mind that’s super draft mode. More info at my writing masterlist if you need it.]]

Anyway I have a few thoughts on recs, but FIRST - I have to give a disclaimer. Also even the disclaimer has to be under a cut apparently because RAMBLING

DISCLAIMER - so you know whether or not to listen to any of my opinions:

I am an extremely character-driven reader. I like stories that have plots, absolutely, because I usually can guess the ending of a plot a few steps into a story and that gets boring and old fast. 

Which is probably why to me, characters are the most important part of a story, as is character progression. 

I need to feel like I get that character, whether or not I agree with them every moment of their choices, and if the story is a romance with a couple, I have to truly be sold on the idea that THESE TWO should be together, not just because they happen to fulfill tropes of whatever is currently most popular in whatever genre, but rather because they actually fit as two human beings who I could realistically see falling in love. 

I also really like reading stories of people STAYING in love if it has to be a romance; I get really bored by stories that spend all this time getting someone together, and the whole thing is believable until sex gets involved and suddenly they’re instabanging and then that’s the end of the story. Because sex = healthy relationship?? idk, it’s honestly probably the fact I’m asexual that this is a pet peeve of mine. 

Anyway this is absolutely not shade but so many books which people think of as “m/m” have a totally different vibe than what I tend to want to read. They are often written specifically to be sort of male sexual romance books in which the point of the story is to get two dudes together sexually and then if there’s story beyond that, bonus Jonas, and if not, well, at least they whipped their dicks out on page. 

I’m not at ALL knocking this type of book, or people who like reading those sorts of books. There’s damn good reason to write and read those sorts of books, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with them. I mention this only to say that for me, as a reader, my attention span is soooooo short dude. I have little to no attention for stories that revolve almost completely around sex, especially if the sex isn’t even built into the character progression.

But here’s where there’s a huge difference for me: the characters.

If I connect with the characters, I will read almost anything. I’m a reader who’s phenomenally biased toward reading character progression and preferring a mixture of darkness with lightness in the story - dark themes but also humor, some sort of balance like that. Whether or not characters have sex, whether or not there’s a solid romance at the base of it, whether or not a lot of things I care about less than I care about connecting with the characters.

Ideally for me, a book series or even a singular book has a good plot that’s interesting, great characters, great character progression, and a variance in emotions combined with solid enough worldbuilding that I feel like I’m there. But for me, to read and recommend something, I could give a lot of passes on an underdeveloped plot if the characters and their progression is great enough, but if it’s the best plot in the world and the characters don’t grip me I will never recommend it. 

Also, again, this is no shade to m/m as a genre, and more of an explanation of my phenomenally short attention span and super pickiness as a reader… but I find that a lot of the stories I try reading that are marketed as m/m start out strong for me as a reader, but by the end I’m less enamored. The ending is too abrupt or I don’t like the dynamic of the main couple or the vibe is off or the plot is too easy to predict or etc etc. So I really only have a very small list of m/m I ever recommend tbh - I tend to like stories that aren’t specifically written to have gay/LGBTQ male leads but rather feel like they are a story which happens to feature LGBTQ/gay male leads. That may seem like a minor difference but for me, the vibe between the two is massively different, and can dictate whether I love something all the way through or not. 

I just wanted to mention that because I know not everyone feels the same way, so if you really love plot more than characters, you may want to take some of my recs with a grain of salt because you may find you don’t love them as much as I do, and you love other things more. I feel like honestly I’m way too picky of a reader probably, so other people probably have much better lists.

(Oh yeah btw, all of this is me framing things as a reader. To be clear: I’m not saying AND IN CONCLUSION I AM THUS A BETTER WRITER or anything at all like that lol I’m not a better writer than anyone tbh. I’m just saying as an extremely picky reader, these are stories I like and/or things I think others should give a try if it speaks to them)

M/M:

DEFINITELY RECOMMEND

Raised by Wolves by W.A. Hoffman is my other favorite m/m series along with TFC/AFTG, and I have been recommending the two at the same time for literal years. This post is me waxing poetic about it and why I love it. So is this post. Also here too which tells you the book order etc. I love the hell out of that series, but it’s definitely the sort of series that people may have a strong reaction to for various reasons. Let’s just say if you were to actually do a bunch of trigger warnings for ICoS, the list would be long. RBW would have a similar list that’s similarly long, probably. I need to read the latest story that came out from RBW a year or two ago; only reason I haven’t is I totally want to reread the story from the start but goddamn that’s an undertaking if I do lol I might though, after I finish my current ebook read. This series is finished (well, idk what the newest short story is about but as for the main series, it’s done)

MOSTLY RECOMMEND

Psycop by Jordan Castillo Price - one of my flaws, probably, is that I’m too honest, and I don’t ever mean to be a dick but I also can’t stand the idea of misleading anyone or lying. So in all honesty, the plot on this series can be kind of frustratingly light or predictable at times. HOWEVER, I looooove the characters. I frickin LOVE Victor Bayne, the MC. I’d started this series ages ago, read through like book idk 5? 6? and got kind of frustrated by some plot stuff, never finished reading the series. Recently I randomly remembered it and decided to try it again. I read all the way through all 10 books and then almost immediately started over again because I was curious to reread from the beginning knowing some things now. There are some things this series does super well, IMO, and I could do a whole post on this series if anyone wants. But tl;dr is I really like the worldbuilding of the psychic powers, I LOVE how Victor’s such an unreliable narrator and how the series deals with showing the way anxiety and addiction and etc affects the mind, and I LOVE how the main couple at first seems super like wtf?? in terms of how quickly it comes on (like, literally, first chapter - just read it lol) but the more you read, you see how perfect they actually are for each other. One thing too: I almost didn’t read the 8th book (Skin After Skin) because it’s got a minor character as the main POV and I wasn’t sure I wanted to break my roll going with Victor as MC. But I did read it and I’m very glad I did. If you read this, DEFINITELY read book 8 where it is in series - it gives you a really good, more objective view of the main couple, plus it’s interesting seeing the characters from a totally different viewpoint than Victor. The series is ongoing but I still recommend it. If you want to check it out, JCP has the first half of the first book available for free to read, and you can buy the books on Amazon etc - http://psycop.com/stories/ATLexcerpt.html#buybook

NOT SURE YET IF I RECOMMEND

Widdershins by Jordan L Hawk - This is the first book in a series called Whyborne & Griffin, of which it looks like from the quickest glance at Amazon so far there are 10 books? I’m trying to do next to no research on the series because I want to be surprised. Kobo tells me I’m about 23% through the first book, just about to start chapter 8. I have this listed under “not sure yet if I recommend” because as aforementioned, I have a tendency to have a totally different view of a book or series in m/mdom at the beginning vs end of the first book or the books in the series as a whole. So far I really like it though, and I hope it remains a vibe I can get behind, because right now I’m really enjoying it :) I love nerdy MCs. Languages are my jam, man.

OTHER SERIES I LIKE

I’m mostly just gonna say titles/authors on these with short mentions because this is so long but I can talk more on any if you want:

The Tamir Triad by Lynn Flewelling (sometimes called by its first book: The Bone Doll’s Twin). I don’t want to say too much on this so I don’t spoil you on anything. It’s kind of dark and pretty richly written, though.

Six of Crows + Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo. I talk about the series here, and talk about “if Kaz were in ICoS, he...” here.

Plus a bunch of other mentions of authors or books here

LASTLY - non-book recs aka shows? I totally recommend the tv show Lucifer, just sayin. And Brooklyn 99. And Nate and Jeremiah By Design but that’s getting into the HGTV territory of the world so I should probably stop.... lol

Morning Glory

Rating: Gen/Teen Word Count: 1795, complete Pairing: Dean/Castiel Tags: Temporarily Human Castiel, Canon universe, anxiety, insomnia, sleep disorders, angel vessels, references to the Empty, references to alcohol abuse AO3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163709 Prompt: Written as a lil clapback to the fanon trope that Human!Castiel Is Not A Morning Person. (For @cr-noble-writes and @chuckwinchester)

Dean couldn’t really explain why he’d assumed Cas would suck at mornings. Maybe the 24/7 bedhead and the “it’s always 5 o’clock somewhere” shadow; maybe the fact he never really seemed convinced that “taking a shower” and “eating breakfast” weren’t just some elaborate long con they’ve been pulling on him for the last half a goddamn decade. Maybe just the way he veers into grouchy asshole territory whenever the world takes a dump on his shoes, which is kind of the definition of mornings. 

Whatever: Cas just seems like the kind of guy who’d need forty minutes of silence and three cups of coffee before he’d count as human.

Hey, well, joke’s on Dean, ‘cuz the guy definitely (currently) counts as human, and he’s awake at five fucking thirty in the morning, every morning, bright-tailed and bushy-eyed and talking a mile a minute. A mile a second. He’s breaking the sound barrier and exerting serious G-forces. 

Dean would tear his own face off if he thought it’d make the dude shut up until the Pop-Tarts came up. Instead he just kinda lets the Cas Chatter wash over him, like really phlegmy birdsong, or the world’s weirdest morning chit chat show.  

Cas has at least taught himself to make coffee –– apparently all on his own, since Sam isn’t taking credit for it, and Sam loves taking credit for shit. It’s not the worst coffee, either. I mean, it’s bad coffee, nobody here is drinking Good Coffee, it’s a weapon, not an experience –– but it’s not watery or full of grounds or made with orange juice or some other weird dumbass goof. 

Sam’s take is that maybe Jimmy Novak was a Morning Person and now that Cas isn’t using the guy’s body as a kind of celestial thermos, some of the dude’s original behaviors or genetics or whatever are sort of…coming back online, reasserting themselves. “Like the burger thing,” Sam says, shrugging.

“Well, that’s ten kinds of fucked up,” Dean answers, but then the goddamn ghoul turns out to be a whole Leave It To Beaver nuclear ghoul family and the conversation gets extremely tabled.

There’s a morning awhile after where Dean wakes up still drunk and can’t handle the thought of two more hours riding the motel bed over the rolling seas of FuckUpistan, so he gets up and showers off the townie bar fug as best he can without waking Sam – only Sam, because it’s dawn and so Cas is already up and probably singing Disney princess songs to the seagulls haunting the trashcans in the parking lot. 

Dean reaches to scoop his keys and does a bleary double take when they’re not on the nightstand. He takes a moment to freak out at the possibility of Cas doing his clutch-smiting routine on the Impala, but something twigs and he peels open the door and yep, the car’s still in the lot, outlined in scribbly motel neon and highway dawn pink. There’s a faint warble of bass rolling off it in time tooooo…Dean’s gonna say Hole in the Sky? So he kinda queases his way over the lumpy asphalt and knuckles on the driver side window and Cas jumps a fucking foot, or he would if he weren’t wearing the goddamn lap belt in a perfectly stationary car.

Dean thumbs at the other side and Cas shakes himself off enough to lean over and pop it for him. Dean slides in and the car smells like three hour-old motel check-in desk coffee – his stomach immediately tries to file a lawsuit but the sanctity of the leather interior wins over his bodily need to evacuate poisons every time. Cas’s hands are back on the steering wheel, gripping it at 10 and 2 like a good boy but with his knuckles the color of popcorn, an abused-looking paper cup empty on the seat besides him, and Sabbath is still living on the profits of pride at top volume. Dean rolls it down to conversational levels so he doesn’t have to scream when he says “What’s the story, morning glory?”

Reminder: Dean is definitely still drunk.

Thankfully Cas doesn’t really know from Oasis or Sunday morning BJs so Dean just gets two blue eyeballs full of blank terror. 

Dean tries again, picks the cup up off the seat. There’s a rind of dried coffee juice inside. “What’s up? Sunrise three minutes off? Songbirds outta order? Thought you’d be out here braiding your hair and frolicking in the dew or some shit.” 

Cas blinks, which is something he’s been doing a lot more lately and frankly is a weird look for him. “No,” he says, voice cracking. “I haven’t done any of those things this morning.” He frowns, which is a little better. “Or any morning, to my knowledge.”

“So, what then? Bad dreams?” 

Cas scrunches his face up in his left hand, pulls it back through his already frankly insane hair, sighs out a gust of Eau de Flopsweat. “No. I didn’t dream at all.”

“Congrats.”

Cas goggles back at him. “As much as I dislike dreaming as a…subject, instead of an observer. I find its absence.” He hesitates. “Much worse.”

Dean rubs his eyes because this has that angsty metaphysical angel pong to it and that’s really more of a Sam Specialty. “How’s it worse? I drink for those nights, man. It’s a few hours off of. You know.” He gestures at The Universe, Generally. “All this shit.”

