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#I also came up with a GREAT idea to strengthen the themes of her story and she came up with an EXCELLENT monster for mine

itsclydebitches · 3 years

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ngl voyager gets a whole lot of very disproportional hate from the fandom and i'd hazard a guess that a lot of that is just garden-variety misogyny (and probably racism mixed in, considering how many of the most prominent characters are women, poc, or both). like, is voyager perfect? absolutely not. and no spoilers but there was a lot of executive meddling that wound up leading to the finale/conclusion being lacking and there's a lot of reasonable dissatisfaction with that--but again that was largely thanks to the execs fucking the show over and i recommend looking into that if you can once you've finished the show. but overall? voyager is trek right to its very core--it has heart, it's about family, and it never loses sight of that imo, even if some episodes are weaker or just duds (but, like, would it be a trek series without some episodes that just kinda suck but are still fun to watch???)

anyway, i absolutely love that you're getting into voyager, it is my all-time favorite trek series to this day for a lot of reasons, and i hope that ppl like that anon dont put you off bc i'd love to continue to see your thoughts as you watch the series!

Oh, it would take a whole lot more than some anons being salty that others enjoy things to turn me off :D

Thus far (I lost internet last night so I’m still only on Episode 7 of Season 2), Voyager is the Trekiest Trek I’ve watched. Which is a weird sentence, but I mean it in the way you said it’s “trek right to its very core.” What is Star Trek, if we strip the intent of the story down to its basics? It’s about exploration, discovery, that “wagon train to the stars,” wrapped up in the argument that life is fundamentally good. We have problems, but we can work past them. We have differences, but they strengthen us. Diversity is the lifeblood of the universe and the future will continue to improve so long as we embrace that.

Voyager is (again, from what I’ve seen so far!) basically a love song to that premise. I didn’t do too deep a dive because I’m trying to avoid spoilers, but I did look at a couple threads discussing why Voyager is so hated. Again and again I saw the same reason pop up: wasted potential. Now, a lot of fans left it at that (as if the answer to what potential Voyager apparently missed out on is self-evident. It’s not), but those who did expand on the idea consistently claimed that the show needed to be darker than it was, even if they rarely said it like that. Why aren’t the Federation and the Marquis at each other’s throats? Why isn’t the crew going crazy under these circumstances? Why aren’t characters getting killed off left and right in hostile space? “Anything could have happened out there and they played it safe!” but the “anything” here is always... awful. There’s this very pervasive idea that the world is inherently cruel, people are inherently divisive, that when pushed to the brink everything will fall apart... and that (while making for one kind of great story) is very much not Star Trek.

See, Voyager created an unimaginable scenario--lost in space, 75 years from home, forced to live indefinitely with strangers--and their answer to the question of “What happens?” is “People make it work.” They learn to respect one another, they uphold their ideals, they maintain a love of life and discovery, and they create a family. And that’s fucking fantastic. That’s Star Trek! I’m not going to pretend there aren’t problems with the show, with plenty more to come, I’m sure, but I don’t think this is one of them. Why do so many viewers think that hatred, horror, death, and growing jaded is the only potential here? Why would they expect that in a Star Trek show whose premise is the very antithesis of those things?

“But they don’t do enough with those things, even if they have happy outcomes.” They do plenty, they just do it in an episodic rather than serialized nature. I can point to multiple episodes where the replicator rations or Maquis differences are driving the characters’ actions. “But without that horror there’s no conflict.” There’s plenty of conflict. Hostile aliens aside, I just watched an episode where Tuvok and Chakotay are pissed as hell at one another because they fundamentally disagree over how to handle problems, but--because they’re adults with a well-tested respect for one another--they apologize and work through it. “But the characters don’t develop at all.” You mean they don’t grow harder. That’s not the same thing as no development. Tuvok is figuring out how to be more flexible, Chakotay is becoming more willing to accept cultures he doesn’t agree with, Harry is growing more confident now that he’s far from home, the Doctor is learning to see himself as a person, Paris is grabbing his second chance with both hands by making strong ties, and Janeway is learning to command and care for her crew simultaneously. I honestly believe that a lot of people think of “character development” as the character becoming a fundamentally different person, unrecognizable from where they started out. But characters can also grow into the people they wanted to be in the first place. “We’re far from home, in hostile territory, tempted to do horrific things to survive... but no. Right now at least, we’re holding onto who we are. We’re scientists, so we’re going to explore and learn. We’re peaceful, so we’re going to make friends with as many species as we can. We’re members of a society that teaches acceptance, so we’re going to form a family on this spaceship.” That’s incredible!! Did fans miss why Seska was an antagonist in the episode she was unmasked? Because she was trying to convince them to give up everything they believe in in the name of survival, an ends justify the means argument. And the crew said no, we will not give up what we believe in just to make it through. I legit saw a ton of fans saying some version of, “I can’t believe they were that far from home and actually followed Starfleet’s rulebook.” It’s because those rules don’t exist for the hell of it. Overlooking their practical function, they’re a philosophy that the characters believe in, and they’re figuring out how important that part of their identity is to them under these circumstances. Am I willing to steal a specie’s technology if it gets us home? Am I willing to die to help another uphold their own philosophy? (Chakotay in “Imitations”). What regulations should we bend or change to accommodate our new situation? The first two things Janeway does are a) giving the guy who just came out of a penal colony a rank and b) deciding that she needs to be more familiar with her crew than is normally encouraged for a captain because she’s essentially their mom now. Developing doesn’t have to mean characters do a 180 on their initial personality, or characters getting killed off when stuff gets “boring” so that others can do edgy things in response.

Voyager upholds Trek’s premise and runs it to its logical conclusion:

Voyager has the most literal trek--a trek back home.

Voyager has the most diverse crew--a woman Captain, Native American First officer, black Vulcan, Asian-American communications officer, and a White Dude pilot that realizes he wants to be soft and kind towards those who took a chance on him because Toxic Masculinity who?

Voyager has the most literal family--not just a 5+ year mission, but a crew who expects to raise the next generation. They have no choice but to work together, so they indeed come together rather than pulling apart

Except they do, of course, have a choice. In “The 37′s” the crew is allowed to stay on the Earth-like planet with a city of other humans and Janeway is convinced that a sizable number will choose that. After all, they may never get home and this is a safer, kinder future for them. In fact, the real question is whether so many will stay that they can no longer run the ship... but Janeway would never dictate her crew’s choices in that manner. So she swallows her worry down, opens the door...

... and finds that not a single person decided to stay behind. And the show has ensured we understand that this is not just because they all have some unshakable belief that they’ll get home (many don’t), but because this is their family now. This is home.

And fans want to toss that out for a generic, gritty, sci-fi adventure where hope is scarce, the universe is cruel, and people need to be pushed to the limit just to admit that they maybe, sort of, like each other?? Obviously like what you like, but that’s a hard pass for me. I’ll take the bridge crew comforting each other in “Twisted,” thanks. Besides, we already have shows like that. And we already have DS9 which grapples with many of those dark, pessimistic themes. Voyager feels like a breath of fresh air, even within the breath of fresh air that is Star Trek as a franchise. It’s a show that says, “Yes, when everything goes wrong people will come together. They will love each other. They will make it through.”

What’s more Star Trek than that?

#star trek #ST #mymetas #Anonymous

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

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What I thought about WandaVision

Y'know, it's kind of crazy to think that it's been over a year since we've been given any content involving the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Marvel Studios announced so many great movies, on top of new TV shows that actually impact the story, way back in the summer of 2019. But then 2020 happened. Resulting in everything, and I mean everything, we were promised getting pushed back for another year. So, when it was finally announced that the series WandaVision was, at last, ready to be released, fans were both excited as well as skeptical. Because the first thing that would reintegrate us back into this franchise would be a show about how two Avengers are stuck in a sitcom. It might be new, long-awaited content, but it also doesn't sound all that interesting. Could a story involving two characters who have yet to stand on their own be enough to carry a brand new adventure? Well, for eight whole weeks, fans were given that answer. And personally, I will admit that WandaVision might have been better than anybody could have ever expected...for the most part.

(Final spoiler warning if you haven't seen the show yet)

WHAT I LIKE

It Just Goes: This is easily the best way the series could have started. We are given no context about what is going on. We're just shown that Wanda and Vision are currently stuck in a sitcom, and that's it. By making it a mystery, fans are given this sort of interaction with the series as they find clues and come up with theories about how and why this happened. Sure, some assumptions were more far fetched than others (did people think Mephisto was confirmed just because of one misinterpreted line involving the Devil?), but it still makes the show a ton of fun to watch. Plus, even when we're given answers, it's only tiny pieces of the puzzle. We're always given a chance to figure out the bigger picture, resulting in an image that is, I'll admit, somewhat satisfying to see. Just as long as you ignore the crybabies who get upset that their favorite theories turned out to be wrong.

The Homages are on Point: I also love how straight the cast and crew play with the idea of two superheroes being stuck in a series of sitcoms. Everything they use fits in the era each sitcom takes place in. With things like camerawork, set design, special effects, acting quality, tropes, and even theme songs, everything works as a proper homage than just having two episodes in black and white and the rest in color. Each new sitcom that Wanda and Vision are rebooted in feels so genuine, to the point where they seem like they could be actual shows that could have existed. Seriously, my dad showed me stuff like The Dick Van Dyke Show when I was a kid, so trust me when I say that the very first episode nails the style that it's honoring. Not only is it charming as all forms of hell, but it also works in making these moments when characters break from the spell (get it) all the more jarring and even disturbing at times. Because when you're so keen on watching what seems like a fun and cheesy sitcom, you feel a bit unsettled when a character suddenly acts in a way that's a tad foreboding. Still, it's fun to watch and is easily the central hook for what makes this show work.

The Comedy: The homages also nail the comedy that came from each type of sitcom. The jokes fit with each period, from the cheesy and charming 50s to the cynical and dry 90s and early 2000s. It's another thing the writers play straight with, and I think it works. The only jokes made by most stories like this are just pointing out that these serious characters are stuck in a silly sitcom. Instead, the writers tell jokes that work for the period it's in, and it is all genuinely funny if you're used to those types of goofs and gags. If you didn't laugh, that's because the comedy isn't trying to reach out to you. It's reaching out to the people who actually watched these types of sitcoms. Or, in my case, the type of people who had their parents show them these types of sitcoms. And even then, I still think there are these lines and deliveries that are still funny even if you don't get the joke. For example, there's this brief moment with Vision and a toy baby that got a genuine chuckle out of me for how absurd it was. I wasn't expecting to laugh that much, but on top of the many surprises this show gave, being funny was definitely one of them.

“My husband, and his indestructible forehead”: He...hehe...hehehehahahaHAHAHAHA! AH! HA! HA! HA!

*Slowly starts sobbing*

>Squeaks<

I see what you did there.

Paul Bettany as “Vision,” “Vision,” and Vision: Can we give Paul Bettany a round of applause for basically playing three different characters, each with their own varying levels of emotions and purposes? Because goodness gracious, this man is a champion! I've seen tons of people praise Elizabeth Olson for her performance as Wanda, and to be fair, she does do a fantastic job...aside from one blatant issue (which I'll get into later). But as great as Olson is, Bettany still deserves some credit. Throughout most of the series, he has this level of comedic-timing that I didn't even know he was capable of, by going ham or just having a dry wit. Seriously, was someone going to tell me that Paul Bettany can be funny, or was I supposed to find that out for myself? On top of being hilarious, Bettany delivers such raw emotion that none of us would have ever expected from this character. That screaming match “Vision” has with Wanda shows the very first time that any version of him has ever been angry, and Bettany does a great job at making that moment as jarring as it needed to be. And that's just from playing one version of the character! I didn't even talk about how he nails the naive yet still wise Vision from the flashback in "Previously On" or the cold and robotic "Vision" from "The Series Finale." Bettany has range, and WandaVision is a great show that proves how. One just needs to have the right amount of vision to see it (HhhhhhhhhhhHA!)

Developing Wanda: But as great as Paul Bettany, and to a lesser extent, Vision, is, Wanda Maximoff is clearly the star of the show here (And yes, I know that it's Wanda who's the character and Elizabeth Olson is the actor, but...I'll get into it!). If WandaVision has taught me anything about these Disney+ shows, it's that we are finally going to get some long-awaited development to characters that are starved from it. And Wanda definitely needed it. Don't get me wrong, Wanda was great in past movies but wasn't that compelling of a character. Here, trust me when I say that the opposite is true.

We are given a deep dive into not only Wanda's morality but also her psyche. The writers really play around with how scary Wanda can be. As well as questioning if Wanda has the capability of being evil. Because, yeah, what she did was not right. True, our "heroine" was going through some rough s**t, but that doesn't excuse the amount of torture Wanda put the people of Westview through, no matter how unwittingly. Just look at that scene where everyone grills Wanda about what she's doing to them, not only pleading for whatever compromise they can get and even begging for her to kill them instead. That is dark! That is the darkest concept the MCU has ever offered, and the ending of Avengers: Infinity War exists!

But, while it doesn't entirely excuse everything, there is a reason why Wanda did all of this. You see, throughout WandaVision, Wanda goes through the five stages of grief. It all starts with denial as she pretends to live in a sitcom that she created where Vision is alive, and they get to even have kids together. Soon comes anger when she destroys anything and physically harms anyone that tries to bring her back to reality. Next, there's bargaining as Wanda strengthens her hex and expands it to keep outsiders out and keep Vision in. This leads to depression as the weight of all of Wanda's actions finally sinks in, and she's forced to realize the damage she's causing. Until all of it ends with acceptance, as Wanda finally, finally, gets to say goodbye to Vision. Something she never really got when Thanos ripped the mind stone out of Vision's forehead. It's both incredible to watch as it is fascinating. Wanda, through the course of her own little spin-off series, just went from a decent character to one of the most intriguing to dissect in the MCU. And we have this show to thank for it.

The Commercials: These commercials offer three things.

They're more homages to classic television, each product and filming for each one honoring how commercials looked in each era.

They offer more of an insight into Wanda's psyche as we see how each commercial shows bits of her history, regrets, and deepest desires. You see all of the above in the Lagos' paper towel commercial.

There are neat bits of foreshadowing of what's to come, like how Hydra Soak ends by saying it's for "your inner goddess" or how the 90s commercial ends by saying Magic isn't meant for the weak.

With all of that, these commercials are as fun to analyze as they are disturbing as hell.

The Dinner Scene: This was the moment it was clear that WandaVision wasn’t going to just be fun and games. The second that "Mr. Heart" starts screaming at Wanda about why she and Vision came, it becomes clear that the whole wacky scenario our heroes are in isn't as harmless as we all thought. And when "Mrs. Heart" playfully tells her husband to stop it when “Mr. Heart” starts choking, only to desperately scream at Wanda to stop it, audiences begin to piece together that the people of Westview are prisoners--no--victims. As for Wanda? She's the unknowing dictator forcing them to do what she says. And it was this scene that I knew I was going to really enjoy this show.

The Blip Scene: And it was this scene that made WandaVision skyrocket into top-tier MCU territory! As much as I love Spider-Man: Far From Home, I will admit that making a joke with the concept of something like the blip might not have been the best move. But showing the chaos of everyone coming back all at once? On top of showing the confusion that a person would have from being told that a five-second nap was five years? Yeah, that's more in line with what we want.