Cas scoffs and leans back in the seat, although he doesn’t release the wheel from the iron grip. “Dean, in almost four billion years of existence –”

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters, because this is the traditional overture to an absolute diarrhea of angelsplaining.

Cas ignores him, or maybe Sabbath covers his tracks – “I have never been rendered…unconscious.”

Dean gives him a look, because bullshit. “C’mon. I’ve seen you knocked out before. Down for the count.”

Cas shakes his head. “I’ve been forced to cede control over my vessel. I’ve withdrawn into it to preserve myelf. I’ve experienced a fugue state, or been made to retroactively forget details of my experience. But I have never.” He breathes in through his nose, the edges of his nostrils going white to match his knuckles. “I’ve never been insensate and unaware at the same time.”

Some asshat pulling his rig out of the diner across the way opens up his jake brake and Cas flinches at the crack. 

“Huh,” is about what Dean’s got to serve up. “You worried somebody’s gonna snuff you while you’re down? We can take shifts when we’re on the road, if that’s what’s freakin’ you out.”

Another shake of the head. “Anyone truly invested in eliminating me specifically in this…state would be too powerful or competent to be defended against through normal means. Angels can be killed, Dean. My experience of a mortal death would be – ” he cuts himself off. “Less worrisome than the alternative, in many ways.”

“Cool, so, being murdered in your sleep, not a concern.”

“I’m more concerned,” Cas huffs, “that I am unable to defend you.” His forehead droops down towards the steering wheel, like a houseplant somebody forgot to water before a Disneyland vacation.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Dean says.

“I am not,” Cas answers, “fucking kidding you.”

Dean snorts. “I made it thirty years without your feathery ass watching over me. Now you’ve just got a normal-ass…ass, you think I’m suddenly shaking in my boots? C’mon, man.”

Cas shrugs, which looks even weirder on him than the blinking.

Dean twiddles the paper cup, rolls it between his palms. “You haven’t been, like, watching me and Sam sleep, have you? Because you know I can stand that Twilight shit.”

“No,” Cas says, in a tone of infinite offense, like Dean has suggested he sleeps in girls underwear or something. “But, Dean. The experience of sleep. Dreamless sleep. It’s not. It’s not dissimilar to what we are told to expect, as angels, after death.”

(The music slides over into Symptom of the Universe and Dean desperately wishes he’d left something peppier in the deck when they pulled in last night.)

 “Only I’m given to understand that we are at least…in company with each other. Though silent and unaware. We share the same sleep. In a way it’s a return to our origin as an undifferentiated host. But in human sleep.” He looks over at Dean, face slack. “You’re alone. Prisoner in a corporeal cell. Did you know,” he goes on, practically stepping on himself, warming up the verbal jet engines, “that some individuals experience a phenomenon where, upon waking, they suffer a period of total bodily paralysis?” 

Dean frowns. “Yeah. Sounds shitty.”

Cas nods. “Jimmy experienced it semi-regularly.” Then he looks out and up, squints at the motel sign. Maybe he needs glasses.

“So you inherited it, huh?” Dean says, softly. Cas doesn’t respond. “So, sleeping’s shit. And waking up’s shit.”

Cas’s squint turns into a wince. “In the Bunker, I’ll get up and make coffee.”

Dean waggles the mutilated cup. “Yeah, noticed that. Thinking of buying stock in Folger’s.”

“I’ll visit the archives, or. Write letters.” (Who the fuck is he writing letters to, Dean idly wonders? Dear Angel Abby?) “Go up to the roof to,” he glances at Dean, anticipating the eyeroll, “watch the dawn. On the road, it’s…more difficult to keep myself occupied. Keep my mind off of the fact that I can no longer hear the rest of the host. That I am,” he stretches his palms out over the wheel, tenses his clenched fingers, “quite nearly useless,”

“Cas,” Dean says, even more softly.

“And that, in a mere matter of hours,” Castiel closes his eyes, or the eyes he is currently doing business under. “The cycle will repeat.”

“Cas,” Dean says. And he reaches out what he suspects is the memory of Mom’s hand and sets his palm on the back of the guy’s neck, against the damp skin and unwashed hair. The muscles there relax but the blue eyes stay closed and Dean drops the cup on the floor and sets the other hand that’s just his on the side of Cas’s face, and slowly sweeps the side of his thumb over the sandpaper jaw and waxy cheekbone. 

And he pulls Cas’s head towards him, then down against his own shoulder and chest. Cas’s hands peel off the steering wheel and drift to lie, palms open, up, across their undistinguished assortment of kneecaps and thighs.

After awhile, a few more tracks in the tape, Cas’s breathing goes smoothe and deep. Dean feels eyelashes flicker against his collarbone – guy’s already dreaming.

Dean watches the dawn, reflected on motel windows.  

10 Reasons to read Marlie B’s ‘Novelty’

Okay, so I’m sure you’ve all already seen me posting about my good, cute, adorable, passionate, smart, sassy friend Marlie ( @hey-marlie ) and her novel - ‘Novelty.’ But I figured I’d just clue you in to some of the things you’re missing and why it’s such an important piece of literature that you should definitely at least sneak a peek at. Marlie is a really talented writer, whether she believes it or not, and I’d love to share this story with the entire world. 

So, that being said, let me just Buzzfeed this bitch and tell you the Top 10 Reasons why YOU should be reading ‘Novelty’ :

1. Fallon Ford - The main character is an aspiring writer working on her senior capstone project. She’s spunky, short, affectionately called a ‘Tiny Demon’ by her ex-best friend (and total hottie). Fallon Ford is a strong and confident woman, and she may be a hot mess in her brain about her writing, but she’s got some serious power moves out there with the way she handles her work life, academic course load, friendships, and free time. Her fashion is kind of basically the cutest mix of vintage boss-ass bitch, and she’s a literal fucking ray of sunshine. We need more more strong female protagonists in our lives, and Fallon’s main goal in this novel isn’t to find a man and be happy - I mean, sure, she’s Out There and Getting It with some total hotties that I will mention later, but her main goal and aspiration is to become the best writer she can be and do her best. And that, my friends, I think is super awesome. 

2. Diversity - The cast of ‘Novelty’ is super diverse and it’s not the kind of diverse that is trying to make a statement, but the kind of subtle diversity that is a part of all our lives and should be talked about more. When asked about her diverse cast of lovely characters, Marlie responded by saying: “initially i don’t really think i noticed that my ‘cast’ per say was quite diverse. my college campus is 50% international students - on a campus of less than 1,000 students - and so having extremely diverse classes, or diverse ‘friend groups’ and all that is super normal. we have a really active lgbtq community, and so that’s a huge norm in my life and so i really wasn’t questioning it until i was pinteresting and realizing that i’ve got a really good group of kiddos that i’m molding to perfection and helping them be the best versions of themselves. so i think it’s obviously important to have representation, and i think it should be second nature that we don’t have to think ‘oh i have to have a character to fill out ____ quota’ because then what’s the real reason you’re doing it, ya feel ? so yeah … definitely a diverse squad, but that’s how it should be. and i’m really happy with the characters i have so far and i’m looking forward to what’s to come ! thanks for the shout out ! it means a lot and it’s good to reflect on these things.” Her characters represent multiple members of the LGBTQ+ community, multiple POC - African American, mixed-race, Vietnamese, Bangladeshi, and Puerto Rican. Marlie also tackles body image and represents all her characters in all shapes and sizes. 

3. Friendship - The friendships in ‘Novelty’ are the kind of healthy relationships with a bit of banter and tough-love that I think we can all learn lessons from. The relationship between best friends and roomies Fallon Ford and February Vale is one for the books. They are supportive of one another, basically co-habitating grannies, who help each other dress, motivate the other in their fields of study, and also find the time to hold each other accountable for their actions and emotions. There’s no judgment, no secrets, and while their friendship is a central part of the novel, it’s not something that Marlie overdoes or feels the need to include in every chapter. It’s authentic and organic, and it’s a great lesson in how a friend can be supportive in multiple situations. Honestly, they’re just super cute, and it’s nice to see how they interact with one another both in private, in public, and respect the other with utmost love and adoration. 

4. The Enemy - The main plot and conflict of the novel comes in the form of a tall drink of water known as Dane Jacobs. He’s a year older than Fallon, a post-graduate teaching assistant at their university, and he and Fallon share quite the history. They’re the best friends to enemies trope wrapped up in an angst blanket that makes your heart throb whenever they’re alone together. But what sets Dane “The Enemy” Jacobs apart from other enemies to potential-lovers trope is that he’s not diminished to an abusive or degrading male who sees the female as inferior to himself. Yeah, the fall out he and Fallon had was not quite the separation many of us would ever want to feel in our lives. But Dane doesn’t put Fallon down in any way when he’s assigned to be her advisor for her project. If anything, their banter and quippy remarks to one another show the deep rooted friendship they once shared, and how their separation from one another since the breaking off of their friendship has impacted them in a more emotional way then they’d care to admit. He still supports her writing and is honest with her - sometimes a bit too honest - and only wants her to do best. He masks it by saying he wants her to do well so he can be graded fairly on his work ethic as a teaching assistant, but I think we can all agree he’s doing it because deep down, he still loves Fallon and wants to see her succeed. Plus, he has an adorable puppy named Watson who makes an appearance whenever we need him most. 

5. Breaking Masculine Norms - Where the obvious pairing a lot of us are hoping for is the reunion of Fallon and Dane, there is one character that has waltzed into Fallon’s life in a big way - Lawyer Tom, the ultimate hottie. Marlie writes Tom in a very specific way - he’s not buff, or strong. He’s a freckly, unruly red-haired, tall and lanky man with bony shoulders and a nose that wrinkles when he laughs. He’s not your typical heartthrob, but he’s mouthwateringly perfect in every single way. He comes into Fallon’s life at a time where her love life is in a bit of disarray, and in the past couple chapters we’ve come to learn that Tom is the gentlemen-status all men should aspire to be. He lets Fallon stay overnight after a night out clubbing and doesn’t expect anything from her but her company over dumplings. He visits her at work when she tells him she’s nervous about getting back to her normal shift. He even finds time to make morning runs with Fallon fun by going out for breakfast quiches at a little cafe every morning. He’s quarting her platonically and it’s so goddamn adorable and quirky. Yeah, they kissed once and it was hot hot hot, but he hasn’t kissed her since and he’s letting her take the relationship at the pace she wants. She’s the one who has to ask him on dates, and he’s the one who’s always justifying her emotions and actions whenever she’s feeling down or insecure. He’s a great support system and is open about his emotions and the fact that his home life hasn’t been the absolute best in the past. He’s confident in his work, is constantly calm and at peace with his surroundings, and enters every situation with grace and poise. Not to mention he has the most amazing relationship with his younger brother Cody, and honestly, is my new ultimate hero. He’s the role model all men should be aspiring to be, and the fact that he’s being so patient and kind and wonderful with Fallon is a huge turn on. 

6. Success in Art - The legendary roommate February Vale is a goddess not only casually in life, but also in the art department. I know this is only a little tiny thing, but February is also in her senior year of university and she’s already had great success in her art career. It’s not often we see characters studying art portrayed as successful, or as having a grip on their education. The concept of the “struggling artist” is romanticized and oftentimes degraded to nothing more than just a hobby. But February expresses everything that’s wonderful about art - immersing yourself in your project, applying to galleries and exhibits, and being raw with your art in a way you sometimes can’t express yourself in words. When February came out as bisexual to her parents, it wasn’t received well and she took those feelings to the canvas, winning her awards and slots in galleries all through London (the characters’ home base). Marlie also never explicitly mentions what kind of art February is most interested in or establishes as her signature, and so I think that is truly important for us as readers to depict what we consider to be successful art and know that it can not only come from a student, but a woman, and a damn wonderful and courageous one at that. 

7. The Banter - One of Marlie’s greatest triumphs in writing is her dialogue. She’s taught me so much about how to find multiple voices in your characters and to embody those personalities within their conversations. The banter between all the characters - primarily the snippy and sometimes crass comments rapidly fired back and forth between Fallon and Dane - is exceptional. The characters come to life through their words and expressions, and it’s a great way to not only connect to the characters yourself, but to really feel as if you’re standing there watching these characters interact. The office scenes between Dane and Fallon are truly amazing, and the flat scenes Fallon and February bring to life are hilarious. You can tell that these characters are can portray different versions of themselves depending on whether they’re in public or in private, and I believe that’s a great attribute to the great writer behind the words. 