Returning Characters: Not only was I surprised by the fact that these pretty minor characters in the MCU made a return at all, but I was also shocked to find out they work better in this series than they did in their respective movies. First, there's Monica. Not only is she reintroduced as a brand new hero (with, admittingly, confusing superpowers), but she also works as the anti-Wanda. Both characters had someone they care about dearly die without getting a chance to say goodbye. The difference is that Monica doesn't have the abilities Wanda does and is instead forced to quickly accept that her mom is dead and won't come back. She even admits that she would bring her mom back if she could. But that just makes Monica the perfect person that Wanda needs. A person that understands where she's coming from and tries to convince Wanda to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is. Monica's methods may have been a tad bit sloppy, but she is still ten times more intriguing than that little girl who screwed around with the color scheme on Captain Marvel’s suit.

Then there's Jimmy Woo, who is both funnier here than in Ant-Man and the Wasp, and actually shows signs of being a competent FBI agent. A step up, I might add, from the hilariously incompetent character we saw in his previous appearance.

And also, Darcie is here...and still slightly annoying...but at least she still has a couple funny lines here and there! Which is more than I can say with Thor and Thor: The Dark World.

In my opinion, it's a good move having these characters with pretty small roles in vastly different stories make a return. It shows that they are not limited to their one little corner of the MCU. And that they can branch off into taller tales that suit them perfectly. It's pretty cool, and it makes me wonder what other small characters could make a triumphant return.

Billy and Tommy: These two are...fine. Billy and Tommy give me Zach and Cody vibes sometimes, the kids playing them do a decent job, and they both offer some great emotional moments. The problem is that out of the list of characters that WandaVision introduces and reintroduces, there's not much to talk about with Billy and Tommy. Honestly, the only reason why I briefly mentioned that I like them is that I don't want dozens of people crucifying me for not saying anything about them. I don't hate them, but I don't much care for them either.

Evan Peters as Quicksilver: Although I would have loved it if it was Aaron Taylor-Johnson who made a return, seeing Evan Peters in a good Marvel movie again is more than worth it. He plays a much more fun version of Quicksilver while still nailing the sibling relationship the character has with Wanda. In a way, it's a lot like how Marvel cast J.K. Simmons as J Jonah Jameson at the end of Spider-Man: Far From Home. It's admitting that no one could have played the character better than this one actor and briefly making fans happy in the process. While also not doing something crazy like having it be the exact same Quicksilver from the X-Men movies. Only f**king idiots would believe something like that...

...

...But hypothetically speaking, let's say some people were stupid to believe that. While making an outrageous claim that the writers "lead them on to doing so." In which case, I will say the same thing that one would say when friend-zoning someone: "Nobody led you on to s**t. You were just too busy focusing on what you wanted to see instead of what you needed to see."

Because there was no evidence that it was the same Quicksilver other than the fact that it was the same actor. And, hypothetically speaking, if there were dozens of crybabies who were upset about it not being the same Quicksilver, then I have so much more respect for this character being nothing more than a boner joke. Because you did this to yourselves...hypothetically speaking.

Retconning Wanda’s Powers: ...I'm ok with this. Retcons happen all the time in the comics, as well as in movies and television. It's just a matter of making the retcon believable enough where there are few holes in what you're telling people. As for Wanda apparently having magic this entire time, but the mind stone amplified her powers? I can buy that. Besides, it's an acceptable excuse to make Wanda as powerful as she is in the comics (from what I've been told), so like I said, I'm ok with this.

“I can’t feel you…”: ...That's fine. I didn't need my heart anyway.

“Vision’s” Talk with “Vision”: Forget the horrible CGIed battles. I want more of this!

Now, I put both Visions in quotation marks because while they're both the same character, they're also...not the same. Which is, funnily enough, what this scene is: A philosophical discussion between two versions of the same android about what makes them both/neither the definitive version. One may look the same, and the other may be the same body, but neither "Vision" really is the true Vision. However, the fact that these two stop their fighting so they can have this discussion in the first place helps secure that while different, they are still the same. It's a thought-provoking discussion, and it is ten times more interesting to watch than Wanda and Agatha's CGI fight in the sky. Although it is kind of odd that White-Vision just peaces out the second Hex-Vision gives him a reboot. But hey, that's for the future movies to deal with.

“Thank you for choosing me to be your mom.”: >Deep inhale<...Girl.

Wanda Saying Goodbye to Vision: >DEEPER INHALE< HOOOOOOOOOOO BOY! I did not expect this much emotional turmoil from f**king WANDAVISION!

Joking aside, this is a well-handled scene. It's incredibly emotional to see these two characters say goodbye to each other as their arcs come to a close. "Vision" peacefully leaves knowing who he is in the world, and Wanda can finally start moving on as she gets to say goodbye to her one true love. It's as bittersweet as it is beautiful.

WHAT I DISLIKE

MCU logos flashing in every episode: You know how CinemaSins has this bulls**t excuse about how the MCU opening logo wastes time to get to the good stuff? This is the only instance where that's applicable. Because the opening logo was cool to see again for the first episode, but having it play in every single one after breaks the immersion when trying to binge the series. It's for a couple of seconds, sure, but after a while, it does get pretty annoying.

Elizabeth Olson as Scarlet Witch: Now, to be clear, I have no problems with Elizabeth Olson's acting ability in this series. She juggles being funny, heartbreaking, and threatening so well that I am likely to laugh and cry with her as I am to s**t my pants while in her presence. Elizabeth Olson does a great job with this character. The problem? Well, in the comics, Wanda Maximoff is Roma, and Elizabeth Olson...isn't. This means that WandaVision, and the MCU as a whole, has a bad case of white-washing.

I could go on about the issues this brings, but I am not as educated about this subject, and all I know is just stuff that seems like common sense. For instance, I believe it is more than reasonable to hire an actor of a specific race or ethnicity for a character who is of a that same race or ethnicity. But that is as far as my knowledge and personal stance goes, and to expand on it would be too much of a risk because I have no right to criticize the representation of something I am not a part of. So instead, I'm going to point you to @earnestdesire‘s blog and Jessica Reidy’s article on the subject. They do a great job at discussing the issues with Olson’s Wanda and pointing to the issues the MCU has in representing Wanda and Pietro's representation in the comics. And they do it in a far better way than I ever could have. So check them out to truly see why, despite doing a great job, Elizabeth Olson should not be the person donning the suit.

It Was Agatha All Along: AND I STILL F**KING HATE THAT!

I know, I know, I am in the minority on this one. And I still don't understand why! To me, Agatha has all of the problems that Hans has in Frozen. Sure, there are hints if you pay more attention during a few select scenes that are slightly questionable. Like how she refers to Wanda as "the star of the show" or coincidentally shows up with a dog house for Sparky. However, much like how Frozen didn't need a villain like Hans, WandaVision didn't need a comic book villain like Agatha. The story was perfectly passable as a personal conflict involving Wanda's grief where the only obstacle was the director of S.W.O.R.D. and his agents. There is nothing Agatha adds to that.

"But she helps Wanda find out what happens!" Yeah, but Monica could have done the same thing by actually breaking through to Wanda and calmly asking what happened. From then on, they could have worked things out together by having Wanda retrace events that transpired through the information that Monica knows as well.

"But Agatha helps Wanda realize what she's doing is wrong!" So could Vision! He could have shown up, did that mind-meld thing to the townspeople, and Wanda would finally learn what she was doing was wrong through the person she trusts the most.

"But Agatha helps Wanda learn that she's the Scarlet Witch!" Ok...but did that need to happen in this series? Because when you think about it, when the central conflict is all about exploring Wanda's grief, throwing in this narrative about becoming the Scarlet Witch has little to do with anything. Meaning that if you cut it from the story, little would change other than cutting a CGI battle that everyone agrees is the worst part of the series.

The most Agatha adds to the story is a secondary conflict that could easily be cut, and the overall quality would stay the same, if not better. And that is a problem. Agatha needs to add to the central conflict in a way that no other character could have. Like, give her a reason to be involved in Wanda’s life that goes beyond feeding off her magic and leading Wanda to her destiny. Because as is, even if you argue that Agatha is a good twist villain, she's a villain that really didn't need to be here.

Director Haywood: But as much as I don't like Agatha, I think we can all agree that Director Haywood is the worst villain in the MCU. Because one issue that Haywood has is a lack of motivation. For instance, why does he try so hard to write off Wanda as this supervillain? It was never explained, and for something so bizarre and crucial to his character, I feel like it needed to be. It would be passable if he was motivated out of fear and ignorance, but Haywood goes so far as to misedit security footage to prove his point. And I don't get why.

Is he sexist?

Did Wanda not show up at his kid's birthday party?

Did he secretly want to use Vision as a sexbot and didn't want Wanda to get between them?

I don't know, and I'll never know.

Plus, on top of having no motivation, Haywood is just forgettable. Agatha may piss me off to no end, but at least I'll remember her. I honestly forgot Haywood's name half the time, and I'm willing to bet that you did too. Case in point, his name isn't even Haywood. It's Hayward. And in the off chance that you didn't even know about that misspelling just proves my point about how forgettable Hayward is. While it's one thing to be hated, it's another to be forgotten. Because that just means that you left so little impact that you aren't even worth getting upset about.

------

And that is what I thought about WandaVision. If I had to base this off my usual score, I'd have to give the show the same 7/10 that everyone else gave it. Because there's a lot that I love, but the stuff that I hate is so problematic that it takes the WandaVision down on a couple of notches. It's still a fantastic series with a solid story, a great message, incredible acting, and phenomenal character development. It's just that not everyone is going to be willing to tune in as much as you might think.

#marvel cinematic universe #wandavision #mcu reviews #wanda maximoff #vision #agatha harkness #what i thought about

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cadomoisspokenfor · 3 years

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Legion Rewatch Notes,

Chapter 4:

Frizzytop

I theorized in episode 2 that David could see through the 4th wall, or at least into a different universe. At the start of this episode Oliver outright breaks the 4th wall. Perhaps powerful reality benders just have that capability. If David knows, and Oliver knows, then Farouk definitely knows.

“A great philosopher once wrote, ‘In times of peace, the war like man attacks himself.’ This is the route of all our problems.”

“We are the route of all our problems. Our confusion, our anger, our fear of things we don’t understand.”

If we carry those 2 quotes throughout the rest of the show, then no doubt the tragedies that happen later on are caused by a collective misunderstanding of each other. And a collective lashing out at that misunderstanding of each other.

“Violence, in other words, is ignorance.”

The most central theme of the show is empathy vs fear. I s’pose whenever there’s a conflict in the show we’re supposed to be asking whether the characters should answer with empathy or fear. Certain characters lives have revolved heavily around fear. And that informs their decision making quite a bit. This will all come up again at multiple points throughout the show.

Syd... probably can’t break the 4th wall. So maybe it’s most logical to interpret this as her inner monologue. Very Jessica Jones esque.

The same voice lines from when Syd was searching for David in episode 1 are played. I guess there go to whenever Davids lost (whether in the world or in his mind) is to transmit Syds voice calling his name in hopes he’ll hear it and come back.

Kerry can pick locks.

The concept of “bad mutants” is well established amongst the veteran summerland crew. Ptonomy’s caution about David is probably because he feels he has a selfish vibe, and that’s a well known red flag of “bad mutants.”

It should also be noted he’s partly afraid of him because he has so much trouble understanding him. His powers, which when used affectively are essentially the ability to understand where someone’s coming from, keep getting overrided by Davids.

It’s now to the point where Ptonomy is doubting his own ability to tell what’s real and what’s not real. He was pretty confident he’d always know somehow in episode 2. Now, not so much.

Ptonomy very early on is open to the idea that David both has powers and psychological issues. “He’s unstable. You try hearing voices for 10-15 years, self medicate with hard drugs and then get dumped in a looney bin.”

Ptonomy also determines that because of his instability combined with the fact he has powers, David is a bomb waiting to go off.

I suppose if we’re trying to figure out their logic with the whole “the combination of being mentally ill and having powers makes him dangerous”, and considering that their right now going over an incident where David robbed his therapist for drug money and then bashed the doctors head in when he came back, the direct concern is that David makes bad decisions and/or selfish decisions (at least), and if he were to make a bad decision regarding his powers a lot of innocent people could get very badly hurt. Or killed. Along with the worry that the voices in his head don’t exactly give him the most angelic of advice at times, and because of his powers he’s very capable of fulfilling their wills, so to speak.

Based on Olivers speech at the beginning of the episode though, it might be safe to say the overall message is instead of acting on fear they should act on empathy and help David overcome his problems instead of vilifying him for his mental illness.

Syd suggest Davids hiding his real memories behind a fake ones and Ptonomy says she going through a lot of effort just to convince herself Davids a good guy. I never really got what he meant, but I guess what he meant is that Syd’s trying to find a justifiable reason for why David would attack Dr Poole like he did when the obvious answer is just “He’s got violent tendencies.” I always just thought she was genuinely hypothesizing, ya know, trying to solve the case. Maybe she was and Ptonomy’s just mean.

“I was looking for the man I loved. Or did I just love the idea of him? The face he showed me?” Doubt springs up early. Why can none of the characters reconcile that a person can have both good and evil in them at the same time? That’s... all people, in fact.

When Kissinger ask if Amy knew David had powers Amy says, “I think so.” Amy potentially acted on fear as well, in regards to her and Davids childhood that is.

Kerry mostly only thinks of herself in relation to Cary.

Cary misses Kerry when she’s gone. Even besides the roles they fill for each other, they generally enjoy each others company. They’re quite literally as close as 2 people can be. Each one living for the sake of the other.

Davids once again surrounded by a crowd of people all yelling in his face. After they disappear though he recovers pretty fast. I guess he’s used to it.

Clockworks Podcast pointed out that the music Davids wincing at is sax heavy Jazz, which is (abstractly) the sound The Devil With Yellow Eyes makes whenever he appears. If my theory about David seeing through the 4th wall is correct, then maybe he’s actually hearing that sound whenever TDWYE is around. Alternatively, Farouk blast that in his head everytime to mess with him.

“Sorry... I forgot about your um... I had a similar- proclivity? Malady? I forget the word- what’s the word? I’ve been here a long time.”

If the previous paragraphs are right, Oliver’s probably implying he was also affected by a mental parasite at some point. It might’ve even been what stranded him in the astral plane.

From Davids perspective he skipped over the entire second half of Chapter 3.

Oliver is essentially explaining the plot of the show to David and the audience before it’s even been unfurled.

“You have an unquiet mind, so you war with yourself, like a dog trying to chew off its own tail.”

David’s still in a very pessimistic guilt ridden place at this point in the story. That’s probably the internal war Oliver’s talking about.

... why can’t Oliver leave the astral plane again? If he did have his own mental parasite, it seems long gone by now. If he just can’t find his way back, then how does he do it in Chapter 7?

Syd calls non-mutants “normals.”

“We were the ghost in a haunted house.” ~Syd, Chapter 4

“You think ghost like living in a haunted house?” ~Syd, Chapter 12

Why does Syd keep hallucinating The Angriest Boy? Or is that just visual metaphor?

Ptonomy’s a very, “Get the job done and look classy while doing it” sorta guy.

“To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.” ~Sun Tzu, Ptonomy

Is the above quote perhaps relevant to the shows message during other conflicts throughout the series? Could it be subtly implying all the characters should always look for non-violent ways to defeat their enemies? I.e. not just a classy line from Ptonomy, but a statement of themes within the show.

The food David, Philly, and Dr Poole are having in Philly’s memories is cherry pie.

In Philly’s memory David says, “I don’t keep a lot of stuff.” And Philly comments that there’s no evidence David had a past. At least among the things David owns at that point. I know Farouk edited a lot of Davids memories, but why did David himself get rid of so much physical stuff? Syd said the reason he broke into Dr Pooles that day was to destroy their taped conversations. What’s compelling him to erase himself from existence? Is it as simple as “Farouk”? It seems like on a deeper level David doesn’t want anyone to know too much about him. Everyone’s only allowed to know what he tells them. His way of feeling in control I guess.

Philly did the classic “I can fix him” when she started dating David.

Philly implies David going off his medication and keeping bad company is what caused the downfall of their relationship. And subsequently his life, probably.

Despite everything, Philly still feels sympathetic towards David.

“Whoever altered Davids memory-“ Ptonomy very early on humors the idea that Davids being acted on by a 3rd party.

The longer Kerry is away from Cary, the more antsy she is for a fight. She’s not supposed to have to sit through all this “boring stuff.”

Ptonomy left after he got the info on Pooles location from Philly. He probably wanted to get the rest of the information from the source. Ironically, they probably woulda gotten closer to the real answer if he’d just looked a bit longer.

Sys proudly says “Yes” when “Dr Poole” ask if she’s in love with David.

It never really comes up again, but Kerry and Cary are physically linked. Maybe even psychologically. When one of them gets hurt, or even exerts their body a lot, the other can feel it, even if their own body doesn’t take on the actual damage. This is still true even if they’re miles apart.

Syds definitely portrayed as the hero at the end of this scene.

“All those years of practice-“ A part of David always knew he had powers. I wonder, did he practice a little in secret? Or is he saying he was at Summerland for years? That doesn’t really add up. But then... what does he mean by years?

Lenny encourages David to get angry so that his powers will strengthen enough for them to overpower the astral plane. Sort of... cheating his way out. David will later achieve more feats of strength through honing his emotions. Like many heroes, his level of power is intrinsically linked to his emotional state.

Very directly here, Davids violence is caused by ignorance. He doesn’t know Syd switched bodies with Walter and is trying to escape.

#legion fx

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reading-writing-revolution · 3 years

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December 30, 2020

Heather Cox Richardson

Dec 31

And so, we are at the end of a year that has brought a presidential impeachment trial, a deadly pandemic that has killed more than 338,000 of us, a huge social movement for racial justice, a presidential election, and a president who has refused to accept the results of that election and is now trying to split his own political party.

It’s been quite a year.

But I had a chance to talk with history podcaster Bob Crawford of the Avett Brothers yesterday, and he asked a more interesting question. He pointed out that we are now twenty years into this century, and asked what I thought were the key changes of those twenty years. I chewed on this question for awhile and also asked readers what they thought. Pulling everything together, here is where I’ve come out.

In America, the twenty years since 2000 have seen the end game of the Reagan Revolution, begun in 1980.

In that era, political leaders on the right turned against the principles that had guided the country since the 1930s, when Democratic President Franklin Delano Roosevelt guided the nation out of the Great Depression by using the government to stabilize the economy. During the Depression and World War Two, Americans of all parties had come to believe the government had a role to play in regulating the economy, providing a basic social safety net and promoting infrastructure.

But reactionary businessmen hated regulations and the taxes that leveled the playing field between employers and workers. They called for a return to the pro-business government of the 1920s, but got no traction until the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education decision, when the Supreme Court, under the former Republican governor of California, Earl Warren, unanimously declared racial segregation unconstitutional. That decision, and others that promoted civil rights, enabled opponents of the New Deal government to attract supporters by insisting that the country’s postwar government was simply redistributing tax dollars from hardworking white men to people of color.

That argument echoed the political language of the Reconstruction years, when white southerners insisted that federal efforts to enable formerly enslaved men to participate in the economy on terms equal to white men were simply a redistribution of wealth, because the agents and policies required to achieve equality would cost tax dollars and, after the Civil War, most people with property were white. This, they insisted, was “socialism.”

To oppose the socialism they insisted was taking over the East, opponents of black rights looked to the American West. They called themselves Movement Conservatives, and they celebrated the cowboy who, in their inaccurate vision, was a hardworking white man who wanted nothing of the government but to be left alone to work out his own future. In this myth, the cowboys lived in a male-dominated world, where women were either wives and mothers or sexual playthings, and people of color were savage or subordinate.

With his cowboy hat and western ranch, Reagan deliberately tapped into this mythology, as well as the racism and sexism in it, when he promised to slash taxes and regulations to free individuals from a grasping government. He promised that cutting taxes and regulations would expand the economy. As wealthy people—the “supply side” of the economy-- regained control of their capital, they would invest in their businesses and provide more jobs. Everyone would make more money.

From the start, though, his economic system didn’t work. Money moved upward, dramatically, and voters began to think the cutting was going too far. To keep control of the government, Movement Conservatives at the end of the twentieth century ramped up their celebration of the individualist white American man, insisting that America was sliding into socialism even as they cut more and more domestic programs, insisting that the people of color and women who wanted the government to address inequities in the country simply wanted “free stuff.” They courted social conservatives and evangelicals, promising to stop the “secularization” they saw as a partner to communism.

After the end of the Fairness Doctrine in 1987, talk radio spread the message that Black and Brown Americans and “feminazis” were trying to usher in socialism. In 1996, that narrative got a television channel that personified the idea of the strong man with subordinate women. The Fox News Channel told a story that reinforced the Movement Conservative narrative daily until it took over the Republican Party entirely.

The idea that people of color and women were trying to undermine society was enough of a rationale to justify keeping them from the vote, especially after Democrats passed the Motor Voter law in 1993, making it easier for poor people to register to vote. In 1997, Florida began the process of purging voter rolls of Black voters.

And so, 2000 came.

In that year, the presidential election came down to the electoral votes in Florida. Democratic candidate Al Gore won the popular vote by more than 540,000 votes over Republican candidate George W. Bush, but Florida would decide the election. During the required recount, Republican political operatives led by Roger Stone descended on the election canvassers in Miami-Dade County to stop the process. It worked, and the Supreme Court upheld the end of the recount. Bush won Florida by 537 votes and, thanks to its electoral votes, became president. Voter suppression was a success, and Republicans would use it, and after 2010, gerrymandering, to keep control of the government even as they lost popular support.

Bush had promised to unite the country, but his installation in the White House gave new power to the ideology of the Movement Conservative leaders of the Reagan Revolution. He inherited a budget surplus from his predecessor Democrat Bill Clinton, but immediately set out to get rid of it by cutting taxes. A balanced budget meant money for regulation and social programs, so it had to go. From his term onward, Republicans would continue to cut taxes even as budgets operated in the red, the debt climbed, and money moved upward.

The themes of Republican dominance and tax cuts were the backdrop of the terrorist attack of September 11, 2001. That attack gave the country’s leaders a sense of mission after the end of the Cold War and, after launching a war in Afghanistan to stop al-Qaeda, they set out to export democracy to Iraq. This had been a goal for Republican leaders since the Clinton administration, in the belief that the United States needed to spread capitalism and democracy in its role as a world leader. The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq strengthened the president and the federal government, creating the powerful Department of Homeland Security, for example, and leading Bush to assert the power of the presidency to interpret laws through signing statements.

The association of the Republican Party with patriotism enabled Republicans in this era to call for increased spending for the military and continued tax cuts, while attacking Democratic calls for domestic programs as wasteful. Increasingly, Republican media personalities derided those who called for such programs as dangerous, or anti-American.

But while Republicans increasingly looked inward to their party as the only real Americans and asserted power internationally, changes in technology were making the world larger. The Internet put the world at our fingertips and enabled researchers to decode the human genome, revolutionizing medical science. Smartphones both made communication easy. Online gaming created communities and empathy. And as many Americans were increasingly embracing rap music and tattoos and LGBTQ rights, as well as recognizing increasing inequality, books were pointing to the dangers of the power concentrating at the top of societies. In 1997, J.K. Rowling began her exploration of the rise of authoritarianism in her wildly popular Harry Potter books, but her series was only the most famous of a number of books in which young people conquered a dystopia created by adults.

In Bush’s second term, his ideology created a perfect storm. His administration's disastrous response to Hurricane Katrina, which killed more than 1,800 people and caused $125 billion in damage in and around New Orleans in 2005, revealed how badly the new economy had treated Black and Brown people, and how badly the destruction of domestic programs had affected our ability to respond to disasters. Computers permitted the overuse of credit default swaps that precipitated the 2008 crash, which then precipitated the housing crisis, as people who had bet on the individualist American dream lost their homes. Meanwhile, the ongoing wars, plagued with financial and moral scandals, made it clear that the Republicans optimistic vision of spreading democracy through military conflict was unrealistic.

In 2008, voters put Black American Barack Obama, a Democrat, into the White House. To Republicans, primed by now to believe that Democrats and Black people were socialists, this was an undermining of the nation itself, and they set out to hamper him. While many Americans saw Obama as the symbol of a new, fairer government with America embracing a multilateral world, reactionaries built a backlash based in racism and sexism. They vocally opposed a federal government they insisted was pushing socialism on hardworking white men, and insisted that America must show its strength by exerting its power unilaterally in the world. Increasingly, the Internet and cell phones enabled people to have their news cater to their worldview, moving Republicans into a world characterized by what a Republican spokesperson would later call "alternative facts."

And so, in 2016, we faced a clash between a relentlessly changing nation and the individualist ideology of the Movement Conservatives who had taken over the Republican Party. By then, that ideology had become openly radical extremism in the hands of Donald Trump, who referred to immigrants as criminals, boasted of sexually assaulting women, and promised to destroy the New Deal government once and for all.

In the 2016 election, the themes of the past 36 years came together. Embracing Movement Conservative individualist ideology taken to an extreme, Trump was eager enough to make sure a Democrat didn't win that, according to American intelligence services, he was willing to accept the help of Russian operatives. They, in turn, influenced the election through the manipulation of new social media, amplified by what had become by then a Republican echo chamber in which Democrats were dangerous socialists and the Democratic candidate, former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, was a criminal. Thanks to the Supreme Court’s Citizens United decision which permitted corporate money to flow into election campaigns, Trump also had the help of a wave of money from big business; financial institutions spent $2 billion to influence the election. He also had the support of evangelicals, who believed he would finally give them the anti-abortion laws they wanted.

Trump lost the popular vote by almost 3 million votes but, as George W. Bush before him, won in the Electoral College. Once in office, this president set out to destroy the New Deal state, as Movement Conservatives had called for, returning the country to the control of a small group of elite businessmen who, theoretically, would know how to move the country forward best by leveraging private sector networks and innovation. He also set out to put minorities and women back into subordinate positions, recreating a leadership structure that was almost entirely white and male.

As Trump tried to destroy an activist government once and for all, Americans woke up to how close we have come to turning our democracy over to a small group of oligarchs.

In the past four years, the Women’s March on Washington and the MeToo Movement has enabled women to articulate their demand for equality. The travel ban, child separation policy for Latin American refugees, and Trump’s attacks on Muslims, Latin American immigrants, and Chinese immigrants, has sparked a defense of America’s history of immigration. The Black Lives Matter Movement, begun in July 2013 after George Zimmerman was acquitted of murdering teenager Trayvon Martin, has gained power as Black Americans have been murdered at the hands of law enforcement officers and white vigilantes, and as Black Americans have borne witness to those murders with cellphone videos.

The increasing voice of democracy clashed most dramatically with Trump’s ideology in summer 2020 when, with the support of his Attorney General William Barr, Trump used the law enforcement officers of the Executive Branch to attack peaceful protesters in Washington, D.C. and in Portland, Oregon. In June, on the heels of the assault on the protesters at Lafayette Square, military officers from all branches made it clear that they would not support any effort to use them against civilians. They reiterated that they would support the Constitution. The refusal of the military to support a further extension of Trump's power was no small thing.

And now, here we are. Trump lost the 2020 election to Democrat Joe Biden by more than 7 million votes and by an Electoral College split of 306 to 232. Although the result was not close, Trump refuses to acknowledge the loss and is doing all he can to hamper Biden’s assumption of office. Many members of the Republican Party are joining him in his attempt to overturn the election, taking the final, logical step of Movement Conservatism: denying the legitimacy of anyone who does not share their ideology. This is unprecedented. It is a profound attack on our democracy. But it will not succeed.

And in this moment, we have, disastrously, discovered the final answer to whether or not it is a good idea to destroy the activist government that has protected us since 1933. In their zeal for reducing government, the Trump team undercut our ability to respond to a pandemic, and tried to deal with the deadly coronavirus through private enterprise or by ignoring it and calling for people to go back to work in service to the economy, willing to accept huge numbers of dead. They have carried individualism to an extreme, insisting that simple public health measures designed to save lives infringe on their liberty.

The result has been what is on track to be the greatest catastrophe in American history, with more than 338,000 of us dead and the disease continuing to spread like wildfire. It is for this that the Trump administration will be remembered, but it is more than that. It is a fitting end to the attempt to destroy our government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

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fairykeiheaven · 4 years

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translation of Shudo Takeshi blog on Kasumi and SatoKasu