8. Pinterest - Per a request from an anon, Marlie has constructed an entire Pinterest account dedicated to storyboarding the personas of her characters. Every outfit mentioned, every studio described, and every action played out by each individual can be found within the boards of the Novelty Pinterest, and is a great outside resource to gaining a better understanding of who these characters are and how Marlie is envisioning them. They’re super fun to scroll through, and I oftentimes find myself going back to the characters mentioned in each chapter and attempting to find the outfits they were wearing, or the coffee shop they were sitting in. Seriously, it’s the absolute most unique thing I’ve ever seen a writer do and I’m fascinated by it. 

9. Updates - Marlie is extremely good at making sure the updates are on time every single week. She updates every Saturday mid-morning and provides her own thoughts on the chapter as well as some insights to her writing mind. If Marlie has received any donations to her ko-fi page that week, she works hard to make sure the updates go up faster. She’s even posted on a Wednesday before. So really, you’re always getting new content and always learning more about the characters and the story, which is really truly wonderful. 

10. Marlie - Obviously I’m going to talk about my girl. Marlie has been writing for ages, but has never really shared anything with anyone in public like this before. She’s taken what little concepts I had about these characters and this world and she’s run with it. I get the most random texts from her at 3am saying she has this great idea for how to develop a specific relationship, or introduce a certain character. She thinks everything through and edits the shit out of whatever she’s written so that it’s pristine by the time it’s published. She works so hard, and she lives with these characters in her mind 24/7. The thought and care that goes into her writing after each chapter and how she interacts with her readers is so important, because she will write paragraphs depicting specific, seemingly minute moments from the previous chapter, only for your mind to be blown as you learn something that you may have missed. She’s a lovely human and cares so deeply for her writing. She’s been helping me for years, YEARS, with my own writing and the fact that she’s out here creating this whole world and community of her own now is fascinating to me. There is nothing this girl can’t do, and I am constantly in awe of each chapter and the emotions I feel even if it’s what she considers a ‘filler’ chapter. She’s a keeper, that’s for sure.

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SO, those are the top ten reasons why you should be out there reading ‘Novelty’ and supporting our girl Marlie B. There are so many other reasons why the novel is as amazing as it is, but I think what it all comes down to is having a writer who cares about her readers, cares about her writing, and cares enough to want everything to just make sense. I’ll put all her links below so you can explore it all you want, but let’s support some new writers on here and make sure you’re reblogging what you like. Circulating what you’re reading is so important! And this girl deserves our love for sure. 

Thanks for everyone who is already out here representing our girl and for all the questions and donations you’ve provided for her! She loves it! And she’s going to kill me for posting this! But I love her so freaking much! If anyone ever wants to freak out about each chapter with me, I’m always here to fangirl. No doubt about it. Thanks for your support, everyone! Have a great weekend. 

Read ‘Novelty’ HERE Support Marlie B HERE Find the Pinterest Boards HERE Ask Marlie B a Question HERE

so my review for disenchanted is... it's fun. it doesn't go anywhere amazing, but there's some fun jokes and some fun characters. its an enjoyable watch with some characters that keep you watching, though i kept wanting them to wring more out of each episode, there is so much potential for a lot of the side characters.

as for characters, most characters aren't really fleshed out, so i didn't feel much connection to most of them, i only really care about luci tbh and bunty is sweet. i'm interested to see what happens with queen oona but seeing as most of her appearances have been small jokes or short appearances, idk, i'm not holding out for much development for her.

bean is good, in theory, though there's not much to her. they have a stereotype of what a non feminine woman is and keep falling back on it, falling back on her being drunk or high somewhere. we don't learn about her childhood, her education, her hobbies, her aspirations. her storylines revolve around her dad or elfo, mostly, under the guise of being about her journey.

some side characters become more interesting, like the kings advisor, odval, although i wish the secret society had been more than just a quick joke. others remain flat and uninteresting, clearly plot devices, not even offering jokes that are that good. i liked getting to learn more about bunty, and the king has some funny moments, but a lot of characters are forgettable. luci is a great break from the repetition or obvious storylines, he's unpredictable and chaotic and kept me watching. he's two steps away from being a fourth wall breaking character, narrating the events in his own way. love eric andres dry tone, luci is a great character i'd love to learn more about.

the pacing of the episodes is a bit random, there's no real connection between most of them and they don't always flow well, sometimes it felt like people's opinions and decisions changed randomly just to keep the plot going. the last episode repeated the same scene several times. the reccuring plot involving luci didn't really grip me and didn't go anywhere really, and has now been overshadowed by the plot of the last episode. i am interested to see where that goes, but i do wonder if the people who sent luci will get a moment to shine and be relevant again.

people keep comparing it to futurama, to the simpsons, but i don't think that gets us anywhere. it's made in a different era, set in a different era, made in different circumstances than for tv viewing. the voice acting is great, it's fun hearing familiar voices, and luci is reminiscent of benders carelessness (also reminds me of paul from the film paul which is a fave of mine), but it's a very different story. there are some weird vague mentions to things like feminism and gender spectrums but they fall flat, i felt unsure if they were being played as a joke or a reference and what the point of them was. there's also that random mention to cultural appropriation, speaking of which, the only two characters of colour are side characters, one completely just a plot device, with ambiguous race and not much depth. seriously guys? you put in elves and gnomes and lizard people but racial diversity was just too hard? put down the d&d handbooks and start being creative.

okay, i'll mention elfo, but briefly. he's annoying. i'm saying it, everyone else seems to be saying it, but what the fuck. it's not his obliviousness and naivety that's annoying, that could've been used well, but it's his crush on bean. i'm not invested, i don't care, it's not interesting. i really don't feel bad for this lil guy fancying a woman out of his league. they tried to give us a different female hero but still went with the 'poor nice guy who she ignores' trope? she deserves what leela and lisa didn't get with the guys chasing after them: the freedom to say no and have it stop. it added nothing to the plot, it became his whole character arc instead of learning to be bad and explore a new place. i'm glad nobody else seems to like him or the idea of him and bean ending up together. seriously, it's so overused, esp in groenings works. i just didn't have the patience to care about him any more as soon as i saw where it was going. bean escaped his advances, but barely, and suddenly she really cared about him despite being ambivalent earlier. the time progression didn't seem real enough to amount to that much character development, the time passage wasn't even clear, it just felt like ten episodes and suddenly luci and bean really cared about elfo all of a sudden. can't relate.

ok, elfo out of the way, what did i enjoy? the scenery, the banging theme song, the good one liners, every character john dimaggio voiced, that one time luci got captured that was quite fun to watch, the whole talking cat thing, uhh, some other stuff. seriously, you can enjoy watching it and not feel too bored, it's just the repetitive tropes that get a bit dull. i kept watching for the potential, a lot of the time. hoping for things to go farther than they did. the earlier eps are fun, the later ones i felt had odd pace and sudden character development/change and a lot of repeated content.

in the second series i want a lot more from these characters. they tried to fit in like three plot twists when most people would have preferred more character exploration, more believable development between bean, elfo and luci as friends. a lot of the episodes were bean and friends get drunk, fuck stuff up, go back to see the king. i don't want more of that in s2. i expected more depth to the plot seeing as multiple writers were involved in gravity falls, but it's ok if it's just fun too, but decide which you're going for because atm i'm not sure how seriously to take the twists or not.

i'd love to see more of hell, learn more about luci. i loved the mention of him having a 9 to 5 job in hell, there's so much that could be explored there, and robot hell was a blast in futurama. seriously, bring back dan as the dancing devil, that'd be fun. i'd have rathered luci having odd jobs from the devil than having two random people apparently controlling him but doing absolutely nothing at the same time. in s2, recycle the tired tropes into something new. throw out the 'old hooker' trope and put in more three dimensional women. get rid of the 'strong female character' idea you have in your heads and actually write a real female character. please, god, get more female writers, i can tell when a woman is written by a man and it's boring. i feel they need to let shion takeuchi have more involvement because i bet she'd do a better job with a lot of these elements but alas she's literally one of only three women on the team with any major involvement, and it shows. it's a show centred around a female character yet it's mostly all decided by men. it's 8 men to 3 women as far as i can tell. and only one person of colour, afaik. it really shows. i'm not surprised, but more people should be pissed off about this. ridiculous.

don't do anything with elfo he's fine where he is just leave him there. bring back tess the giant i want to know more about her. please let oona and odval have a friendship where they bitch about the king and have medieval scrabble nights or something. let literally any women interact with each other without hating each other or talking about men. give bean a girlfriend. don't give pendergast any more screen time people are obsessing over him for some reason and he doesn't deserve that. let the queens be friends or something. let them date. too many women hate each other in tv i'm tired. ramp up the goddamn puns i know u have more stored somewhere and the scenes of shop names etc are fun. have bean learn to drive a horse and cart or get a job she's good at or learn a new skill or make a female friend or something more than having her get drunk and fight her way out of a situation with no real consequences. ok i'm done.

Jenn Recommends: Fantasy

All right, kids; it’s that time again. Time for me to babble on for an obnoxiously long time about books I have read and adored, and time for you to just shut the fuck up and take all my advice, because I have great taste.

Since this recommendation list concerns fantasy, all of the following books are actually part of a series, because it is illegal for fantasy authors to write standalone novels: they will be publicly executed for devoting anything less than 3,000 pages to Timmy’s sword and stones. You know this is true because you just read it on the internet.

If You Like: Political intrigue, really hot people, + everyone and their brother being canonically gay as fuck.

Read: The Kushiel’s Legacy series by Jacqueline Carey.

This series starts with Kushiel’s Dart, and there are actually two trilogies worth reading in this world: Phedre’s (the first trilogy) and Imriel’s (the second, which I may like even better). We do not talk about the third trilogy. In this write-up, I’m just going to talk about the first trilogy, but if you enjoy it, I definitely encourage you to read the next three books.

Phèdre nó Delaunay is a courtesan who was born with a scarlet mote in her left eye--a mark of the god to let others know that she’s into really kinky shit. You cannot spank this bitch hard enough. As a child she is sold into indentured servitude, and bought by a man who recognizes the mote in her eye for what it is and what it signifies--namely, that people who sexually enjoy having the ever-loving fuck beat out of them are pretty much up for anything, which means she will make a great spy.

So that is what she is trained in--not just the arts of the bedroom, but the arts of overhearing everything meant for non-State-approved ears. Of course because this is a novel and something has to happen in it, she stumbles upon a plot against the throne that gets a lot of people stabbed multiple times and throws her and her hapless goddammit-this-is-my-first-real-assignment bodyguard into a Perilous Journey that spans Many Lands.

Two things I really love about this series: the world building and the casual approach to homosexuality.

The various different countries are obviously based heavily upon European history and lore, but she’s done enough research to really flesh them out. We don’t just have a few generic descriptions here and there of vaguely European geography, but actual religions and languages and histories which are more than just given a hasty, passing mention to conjure the illusion that the world is more tangible than it actually is: you can taste and touch and hear Terre d’Ange.

As for the casual homosexuality: the main pairing is hetero, but Phedre takes several female lovers, because in Terre d’Ange, the one rule by which everyone must abide is ‘Love as thou wilt’. No one is really straight or gay; sexuality isn’t really a thing, labels aren’t a thing; people bone who they bone and nobody bats an eye. Kind of like Ancient Greece, till it came time for you to stop porking Archimedes during oily wrestling sessions and churn out a couple of brats. Sex work in this world is also considered in the service of the goddess, and those engaged in it are bestowing a blessing on their customers; it is an honorable and profitable line of work.

I honestly could not put these books down. I have two copies of the third book in this trilogy because I ordered it online while halfway through the second, then promptly panicked when I realized it wouldn’t arrive in time for me to immediately begin the third as soon as I finished the second novel. I actually drove an hour and a half to the nearest Barnes and Noble just so I didn’t have to wait two agonizing days for the next book to arrive. The writing can be a little heavy-handed (think purple euphemisms for a man’s steely pleasure wand, etc.), but overall it’s gripping and lush and I could barely stop reading long enough to take bathroom breaks.

If You Like: Bleak stories where probably nobody is ever going to get anything more than a brief glimpse of happiness before it’s cruelly torn away from them and legitimately creepy monsters.

Read: The Banned and the Banished series by James Clemens.

This series on the surface is your fairly generic Evil Dark Lord vs. Savior Newly Awakened To Their Powers. Elena is a thirteen-year-old girl who has just been visited for the very first time by the dreaded Aunt Flo. With puberty comes the blossoming of new powers: a red hand that shoots a lot of fire out of it, a power I would’t mind having while trying to navigate a bunch of idiot-inflicted traffic. Over the course of the five books in the series, she picks up her Adventure Party and they sally forth to do battle with the Dark Lord’s minions (of which there are a metric fuck ton, in scientific terms). Some parts begin to feel a little monster-of-the-week, as the protagonists barely have time to take a breath in between waves of tentacly evil.