#201 "I'm sorry. I forgot about Kasumi" 09-11-2011 To make the TRio prominent in „The Revelation Lugia”, I also had to firmly depict individuality of every other character that appeared less in the movie. I had a hunch that my preparations were done well, but to make assurance double sure, I tried to look again at the appearing characters. As a result, I noticed that my depiction of one important character is weak and I panicked a little. It was the main girl who was travelling together with Satoshi, Kasumi. Why is she travelling together with the leading character Satoshi? I wrote about this earlier, but there’s an answer to Kasumi’s words „It’s just a coincidence that the place where I want to be is where Satoshi is”. „The Revelation Lugia”’s guest character, Flora, said provocatively „Are you Satoshi’s girlfriend? He has such a bad taste” – however it was a provocation towards Kasumi’s existence in the movie, so to speak, they were inflammatory, tit for tat like words. There were also people who felt that there’s a hidden agenda in the line „It’s just a coincidence that the place where I want to be is where Satoshi is” - implying love interest in Satoshi which wasn’t even noticed by Kasumi herself. But, this was a fake (cheat) scene prepared by me to make Kasumi’s presence stand out. Kasumi doesn’t feel love for Satoshi. If her love for him became one of Pokemon’s plots, it would break all the Pokemon series’ structure. Pokemon’s theme is relation between fictionals creatures and people and also growth through think and thin of the young boy (this means an age period for both boys and girls), Satoshi. At least this topic was intuitively decided during the time when I was responsible for Pokemon series’ structure. I already stated in this column that Pokemon’s important theme was like in the movie “Stand By Me”. Even if people don’t want it, they get older and become adults – I came up with this extremely universal human theme in the episode of “The Magic Princess Minky Momo”. In Pokemon however, the most important theme is relation with fictional creatures, which was added to that theme. For Satoshi, who’s a child, Pikachu is th partne he can count on. For example, even if Kasumi fell in love with Satoshi, it wouldn’t be able to interrupt relation between Satoshi and Pikachu. If it was implied that Kasumi developed a childish kind of love for Satoshi, Pokemon would be constructed from different topics and the fundamental theme would not only become complicated, but dispersed. If Kasumi’s love towards Satoshi happened in Pokemon, it would be nothing more than seasoning added to cooking - and, to be honest, for Pokemon’s theme, seasoning that makes taste complicated would be only a disturbance. So from the start, there’s no such factor in Kasumi’s character as love towards Satoshi. Surely, it may be that Kasumi was in the ager when girls fall in love, but “Pokemon” isn’t either a shoujo manga nor a cellphone novel. That’s why, out of all the characters appearing in the Pokemon anime series, the one with the weakest existence is Kasumi. It was decided from the start, when Pokemon anime was during planning, that Satoshi will be character travelling with friends, because if it was only the boy and Pokemon it would become tasteless and it would be hard to introduce to the girls’ audience. This existence could be compared to a parsley in a dish. It doesn’t need to be there, but the dish looks better if you add it. Occassionally, there are people who like parsley in their dish, but it’s a minority. To make matters worse, in the early days of the series’ construction, the scriptwriters of Pokemon were all men, so Kasumi’s character lacked individuality. It would be good if she expressed delicate subtlety of changeable girl’s character, but in reality, Kasumi is only a stereotypical tomboy. Even if we don’t appear much, we’re the real main characters telling Pokemon story… that is, self-aware TRio (that’s what I told voice actors, which they understood at once and since the first TRio’s appearance they were memorizing the motto – I’m ashamed about this, but even if I wrote it, I couldn’t memorize it – I wrote about this earlier, but they were enthusiastic to make it popular at all costs) who are different from Kasumi. Since the beginning, you could feel the TRio’s presence in Pokemon anime much more than Kasumi’s, who’s ranked as the main character. In reality, when I was thinking about the Pokemon anime at first, my last intention was to make the TRio eternal main characters of the Pokemon world who’d surpass growing up Satoshi. Let’s come back to Kasumi. I’ve been worrying about Kasumi’s weak sense of presence since the anime first started. That’s why I took into consideration Kasumi’s presence in my script, even if it might be superficial. I also tried to make Kasumi’s lines hold emotions unique for her. From the start, I was put under great responsibility for the initialization of the Pokemon anime. My attempt to raise Kasumi’s sense of presence was out of sympathy. Pokemon is the anime that carried out a replacement of the main character Takeshi, because of some facial features of the Asian people the foreign countries might not accept. But in the end, we could see that he was accepted even in the foreign countries and came back to the anime as we know. As the show continues, and the ratings start to go downhill, the drama that is substitution of the main characters and rivals under the pretext of strengthening is held. And when it came to substitution of the main characters, the most endangered one was Kasumi with her low sense of presence. It’s not like that I wanted to replace her. But charming personality and sense of presence was necessary. I was making efforts, but to me, the TRio’s sense of presence was more important. The TRio also had skills of their voice actors as their presence felt satisfactory. They couldn’t be replaced. Even if 10 years have passed since I stopped writing scripts for Pokemon, the TRio’s existence is firm. Once in a while, there seem to be the episodes when I don’t know what they’re for, but if the TRio stopped appearing in Pokemon, it would be no longer Pokemon. I’ll go so far as to say that they’re landmark beings of Pokemon. Even when other villains appeared, the TRio was unperturbed. It’s impossible to substitute them. I feel sorry about Kasumi, but I considered the TRio to be the most important. Moreover, it may be only my one-sided view, but both higher-ups and and scriptwriters of the Pokemon production were mostly male. Men in this business, are attracted to various female charms, but they’re poor at getting them out (but this is my own, narrow view). In reality, according to my experience, many people of this business are unskillful in making advances to women. So, in my opinion, the secret of courting women is getting their charm out and praising them. As a digression, I have a strange theory, but I think that when courting a woman, it’s more efficient to tell her 100 times “You’re pretty” or “You’re beautiful” than attract her attention. Of course, it’s not worth considering if you don’t know her beautiful features nor features you want to get beautiful…. If you do so, your partner also will become beautiful for real. I agree with the opinion saying that it’s because both partners, a man flattering a woman with compliments and a woman who’s being complimented get under influence of autosuggestion. This is also the secret of creating a charming woman in the script. This is another digression, but in the most recent movies, dramas and anime created by male scriptwriters and supervisors, women are so uncharming, that it’s shocking. Even if it may look like they’re charming, but this is only thanks to actress’ looks, acting ability and sense of existence. Occasionally, when charming female characters appear in various productions, it turns out that supervisors and scriptwriters are female. In other words, women understand the charm of their own gender and they’re good at getting it out. And then, you would think that male supervisors and scriptwriters are good at creating charming male characters, but it’s not like that. They appear as male figures distorted in some way, someone who you wouldn’t want to associate with as friends. Back in the old days, there were male supervisors and scriptwriters who were skillful at getting out female charm, but I wonder what happened to people these days? But enough of digressions. The one who couldn’t create charming Kasumi was me, responsible for the series’ construction. I was planning to do it in some way in “The Mewtwo’s Counterattack”, when Satoshi said “I wonder, why I’m here?” and I wanted to make her to tell the theme of the movie with a meaning “We exist because we exist. And it’s fine this way”, but as the TRio said “Somehow it’s a very good feeling” in the last scene, Kasumi’s existence was blown off. In “The Revelation Lugia”, I prepared a scene where Kasumi rescued Satoshi who nearly drowned in the sea. She was resuscitating Satoshi by giving him artificial respiration, but in the script she was really only knocking many times Satoshi’s chest as he wasn’t breathing. If Satoshi dies now, what will happen to my existing position in the Pokemon? – it wasn’t like she wanted Satoshi to live because she loved him, but rather, I had an intention to show her filled with anger that her own existence would become even weaker, if Satoshi died. Because higher-ups thought that this scene could have been misunderstood by people in foreign countries as being too violent, knocking has been erased. As you couldn’t see Kasumi’s anger in this scene, it unfortunately made people get the wrong idea that Kasumi’s desperate attempt to save Satoshi was a sign of love. However, in this case, she’s nothing more than general, stereotypical girl. She ended up being very ordinary girl buried among many individual characters in “The Revelation Lugia”. Later, new series of Pokemon appeared and Kasumi was replaced by another girl. However, whether the new girl was more charming than Kasumi or not, was beyond my control. One of the things connected to my job as the series constructor I feel sorry about is that I couldn’t pull out Kasumi’s charm. I also felt sorry for the voice actress, but even if I was being told by other people that “Mr. Shudo is good at writing girls”, Kasumi’s case was quite painful for me. Ah, that reminded me that I’m not done yet with “The Revelation Lugia”’s talk. I can hear just now voices of the TRio saying “Write whatever you like! After all, the TRio are us…”. Also, the editor of Anime Style is telling me “Let’s get beyond ‘The Revelation Lugia’ talk arleady”. I’m sorry. Please forgive me, because next time I’m going to write about the TRio’s role and their awareness in “The Revelation Lugia”.

#pokeshipping #satoshi #kasumi #ash #misty #pokemon #aaml #satokasu #pokemon movie 2000

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 years

Link

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

December 30, 2020

Heather Cox Richardson

It’s been quite a year.

In America, the twenty years since 2000 have seen the end game of the Reagan Revolution, begun in 1980.

And so, 2000 came.

As Trump tried to destroy an activist government once and for all, Americans woke up to how close we have come to turning our democracy over to a small group of oligarchs.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #quotes #poltical #history #election 2020 #21st century #corrupt GOP #criminal GOP

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fieryanmitsu · 4 years

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The Heart-Pounding Sunrise Trek of Bonding | A3! | “Take the Stage” Fanzine

I am very honoured to announce that I am one of the contributors for the recently released A3! Take the Stage Fanzine! It was such a great experience working with so many talented artists and writers! Everyone's pieces turned out AMAZING, and I would highly recommend to check out the full zine! The fanzine can be downloaded for free here!

And, now that the zine has dropped, I'm able to share my piece with you all here! This story is based on the "Campfire Bonds" event and stars Muku and Citron as the focal characters!

Please enjoy~!

THE HEART-POUNDING SUNRISE TREK OF BONDING

THEME: “Campfire Bonds” event

CHARACTERS: Muku Sakisaka, Citron, Sakuya Sakuma, Masumi Usui, Tsuzuru Minagi, Itaru Chigasaki, Tenma Sumeragi, Yuki Rurikawa, Misumi Ikaruga, Kazunari Miyoshi & Izumi Tachibana

My fanfic masterpost: Here

AO3: Link in my Blog Menu

Muku stared intensely at his phone as he checked for the umpteenth time that he had set his alarm properly. Seeing that the numbers really did read ‘3:00am’, he locked his phone and placed it beside his pillow.

“Ugh. I swear I can still taste the tabasco in my mouth even though I brushed my teeth,” Tenma groaned as he entered the tent.

“Did anyone get a normal chocolate for the s’mores?” asked Kazunari, looking up from his phone.

“Izumi liked hers!” Misumi chimed in.

“That’s just because she’s a crazy Currian! No one would normally like a curry-flavoured chocolate,” Yuki snapped back.

“Anyway, everyone’s here, right? I’m gonna turn off the lights,” Tenma announced. “We have to get up early tomorrow, so we should sleep now.”

A flurry of mumbled goodnights flew around the tent as their leader turned off the lamp. Before long, the air was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and light snoring.

However, sleep continued to elude Muku as he stared fretfully at the ceiling of the tent—his brain whirring with his anxieties. Though the Summer Troupe’s first two plays had gone well, deep down, Muku felt that he had barely squeaked by with his performances. He knew that he was still the weakest link, and was terrified of dragging everyone else down.

Just once, Muku wished he could give back to the ones who continually helped him so much. But, he didn’t even have any special skills—like Yuki or Kazunari—that he could put to use for the Summer Troupe or the Mankai Company.

So, when Izumi had first announced this training camp, Muku had immediately volunteered to be one of the organizers, even though he had never taken on such a role before. At the time, it had seemed like the perfect opportunity to prove himself and be helpful to the others. Surely, even someone as untalented as him could manage to do this much.

Inspired by a scene out of a shoujo manga, Muku had manically researched to formulate a grand plan. First, they would strengthen their bonds as they hiked side-by-side through bountiful nature. Then, they would share a heart-racing special moment together as the rising sun etched its image into their memories. Plus, with the fresh mountain air, he was sure they would get more mileage out of their vocal exercises.

However, when they had gathered to discuss the itinerary, his excitement had quickly been extinguished when his plan had been met with unenthusiastic faces. Some of the Company members hadn’t seemed interested in witnessing the sunrise, and many others had groaned about the early start time.

After the meeting, Citron had clapped him on the shoulders, looked him in the eyes with a mysterious, all-knowing smile and said: “Do not worry, Muku! Your idea is most wonderful! Everyone will be super duper happy when they see the sun grating them! I will make sure of it—trust me!”

Though his brain continued to worry and fret, Muku clung to the words and reassuring grin that the Zahran man had given him that day and allowed the darkness to finally lull him to sleep…

The next morning, with much struggle—along with Citron banging some pots and pans together—the two organizers managed to wake up their fellow troupe members and line them up outside of their tents. Though, they may as well have still been laying in their sleeping bags. Masumi was draped on top of Tsuzuru’s back, fast asleep. Itaru was crouched on the ground, muttering to himself with a half-dead expression on his face. Even the ever-chipper Kazunari had his chin propped on Misumi’s shoulder, both of them nodding off despite being on their feet.

Citron came to stand beside Muku and nudged him gently. With a gulp, the pink-haired boy mustered all of his courage and stood up as straight and tall as he could manage.

“G-Good morning, everyone! Thanks for waking up so early to join us for the first item on our itinerary today: the ‘Heart-Pounding Sunrise Trek of Bonding!’” Muku announced. “I know that it’s silly to want to follow someone who’s more annoying than the itchiest bite from a mosquito that arrived earlier than the usual mosquito season—”

“Muku, literally no one said that,” Yuki interrupted with a sigh. “Just lead the way.”

“O-Oh right! S-Sorry!” Muku responded, snapping out of his rant. “P-please follow me and watch your step!”

As Muku led the way to the forest trail, with the others shuffling groggily behind him, he couldn’t help but cringe as he heard someone yawn loudly and another person let out a groan.

“Ugh, this sucks…”

“Masumi, stop it! The Director wouldn’t be happy to hear you say that,” Sakuya protested in a hushed tone. “Look! She’s enjoying herself, so you should copy her.”

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, after all… Muku thought to himself, worrying at his bottom lip.

“Muku, why don’t you tell everyone about the path?” Citron suddenly said from behind him. “Did you not do lots of the research?”

“Really, Mukkun?” Kazunari asked, perking up and looking more awake than earlier.

“O-Oh, yes! Apparently, this path dates back to the Sengoku era. Monks used it as part of a pilgrimage route and this campsite actually used to be an aesthetic training ground,” Muku explained.

“That’s actually really cool,” Tsuzuru remarked. “Who knew that there was so much history in a place like this!”

“Ah! That signpost there marks the quarter-way point! We can take a quick rest here!” Muku explained, noticing that they had lost a few members.

“I-I can’t go on…” Itaru wheezed as he finally caught up to the others several minutes later.

“C’mon Itaru, we’re almost there! You can do it!” Izumi chirped encouragingly, passing the salaryman a bottle of water.

“It’s okay, Itaru! You will soon have your senses delighted by a surprise up ahead! Tell them about it, Muku,” Citron implored.

“Y-Yes! Ummm… Just down this path is a beautiful waterfall that the monks used as part of their training,” Muku responded, taking the older man’s cue. “I… I actually purposely picked this path because it would take us by the waterfall. Legend says that, if you make a wish there, your deepest desires will come true! So, I thought that you would really like to see that, Itaru! Maybe it’ll help with your next gacha pull in your games!!”

“Seriously? Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

Muku felt his heart flutter as the others started chattering excitedly about what wishes they would make. With this renewed vigour, their group continued on their hike, making a stop at the wish-granting waterfall on the way.

Then, almost an hour after they had left their campsite, Muku spotted the sign marking their final destination.

“We’re here, everyone!”

There was a collective sigh of relief as the members of the Mankai Company cleared the last steps and planted their feet on the plateau. However, their mutters quickly died in their throats as they came face-to-face with the view before them. A forest of trees spread out endlessly ahead, surrounded on both sides by jagged cliffs. The sun peeked above the horizon of the valley and the sky was dyed a gorgeous blend of soft oranges, pinks and straggling blues.

“Amazing!” Sakuya breathed softly. “This is beautiful, Muku!”

“Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe it!!” Kazunari added, immediately taking out his phone.

“You did good, Muku. Here’s a triangle!” Misumi said with a smile, handing the pink-haired boy a smooth and shiny triangular-shaped rock.

“Yeah… It made waking up worth it,” Masumi murmured, showing a rare smile.

“This was great, Muku. Thanks for planning this for us,” Tenma said, punching him lightly in the arm.

“Yeah, seriously! I’m so glad that someone was able to plan a normal activity for this training camp. Unlike a certain someone’s crazy ‘Russian Roulette S’mores’ idea,” Tsuzuru said with a sigh, throwing a baleful glare at Citron.

“Oh, Tsuzuru! You wound me! I put so much thought into making an unforgiveable event for everyone!”

“I think you mean ‘unforgettable’,” Itaru piped in.

“Look here, it’s not ‘Russian Roulette’ if all of the options are weird!” Tsuzuru exclaimed in exasperation.

“No kidding! I can’t believe I had to eat that awful wasabi chocolate because of you! I thought my mouth was on fire!” Yuki added, jabbing a finger into Citron’s chest angrily. “You’re lucky this sunrise made up for that atrocious game!”

As Citron dramatically crumpled to the ground from Yuki’s attack, a hand clutched over his heart, he turned his head towards Muku and shot him a wink.

At that moment, Muku felt a rush of warmth surge out of his chest and envelope the rest of his body. As he suppressed the tears prickling behind his eyes, Muku thought that he could now truly understand the meaning behind all of those times his shojo manga had compared someone’s smile to the brightness of the sun.

Writing this story was such a fun challenge for me! I had to work with a word count restriction, but I also wanted to make sure I somehow included every other character from the event — so it was definitely a juggling act, haha! It was also my first time writing about both Muku and Citron, so that was a new challenge in itself. Especially since I wanted to make sure I did two of my favourite characters justice!! In the end, I'm really happy I had the opportunity to write this and am so thankful that I was able to be part of this zine! Again, do check out the full zine if you have a chance!|

As always, thank you for reading and feel free to leave a comment if you have any thoughts!! Any reblogs are always appreciated!!

-Anmitsu

#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! act! addict! actors!#muku sakisaka #a3! citron #act addict actors #a3! game #a3! actor training game #sakisaka muku #a3! muku #citron #anmitsu writes #a3! take the stage fanzine

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wicked-game-black-butler · 4 years

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I don’t know if you’ve answered this already, but what inspired you to write Wicked Game? What themes/other aspects from canon did you want to explore and expand on? Btw I’m sorry you’re not feeling your best today. Sending you good vibes 💕

Thank you for this ask! 🥰

I think I've mentioned my inspiration for Wicked Game before, but I could only find this post in regard to my inspiration for Sarah, so I'll answer your first question briefly and address the other one in more length.

The initial idea for Wicked Game just came from random daydreaming, which I have a habit of doing fairly often. It wasn't until the death of a close loved one that I really started looking at it as a potential story I would write. So, initially, Wicked Game was a coping mechanism, a way for me to process the grief I was feeling, and a way to get my feet wet with writing again (it is something I've always enjoyed doing, but dropped for several years). However, as I continued to explore the idea, the more it fleshed out into a legit story. Since then I've always had a general skeleton of an idea of how I wanted the story to progress, but the details and actual events have changed drastically (for instance, when I made my first outline, Menowin wasn't even a character and now he's integral to the story). Other inspiration for this story has come from works from or about the Victorian Era and my enjoyment of that time period in general.

As far as other themes or aspects from the canon material I wanted to explore:

Angelina Dalles: Madame Red is a character I've loved since I first saw the BB anime and came to appreciate even more once I read the manga. She was truly a woman before her time and I wish Yana had included her in the story more and hadn't killed her off when and how she did. So that was one of the major reasons why she's such an important character in WG. She's just such a fun character to write along with the fact that she's the older sister, almost mother figure, Sarah needed in her life after the untimely death of her mother.

O!Ciel's trauma: By this point in the manga we know that Ciel has been through hell and, fortunately, as the manga has continued Yana has begun to show little things that are ways Ciel is trying to cope with that trauma. But I wanted to focus on it even more in WG and I've striven to do that partly through Sarah's trauma. Now that Sarah is back in Ciel's life and he knows the truth about Italy, when his past trauma is going to be revealed to her, he's going to have someone who can actually comprehend what he went through. And, through that knowledge, he's going to have someone who can love him like no one else can. Plus this shared trauma only serves to strengthen the trust and love in Sarah and Ciel's relationship.

Life Downstairs: Since the story focuses primarily on Ciel and Sebastian's adventures and shenanigans, we don't get much of a glimpse of the servant's lives. Until the very tail end of the Book of Circus and in the Green Witch Arc, I'm sure many, like myself, were wondering why Ciel even hired the extra staff in the first place. I've always loved the dynamic and perfect illustration of the division of classes in Victorian society that's shown in the Upstairs vs. Downstairs life (which is why I enjoy other series like Upstairs, Downstairs and Downton Abbey), so it's something I wanted to explore further with WG. Plus I absolutely adore the servants and wanted to showcase them more, too! 🤗

Demons/Demonology: For as much as we've learned about the Reapers, we know even less about demons...and one of the main characters is a demon! While I think it's Yana's creative choice to do so and, to a point, I enjoy the lack of detail she's given, I still wanted to dive deeper into some sort of demonology for this story, especially considering the whole demon/human mating aspects that are part of WG. I've even developed a whole backstory for them (though how much actually makes it into the story, I'm not sure at this point). It's just not come up much other than in the snippets we've had so far of Sebastian's POV because Sarah doesn't believe in demons at this point and doesn't know he's a demon yet.

Grief: This is another aspect of Ciel's trauma that's not addressed enough in the canon material. Though, in part, I believe that's because we aren't always shown Ciel's inner thoughts, so we only see the cool, indifferent facade he portrays to the outside world. And, again, the grief in this story is experienced through Sarah's POV, but I believe is also connected to and can provide more insight into Ciel's grief as well.

Victorian life: This kind of ties in with the servant's aspect, but I've enjoyed showing the great differences in classes and genders and the moral stringency in Victorian society. I think it's easy with stories like Kuro and other period pieces to romanticize the era. Don't get me wrong, if you were among the wealthy elite, like Ciel, you had a rather decent life. However, if you belonged to the common masses, life was hard and sometimes downright shitty. Sarah's situation at the beginning of the story is a very real one a single, common woman of that time period would have faced. If you didn't have a man to provide for you, you either became a servant, a governess, a prostitute, or you died. Also things like scandal (whether that's Sarah's or Mey-Rin and Bard's potential scandal) and its implications were a real threat to both the noble and working class. I've really enjoyed having an opportunity to explore those aspects in more depth.

Thank you again for this ask and for the good vibes! I really appreciate it! 🥰 *hugs*

#fanfiction asks #writing inspriation #wicked game #victorian era #canon elaboration

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ajbrooks-writes · 4 years

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WIP Re-Intro: For The Crown

Book One of the Blood Ties trilogy

Heyo! Exactly what it says on the tin. A new and improved For The Crown with special edition features and up-to-date info! Also now with an official trilogy title: Blood Ties. Incredibly accurate.

Book One: For The Crown

Two young shapeshifters uncover generations of blood crimes as they attempt to change their own destiny. Masquerading amidst power plays and fickle allys, the prince and the pretender learn the meaning of family in a tale of love, loss, and the cost of challenging the stars.

Elthian and Ryvaeryn are from very different worlds, tied together by a bloody past. They are each given a single chance to attain their goals, but to do so must navigate a court full of lies, a country full of secrets, and a foe determined to keep both in the past.

Basics

Stage: Complete Structural Overhaul Review

Estimated Length: 135k

Genre: New Adult high fantasy

Themes: found family, adventure, self-discovery, romance, challenging status quo, challenging destiny.

More info

Orphaned as an infant and raised by humans on the continent, Ryn has never known another shapeshifter. A bookbinder by trade, she masquerades as a scholar and runs to the island country of Mantha, where she meets our team, and her resolve is tested when she is discovered and has a choice: go home to safety or join the court and risk it all.

Growing up in the castle with his father, brother and best friend, Elthian has known he would be king since he was a child. A planner by passion, Elthian’s progressive ideas clash with his father’s traditional values, placing them increasingly at odds. When his father threatens to change his successor, Elthian must choose between sacrificing the crown for his values and work, or sacrificing his values for the crown and power.

Ryvaeryn and Elthian’s journeys intertwine as they work towards their goals. Among the trials of their individual paths, they realise their growing friendship might be more than that. Now they must weigh their loyalties and, when discovered, understand that one false step could tear them apart forever.

Read on to learn about some of the characters and the next two books! Also cool graphics.

Welcome to part two!

Characters

Protagonist. Age 29, lion shapeshifter. Idealistic, compassionate, creative, naive. Elthian has a rocky past, but has landed on his feet with a father he idolises, an older half-brother he loves unconditionally, and a best friend he could not do without. His brother’s protection has left him naive to their father’s nature, but kept him from losing that idealism and compassion their father is so blatantly missing. Elthian’s biggest struggle is his own self-doubt, but his brother’s line “There are some things in this world you just can’t change.” kickstarts his determination to do exactly that. I love my son, but not make it easy.

Protagonist. Age 26, tiger shapeshifter. Impulsive, defensive, determined, kind. Safe in seclusion with her long term girlfriend, Ryn gives it up to journey to Mantha and find others like her. She is quick to defend herself and slow to reason, and so desperately wants to know who she is and where she came from that she will risk everything to find answers. This is made difficult when she becomes to target of assassination. See her right eye pictures above? That may or may not emerge intact . I love her, and I forge her fortitude in fire.

Secondary. Age 30, wolf shapeshifter. Quiet, perceptive, loyal. Joal spent half his childhood as a crown ward, becoming Elthian’s best and most loyal friend. His official role is Royal Historian and Heritage Law Consultant, and he lives at the castle. He is the first to realise Ryn isn’t a scholar. Joal isn’t ‘in touch’ with his emotions, which quickly creates a rift between him and Ryn. Joal has the largest role in Blood Ties after Ryn and Elthian.

Secondary. Age 32, human. Optimistic, intuitive, honourable. Kalen is the ultimate best friend. He is a great hugger, great listener, and gentle soul. He left the army to pursue music, specifically the flute. Kalen is aro-ace, and his and Skye’s QPR is the most precious and pure dynamic I have ever seen. He becomes close friends with Ryn, we call him K, and I would die for him.

Tertiary. Age 35, lion shapeshifter. Discerning, protective, adventurous. Orrian paints himself as rebellious and unreliable, allowing him to pursue his interests in peace, and as a bonus giving his father frequent headaches. Orrian runs a shelter for homeless or orphaned boys and young men, mostly shapeshifters, and basically has a dozen adopted sons. He is also investigating his father, whom he loathes. Orrian has a much larger role in the next two books.

Tertiary. Age 21, crane shapeshifter. Shy, observant, attentive. Skye is very close with Kalen, and Ryn first meets her in a courtyard where Skye is playing violin. She struggles with anxiety and PTSD, and attempts to create a support network in this book, which unfortunately backfires. Skye’s role will change a lot over the trilogy as she develops and grows and discovers her strength.

Tertiary. Age 24. human. Sarcastic, charming, realist. Corri meets Ryn early in town, and they become friends quickly. She loves to have a good time, and encourages Ryn to do the same. If the cellars are stocked, right? Corri has a brief, secret fling with Joal in this book. She also frequently makes time to spend with the children at the castle - much better company than nobles.

Tertiary. Age 64, lion shapeshifter. Assertive, determined, commanding. Parthian rules with iron, currently with his third wife. He pushed Orrian to abdicate, and has spent the last decades grooming Elthian to be a more worthy successor. Parthian is struggling under the weight of (subjectively) poor past choices. His sons take more from him than they’d like.

Side. Age 34, human. Calming, authentic, passionate. Lowe and Ryn were together for three years, and lived together for most of that. She knows Ryn’s aspirations, fears and hopes and supports her move to Mantha. Lowe will have a larger role in the next two books, but will crop up a few times in this one, too.

Side. Age 9, shapeshifter. Shy, curious, adventurous. Pab is an orphan, and has lived at the castle her entire life. She is friends with Corri, and becomes a loyal friend of Ryn’s after a vandalism mishap. Pab will climb literally anything. She scales two storeys of old stone to break into Ryn’s room. Ryn and Pab’s bond strengthens over the trilogy, and we learn more about her family later on.

The World:

For The Crown takes place primarily in Mantha, an island country about the size of France. It has several smaller ilsands scattered around it., and across a strait is a mainland spanning an area close to that of Russia, which is where Ryn is from. Skye and Joal are from the North and South islands around Mantha respectively..During this book, the court travels around the country to various estates, under the guise of a ‘royal tour’, in which Parthian speaks to the leaders and the people and try to assure them that the monarchy has their best interest’s at heart. It gives Elthian the opportunity to find the progressive among them, and Ryn the opprtunity to explore different libraries and estates, including a ruined city, searching for answers.

Mantha is a feudal society originally settled by shapeshifters, which Parthian encourages, because they are easier to control. The continent, all humans, is meanwhile approaching an early industrial age; they have a direct democracy, with all the people having a voice. Mantha works with alchemy, whereas the continent works with technology. They have minimal overlap, but for trade and transport, things like air travel crosses their cultures.

This means I can have steampunk airships flying over my feudal farmland. The dream.

If you would like to know anything else about their culture, feel free to shoot an ask my way!

Rest of the trilogy:

For The King

After the bittersweet end to For The Crown, Ryn and Elthian try to recover the trust of the Manthan people as Elthian begins a shaky rule. But when the new king is kidnapped, it’s up to Ryn, Orrian, Kalen and Joal to race across the continent to save him, finding help from old friends along the way. Meanwhile, in a deep underground prison, Elthian meets new allies and foes as his captors attempt to break him, and he plans a daring escape or three. For The King is significantly darker, and ready to be drafted. You can read this wip intro here.

For The Country

Following a narrow escape, Ryn, Elthian, their new allies and remaining friends journey back to Mantha only to discover it has been overrun! With Elthian’s confidence shattered and Ryn struggling to stay afloat, For The Country has them and their team racing to rally their people against an approaching enemy while they battle fire, uprising, discord and disease. In the conclusion of this epic fantasy, everyone comes together for the battle that will decide Mantha’s future.

Final comments:

Can’t believe I managed, finally, to finish this intro.

I’m going to try and participate more in wip and OC related things, and post more about my story when life allows. I hope you enjoyed it, congrats on getting to the end, and have a great day!

For The Crown tag list:

@trigwrites @jessicacaseyauthor @mfackenthal @mushwrites @b-works-074 @gardeningourmet @apocalyvse @jcckwrites @writingisdivinetorture @purpleshadows1989 @thatwritergirlsblog @betwixtofficial @pen-in-hand @whynotwriting @bookish-actor @sunlight-and-starskies @jcckwrites @half-explored @watermelons-writings @purpleshadows1989 @crazycoffeemermaid @summerflowers

Blood Ties taglist:

@whisperswritings @stand-inthe-rain @fantasy-shadows @halrose @romanticatheart-posts @hopefulmoonobject @angelolytle @albarnesauthor @fantasy-penman @ofinscriptions @jynecca @venomouspen @k-nazario @raenawrites @s-n-o-w-p-i-e-r-c-e-r @the-starlight-chills @crazycoffeemermaid @ardawyn @bookish-actor @waterfallofinkandpages @the-writister @thewriteblrarchives

(if you would like to be added or removed from the Blood Ties tag list, please let me know. Also if I’ve missed anyone I’m really sorry, could you let me know please thank youx)

#for the crown #blood ties #blood ties for the crown #BT Orrian #BT Elthian #BT Corri #BT Skye #BT Ryvaeryn #BT Joal #BT Parthian #BT Kalen #BT Lowe #BT Pab #my wip #for the king #for the country #blood ties trilogy #wip intro #wip introduction

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novareign · 3 years

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December 30, 2020 (Wednesday)

It’s been quite a year.

In America, the twenty years since 2000 have seen the end game of the Reagan Revolution, begun in 1980.

And so, 2000 came.

As Trump tried to destroy an activist government once and for all, Americans woke up to how close we have come to turning our democracy over to a small group of oligarchs.

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tcm · 5 years

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Interview with Mark A. Vieira, author of Forbidden Hollywood: The Pre-Code Era (1930-1934)

Mark A. Vieira is an acclaimed film historian, writer and photographer. His most recent book, Forbidden Hollywood: The Pre-Code Era (1930-1934): When Sin Ruled the Movies is now available from TCM and Running Press.

Raquel Stecher: Twenty years ago you wrote Sin in Soft Focus: Pre-Code Hollywood for Harry N. Abrams. Why did you decide to revisit the pre-Code era with your new TCM-Running Press book Forbidden Hollywood?

Mark A. Vieira: That’s a good question, Raquel. There were three reasons. First, Sin in Soft Focus had gone out of print, and copies were fetching high prices on eBay and AbeBooks. Second, the book was being used in classes at the USC School of Cinematic Arts. Third, Jeff Mantor of Larry Edmunds Cinema Book Shop told me that his customers were asking if I could do a follow-up to the 1999 book, which had gotten a good New York Times review and gone into a second printing. So I wrote a book proposal, citing all the discoveries I’d made since the first book. This is what happens when you write a book; information keeps coming for years after you publish it, and you want to share that new information. Sin in Soft Focus: Pre-Code Hollywood told the story of the Code from an industry standpoint. Forbidden Hollywood has that, but it also has the audience’s point of view. After all, a grassroots movement forced Hollywood to reconstitute the Code.