So why I am I recommending this series? Because Clemens is not content with just scattering some generic tropes around the page and calling it good: he wants you to go, “What the FUCK, dude??”. A lot. This is probably the only book in which you will encounter a woman letting a bunch of spiders crawl into her vagina. Or later giving birth to those spiders, which have, upon the touch of the Dark Lord, transformed into a monster that smells like dead baby and eats people’s faces. I recently came across this series in Russian and have been rereading it as a 31-year-old adult, and there are scenes which even now thoroughly traumatize me; it really explains why I am the way I am, since I first read the beginning books when I was only 11-12.

This series is surprisingly hard to put down; I suppose it’s because you are compelled (or at least I am) to find out what the hell kind of nasty thing is next going to emerge from the forest and inspire you to check under your bed at night even though you’re a goddamn adult. This series is not for the faint of heart, obviously. But if you like dark fantasy, and you’re into the idea of reading something that on the surface seems a pretty standard fantasy tale before it suddenly starts hurling vagina spiders all up your business, check it out. Also, if you’ve read any of my work and you’d like to know just what the fuck is wrong with me, I believe this series can throw a little light on that.

If You Like: A protagonist who won’t take your shit but also is allowed to be emotionally vulnerable, Chinese history, detailed military campaigns.

Read: The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang.

Rin, a war orphan raised by shitty foster parents in a backwoods village, is accepted into a prestigious military academy where pretty much everyone, teachers included, hates her because she’s a peasant and this school is for the sons of rich people, goddammit. Rin is talented in the nearly lost art of shamanism because she’s the main character of a fantasy novel, and it is only her newly-found powers that have a chance of halting the advance of the Federation as they march upon the Nikara Empire, intent on conquering (and graphically torture murdering) everything in its path. On the flip side: her powers have also been known to turn literally all their wielders into raging loonies who have to be imprisoned for the good of everyone.

My ignorance of Chinese history is absolute, so I’ve no idea where the author (herself Chinese, and an historian, I believe) is pulling from in order to build the foundations of her world, but it’s obvious she has done a lot of research and painstakingly agonized over every little detail. It’s nice to finally step away from the usual Euro-centric world of much Western fantasy, and into one so fully fleshed-out.

This story actually reminds me in some ways of Mulan: the unlikely protagonist bests nearly everyone in all of her training--but only because she works three times harder than anyone else, and no one particularly admires her for it, saving her from Mary Suedom. She’s intelligent and determined, but nothing comes easily (especially when one of your masters is more than a little unhinged). She has exactly one friend, and spends most of her time trying to read her way to a better martial artist. 

This is not, however, a school story; and though the characters are 16-17 when they first enter the academy, it is not a YA story either. It is a story about war, and the author has no interests in presenting war as anything other than it is: revolting, traumatizing, horrific. There are some very graphic depictions of violence, so if you do not have the stomach for that, this is not the book for you.  Neither massacres nor first kills are glossed over; everything is presented exactly as it looks, smells, feels. 

Because life is never one long angst-ridden slog, however, and there was always something, before war, there are moments of legit humor; I actually laughed out loud at several lines. And that leads me to something else the author does very well: dialogue.  Much dialogue is an excuse for the author to sound worldly, wise--poetic. It also often hardly sounds like human speech. Real humans, even articulate, intelligent humans, do not shit a fucking Keats verse every time they open their mouths. In The Poppy War, people, wonder of wonders, actually sound like people; perhaps even more notable: teenagers sound like teenagers.

Stylistically, this book is utilitarian; I won’t be highlighting any phrases because they’ve left me awestruck. But it is not lightweight fantasy; the main characters wield terrifying powers with immense consequences. They are mangled, tortured, killed; some of them are drug addicts because only in opium can they find a momentary release from what they have survived. It’s a hold-onto-your-balls-kids kind of story. This is the first novel in a purported trilogy, and I will definitely be keeping an eye out for the rest of the series.

(1/2) Could you please write some hurt/comfort Bakushima. Bakugo has been avoiding Kirishima for the past few weeks, but then Kirishima corners Bakugo during a training exercise in one the fake cities and demands to know what's going on. Bakugo attacks Kirishima and starts screaming that he hates Kirishima because he makes him feel things he doesn't understand (basically the 'Katsuki Bakugo is bag at emotion trope taken to it's most extreme.)

(2/2) When Kirishima tells Bakugo that he’s scared of what he’s feeling, before Bakugo can denie it, Kirshima tells him that he makes him feel the same way, and that it terrifies him more than anything in his life. When he manages to calm Bakugo down, Kirishima tells him that he does he doesn’t want to be scared of what he’s feeling, and that he’s like to learn these new emotions with him. They embrace, and Bakugo breaksdown crying before falling asleep in Kirishima’s arms.

—

Sorry this took a while!! I was really excited to write this though and I hope you enjoy it!!

I also posted it to AO3 here

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Great. Just fucking fantastic. Bakugou stomped away from the rest of the group, going to where Aizawa told him that him and his partner would be training that day. He heard quiet whispers of “what’s wrong with him?” and “he seems angrier than normal” behind him but he didn’t pay them any attention, too busy trying to squash down the fluttering in his stomach that started when he figured out who his partner was going to be.

Kirishima.

That name has brought Bakugou nothing but weird feelings lately. He would feel warm and nervous and giddy at the same time whenever the redhead was around. Honestly, it was confusing and it pissed him off more than anything but also made him feel good at the same time. It happened even when the other wasn’t close but instead whenever Bakugou thought about him, which was admittedly a lot. Like now.

Bakugou groaned and pulled at his hair in exasperation, not hearing the footsteps following behind him. In fact, he didn’t realize that he wasn’t alone until he felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to jump. He turned around and saw Kirishima and scowled, really not wanting to deal with him right now.

“Hey man, you okay?”

“Fucking fine,” he ripped his shoulder away from the other’s touch and continued to stomp towards their starting point. Kirishima must not have liked that answer because he ran up in front of Bakugou and placed both hands on his shoulders, stopping him.

“Seriously bro, you’ve been weird all week. What’s wrong? You can talk to me.” Kirishima was giving him one of the most earnest looks and it made his stomach flip. His scowl only deepened and his annoyance grew as the feelings grew.

“Fuck off asshole.” He pushed Kirishima out of the way. As Bakugou walked past, he caught a glimpse of the hurt look in the other’s eyes, which made his chest twist in guilt but he tried to ignore it. However, he only felt worse when he heard slow shuffling behind him but forced himself to shake off the feeling.

When they got to their designated position, Bakugou made sure to keep a fair distance away from Kirishima and tried not to think about the redhead. Instead, he focused on their training.

Well, that was the plan until Aizawa’s tired and annoying voice spoke through his ear piece.

“Bakugou, Kirishima, there’s been an issue so just hang tight until we can work this out. It should only take a minute.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” he yelled and walked over to the nearest wall, punching hard and hearing the satisfying crack of the concrete. Or maybe that was his hand? Either way, a satisfying sting radiated against his knuckles but he was still pissed.

“Bakugou calm down.” He whipped around, causing Kirishima to flinch. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Shut the fuck up Shitty Hair!” Bakugou started pacing around in front of the building, shoulders tense.

“You know, I never thought I’d be so happy to hear that nickname.”

“Huh? What the hell do you mean?” he mumbled but didn’t stop walking.

“Well, I mean that you haven’t talked to me, much less looked at me this past week.” The hurt in his voice made Bakugou stop walking and look over to where Kirishima was leaning against the doorframe. He pushed himself up and walked over to Bakugou, crossing his arms. Bakugou watched his every move and felt his mouth go dry when he saw every single one of Kirishima’s muscles shift with his movements. Kirishima stopped right in front of Bakugou and sighed, face softening. “Please talk to me Bakugou,” his voice was soft and comforting and only made him more frustrated because he was feeling more things.

“There’s nothing to fucking talk about.”

“I think there is.” He was more forceful this time.

“No there isn’t asshole.” Bakugou took a step forward, trying to intimidate the other into backing off.

“Now why don’t I believe you?” Fuck he isn’t backing down.

“Because you’re a goddamned idiot that’s why!”

“Just talk to me Bakugou!” Now it was Kirishima who stepped forwards.

“And why the fuck should I?!”

“Because I care about you that’s why!”

“Well not in the same way that I care about you!” Bakugou was seething, breathing heavily at the end of his yelling. He expected Kirishima to say something but the other was quiet, frozen in shock and only then did Bakugou realize what he had actually said. “Fuck, shit!” He started pacing again, this time also pulling at his hair.

“Bakugou,” Kirishima’s voice went back to being soft.

“Now do you see why I’ve been avoiding you?! You make me feel,” he stopped pacing and walked towards Kirishima,gesturing widly with his hands, “things that I don’t want to fucking feel! Things that I’ve never fucking felt before and it’s infuriating and you’re infuriating and I want to hate you but I can’t, which makes me hate you even more! So just fucking drop it and leave me the hell alone!” He turned his back to the redhead, body shaking as adrenaline pumped through his veins. He heard footsteps and felt two arms wrap around his torso, pinning his arms down as a body was pressed against his back. “GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME ASSHOLE!” Bakugou started to thrash around but Kirishima had activated his quirk, holding him still. Bakugou couldn’t get free no matter how hard he struggled so he let his body just go lax.

“Will you let me speak now?”

“Fuck off,” he mumbled in response.

“You’ve been saying that a lot today huh?” Kirishima let out an awkward laugh before clearing his throat, slowly letting go of Bakugou. Once his grip loosened enough, Bakugou torn himself away and faced the other, signature scowl on his face. His scowl dropped, however, when he saw Kirishima’s shaky smile. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he let out a breathy laugh and Bakugou tensed up. “I feel the same.”

“Ex-fucking-cuse me?” Bakugou blinked at the other, unsure if he heard that correctly.

“I feel the same!” Now it was Kirishima’s turn to pace around, gesturing wildly with his hands. “And it’s terrifying but terrific at the same time and I don’t know how to handle it or what to do but,” he stopped pacing and walked up to a dumbfounded Bakugou, grabbing the others hands and looking into his eyes, “if you want to, I want to try to figure this thing out. With you.” His last words came out as a mere whisper.

A choked breath escaped Bakugou’s lips as if all of his stress and troubles flew out of him at Kirishima’s words. The breath turned into a chuckle, which turned into a full blown laugh. Kirishima dropped his hands and took a step back, watching as Bakugou hunched over in laughter.

It took him a few moments before he was able to catch his breath and stood back up. It was only then that he felt wet spots on his cheeks. He looked back up at Kirishima and his heart swelled and he felt his face get cheeks get damper and damper as both relief and joy flooded his system.

“Fuck you for making me like this,” he wiped the tears from his face. Kirishima chuckled and smiled brightly before walking forwards and wrapping his arms around Bakugou, holding him closely. Bakugou wrapped his arms around the other’s waist and blushed when he felt the other kiss his forehead. He sighed into the hug and felt himself grow weaker as the adrenaline flushed out of his system, eyes closing involuntarily.

“Hey Bakugou?”

“Hm?”

“Wanna sleep now?”

“Kinda.”

“Alright.” Bakugou groaned in protest when Kirishima took a step back, only to be jolted when he felt an arm under his knees and one around his back, lifting him off of the ground. Bakugou wrapped his arms around the other’s neck and buried his face into his shoulder. “Aizawa-sensei, we’re coming back.”“Yeah I know. I heard everything.”

Bakugou peered up at Kirishima who gave a shy smile. “Oh, whoops.”

Love your writing! A prompt for you: I'd love to see Phil reacting to people saying he doesn't love Dan as much as Dan loves him which I think is stupid??

So, if you’ve read my fic Birthday Sex then you will know that I do not buy into this trope whatsoever, which i must say is a big reason I wrote it. I really just do not see where people are coming from when they say that Dan loves Phil more?? Maybe at the very, very beginning of their relationship it kind of seemed like Dan was a bit of an obsessed lovestruck young kiddo (spoiler: he was) but firstly, it’s important to remember that we don’t get to see everything the two of them say to one another and we already know that Dan tends to share a lot more with the public than Phil does. For example, when has Phil ever (barr his Draw My Life and a few other sparse instances) ever revealed anything serious and personal about himself? Whereas Dan just yesterday opened up about something so deeply intimate that it’s honestly baffling he had the courage at all. My point is that it’s highly, highly likely that there were things said between them behind the scenes that we just did not have any knowledge of whatsoever. I’d draw your attention to the Video That Will Not Be Named as an example, because obviously (if you choose to ignore dnp’s ‘explanation’ and see it as real/true) then it was NEVER meant to be seen by anyone except Dan. Think about that... if youtube hadn’t glitched, that video would not exist to us. How many more videos are there like this one? How many texts and phone calls and private conversations that are probably WAY more schmaltzy and incriminating??

Not only this, but as a follow up point, Phil is older, and he is maturer than Dan. The latter possibly gets less true as time goes on and Dan grows as a person (what a fantastic man he’s becoming I stg im so proud), but certainly up until now, Phil has been the adult of the two of them. Don’t try telling me he acts like a child either, because that’s not the same thing - he’s an entertainer for a family friendly YouTube channel, it doesn’t mean he isn’t a millionaire/business owner/well-educated, successful man. I find it not only silly that people expect him to be fawning over Dan every minute of the goddamn day on camera in order to prove his affection, but just ridiculously unrealistic. He’s a 30 year old man. If he is with Dan, then he’s been in a committed relationship with him for years. They’re over the honeymoon stage. They’re into something far more serious and committed now, and it’s a kind of love that doesn’t need to be shown at all times. 

Finally, I just want to add that apart from all I’ve said - neither of them (imo) show much sign of being madly in love with the other at all? I mean, you have to remember that we are a fandom, and it’s so easy to pick apart something and pull out the bits you want to fit your ideal picture. There is evidence of them being a couple, yes, but there’s also evidence against it! Neither of them refer to one another as ‘boyfriend’ or ‘partner’ and I honestly doubt they ever will! Dan is not constantly gooey over Phil, and the same goes the other way around. It baffles me that people can dissect every one of their looks and actions (I’m guilty of it too of course) and come up with these absurd headcanons such as “AWW DAn looks so in love here, and Phil looks so indifferent” because it’s just... it’s just completely ridiculous?? You have nothing to base that on whatsoever apart from a half second clip from a video - the leap to conclusion is beyond crazy. 

Idk I am aware i went off on a little ramble here, but this kind of thing is where the phandom descends into a total clusterfucky mess. It’s good to take a breather every once in a while and remind ourselves that the things we do know about the boys is very limited. Our ‘evidence’ from the past is still just a bunch of tweets and videos, none of us know them. I don’t want to destroy any ships, because personally I think there’s a LOT of mystery and confusion shrouding their relationship which could absolutely mean something else is going on, but again, I’m not going to make any mad assumptions about anything because at the end of the day I just don’t know. 

ANYWAY. Nothing wrong with writing FICTION about this, and that’s what you’ve asked for, so here my love! Thanks for the question (none of this was aimed at you btw! I know you’re just asking in general about the topic, I just wanted to share my thoughts on it).

Got a prompt for me? Click here! (Please be aware that due to an abundance of prompts, your prompt may take a few days to complete - but thank you all for submitting so far!)

The comment catches his attention, and Phil isn’t sure why. 

He’s scrolling through the comment section of the latest DanAndPhilGAMES video, a smile playing on his mouth as he reads everyone’s reactions to Dil’s latest adventures. 

It’s a treat he allows himself very rarely nowadays, to look through the comments. As Dan once said, it can be like picking through a minefield. Sure, the vast majority of the comments will be overwhelmingly positive, filled with adoration and appreciation of them both, lulling him into a false sense of security and then BAM! One will jump out, jarring him with its nasty words, or its negative perspective. Reading a mean comment can, even now, when there are literally thousands of nice once to combat it, throw Phil off-kilter for days. 

It can make him second guess every creative instinct. It can make him snappy and irritable, or just glum. 

This comment, though not exactly mean per se, is one such instance. He tries to ignore it, to just scroll past and move on with his life. It’s just a shipper comment, after all. That’s what he and Dan call them. Around half the comments they get on their videos are from the ‘shippers’. It’s fine. Usually neither of them pay any attention to them whatsoever. 

But this one has been upvoted 600 times. It has dozens of replies attached to it, clearly a topic of hot discussion. Phil scrolls back up, gnawing at his lip, and lets his eyes scan over the words again:

It’s so sad when Dan says something funny and looks at Phil all hopeful but Phil just ignores him. Heartbreaking to know that Dan will always love Phil more - ever since 2009. 3

Phil closes his laptop, wishing the words would dissolve from his brain. He shuts his eyes, but they burn behind his retinas, bright and jarring. Where do they get this stuff? Is that truly what people believe? 

He reopens his laptop and scrolls back up to the video, dragging the slider over the bar at the bottom of the window, scanning his and Dan’s faces for any signs of what that subscriber had said. 

As he scrolls through the video for the sixth time, squinting at the screen, he feels Dan flop down onto the sofa beside him, crunching something. Phil sits up, turning to Dan with warm cheeks, feeling caught out. 

Dan raises an eyebrow at him, glancing at the screen. He offers Phil a crisp from the packet in his hands. 

“Watching phan videos again?” Dan asks him, smiling. 

“Just... checking the comments on the Dil vid.” Phil tells him, and Dan sighs knowingly, placing the crisp packet aside. 

“Oh God, what’ve they said now?” Dan asks, shuffling towards Phil in order to see. 

Phil wonders if he should even mention this to Dan; it seems like it might be worse for him to know the fans seem to think this way, after all. Inevitably though, Phil breaks, not able to think up a good enough lie. 

With some reluctance, he scrolls down to the comment, and waits for Dan to read it, chewing his lip. 

“Oh,” Dan says in a strange voice, sitting upright. “That’s... I thought it was gonna be like ‘gay emo dicks’ or something.” 

Phil laughs a little, but it’s a hollow, unconvincing sound. “You know that... that’s not true, right?” 

Dan looks at him, something small and fearful hidden deep in the recesses of his eyes. “Yeah.”

He doesn’t sound very convinced, and it worries Phil immensely. “You’re my whole world, Dan.” Phil tells him with complete sincerity; Dan looks away, obviously embarrassed by the loaded emotion. “I know it sounds melodramatic. But you are. You’re my best friend, my favourite person in the world. I love you so much it’s crazy.”

There’s a choke to Dan’s voice when he next speaks. “Yeah,” he says again, sniffing. “I dunno where they get their weird ideas, tbh.”

Phil pushes his laptop off his knee, reaching for Dan and pulling him in. He holds him tight, pressing firm kisses into his soft curls. “I’m sorry if it ever comes off that way.” Phil tells him, voice a whisper of itself. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that I might not... love you as much.”

Dan shakes his head. “Don’t be stupid.” He pulls away a little, looking up into Phil’s eyes, his smile watery. “I know how much you love me, you sap.”

Phil surveys him carefully, scanning his face for signs of a lie. Eventually a smirk creeps onto his lips, and Dan zeroes in on it, confused. 

“Well,” Phil purrs, leaning forwards until their lips brush. “If you ever need a reminder...” 

Dan snorts with laughter, trying to wriggle free of his grip. A few kisses later, however, he seems to give in.  

Year in Review - Books I Read In 2017

Last year I only read about a hundred of other people's works, so I was able to note everything.  This year....was not like that.  By more committed Gutenberg-grinding, I increased that number by a factor of three.  These are the highlights, excerpted notes on stuff that I found particularly good, or relevant, or interesting.

Robert Wallace - The Tycoon of Crime Another Phantom adventure, though this one holds back the appearance of the great detective a little and actually sets up a few tricks that aren't immediately obvious.  Most are, though, and this is not a great mystery, but it's a competent enough pulp, well-flavored with brutality and gore that's almost heartrending in the modern day -- because it's a callback to the trenches of the Western Front, where bad-luck wounds, dismemberment, and poison gas were just everyday facts of life.  That look in passing into the world of the men who wrote this stuff and were looking for it in their reading is the main attraction of this nowadays, but if you're looking to read a Phantom story, this is probably the pick of the litter.

Edgar Rice Burroughs - Apache Devil There are a few pulled punches in this, but not a lot, and in addition to a gripping narrative this story also packs a lot of good craft and a more united plot than it seems at first glance.  It's interesting from the modern perspective to see Burroughs so sympathetic to the Apache in the context of his vigorous racism against "savages" from other places; some of this may be closer exposure to Native American culture and thus the greater willingness to credit them as human beings, and some of it may be him pitching to his audience, where American natives were crushed, nearly extinct, and eulogizable, while black people were making the Great Migration out of the south and creating economic anxiety.  Either way, this is a pretty good book and not as garbage in its politics as Burroughs frequently is.

Abraham Merritt - Seven Steps To Satan Merritt's Eastern lore is well-worked into this tale, and more importantly he does a good job of keeping the reader on their toes, guessing what of this Satan's tricks are magic and what are just that, tricks.  The intersection of magic, illusion, manipulation, and hypnotism is a neat contrast to the usual suspicions of occultism, and the effect is really neat in keeping this Indiana Jones adventure full of darkness and mystery.  Harry is a little too obvious a plot jackknife, but you have to get to a resolution somehow, and he doesn't stick out too much in this world of super-minds and super-drugs.  Merritt has better stuff, but this is pretty good even so.

Stella Benson - This Is The End I had a limited selection of Benson's stuff, but this is definitely the choice of the batch.  As smart and observant as ever, and with nearly as flawless and perfect a flow of language and an eye for metaphor as in Living Alone, she also turns all of this around into a punishing, apocalyptic hammer of emotional weight and import at the turn and through on to the devastating finish.  I'd been reading up on the Somme and Verdun campaigns, which would have been the backdrop offstage for this, so this may have hit me harder than others, but it's hard to see how that ending, and Benson's poetry woven in around her prose, could fail to have the same effect regardless of circumstances.

Walter S. Cramp - Psyche For real, I nearly miscopied this author's name as "Crap" when writing this out.  This one is BAD, folks.  You can introduce your characters with a physical description if you like, though it does get kind of fan-ficcy, but do not attach a goddamn alignment readout to it.  The descriptions suck, the deliberate archaisms in dialogue suck -- do not write 'thou' unless you are going to use 'you' elsewhere to show correct tu/vous formulations in older English -- the staging and plotting sucks, and Cra(m)p can't be bothered to keep a consistent tense.  This is an awful book and should have been pulped a hundred years ago rather than continuing to waste people's time and electrons down to the present.

J. A. Buck - Sargasso of Lost Safaris Everything you need to know about this insistently self-footbulleting series can be found from the episode here, where in the middle of a taut thriller about bad whites and educated natives double-crossing each other, the protagonists fight the world's worst-described dinosaur for pagecount.  No explanation, they just needed another 500 words between two chapters and so they roll on the random monster table and get a fucking Baryonix or whatever.  The 'girl Tarzan' trope is at the outer edges of reality, and Tarzan did a lot of Lost World garbage too, but too much of this is too true to life to fuck itself over by throwing in dinosaurs like it aint a thing.  Fuck this stupid shit.

Wilhelm Walloth - Empress Octavia "Death was to stalk over it like a Phoenician dyer, when he crushes purple snails upon a white woollen cloak till the dark juices trickle down investing the snowy vesture with a crimson splendor."  When you write this sentence, stop.  Just stop.  I have bad habits like this too, but nothing, even a translation from German, is a justification for throwing out a sentence like that, especially in a second paragraph.  Stop.  No. Beyond this, this is yet another Ben-Hur wannabe that is in love with its research and can't decide what fucking tense it's in.  If you are interested in Rome, read Gibbon or Tacitus, or Suetonius or Caesar himself; if you want literature, stay the FUCK away from the Bibliotheca Romana.  The plot takes directions that only a German can and would go in, in its period, but this boldness alone is not enough to excuse the poor composition and overall aimlessness.

Stephen Crane - Maggie: A Girl of the Streets I'm sure this was revolutionary when it came out, but at this distance, it feels like parody or melodrama - a lot of which is coming from the dialect, which is even more intolerable in the present than it was when this was written.  This isn't even hard dialect, and there's no need for it to be consistently phonetic rather than, like, just describing people's accents.  You look at "The Playboy of the Western World" and what that doesn't do with forcing pronunciations, and then you look back at this, and you see rapidly which one does a better job of conveying the lifestyles of the deprived and limited.  I know this is supposed to be heartbreaking, but it's completely outclassed and replaced, for modern audiences, by The Jungle, which more people need to re-read and actually understand as a labor story rather than a USDA tract.  Anything, literally anything, else you can get out of Stephen Crane is going to be better than this.