Raquel Stecher: Forbidden Hollywood includes reproduced images from the pre-Code era and early film history. How did you curate these images and what were your criteria for including a particular photograph?

Mark A. Vieira: The text suggests what image should be placed on a page or on succeeding pages. Readers wonder what Jason Joy looked like or what was so scandalous about CALL HER SAVAGE (’32), so I have to show them. But I can’t put just any picture on the page, especially to illustrate a well-known film. My readers own film books and look at Hollywood photos on the Internet. I have to find a photo that they haven’t seen. It has to be in mint condition because Running Press’s reproduction quality is so good. The image has to be arresting, a photo that is worthy in its own right, powerfully composed and beautifully lit—not just a “representative” photo from a pre-Code film. It also has to work with the other photos on that page or on the next page, in terms of composition, tone and theme. That’s what people liked about Sin in Soft Focus. It had sections that were like rooms in a museum or gallery, where each grouping worked on several levels. In Forbidden Hollywood, I’m going for a different effect. The photo choices and groupings give a feeling of movement, a dynamic affect. In this one, the pictures jump off the page.

Raquel Stecher: Why did you decide on a coffee table art book style format?

Mark A. Vieira: Movies are made of images. Sexy images dominated pre-Code. To tell the story properly, you have to show those images. Movie stills in the pre-Code era were shot with 8x10 view cameras. The quality of those big negatives is ideal for a fine-art volume. And film fans know the artistry of the Hollywood photographers of that era: Fred Archer, Milton Brown, William Walling, Bert Longworth, Clarence Bull, Ernest Bachrach and George Hurrell. They’re all represented—and credited—in Forbidden Hollywood.

Raquel Stecher: What was the research process like for Forbidden Hollywood?

Mark A. Vieira: I started at the University of Southern California, where I studied film 40 years ago. I sat down with Ned Comstock, the Senior Library Assistant, and mapped out a plan. USC has scripts from MGM, Universal and the Fox Film Corporation. The Academy Library has files from the Production Code Administration. I viewed DVDs and 16mm prints from my collection. I reviewed books on the Code by Thomas Doherty and other scholars. I jumped into the trade magazines of the period using the Media History Digital Library online. I created a file folder for each film of the era. It’s like detective work. It’s tedious—until it gets exciting.

Raquel Stecher: How does pre-Code differ from other film genres?

Mark A. Vieira: Well, pre-Code is not a genre like Westerns or musicals. It’s a rediscovered element of film history. It was named in retrospect, like film noir, but unlike film noir, pre-Code has lines of demarcation—March 1930 through June 1934—the four-year period before the Production Code was strengthened and enforced. When Mae West made I’M NO ANGEL (’33), she had no idea she was making a pre-Code movie. The pre-Code tag came later, when scholars realized that these films shared a time, a place and an attitude. There was a Code from 1930 on, but the studios negotiated with it, bypassed it or just plain ignored it, making movies that were irreverent and sexy. Modern viewers say, “I’ve never seen that in an old Hollywood movie!” This spree came to an end in 1934, when a Catholic-led boycott forced Hollywood to reconstitute the Code. It was administered for 20 years by Joseph Breen, so pre-Code is really pre-Breen.

Raquel Stecher: What are a few pre-Code films that you believe defined the era?

Mark A. Vieira: That question has popped up repeatedly since I wrote Sin in Soft Focus, so I decided which films had led to the reconstituted Code, and I gave them their own chapters. To qualify for that status, a film had to meet these standards: (1) They were adapted from proscribed books or plays; (2) They were widely seen; (3) They were attacked in the press; (4) They were heavily cut by the state or local boards; (5) They were banned in states, territories or entire countries; and (6) They were condemned in the Catholic Press and by the Legion of Decency. To name the most controversial: THE COCK-EYED WORLD (’29) (off-color dialogue); THE DIVORCEE (’30) (the first film to challenge the Code); FRANKENSTEIN (’31) (horror); SCARFACE (’32) (gang violence); RED-HEADED WOMAN (’32) (an unrepentant homewrecker); and CALL HER SAVAGE (’32) (the pre-Code film that manages to violate every prohibition of the Code). My big discovery was THE SIGN OF THE CROSS (’32). This Cecil B. DeMille epic showed the excesses of ancient Rome in such lurid detail that it offended Catholic filmgoers, thus setting off the so-called “Catholic Crusade.”

Raquel Stecher: It’s fascinating to read correspondence, interviews and reviews that react to the perceived immorality of these movies. How does including these conversations give your readers context about the pre-Code era?

Mark A. Vieira: Like some film noir scholars, I could tell you how I feel about the film, what it means, the significance of its themes. So what? Those are opinions. My readers deserve facts. Those can only come from documents of the period: letters, memos, contracts, news articles. These are the voices of the era, the voices of history. A 100-year-old person might misremember what happened. A document doesn’t misremember. It tells the tale. My task is to present a balanced selection of these documents so as not to stack the deck in favor of one side or the other.

Raquel Stecher: In your book you discuss the attempts made to censor movies from state and federal government regulation to the creation of the MPPDA to the involvement of key figures like Joseph Breen and Will H. Hays. What is the biggest misconception about the Production Code?

Mark A. Vieira: There are a number of misconceptions. I label them and counter them: (1) “Silent films are not “pre-Code films.” (2) Not every pre-Code film was a low-budget shocker but made with integrity and artistry; most were big-budget star vehicles. (3) The pre-Code censorship agency was the SRC (Studio Relations Committee), part of the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association (MPPDA)—not the MPPA, which did not exist until the 1960s! (4) The Code did not mandate separate beds for married couples. (5) Joseph Breen was not a lifelong anti-Semite, second only to Hitler. He ended his long career with the respect and affection of his Jewish colleagues.

Raquel Stecher: How did the silent movie era and the Great Depression have an impact on the pre-Code era?

Mark A. Vieira: The silent era allowed the studios the freedom to show nudity and to write sexy intertitles, but the local censors cut those elements from release prints, costing the studios a lot of money, which in part led to the 1930 Code. The Great Depression emptied the theaters (or closed them), so producers used sexy films to lure filmgoers back to the theaters.

Raquel Stecher: TCM viewers love pre-Codes. What do you think it is about movies from several decades ago that still speak to contemporary audiences?

Mark A. Vieira: You’re right. Because we can see these films so readily, we forget that eight decades have passed since they premiered. We don’t listen to music of such a distant time, so how can we enjoy the art of a period in which community standards were so different from what they are now? After all, this was the tail end of the Victorian era, and the term “sex” was not used in polite society. How did it get into films like MIDNIGHT MARY (’33) and SEARCH FOR BEAUTY (’34)? There were protests against such films, and there were also millions of people enjoying them. What they enjoyed is what TCM viewers enjoy—frankness, honesty, risqué humor, beautiful bodies and adult-themed stories.

Raquel Stecher: What do you hope readers take away from your book?

Mark A. Vieira: One thing struck me as I wove the letters of just plain citizens into the tapestry of this story. Americans of the 1930s wrote articulate, heartfelt letters. One can only assume that these people were well educated and that they did a lot of reading—and letter writing. I want my readers to read the entire text of Forbidden Hollywood. I worked to make it accurate, suspenseful and funny. There are episodes in it that are hilarious. These people were witty! So I hope you’ll enjoy the pictures, but more so that you’ll dive into the story and let it carry you along. Here’s a quote about SO THIS IS AFRICA (‘33) from a theater owner: “I played it to adults only (over 15 years old). Kids who have been 12 for the last 10 years aged rapidly on their way to our box office.”

#pre-Code #TCM #Forbidden Hollywood #pre-code films #interview #jean harlow #mae west #ginger rogers #Depression era #1930s #Raquel Stecher

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bettyhofstadtdraper · 5 years

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mindhunter s2 thoughts:

I thought this season started out really strong, like a 9 out of 10. I really enjoyed everything new that was set up, the situation with Brian, Holden’s panic attacks and his unprofessional behaviour, the subplot with Wendy, her sexuality, her relationship problems, and how it all tied in with her work and the interviews.

I’ve seen people complain about the Nancy and Brian subplot, but I thought it was great and made for meaningful character moments with Bill. People have mostly been complaining about Nancy in particular—probably because they’re dumb fanboys who paint every concerned wife as a bitch à la Skylar from Breaking Bad—but I could really understand where Nancy was coming from. It made sense that she would want to protect her son by convincing herself that he did nothing wrong, that there was nothing wrong with him. Of course she didn’t know how to reconcile what he did with her love for her child, and in doing so refused to acknowledge his trauma.

I don’t think this subplot was too far out from the underlying themes of the show because it addresses the nature vs. nurture argument. It makes total sense. Are killers made or are they born? Was it Bill and Nancy’s fault? Or is something inherently wrong with Brian?

I liked the new format as well, intertwining interviews with the overarching case of the Atlanta Child Murders. However, I think it got messy and rushed towards the end. I have a feeling that this season was meant to be 10 episodes like season 1, but for some reason Netflix only allowed them 9, so things had to be squished together.

The last episode really could have been split up into two episodes, with some added scenes and character moments to tie up the loose ends and pad things out. For example, Wendy’s arch didn’t get much of an ending. After her argument with Kay about her inability to say what she wants, not being her true herself, etc., I thought these issues would somehow tie back in with her work at the FBI. Perhaps there should have been a scene where she talked to Ted and demanded that she become more involved with the interviews and conduct them at her discretion.

I also thought they were setting up something between Wendy and Gregg, like the possible reveal of Wendy’s sexuality. After the interview with Henley, Gregg rationalized that the story about Wendy’s ex-girlfriend was a ruse. I think the end of this season really needed another serial killer interview. Perhaps they should have interviewed the SM killer again. Maybe Wendy could have gotten more out of him using her own personal experiences like she did with Henley, seeing as she was so unsatisfied with the outcome of the initial interview. We needed something more to tie up her arch about being more straightforward about her wants, reconciling with her true self, etc.

I suggest that maybe during the second interview Gregg should have found out the truth about Wendy’s sexuality, and that could lead to more character development. Gregg seemed pretty ignorant in earlier episodes, but not dangerously so, like he had no ability to change. Remember his comments about homosexuality being deviant? I think the show could have made interesting commentary about this topic. I think Gregg should have found out about Wendy so he could grow as a character in that respect, give him some more depth. Maybe this could also strengthen the Gregg and Wendy dynamic for future seasons.

Speaking of Gregg, I think Gregg needed a moment to come into his own. Maybe during the secondary interview I came up with, he and Wendy could become more of a solidified team when he steps up to the plate along with her. That would give him a semi-resolution to his arch as being a fuck-up in interview situations. Just a thought.

As for Holden, we desperately needed one more interaction with him and Kemper in the last couple episodes. Maybe Holden could have consulted Kemper about the Atlanta killings and Kemper could provide some more insight. I feel as though Holden’s impulsive behaviour throughout the season kept biting him in the ass, so maybe use this as an opportunity to show how his impulsiveness can also be a strength when it’s in check. Maybe Bill successfully guides him through this in some way after failing to do so for most of the season.

I’m also kind of disappointed that Holden’s panic attacks didn’t come up again. I think we needed something more about his struggle in there, the stress getting to him during the case but he pulls through. I’m glad that his mental health issues weren’t overbearing, but it was also like the show forgot about them. Maybe we should have seen him break down after the cross scene, and perhaps we could have seen him struggle and deal with his panic attacks when he meets with Kemper for the proposed second time.

Also, I would have liked a longer, more intense and meaningful confrontation between Holden and Bill. Maybe Holden could offer Bill some advice about how to talk to Brian in order to help the boy through his trauma? I’m not sure, but I just wish the interactions between Bill and Holden this season weren’t so mean-spirited and that their dynamic developed into a more supportive partnership despite the hardships they were both facing.

Which ties into another qualm of mine. Regarding the ending where Nancy and Brian have moved out of the house without Bill, I feel like the narrative was missing a couple steps to get us to that conclusion. I honestly would have liked if there was a moment with Brian and Bill where Brian actually talks to Bill about what he’s going through and how he feels about his actions, although it would only be the vaguest of hints. I think it would lead to a much more satisfying cap off to that story, for now anyways. Hypothetically this should follow the more meaningful confrontation between Bill and Holden I suggested.

I had an idea that might smooth over these plot points where we find out that Bill and his work had some kind of influence over what Brian did, a much bigger influence than anyone thought, calling back to when Brian saw those very gruesome pictures. Maybe Brian reveals this to Bill and Nancy overhears. This freaks Nancy out and explains why she ultimately moves them out of the house without even telling Bill.

As for the BTK stuff, I would have liked there to be a scene at the end setting up Bill and Holden’s involvement in this case a little more explicitly for future seasons. Get everyone fucking hyped.

*Psycho Killer plays in the distance*

Anyways, this turned out to be an essay. I just thought there were many better ways to tie things up at the end, but I suppose they’re saving all that for season 3.

David Fincher, hire me perhaps?

#mindhunter #mindhunter spoilers #long post

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everlarkficexchange · 5 years

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Incubus

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 49: He has spent centuries coming at night and sleeping with as many humans as possible, many dying from childbirth with no child to bear, or because his lust overpowered them. He needs to find a women that can live through his lust and birth an healthy offspring and after centuries, he thinks he found the one, the sixteen year old Katniss Everdeen. Dark incubus!peeta Angst Old times. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

RATED: EXPLICIT for disturbing themes, imagery and adult situations.

WARNINGS: Dark!Peeta; Creepy!Peeta; Stalker!Peeta. Demon!Peeta; Dark!Toastbabies; minor character’s death, Canon compliant violence, Non-con/Rape. Stockholm Syndrome-ish.

TAGS: Supernatural AU; Under 16K words; Smut (Underage!Everlark, non-everlark)

Acknowledgements: Thanks to @animekpopxx for the great prompts, you never cease to inspire with your ideas for stories… sorry if I didn’t completely adhere to all the specifications listed on the prompt.

Many thanks to my amazing beta @wingletblackbird, who’s insights made this story 10 million times better.

@xerxia31 and @javistg for their dedication to Everlark Fanfiction, you keep the creative juices pumping with this events, and I thank you both for that… and thank you for reading my One Shot. Hopefully is to your liking!

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

I’m thrusting vigorously into the wet, hot and loose pussy of a married woman who summoned me by name to get back at her cheating husband— who apparently has sired no less than 4 bastards, each from a different woman— by fucking a demon.

She’s also awake, which is fairly unusual for my encounters, but I couldn’t refuse an invitation such as this when the woman is so willing and eager, and the call comes laced with the delicious odor of arousal.

The problem is, she talks too much!

I’ve done my best to tune out her asinine remarks on how big and intimidating my cock is compared to human penises, how much watching my member excites her, and makes her greedy pussy flutter in anticipation; I’ve heard stupid comments like those for millennia from women with the same wicked gleam in their eyes. They think that calling me to fuck them is some kind of thrilling game, as if the stories of how most of my partners don’t survive their first encounter with me, how their bodies can’t take the stress I put on them when I’m really overcome with lust, are mere jokes passed down from generations. But this woman really is testing my patience.

Everything was alright until she asked a question that enraged me above anything she’s said so far.

“My lord, is it true you impregnate every one of your victims?” There is that psychotic glint in her beady eyes again.

I grunt and push away onto my haunches.

The woman tries to sit up quickly, chasing my retreating form desperately with a pleading apology taking shape in her mouth. She doesn’t get to voice whatever idiotic excuse she was about to spew.

With a flick of my hand, five silk ropes spring up from the floor and wrap around both her wrists and both ankles; the last one gags her mouth. She whimpers and the sadistic gleam in her eyes finally gets replaced with fear when the ropes pull back her legs bringing her knees level with her ears and her thighs spread wide open to me.

Without stopping to look at her, I ram into her ass with so much force the legs of the bed groan and break under the punishing pace I’m keeping.

The woman cries out in terror or pain, maybe both, I don’t care. I don’t stop driving into her until my release is imminent. When it’s time, I pull my cock out of the woman’s rectum swiftly, and spill all my cum on her face, chest, and part of her stomach. I take great care not to let even a drop of my precious seed fall into her reproductive organs.

I sigh in relief once I’m done.

The woman strains against her restraints, and moans pitifully. I look down at her tearful face with spite.

Pathetic.

Finally, I answer her question, “No. I don’t impregnate every one of my partners. Some aren’t worthy of carrying my offspring.” I stand from the broken bed and give her a disdainful glance, “You should count yourself lucky you don’t rate as a good partner, otherwise I would’ve taken your life, as well as your pleasure.”

I dissolve into dark mist leaving her in that shameful position, tied up like a hog and covered in mess, to be found by her husband.

——

It is not my custom to glide aimlessly through a human town after I’ve fed my lust, yet tonight’s encounter left a bitter taste in my mouth I just can’t shake off.

I’ve been cursed into existence with the sole purpose of mating with as many women as there are sand grains by the ocean until one of them births me an heir to… to replace me, I guess, until he too has successfully produced a replacement of his own. Regretfully, I’m still here, after thousands of years, fucking my way through humanity. Not one woman has been strong enough to carry my spawn to term, so the careless curiosity of a self indulgent idiot got to me a little too hard.

There have been a handful of promising cases, but at the end they just amount to female corpses too weak to bear my child. Every single woman I’ve copulated with either dies in the throes of passion, unable to whistand my consuming lust, or has complications with the pregnancy, either because the creature simply sucks the life force out of the host, or because labor pains put too much stress on their mortal bodies and they just give out with internal organ failures.

On this depressing thought, I come to the center of town where I would never be if there was any sun in the sky right now. I’m about to turn myself into a small smoke tornado that will project me back to my den for a while, before my night starts anew on the other side of the globe, but a small, hopeless sob attracts my full attention.

I’m a creature of darkness; therefore I’m drawn to and strengthened by human pain and calamity. The whimpering continues guiding me to an alleyway, behind a lane of brick buildings, housing an amalgamation of shops.

I notice three things upon arrival. First, the soft sobbing is coming from a little girl, much too young to be outside alone at this time. Second, it is dark, very, very dark; a moonless night, that should frighten a hardened man, a night in which specters like me come out to play eagerly with unsuspecting humans too dumb to stay safely in their beds. And lastly, this is the loneliest, creepiest alley I’ve ever been to. It’s cold, muddy, echo-y and reeks of death.

My kind of place, I realize.

Not at all where a tiny child such as this one should be.

At first glance I determine the child is frail and almost to the doors of death. A female of around 10 or 11 years old, judging by her skeletal frame. It looks like she hasn’t known the taste of food in quite a few days, and she’s giving up her life in this cursed place.

It is not in my nature to care whether she expires sitting on the hard ground, against the scraggly apple tree she leans on, or not, but for some reason, I speak to her. Soft and soothing.

“What are you doing here, girl? It’s dark, late, and scary.”

Deadened, sunken eyes stare at me suspiciously, “I could ask you the same. But I’m not nosy!” She replies turning her pert nose up at me.

I chuckle and lower myself to the ground. The little brat is a piece of work! “I’m nosy and I don’t care if that’s rude.”

The girl cocks her head sideways, slightly curious, not the least bit afraid.

“I ran out of coin.” She finally says, “I can’t to go back home to my little sister, Prim, without food. She’s so tiny, and her lips keep crackin’ and bleedin’ every time she cries, asking if there’s anything to eat.”

Normally, humans never see my true form if they happen to get a glimpse of me. They would die of terror on the spot, so their minds only see what they can handle. For women, they see every feature they find attractive in a male, making me irresistible for them, in the very, very seldom instance that they see me while awake. Men, on the other hand, tend to see someone non-threatening, a friend who would never hurt them. I’m not sure what this child sees me as, but clearly she sees someone worth opening her heavy little heart to, because the floodgates of her troubled life seem to have opened up, and she sobs telling me the rest of her story.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate something that I had to chew with my teeth. My tummy started to ache a few days ago, but I didn’t want Prim to ache too, so I’ve been giving her all the little food we had left. Yesterday, all I found in the cupboards were a few dry mint leaves, I boiled them in water and told her it was soup. I came to the market to sell Prim’s baby clothes, but nobody wanted my ragged wares. I got so dizzy after walking all day trying to sell them, and my arms were so tired, I accidentally dropped the clothes on the mud somewhere yonder; I’m not sure where. I couldn’t pick them up, even if I’d wanted to. I knew that if I leaned down, I’d just kilter over and wouldn’t be able to get up again.”

She takes a ragged breath and paws the soaked tendrils of black hair sticking to her forehead away.

“I didn’t wanna die like that in the middle of the street where anyone could see. They would’ve known mother hasn’t been taking care of us. They would take Prim to the Community Home. Children in the Community Home get crushed by sadness and red marks on their faces from angry hands… I couldn’t do that to poor, delicate Prim. But this place here…” her eyes take a glassy quality, and her lips curl into a slight smile as if daydreaming of better days. “It used to be the bakery, before the owners moved away and abandoned it. The smell of freshly baked bread still lingers here, and if I inhale hard enough, I swear I can feel the smells fill my tummy.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, as if truly she could get her empty stomach filled with the long gone fragrance of yeast and flour that used to permeate this alley before.

“My belly doesn’t hurt no more,” she sighs, opening her eyes and fixing them on me, “in case you were wondering.”

My head cocks to the side, staring at her curiously.

“I stopped feeling the hunger aches without noticing. Mamma’s a healer, I once heard her tell a woman, whose children had stopped crying out for food, that those are actually dangerous times, when the body needs food, when it’s so far gone, it starts eating itself out. But I’m not scared about that… dying here, where bread used to be baked… won’t be so bad, would it?”

Something tugs at me in the back of my mind. Without thinking about it, and barely feeling anything at all, I conjure up two steaming loaves of hearty bread out of thin air. At first, my instinct compels me to take a bite out of the bread, taunt her, mock her, chop off pieces and lug them over the falling link fence of an old pen, where the odor of some kind of animal still persists, and watch her climb over the muck to devour the soiled bread. But then, my hands move of their own volition, offering the loaves to the girl.

Her eyes follow my every move, stuck on the delectable food she’s been deprived off for so long, just staring at my gift.

Suddenly, I’m aware of how cold and wet everything around me is.

“It’s pouring.” I muse flatly.

The girl’s eyes tell me she clearly thinks I’m stupid, but my clothes cling to my body uncomfortably, and now I’m aware my body feels oddly smaller than usual. I look down at my arms, realizing I have the arms of a child myself.

I guess the girl is projecting her age and features on me, like humans do.

“Take the bread before it’s too soggy to eat.” I grunt in aggravation.

“I—Are you sure? I couldn’t… I don’t have anything to pay or trade—“

I shove the two loaves into her lap, and kick off from the ground where I had come to sit, next to her. “Go home.” I command. “Get out of this darkness and this cold rain.”

The girl looks at the food on her arms with disbelief and awe, then she looks up at me, as if I had given her the moon, the clouds, and her very own star. She murmurs. “Thank you…”

In a second, she’s running away as fast as her scrawny little legs can take her, while I stand here stunned and confused. There was a strange reaction I got when the little girl’s gray eyes met mine and I could see the most appetizing fire within. I knew the little girl would not only survive, but thrive.

I won’t ever see the little human again, so what do I care what’s in her future? I melt back into the shadows, already putting the incident behind me.

——————

I’m particularly fond of nubile virgins, which probably accounts for how poorly their bodies perform when I impregnate them, but I digress… teenage girls have the softest skin. Their budding breasts, still unaware of the effects of gravity, retain an innocent perkiness I could kill for. But, while all this is true on my normal hunts, one prepubescent human has become a most incomprehensible obsession of mine ever since the night I gave her the bread.

My girl with the braid and gray eyes is now 14. She had to mature in extreme circumstances, before her time, making her exquisite in resilience and a strength her peers lack. I find myself attracted to her dormant… sturdiness.

But at 14– in human years— her reproductive system is not mature enough even for a monster like me. She has not the means, nor the skills, to sustain the demands of mating with me, let alone carrying my spawn, so I admire her from afar and more often than I should.

Tonight for example, I watch her sleep for a short moment, then I let myself slip through the same crack in the window I slithered inside, and go on my merry way to find a more fitting host.

The girl will sleep untouched tonight, meanwhile I still need to bury myself into a warm, available body.

—————

“My name is Katniss Everdeen. What’s yours?” She asks the night a come across her, when she’s stuck on the other side of an electrified fence, in a dark, dark forest.

“Peeta.” I say emotionless. It’s my given name, although her kind has given me a different, more sinister name I’m not terribly fond of. “Why are you out here?” I ask.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but my papa taught me how to hunt. That’s what I’ve been doing every day for the last two years to feed my family. I come everyday before school, and most days I return even after.”

“Why come twice in a day?” My voice is flat, but she doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Well…” She scowls looking at the ground, as her answer comes together in her mind. “My family has to eat, but we also need other things, like paraffin, thread and needles, matches… things for school, soap for the washing. People in town will pay coin for fresh meat, or trade with other goods. It’s a good system.” She states proudly. But then, she looks nervously around, and stutters as if remembering herself. “But you can’t tell anyone about any of that. I could get punished if word got out that I hunt illegally.” Her nose wrinkles in disgust. “Promise you won’t say anything, Peeta.”

I want to roll my eyes at her, but she’s staring at me with those eyes full of stars and warmth. I have to admit, it felt amazing to hear her use my name. Very few beings even know it, humans can’t even imagine I have an actual name, which suits me, since they fear the one they gave me. It almost rivals the strange pleased sensation I got when her gray eyes widened in pleasant recognition when she saw me approach her tonight. Still, I know not why she’s out here on her lonesome, and I much rather have her go home, to bed, where I have control.

“I don’t have anyone to tell. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tattle. But why are you here so late?”

She frowns. “The part of me getting stuck out here is actually unintentional, and happens very seldom.”

I arch an eyebrow— I had no idea I could use the muscles in my forehead in such manner— and wait for her to elaborate.

“The fence is a pre-war inconvenience, supposed to act as a deterrent for wild beasts, but is almost never on. Animals know to stay away from town, and people like me get to climb under it to gather apples and berries that grow in the wild. Only a few of us hunt, because it’s still illegal to poach. Today I slipped under the wires at dusk to collect some herbs for mother— she’s got to make half of her poultices and unguents with herbs only found in the woods, mind you— anywho, when I came back, the fence was live.” She shivers, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just have to wait it out. It’ll eventually shut off and I’ll be able to cross back into the district. Prim’s already come by to check on me and knows I’m safe. I’ll climb a tree or something while I wait.”

I grunt my understanding and shake my head in aggravation. I wave my hand carelessly, and the electric buzz dies instantly. “I think you can come back in again now.” I tell her needlessly. “Hurry up. You never know how long this will last.”

The girl, Katniss, narrows her eyes suspiciously at me momentarily, but finally shrugs, “As you say.” Then sticks her arm through the links of the fence, holding up her game bag to me. “Hold this for me.” She crawls under the fence and then stands in front of me.

We are the same height I realize. But then, I grow an extra inch or two above her. The corner of her lips curls up, and I’m certain she’s figured something out about me, I just don’t know if it’ll help or hinder my advances.

“I’ll see you around, Peeta. Thank you for keeping me company while I was out there. It’s the first time I got caught out at night. It was nice seeing a friendly face.”

“Mmm. Be more careful next time.” I grunt, and walk away from her.

—————-

I come back to Katniss’ bedroom for reasons I can’t readily comprehend.

She’s not very big or particularly pretty; she’s not even ready to copulate! But there’s a certain vulnerability in her subconscious self that calls me to her.

During the day, she sports the scowl of a thirty year old single mother of two working with only the skills of poaching, handed down to her from her dead father, in order to sustain her family while putting herself and her younger child through school. Of course, she is not really a mother, but everything else is true; so the rest might as well be true also, since she’s had to care and provide for her mother and younger sister for the last two years, taking the mantle of breadwinner all on her slim, little shoulders. Her determination is her own type of brawn in my book.

I hover above her sleeping form, just studying her face; so sweet and tender, free of the premature worry lines and that perpetual scowl that plagues her features in wakefulness, but then again, it is that intimidating scowl of hers that grants her the respect of any adult she does business with.

In sleep, Katniss looks more her age. Innocent and soft, like the velvety petals of a rose bud.

I breathe in the clean smell of her recently bathed body, and wonder if I could just slip my palm up her thigh, just to feel her soft skin under my fingers? But her mother stirs and sighs in the other bed, shutting the thought to Hell.

My eyes cut to the woman right away, but she’s asleep, just rearranging her position in the sagging mattress next to the one I’m floating over.

Mrs. Everdeen suffers melancholy. Her emotional illness almost killed her and her daughters; I’m not sure how I feel about her. She’s better now, but the months of starvation and near death have permanently damaged Katniss, emotionally and psychologically, more than she lets on.

The Everdeens never had wealth or means to afford but the barest of necessities, so when Mr. Everdeen passed, he left nothing behind but a small house with a tiny living area, kitchen, bathroom, and a single bedroom for his surviving family to live in. Another reason I don’t act on my urges to fuck sweet Katniss; the poor thing shares a room with her mother, and more often than not, shares a bed with her little sister.

Tonight is a rare occasion, in which the sister hopped in bed with the mother, leaving the object of my fascination to battle her recurrent nightmares alone. This only exacerbates the troublesome dreams for Katniss, which aggravates me, since her sleep patterns turn irregular and shallow, making it hard for me to infiltrate her subconscious. She’s more prone to wake up when her mind is occupied relieving the bad days. But I don’t complain much, seeing that while she’s is bed alone, I can leisurely hover directly above her sleeping form, instead of by the side of the mattress like I’m usually confined to.

I go back to gaze at my sleeping beauty, and decide that this won’t do.

I have to figure out a way to give Katniss her own room.

I want privacy when the time comes I can do all things I yearn to do. But there’s still time! Katniss has a couple of years ahead of her to grow and mature. I’ll just bide my time until that glorious future.

Before leaving her side for the night, I kiss her forehead. I plant a thought there as my lips touch her skin: ‘Don’t pull the covers up too high. Loosen the sheets around your shoulders. Relax your breathing… rest.’

Then I’m gone.

—————————-

I’m inside sweet, beautiful Lavinia, pounding away in glorious ecstasy.

She’s an absolute delight with a soft, pliable body, with swells and dips in all the right places and shapely legs that go on forever.

She moans sensually every time I enter her. She clenches her pussy muscles around my cock deliciously, and I lick the perspiration off her pale, luscious flesh to give my tongue something to do.

For the first time in months, my mind doesn’t drift to fantasies of an older version of Katniss while moving into the designated warm body of the day. I’m thoroughly satisfied, and at the end of the tryst, just when I’m about to pull out of Lavinia’s tight crevice, she seizes, shakes, arches off the bed with her mouth forming an agonizing O, dipping her head back so her auburn hair brushes the mattress beneath and her torso finally collapses on the bed heavily.

My chest feels the familiar little stir of excitement.