John Peter Drummond - Tigress of Twanbi Seriously, this story would be greatly improved by getting the Tarzan shit out of it.  If it was Hurree Das, picaresque Indian doctor versus Julebba the Arab Amazon with their countervailing motivations and the local allies who ended up in the crossfire of her domination war in the African bush and his attempts to stop it or at least get out with a whole skin, this tale would be significantly improved in addition to completely unidentifiable for the white audience it had to be sold to at the time of publication.  So it goes.  Drummond's side characters are significantly better than his leads or his plots, and should have held out for a trade to Stan Weinbaum or P.P. Sheehan for a case of beer plus a player to be named later rather than having to submit to this dreck.

Robert Eustace - The Brotherhood of the Seven Kings Playing like a series of Eustace's Madame Sara stories -- there's definitely something to peel the onion on there, where every villain is a mysterious older Latin woman -- the plot here moves by the usual bumps of caper and medical/forensic detection, with seldom an attachment from one episode to the next.  The individual stories are entertaining, but this is a collection, not a novel, and going from front to back is like binging a TV series in novella form.  The individual tricks range from lame and overdone to Holmesian superclass, but this would be so much better if there was an actual whole narrative rather than this point to point.

Augusta Groner - The Pocket Diary Found In The Snow If I had gotten to this before Three Pretenders, I definitely would have thrown in a shoutout callback to Joe Mueller somewhere; Groner's Austrian detective is a more modern Holmes in a Vienna at the end of its rope, and in addition to the neat characters and relatable scene dressing, the mystery here is pretty good and the inevitable howdoneit epilogue is actually interesting rather than tiresome, which is always a potential stumbling block in this sort of caper.  Most of Groner's work that I have is pretty short, but at least I'll have the possibility of re-reading her in the original German later.

Anonymous for The Wizard - Six-Gun Gorilla It's easy to see why nobody, so far, has come forward to claim this clunky Western with a hilarious concept played absolutely straight.  This is a Madonna's-doctor's-dog exercise in crank-turnery written in Scotland by Brits who have never been to the high desert, for an audience that needs to be told that bandits aren't particularly interested in mining.  As a craft exercise, there's some merit to it: anyone can write a gorilla-revenge story in Africa, or a Western manhunt, but when an editor comes to you and says "so there's this gorilla and he's a badass gunfighter, write a story to fit these illustrations and make it not suck", that's when you really have to stretch your creative muscles.  There are signs that this was a house name product or a collab rather than one author, and more insistent signs that it was a joke played on the readership to see how long they'd put up with it.  It's almost magic realist in its combination of brutality and absurdity -- who the hell knows what British schoolboys thought of it in 1939.

Robert W. Chambers - The Slayer of Souls Probably not the inspiration for that song that was on like every compilation in Rock Hard and Metal Hammer in summer 2005, this Chambers joint is either pitched perfectly for the Trumpist present -- did you know that Muslims, socialists, Chinese people, unionists, and anarchists are all actually the same, and all actually parts of a gigantic Satanist conspiracy? oh wow such deep state many alex jones -- or an incoherent stew of staunch J. Edgar Hoover fanboyism that can't keep its own geography straight, which is actually kind of the same thing so never mind.  This is exactly the sort of story that George Orwell was so hot about in "Boys' Weeklies": good, craft-wise, and definitely gripping, but utterly complicit in a way and to a degree that almost becomes self-parody.  If you can stop laughing at it, it's got the good action and aggressively-expansive world-setting of good rano-esque anime; if you can't, Chambers has better short stories and have you heard of this guy called Abraham Merrit?

Stendahl - The Red and the Black It is maybe over-egging it a little to call this a 'perfect' novel, but it is closer to that perfection than it is to any other reasonable descriptor.  The society of the Bourbon restoration may be lost to us, but the characters stand the test of time, and Stendahl moves them in time with the plot -- the way that their actions are only tenuously liked to their outcomes is a triumph of realism -- with the hand of a master.  I like Stendahl's Italian stuff too, but France in his own time is his best course, and this is his best work.

Sylvanus Cobb - Ben Hamed What's really striking about this sword and sandal mellerdrammer is how relatively non-racist it is, and how easily it accepts Muslims as real people and mostly normal.  There's a bunch of orientalism, sure, but while the Giant Negro sidekick occasionally comes off servile, he's also smart, experienced, and independent, and takes, for his characterization, an appropriately central role in shepherding the star-crossed lovers to the end of their tale.  This could easily get a banging Arab-directed film adaptation today with very few changes -- and that's not just about how good it is as entertainment, but also about how far Cobb was ahead of the curve in 1863.

Talbot Mundy - C. I. D. Another inter-war Indian thriller, this excellent spy novel pits a wide range of the native-state establishment -- corrupt priests, a venal rajah, the incompetent British Resident, a motley gang of profiteers -- against the genius and initiative of Mundy's great hope for India, the always effective, never moral Chullunder Gose.  As expected, the top agent of the Confidential Investigations Division masterfully controls the whole chessboard, pitting the various enemy forces against each other and subverting each in turn before throwing in his reserves -- Hawkes, back in a smaller role as British India yields to British-Indian cooperation, and the obligatory American, a pre-MSF doctor who starts the book looking for a Chekhov's tiger hunt.  Thing is, this is fiction, and so it's Mundy who's really keeping all these balls in the air and weaving the skein of the story into an incredibly awesome whole.  If you have problems with Kipling and Haggard, start getting into Mundy from here. A neat thing that will not go unnoticed by other pulp deep-divers is the shots-fired bit introducing the Resident's library, which is noted to feature the works of Edgar Wallace.  Whether to make a point in the story -- "every colonial section chief, no matter how actually bad, secretly thinks of himself as Sanders", which I've used in my own stuff -- or to start beef -- "people read Wallace and think he knows about the colonies, but he has actually just been to the track and his apartment and needs to stfu before idiots making policy off his 'exceptionally stupid member of the Navy League circa 1910' worldview hurt somebody" -- this is definitely a callout, and definitely intentional.

Gordon MacReagh - The Witch-Casting I'm reading these Kingi Bwana stories in order, and it is getting suspiciously clear that as long as he put in a bit of African-kicking at the start, he was free to get as smart and real as he liked later in the story -- and the amount of kicking was something that there were subtle efforts to reduce.  This one starts off with Kaffa getting the brunt of it, but almost immediately turns around on that point as King and a larger collection of nonwhite friends-as-much-as-trusties do a witch-hunt unlike any witch-hunt you'd expect from '30s pulp, with a similarly sharp turn on African traditional religion that's nearly as out of place.  MacReagh cannot completely escape his own prejudices or the expectations of his time, but this one gets as close to the event horizon as any of his stuff.

Titus Petronius Arbiter - The Satyricon The modern age has ground a lot of the obscenity off this one, which for many years was mostly famous, infamous and/or banned for its central plots of man-on-man sex; in 2017, it takes more than boyfucking to shock people.  This is probably for the better; with the false atmosphere of licentiousness cut out of it, this is as it was at the beginning, a spicy story of Roman idiots having hilarious misadventures that, by subtle exaggeration, hold the follies and fads of their time up to ridicule.  It is longer than it needs to be, and some of the jokes are poorly preserved, and this translation is contaminated by unnecessary footnotes and inclusion bodies of later forgers' porn that's been stapled in over the centuries, but it's still a good, true look at Rome as it actually was at the height of the empire, without the hagiography of a historian or the religio-political axe-grinding of the Christians.  Probably worth the struggle.

Willa Cather - April Twilights I was collecting Cather from her papers at the University of Nebraska, and had to read this in the process of reformatting it; poetry does not well survive HTML->ASCII transitions.  The deep and dark and bleak is strong here; through the classical allusions, the callbacks to Provencal troubadours, across the American landscape, the same refrain runs: "I am old and decrepit and not emotionally capable of loving other people".  So, relatable.  The widespread criticism of Cather, that she can't get herself out of traditional modes even when this is to her disadvantage, is held up by her poetry as well; there's more than a few places here where you've got to frown at a bodgingly conventional rhyme or metaphor that someone more open to modernity would almost have had to have done better.  But there are, even still parts where that traditionalism works well, and is effective; it's worth reading out for those, even at all that.

H.P. Lovecraft and others - Twenty-Nine Collaborative Stories Most of what we now recognize as the Cthulhu Mythos -- and definitely any kind of idea of Lovecraft's stuff as a coherent whole or linked world-system -- comes out of these stories as much as his own.  On his own, Lovecraft moved to the beat of his own drum and followed his ideas where they went; here, he helps friends and fans plug their fanfic into what becomes a shared universe.  The stories are not all great; Hazel Heal put up some classics here but also some stinkers, and most of Robert Barlow's contributions, especially as they range into sci-fi, are kind of eh.  Zealia Bishop, though, does yeoman service as Lovecraft's official trans-Mississippian correspondent, and Adolphe de Castro's top-class works settle Lovecraftian mysticism in real foreign lands.  It's worth getting through these: there's good stuff in here, and you also get the sense and feel of how Lovecraft actively built his 'school' -- and ensured that he was the one to influence the direction of weird fiction for years to come.

William Hope Hodgson - The House on the Borderland A true classic, this is potentially the very most black metal horror novel ever written.  The brutality of the swine creatures, the remote devastation of the time-blasted cosmos, the liminality of dreams and reality; Teitanblood and Xasthur and Inquisition hope and fail to convey this sense of unholy immensity, of uncaring timeless evil.  Hodgson hits some heights in his shorter stories, but here, he hits it absolutely out of the park.  Completely essential.

Suetonius - The Life of Claudius Claudius comes off in this one like I've observed German colonial rule as remembered in most places other than Africa: "not worse than necessary".  Suetonius doesn't miss the caprices of a guy who almost certainly was on the spectrum, and had other distinguishing impairments, but also faithfully records a lot of good works and good ideas, with less wastage and idiocy than the likes of his surrounding emperors.  The translator's appendix, as expected, freaks out about the results of Claudius' expedition to Britain, and continues to vainly expect the Roman people to want to get rid of effective and oppressive imperial rule to get back to the ineffective oppression of the senatorial republic.  How someone who translates Latin can be ignorant of "senatores boni viri, senatus mala bestia" and what that actually means in the context of government is beyond me.

Julius Caesar - De Bello Civili This is in three parts, double-text, and when I can understand what places are being talked about (still not 100%, even after all of this, on where the heck in Italy Brundusium is), it flows well and is as clear in its language as anything else of Caesar's.  Even the structure is well-laid: in book 1, Caesar starts the war, and wins a big victory in Spain; in book 2, one of his generals gets disastered in Africa; and in book 3, the epic conclusion and final battles.  Though this is still ultimately a public relations exercise, Caesar doesn't step back from his own disasters, and gives full credit to his foes: this does tend to make him look better when he beats them up, and it is curious how nothing is ever directly his fault, and how most reverses go to troops losing their head and acting without orders, which would be out of character for his faithful super-army if it didn't keep happening.  As always, Caesar leans on logistics; his focus on the relative supply situations in Spain and in Thessaly is the key to success, and a dead giveaway that this was written or at least dictated by the commander himself, and not by some biographer who wouldn't've had that experience in keeping an army fed and watered in the field.

Katherine Mansfield - Something Childish and Other Stories What's really cool in this collection of earlier Mansfield is that you get to see her evolve through the War: she's already mature, and really good, in the New Zealand and Continental tales that precede it, but after the title story (dated to 1914, with a collapse-out at the end that is a KILLER allegory for that August, even if unintended), you really start to see how the nervous stress of total war wears on a population engaged, how the greater position of women in society transforms her and her work, and leads her on towards self-discovery.  The later and more experimental stories are, in general, slightly better, but this is all good material -- and there's a hell of a sting in the tail at the end.

Henry W. Herbert - The Roman Traitor In his introduction Herbert mentions a friend who encouraged him to finish this book, without which it would never have been released.  This friend should be dug up and beaten soundly with rocks, because this rehash of the Catilline conspiracy is utterly unnecessary as a novel or as antiquarianism, and Herbert is an awful, awful writer whose torture of language and narrative structure would shame a Nero.  The day you write the phrase "bad conclave" is the day your editor should throw you through a door.  This isn't the worst book in the Bib. Romanica, but it may be the very most badly written.  Just read the actual history from Sallust and forget this stupid garbage.

Gustave Flaubert - Salammbo This takes a while to really get its feet under it and show where it's going, but once it does, look out.  Flaubert masterfully captures the brutality of warfare and the color of the ancient world, and his language is superbly translated; you put this next to the staid English garbage in the rest of the Bib. Romanica and you wonder why most of them even bothered.  The turn at the end hits like a ton of bricks, especially if you like me don't know anything about Carthaginian history and don't know what's coming -- but it's also the only possible ending for this captivating chronicle of horror, misery and nightmare.  Just excellent.

Willa Cather - My Antonia A deeply drawn narrative of love, growth, and the midwestern plains, this book is more enhanced than anything else by Cather's commitment to its place and time: childhood is always a lost world forever, but the place that Jim and Antonia grow up through is thoroughly lost a hundred years and more on, but it survives in these pages down to the dirt on the floors and the chaff under the characters' collars.  After the narrator goes to Omaha, the tale weakens a little, and the end, for modern audiences, is probably a little under-tuned, but this is Cather's flagship novel for a reason, and definitely rewards the time spent reading it.

Margaret Atwood - Negotiating With the Dead This is another lecture series like the Forster above, but coming from different source, moving in different ways, and much more about Atwood herself and the roots of her writing in the Canadian landscape and literary scene that shaped her.  There is a lot about writing as a living thing in this book, and very little about it as a process: it's kind of a synthesis-antithesis-conclusion out of Forster and Bickham, more perceptive than either and leaving Welty, poor soul so far from the modern perspective, in the absolute dust.  It may be a question of eras, or just one of sympathies -- an adequately intelligent writer of speculative fiction is going to necessarily fall in with Atwood's ideas about doing something meaningful that also keeps the lights on -- but this book, out of all of the four in this mini-course, hit the most home and told me the most about what I do that I didn't already know.  It doesn't have the coherent, lecturized feel of the Forster, but at times there are just the most amazing insights, and the craziest images out of that crazy time that was the middle 20th century, and with how good it was I'm fairly ashamed to not have read any other Atwood before it, which makes me just an awful person.  At least I'm in a damn library and probably can fix that now.

Willa Cather - The Bohemian Girl A novella that should probably better and more widely reputed than it is, this one is mostly a meditation on love, maturity, and switching horses in midstream, but Cather, like no one else, manages to defend both the dour, hard prairie homestead and the need to escape from it.  This is her "zwey seele wohnen, ach, in meinen Brust", and it's kind of a thing all through her fiction, but in here it's especially well developed, with a coda that unlike a lot of her other ones actually works.

Talbot Mundy - The Marriage of Meldrum Strange Sales figures or editorial comment must have highlighted the "big team" problems in the last book, because this one cuts it down to the essentials: Ommony and Gose and Ramsden for muscle and some minor characters.  The plot is a good and twisty romance, keeping everything real, and it is just magic to watch Ommony work calm while Gose spits science like a Bollywood comedian, yin and yang combining to catch everyone in every trap.  A rare gem after several misfires.

Talbot Mundy - Old Ugly-Face One of Mundy's real best, this is an epic navigation of the human heart, against the majestic Himalayas....played by psychics battling to ensure the succession of the Dalai Lama.  Mundy gon Mundy, but the love triangle here is perfect and the environments are astounding -- a must read.

D. W. O'Brien - Blitzkrieg in the Past There's a chapter in this one called "Tank Versus Dinosaur", and that's about the shape of it.  You could also say "Sergeant Rock goes to Pellucidar" and not miss by much; a M3 Grant and crew ends up in a fantasy cavemen-and-dinosaurs past and has some adventures while talking '40s smack, and then romps their way home.  What's cool about it for authors is how O'Brien writes around his dinosaur: there is no description at all of the beast or its species or attributes.  It is big, and makes angry noises, because the author could not be assed to take the time out to do research while writing this story.  And yet it works, unless you're reading really close; let this be a lesson for anyone who can't finish their research up exactly correct on deadline.

Talbot Mundy - The Ivory Trail A lot of this raw, brutal epic of survival in the east-African backcountry is probably from life; Mundy tried this life and failed at it before he became a writer, and the asides and incidental scenes can only be from bitter experience.  Others might expect a purer adventure -- you'd get one from MacReagh on these materials -- but Mundy has the essential truth of colonialism: there are no secrets, mere survival is hideously tough, and everyone else in the game is more brutal and better equipped.  Conrad might have had the literary chops and adventurousness to end this differently, but even he who fared into the Heart of Darkness didn't have the stomach to write a middle passage like Mundy does here with his heroes in German prison.

Talbot Mundy - Guns of the Gods This Yasmini adventure makes itself a prequel, of her youth and how she got into the position of wealth and information mastery that sets up her later career.  The plot is tight if less convoluted than some that I've been reading lately, and the incidents woven through the intrigue and the treasure hunt are fantastic.  On a deeper level, the real judgment and sensitivity in the negotiation of east and west by Tess and Yasmini makes up for the stray Americans happening into the heart of the tale, and in a real way this is Mundy's most openly and solidly anti-Raj, pro-Home Rule adventure yet.  For both an excellent story and what's probably a local maximum in wokeness, this comes highly recommended.

Thorne Smith - Rain In The Doorway A kind of Alice in Jazz Age NYC, this is a ridiculous madcap adventure that loses little in the passage of time and not much at all in the way it winds back down to reality.  Smart and stupid and sexy in all the best ways, this kind of hilarity is pretty much Smith's best stock in trade, and this particular book is one of the better examples.

Thorne Smith - Turnabout The least hair of maturity creeps into Smith's writing here, as one of his interminable boozing Lost Generation miscouples actually gets in a family way as well as into an inexplicable supernatural adventure.  The very very familiar central trick is well executed, and Tim's advancing pregnancy provides a nice frame to hang the rest of the events off of.  The end is a little pat with the reinsertion of the Dutch uncle, but you live and deal.  This is one of Smith's better, and a good occasion to round out the end of the string.

Wilkie Collins - Armadale Collins makes up for his bad start with this absolute beast of a romance, bound up with mysticism rather than being an encyclopedia, but still turned out with real and vital if slightly implausible people.  The consistent mystery of the vision unites the book, but the way that the various Armadales react to that vision, its interpretations, and each other, is solid and real.  It is an immense read that demanded like six hours of flight time, but it is definitely rewarding, and worth the bother of pounding through the huge narrative.

Wilkie Collins - No Name There is a tangled tale and a half in this one, a desperate adventure of roguery in the name of revenge that keeps getting tangled up with coincidence as much as fate or intent.  The links may be a little creaky, but this is a huge, smart, intensely twisting drama with a lead for the ages in Magdalen, and an adversary worthy of her steel in Lecomt.  The end is a little formula and takes a little long to wind down, but this is an artifact of the time and the expected conventions, and it inhibits the power of this novel but little.  Good good stuff.

Talbot Mundy - The Thrilling Adventures of Dick Anthony of Arran "For a few days Cairo swallowed Dick."  NO.  Shut it.  Shut up.  Be mature.  Tuned to a compositional level somewhere between Sexton Blake and Lovecraft's middle-school works, this is not good or well-written Mundy, and there are research holes in it that might have been stabbed through with a claymore.  In places, his later quality pokes through, but in the main this is a stolid imitation of part Kipling, part John Buchan by a writer who does not have enough name weight to force publishers to his way of thinking rather than the reverse.  This leftover should have stayed left over and buried.

These were excerpted from the full writeups of the complete chronological list below, which accounts for frequent hanging references.  The pure volume of this list indicates why I didn't copy the whole of the writeup blocks into this entry.

Robert Barr - The Sword Maker E. Rice Burroughs - Land of Terror E. Rice Burroughs - Tarzan and the Leopard Men L. Winifred Faraday (tr) - Tain bo Cuailnge Robert Barr - The Triumphs of Eugene Valmont Richard Rhodes - The Making of the Atomic Bomb Robert Wallace - Death Flight Richard Rhodes - Dark Sun: The Making of the Hydrogen Bomb Richard Rhodes - Twilight of the Bombs Robert Wallace - Empire of Terror Robert Wallace - Fangs of Murder Robert Wallace - The Sinister Dr. Wong Mary Cagle - Let's Speak English! Robert Wallace - The Tycoon of Crime Stella Benson - Kwan-yin William H. Ainsworth - The Spectre Bride Robert Eustace - The Face of the Abbot Robert Eustace - The Blood-Red Cross Robert Eustace - Madam Sara Robert Eustace - Followed Robert Eustace - The Secret of Emu Plain Arthur Conan Doyle - The Uncharted Coast Edgar Rice Burroughs - Apache Devil Edgar Rice Burroughs - Tarzan and the Tarzan Twins Edgar Rice Burroughs - Tarzan the Invincible William W. Astor - The Last of the Tenth Legion Edgar Rice Burroughs - Tarzan the Magnificent Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Bandit of Hell's Bend Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Cave Girl Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Deputy Sheriff of Comanche County Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Efficiency Expert Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Girl From Farris' Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Girl From Hollywood Stella Benson - Living Alone Stella Benson - The Desert Islander Victor Appleton - Tom Swift and his Giant Telescope Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Lad and the Lion Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Man-Eater Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Moon Men Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Outlaw of Torn Edgar Rice Burroughs - The Rider Edgar Rice Burroughs - The War Chief Abraham Merritt - Burn, Witch, Burn! Abraham Merritt - Creep, Shadow! Abraham Merritt - Seven Steps To Satan Abraham Merritt - The Dwellers in the Mirage Abraham Merritt - The Face in the Abyss Abraham Merritt - The Last Poet and the Robots Edward Spencer Beesly - Catiline, Clodius, and Tiberius Malcolm Jameson - Collected Stories Fantasy Magazine - The Challenge From Beyond The Strand - As Far As They Had Got J. M. Synge - The Playboy of the Western World Abdullah/Brand/Means/Sheehan - The Ten-Foot Chain Stella Benson - This Is The End Stella Benson - Twenty Emily Beesly - Stories From the History of Rome Hugh Allingham - Captain Cuellar's Adventures in Connaught and Ulster, A.D. 1588 James DeMille - The Martyr of the Catacombs Sallust - Bellum Catalinae Edmond Rostand - Cyrano de Bergerac "Captain Adam Seaborn" - Symzonia, A Voyage of Discovery R.E.H. Dyer - Raiders of the Sarhad Walter S. Cramp - Psyche H.P. Lovecraft - From Beyond Robert F. Pennell - Ancient Rome Garrett Putnam Serviss - Edison's Conquest of Mars Irving Batcheller - Charge It Irving Batcheller - Vergillius Duffield Osborne - The Lion's Brood Dale Carnegie - How to Win Friends and Influence People J. A. Buck - The Slave Brand of Sleman bin Ali J. A. Buck - Killers' Kraal J. A. Buck - Sargasso of Lost Safaris J. A. Buck - Sword of Gimshai Wilhelm Walloth - Empress Octavia Stephen Crane - The Bride Comes to Yellow Sky Stephen Crane - The Blue Hotel Stephen Crane - The Open Boat Stephen Crane - Maggie: A Girl of the Streets Stephen Crane - The Monster and More Stendahl - Armance Victor Appleton II - Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung Victor Appleton II - Tom Swift and the Visitor From Planet X Robert Curtis - Edgar Wallace Each Way John Peter Drummond - Bride of the Serpent God John Peter Drummond - The Nirvana of the Seven Voodoos John Peter Drummond - Tigress of Twanbi Robert Eustace - The Brotherhood of the Seven Kings Augusta Groner - The Pocket Diary Found In The Snow Augusta Groner - The Case of the Registered Letter Augusta Groner - The Case of the Lamp That Went Out Augusta Groner - The Case of the Golden Bullet Augusta Groner - The Pool of Blood in the Pastor's Study Anonymous for The Wizard - Six-Gun Gorilla Walter Horatio Pater - Marius the Epicurean John Russel Russell - Adventures in the Moon and Other Worlds Answers Magazine - Sexton Blake J. U. Giesy with Junius B. Smith - The Occult Detector J. U. Giesy with Junius B. Smith - The Significance of the High "D" J. U. Giesy with Junius B. Smith - The House of Invisible Bondage Stendahl - The Abbess of Castro and Others John Aylscough - Faustula John Aylscough - Mariquita Robert W. Chambers - The Maker of Moons and Other Stories Robert W. Chambers - The Slayer of Souls Edith Nesbit - My School Days Edith Nesbit - Re-collected  (self re-collection) Edith Nesbit - The Magic World Edith Nesbit - Wet Magic Stanley G. Weinbaum - The Planet of Doubt Stanley G. Weinbaum - Smothered Seas Stanley G. Weinbaum - Graph Stanley G. Weinbaum - Flight on Titan Stanley G. Weinbaum - The Red Peri Stanley G. Weinbaum - The Black Flame Stanley G. Weinbaum - The Dark Other Stanley G. Weinbaum - The New Adam Gordon MacReagh - re-collected shorter stories  (self re-collection) Stendahl - The Charterhouse of Parma Stendahl - The Red and the Black Sylvanus Cobb - Atholbane Sylvanus Cobb - Ben Hamed Sylvanus Cobb - Ivan the Serf Sylvanus Cobb - Bianca Sylvanus Cobb - Orion the Gold-Beater Sylvanus Cobb - The Gunmaker of Moscow Sylvanus Cobb - The Knight of Leon Sylvanus Cobb - The Smuggler's Ward Talbot Mundy - Black Light Talbot Mundy - Burberton and Ali Beg Talbot Mundy - C. I. D. Talbot Mundy - Caesar Dies Talbot Mundy - For the Salt Which He Had Eaten Talbot Mundy - From Hell, Hull, and Halifax Talbot Mundy - Full Moon J. U. Giesy - Palos of the Dog Star Pack J. U. Giesy with Junius B. Smith - The Wistaria Scarf J. U. Giesy with Junius B. Smith - The Purple Light Gordon MacReagh - The Slave Runner Gordon MacReagh - The Ebony Juju Gordon MacReagh - The Lost End of Nowhere Gordon MacReagh - Quill Gold Gordon MacReagh - Unprofitable Ivory Gordon MacReagh - The Witch-Casting Gordon MacReagh - Strangers of the Amulet Gordon MacReagh - The Ivory Killers Gordon MacReagh - Black Drums Talking Walter Moers - The 13 1/2 Lives of Captain Bluebear Gordon MacReagh - Wardens of the Big Game Gordon MacReagh - Raiders of Abyssinia Gordon MacReagh - A Man to Kill Gordon MacReagh - Slaves For Ethiopia Gordon MacReagh - Strong As Gorillas Gordon MacReagh - Blood and Steel Gordon MacReagh - White Waters and Black Cardinal Newman - Callista J. U. Giesy with Junius B. Smith - The Master Mind Titus Petronius Arbiter - The Satyricon Talbot Mundy - Her Reputation Giancarlo Livraghi - The Power of Stupidity Willa Cather - April Twilights H.P. Lovecraft and others - Twenty-Nine Collaborative Stories J. U. Giesy with Junius B. Smith - Rubies of Doom Abraham Merritt - The Moon Pool Abraham Merritt - The Metal Monster Abraham Merritt - The Ship of Ishtar John G. Lockhart - Valerius William Hope Hodgson - Carnacki, Supernatural Detective and Others William Hope Hodgson - Carnacki the Ghost Finder William Hope Hodgson - The House on the Borderland Suetonius - The Life of Julius Caesar Suetonius - The Life of Augustus Caesar Suetonius - The Life of Tiberius Caesar Suetonius - The Life of Caligula Suetonius - The Life of Claudius Suetonius - The Life of Nero Suetonius - The Life of Galba Suetonius - The Life of Otho Suetonius - The Life of Vitellus Suetonius - The Life of Vespasian Suetonius - The Life of Titus Suetonius - The Life of Domitian The Lock and Key Library - Classic Mystery and Detective Stories - Old Time English Hume Nisbet - The Demon Spell b/w The Vampire Maid Hume Nisbet - The Land of the Hibiscus Blossom Hume Nisbet - The Swampers E. Hoffman Price - The Girl From Samarcand Flavius Philostratus - The Life of Apollonius H. P. Lovecraft - At the Mountains of Madness H. P. Lovecraft - Selected Essays including Supernatural Horror in Literature H. P. Lovecraft - The Case of Charles Dexter Ward H. P. Lovecraft - The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath and Others H. P. Lovecraft - The Dream Cycle H. P. Lovecraft - The Dunwich Horror H. P. Lovecraft - The Shadow Out of Time H. P. Lovecraft - The Shadow Over Innsmouth H. P. Lovecraft - The Whisperer in Darkness H. P. Lovecraft - His Earliest Writings H. P. Lovecraft - Poems and Fragments  (self re-collection) H. P. Lovecraft - The Cthulhu Mythos  (self re-collection) H. P. Lovecraft - Tales of Monstrosity  (self re-collection) H. P. Lovecraft - Tales of the Crypt  (self re-collection) H. P. Lovecraft - Tales of Paganism  (self re-collection) Edward Bulwer-Lytton - The Last Days of Pompeii Gavin Menzies - 1421: The Year China Discovered America Ernst Eckstein - Quintus Claudius Julius Caesar - The African Wars Julius Caesar - The Alexandrine War Julius Caesar - De Bello Civili Julius Caesar - The Hispanic War Talbot Mundy - Cock o' the North Julius Caesar - The Gallic Wars Katherine Mansfield - Bliss and Other Stories Katherine Mansfield - In A German Pension Katherine Mansfield - Something Childish and Other Stories Katherine Mansfield - The Garden Party and Other Stories John W. Graham - Nearea Andy Adams - A Texas Matchmaker Andy Adams - Cattle Brands Andy Adams - Reed Anthony, Cowman Andy Adams - The Log of a Cowboy Andy Adams - Wells Brothers Charles Kingsley - Hypatia Francis Stevens - Claimed! Francis Stevens - Nightmare! Francis Stevens - Serapion Francis Stevens - The Heads of Cerberus Francis Stevens - The Rest of the Stories  (self re-collection) Talbot Mundy - Hira Singh Henry W. Herbert - The Roman Traitor Robert Howard - Tales of Breckenridge Elkins Robert Howard - Tales of El Borak Robert Howard - Tales of the West Robert Howard - Swords of the Red Brotherhood Robert Howard - The Black Stranger Robert Howard - The Pike Bearfield Stories Robert Howard - The Exploits of Buckner Jeopardy Grimes Robert Howard - Weird Poetry  (self re-collection) Robert Howard - Collected Juvenilia Robert Howard - The Spicy Adventures of Wild Bill Clanton  (self re-collection) Robert Howard - Tales of the Weird West  (self re-collection) Robert Howard - The Treasure of Shaibar Khan Robert Howard - Red Blades of Black Cathay Robert Howard - The Isle of Pirates' Doom Robert Howard - Dig Me No Grave Robert Howard - The Garden of Fear Robert Howard - The God in the Bowl Virgil - The Aneid Gustave Flaubert - Herodias Gustave Flaubert - Madame Bovary Talbot Mundy - Hookum Hai Gustave Flaubert - Salammbo Willa Cather - Alexander's Bridge Willa Cather - My Antonia Eudora Welty - On Writing E.M. Forster - Aspects of the Novel Jack M. Bickham - The 38 Most Common Fiction Writing Mistakes (and How to Avoid Them) Margaret Atwood - Negotiating With the Dead Arthur Conan Doyle - Fairies Photographed Arthur Conan Doyle - Great Britain and the Next War Willa Cather - My Autobiography, by S. S. McClure Willa Cather - O Pioneers! Willa Cather - One of Ours Willa Cather - The Song of the Lark Heinrich Brode - Tippu Tib Willa Cather - The Troll Garden Willa Cather - Youth and the Bright Medusa Willa Cather - The Bohemian Girl Willa Cather - The Affair at Grover Station Willa Cather - The Count of Crow's Nest Willa Cather - The Shortest Stories  (self re-collection) Willa Cather - Tales ABC  (self re-collection) Willa Cather - Tales DEF  (self re-collection) Willa Cather - Tales G-K-O  (self re-collection) Willa Cather - Tales PRST  (self re-collection) Willa Cather - Stories W  (self re-collection) Henryk Sienkiewicz - Quo Vadis Charles Darwin - The Voyage of the Beagle Sinclair Lewis - Babbitt Talbot Mundy - Jimgrim and Allah's Peace Talbot Mundy - East and West Talbot Mundy - The Iblis at Ludd Talbot Mundy - The Seventeen Thieves of El-Khalil Talbot Mundy - The Lion of Petra Talbot Mundy - The Woman Ayisha Talbot Mundy - The Last Trooper Talbot Mundy - The King in Check Talbot Mundy - A Secret Society Talbot Mundy - Moses and Mrs. Aintree Talbot Mundy - The Mystery of Khufu's Tomb Talbot Mundy - Jungle Jest Talbot Mundy - The Nine Unknown Talbot Mundy - The Marriage of Meldrum Strange Talbot Mundy - The Hundred Days Talbot Mundy - OM: The Secret of Ahbor Valley Talbot Mundy - The Devil's Guard Talbot Mundy - Jimgrim, King of the World Talbot Mundy - Machassan Ah Talbot Mundy - Oakes Respects An Adversary Talbot Mundy - Old Ugly-Face Talbot Mundy - Payable to Bearer Talbot Mundy - Poems and Dicta Talbot Mundy - Rung Ho! Talbot Mundy - Selected Stories Gordon MacReagh - Projection From Epsilon Leroy Yerxa - Back from the Crypt  (self re-collection) Garrett P. Serviss - A Columbus of Space Garrett P. Serviss - The Moon Metal Garrett P. Serviss - The Second Deluge Garrett P. Serviss - The Sky Pirate Sinclair Lewis - Arrowsmith Robert Buchanan - Camlan and the Shadow of the Sword Robert Buchanan - God and the Man Henry R. Schoolcraft - To the Sources of the Mississippi River D. W. O'Brien - Squadron of the Damned D. W. O'Brien - Blitzkrieg in the Past D. W. O'Brien - The Floating Robot D. W. O'Brien - Gone In 20 Kilobytes  (self re-collection) D. W. O'Brien - Lost in Space  (self re-collection) D. W. O'Brien - Ghosts of War  (self re-collection) William Ware - Aurelian William Ware - Zenobia J. S. Fletcher - The Stories  (self re-collection) J. S. Fletcher - Perris of the Cherry-Trees J. S. Fletcher - The Middle Temple Murder J. S. Fletcher - The Paradise Mystery J. S. Fletcher - The Safety Pin Francis H. Atkins - The Short Stories  (self re-collection) M. P. Shiel - In Short  (self re-collection) Francis H. Atkins - A Studio Mystery Francis H. Atkins - The Black Opal Talbot Mundy - The Eye of Zeitoon Talbot Mundy - The Ivory Trail Talbot Mundy - The Man From Poonch Talbot Mundy - The Middle Way Talbot Mundy - The Red Flame of Erinpura Talbot Mundy - The Thunder Dragon Gate Talbot Mundy - Tros of Samothrace Talbot Mundy - Queen Cleopatra Talbot Mundy - Purple Pirate Talbot Mundy - A Soldier and a Gentleman Talbot Mundy - Winds of the World Talbot Mundy - King of the Khyber Rifles Talbot Mundy - Guns of the Gods Talbot Mundy - Caves of Terror Thorne Smith - Biltmore Oswald: The Diary of a Hapless Recruit Thorne Smith - Biltmore Oswald: Very Much At Sea Thorne Smith - Birthday Present Thorne Smith - Did She Fall? Thorne Smith - Dream's End Thorne Smith - Haunts and By-Paths Thorne Smith - Rain In The Doorway Thorne Smith - Skin and Bones Thorne Smith - The Bishop's Jaegers Thorne Smith - The Glorious Pool Thorne Smith - The Night Life of the Gods Thorne Smith - The Stray Lamb Thorne Smith - The Jovial Ghosts: The Misadventures of Topper Thorne Smith - Topper Takes A Trip Thorne Smith - Turnabout Thorne Smith - Yonder's Henry Wilkie Collins - Antonina Wilkie Collins - Armadale Wilkie Collins - I Say No Wilkie Collins - Miss or Mrs Wilkie Collins - My Lady's Money Wilkie Collins - No Name Wilkie Collins - The Haunted Hotel Wilkie Collins - The Law and the Lady Leroy Yerxa - Death Rides At Night D. W. O'Brien - Flight From Farisha Gordon MacReagh - Out of Africa  (self re-collection) Peter Cheyney - Quick Draws  (self re-collection) Talbot Mundy - The Thrilling Adventures of Dick Anthony of Arran D. W. O'Brien - The Last Analysis M. P. Shiel - Children of the Wind Edgar Wallace - 1925: The Story of a Fatal Peace M. P. Shiel - Prince Zaleski Edgar Wallace - A Case For Angel, Esquire M. P. Shiel - Shapes in the Fire Edgar Wallace - A Deed of Gift M. P. Shiel - The Evil That Men Do Edgar Wallace - A Debt Discharged M. P. Shiel - The Last Miracle Edgar Wallace - A Dream M. P. Shiel - The Lord of the Sea Edgar Wallace - A Raid on a Gambling Hell