Every woman I’ve successfully implanted with an embryo has had a similar physical reaction. Some are more violent than others, but it’s always the same and I’m cautiously content this time was so mild on the host… mother… whatever she is to my heir.

I stay maybe another hour, just staring at Lavinia’s stomach, wishing I could see beyond the skin and muscle, deep into the womb, take a peek at the creature starting to take shape in her tissue. But alas, that’s not one of my many abilities and powers.

At the first crow of the rooster in the predawn, while it’s still inky dark out there, do I finally see it happening.

It starts as a small, dark red stain growing on the white linen sheets covering the still sleeping redhead. She doesn’t move an inch, but I know from experience the pregnancy failed. Despite the fact that the girl is still breathing, I can’t help thinking she’s already dead.

Lavinia’s hemorrhaging fast; the mess covering her clothes and bedding is now reaching her shoulders; her eyes flutter behind her closed lids, and I regret ever putting my hands on her, because now she’s another girl I’ve sent for death.

I don’t linger to see her last breath.

None of my partners survive a pregnancy. But the night just began in the other side of world, and my loins call for another lover to replace the child I just lost.

—————————

Katniss is 15.

Her dark hair reaches her waist even braided. She hides her budding breasts and the slight curve of her ass, under her father’s old shirts and leather jacket, which are at least 3 sizes too big for her. She’s also taken to wearing trousers instead of skirts and dresses, but even I’ve grown used to her clothing dwarfing her slight frame.

The fact her developing womanly figure stays camouflaged serves two purposes; one, is purely practical, people seem to forget she’s a child— female at that— and take her seriously for trades and bartering; the second one benefits both of us, by keeping unwanted male attention from bothering her.

But there’s no escaping nature, and there’s no stopping puberty. Katniss’ body is maturing nicely, and with that comes torturous growing pains.

Today was hard for her, I can tell.

She’s squirming in her sleep, doubled over at her tiny waist with her nimble arms wrapped around her middle. The downy hair at her temple is damped with perspiration, and her sweet lips are pale and dry.

I kiss the dewy skin of her forehead, murmuring an incantation to numb away her aches. After a few minutes of me trying to soothe her with small caresses, the awful grimace falls off her face, and a relaxed sigh leaves her chapped lips. Her arms loosen, allowing her hands to curl softly beneath her chin.

Her menses started a few months ago, and they have been rough on her. The cycle wipes out most of her strength, leaving her in cold sweats, dizzy, and unstable on her feet. The reaction really worries me. I don’t want there to be a problem I have not foreseen.

I lean my cheek against her soft abdomen and whisper an enchantment. Given my nature, I’m not capable of healing ailments, or granting blessings, nor am I allowed to praying to the ones who could help, but I’m allowed to cast spells and conjure old magic, and lastly, I’m allowed to bear certain illnesses in a human’s stead, so I try to take her pain upon myself. I need my girl to be strong and healthy if she’s to carry my offspring in the future.

I nuzzle her navel for a moment before taking a step back.

A sharp pain wreaks through me, becoming acute near my groin. I claw at the air as the searing pain pierces through me, and then is gone as fast as it came.

That’s that.

I’ve never felt pain before, and I truly hope I never have to suffer it again, but Katniss is resting now, free of deliberating aches, sleeping soundly and peaceful. The unsavory sensations were worth it, just to watch my girl fall into blessed oblivion.

That should do it.

I leave her to rest, wiping off tonight’s nightmares from her subconscious as well.

—————-

I used to worry that with Katniss’ struggle with starvation and malnutrition, her body would become useless as a vessel. Then the day her first bloods stained her undergarments arrived to my everlasting relief, and that to the added improvement of her hunting skills that fetched her better game, and her gathering double portions of wild vegetables and herbs in the woods, where doing wonders to her health.

I was delighted to see her filling in her scrawny bones with meat and muscle, and her cheeks get rosier. It’s the best indication that at last, her womb is ready for procreation!

There’s still the pesky issue of her shared lodgings, so I decided to bide my time until her healer mother gets called to tend an overnight patient, and eager to learn, little Primrose would tag along her mother to help, leaving the house all to myself. Unfortunately, something else happened that I didn’t see coming.

To my everlasting fury, I discovered her trips to the woods aren’t as solitary as I had believed. It so happens that sweet, capable Katniss, does have a hunting partner, and for some reason I ignored this fact completely until today.

The fence is electrified again, but this time Katniss has made camp in the branches of a tall, sturdy tree. In a branch below hers, a lanky, older boy made his bed under the canopy, tying a rope around his waist to anchor him to the tree limb, same as her.

“Hey Catnip, you get some shut eye for now. I have first watch. I’ll wake up when I get tired.”

“Unless you see something worth shooting!” She tells the boy scowling. “Wake me up right away, Gale. Not like last time you saw a deer and tried to down it by yourself.”

The boy lifts his hands in surrender. “Alright, Catnip. Whatever you say.” He sounds almost playful. Almost, but then he finishes with a firmer command, “Now go to sleep. I’ll call if I see anything interesting.”

I feel anger, jealousy, and righteous indignation boiling all over me. I feel my true form emerging, ready to show myself in all my glorious horror, but then I remember Katniss is a mere two feet up above the boy’s branch, and instead of attacking the mortal, I simply explode back to my dwelling, deep in the dark recesses of the Earth.

Meanwhile, in the human world:

“Did you smell sulfur?” Asks Gale sitting up straighter on his branch.

“No. But smelling sulfur out of the blue isn’t a very good omen, Gale. I think we should call it a night, and head back home as soon as the fence is dead.”

“Yeah. You may be right. We don’t wanna be near any toxic gas leaks, and we know next to nothing about the minerals in the mines yonder.” He points into the dark, in the direction of the old abandoned coal mines that used to be the only source of income to people like Katniss’ family.

The teenagers descend the tree quickly, with loaded bows aloft, heading in the direction of town, praying the fence is no longer active.

Oblivious to the angry roar resonating in the empty spaces of earth. Full of vengeance and jealousy.

—————

Gale Hawthorne gets visited by my female counterpart, the one humans have named Succubus, courtesy of yours truly.

She does not take his life unfortunately.

She makes him sick enough he’s bedridden for a week, but he recovers.

When I confront my demoness comrade, she simply says “The boy is 17, and he’s the sole provider for his family of 5. He’s mother is living enough hell as it is, so I just gave tall, dark and handsome a good ride and a touch at nirvana.”

I don’t think that was the truth behind her reprieve at all; I’ve seen her take the lives of teens younger than that, who indulge in self molestation a little too much. I believe she let him keep his life as petty revenge on me, for disrupting her other encounters that night.

The only consolation I have for now is that Gale Hawthorne will have an unexplainable aversion to sex for a few months, which means he won’t pursue my girl in the interim.

But Katniss is starting to look more like a woman and less like a tomboy. It’s only a matter of time before she gets noticed by other boys. I don’t exactly need my partners to be virgins, but the thought of someone else taking Katniss’ purity drives me into a murderous state I really can’t afford.

So, tonight, when I slip into the crack of the window to visit her, I dip my hand under her covers, into her threadbare camisole, to caress her supple, soft breasts. I pinch her nipples to erection and watch her react to the sensations.

I plant suggestive thoughts in her subconscious. She blushes in her sleep and I murmur into her ear reassurances about her beauty and worth, and incredibly, I’m truthful about those.

I close my eyes to savor the moment. It’s the first time I put my hands on her erogenous zones, and she does not disappoint. Katniss’ breast fits perfectly in my palm.

“Sleep well my dear.” I whisper in her ear, “Dream of Incubus babies suckling at your tits. That will become your future at some point.”

———————-

I’ve been stalking Katniss for the better part of five years, and still I fail to make her mine.

She will be 16 in a few days time, and I’ve had plenty of opportunities to lay claim to her body, yet I keep finding excuses to prevent me from going any further than a few caresses on safe places. On nights she spends in the woods alone, I fabricate reasons why I shouldn’t touch her: ‘She’s fully clothed’, ‘A coyote is three miles away and could attack her in her heavy sleep’, ‘She looks uncomfortable on this tree branch; I want her first time to be somewhere she’s comfortable.’

That last one became obsolete the moment Katniss hiked to a cement shack far into the woods, a place she excitedly canvassed for days, then fitted with a makeshift bed of dry grasses and hay to sleep in. Apparently the place had actually been discovered by her father in his youth, and he shared the place with his elder daughter, a secret location all to their own. Being the sentimental human she is, Katniss only recently found the courage to return without her father, and face the fact that her once happy childhood is gone.

I blame my lack of progress on a disturbing thought: fucking Katniss in her sleep and leaving her to incubate my offspring after without any explanation, amounts to rape, and although it isn’t in my nature to operate under the moralistic customs of humans, I find the notion troublesome and appalling. I would never cause Katniss such pain and humiliation.

So I’ve been stalling. Buying time, trying to find a way to make this union less… morbid. More consensual.

I tell myself this is all for Katniss’ benefit, but the truth is, I think it would be rather nice to be able to look at her beautiful gray eyes while spilling my semen into her womb.

To my chagrin, I’ve realized that while trying to consort with this girl, her humanity has bled into my very essence. I’m just afraid I cannot conform to mortal morals too long. My sole reason to exist is to procreate and satisfy my ever growing lust. My nature will win at the end, and I fear I will lose her when it happens.

———————

It’s raining a monsoon outside, yet Katniss is sitting on the porch crying quietly into her hands. It’s past her bedtime too, so I’m sure this is something she’s trying to hide from her family.

I sit next to her on the creaky step before even realizing my physical body has materialized out of thin air of its own volition.

“Gale, my best friend and hunting partner, kissed me today.” She says without even looking up at me. “I pushed him away and told him I didn’t want to be with him that way. That I never wanna get married and have children. He walked off angry, and now I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m… sorry?” And I am, I just don’t quite know what it is I’m sorry about, yet.

“I just don’t understand why he had to go and ruin a good thing!” Her gray, tear-filled eyes find me, and I’m surprised at the fire, anger, and betrayal in her gaze. I’m mesmerized. “Why did he have to go and complicate things that way? Isn’t he happy we are friends? Isn’t it enough we go out into the woods and feed our families together like partners? Why mess it all up?”

“Because you’re beautiful. Because you’re worth the try. Because he’d be an idiot if he let it pass and never confessed his feelings for you. You are extraordinary, Katniss. You have no idea the effect you can have…”

“What does that even mean, Peeta?” She demands angrily.

“It means, men look at you and see someone worthy. Someone valuable. Someone they can’t help but admire and want to pledge their loyalties and affections to.”

She snorts, pawing the tears off her cheeks. “You’re just saying that because you are my guardian spirit.” She says dismissively.

“Your what?” I ask in disbelief, astonishment and an edge of offense.

Katniss rolls her eyes, letting me know she thinks I’m being unnecessarily obtuse. “Come on, Peeta. You only show up on moonless nights when I’m in trouble, to help me with whatever supernatural powers you possess. I’ve known who you are since my friend Madge let me read her father’s old books from before the first rebellion of Panem. People back then believed in spirits and those kind of things. I just found one that fitted your description, and it came up as ‘Guardian Angel’ which mostly protect humans… you don’t have to deny or confirm it, but I’m pretty confident I got you identified!”

She smiles through her tears. There’s a glimmer of satisfaction and playfulness deep in her eyes.

I’ve never been confused with a Being of Light before, and to be honest I’m doing everything in my power to hide the disgust I feel at that. At this point, I find it counterproductive to correct her preposterous assumptions, so I bite my tongue for the time being.

“Katniss,” I sigh, “Many boys are going to like you. You are an incredible young woman. That said, you don’t have to choose any of them, especially if you’re not comfortable. If Gale Hawthorne knows what’s good for him, he’ll come back and apologize for imposing himself on you. Otherwise, you did nothing wrong and you don’t owe him anything. Be sure you are happy and safe. Even… even when I’m around. You have such an incredible power to you. Don’t be sad about any of this. Chin up and be a great example for little Prim.”

“Thank you, Peeta. You always know what to say to make me feel better.” She reaches for my hand taking me by surprise, and squeezes.

My eyes fall to our entwined hands, and I marvel at the sight; there’s a fluttering of emotions in my chest. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve never been touched by a human willingly, in friendship or otherwise. It’s extraordinary to say the least.

I clear my throat. “You should go inside.”

I watch her duck into her house, and for the first time since the inception of Earth, I remain frozen in one place for the night without seeking a mate to pollinate.

—————

Two weeks after Gale kissed Katniss, and they still aren’t on speaking terms. They avoid each other and start hunting separate parts of the woods in different schedules.

Gale is 18 and can opt for a job at the medicine factory that opened up after the rise of the New Panem some ten years ago. He can also apply for a farming license and get a lot with fertile soil to work. Katniss is still too young to apply for any of that, but she’s old enough to marry.

I will never understand the arbitrariness of human’s law regarding age of consent. A girl of marrying age, should be a girl of independent working age. But what do I know? I’m just a Being of Darkness; such conundrums are beneath me.

Yet, I’m standing here in the other side of world, pondering on it!

She doesn’t own me! If I’m going to obsess over a human, I still want to be me. I don’t want her to turn me into some angel I’m not.

I don’t want to be a piece in this girl’s involuntary game.

So, on my sweet, beautiful Katniss trudges to the woods teeming with game and wild herbs, waiting for her clever hands to pluck, either the string of her bow, or the greens off the forest floor; it matters not. Her family will eat better than her many neighbors, who sadly still live in poverty despite the new era of freedom.

Ugh… curse that resilience and strength of hers! She’s irresistible!

—————-

It’s late in the evening, the last remaining rays of sun just disappeared in the distance, not quite moonless, but dark enough to make anyone uneasy.

A greasy, disgusting man spots Katniss slinking away from the dead electric fence, and lunges at her like a fiend. He takes her by surprise, and gets a hold of her game bag, which is quickly discarded carelessly on the ground. Katniss tries to fight the man back, gritting her teeth and growling like a rabid animal, but it’s no use.

Despite how heavy set the man is, he’s quick on his feet, and has restrained Katniss by the wrists.

The man reeks of white liquor. His balding head has a few long hairs combed to the side, which does nothing to hide the shine of his scalp. The disgusting creature is talking filth into Katniss’ face when I finally step out of the shadows and stalk his way. He doesn’t see me, too distracted on Katniss… MY Katniss.

She’s doing everything in her power not to show how terrified, how trapped she is, but her eyes are filling with tears and this miserable maggot is feeding off it.

The man presses his disgusting body into hers, and she tries to kick him off, snarling a threat that doesn’t reach him. The brute shoves her against a tree; she chokes a small sob back and begs him to stop, while shaking like a leaf. The man laughs, then sticks his nauseating tongue out of his mouth, and licks her face, from her chin to her temple … That’s the last thing I remember cohesively.

I blink, and the next thing I see, there are blood, guts and gray matter splatter everywhere.

The ground, the trees, my hands and clothes, everything is covered in gore. The man’s corpse lays shattered on the ground in two pieces ripped straight down the middle, from his head downward.

I gasp her name, scanning the scene frantically until I see her, huddled up behind a tree with her head buried into her arms that rest on her knees.

I call her name again, but she doesn’t respond to my voice. She mutters something I don’t catch, so I try to touch her. She yelps as soon as my fingers brush her shoulder, and scoots away from me like a crab running from a seagull.

“No!” She yells batting my hand away.

“Katniss—“

“What are you? You’re no angel at all are you?” She stumbles to her feet shakily. I try to follow but she stomps her feet like a toddler in mid-tantrum. “Stay away from me! Monster. Mutt. Whatever you are!” She takes off running home, snatching up her game bag as she goes.

The only evidence linking her with this horror sight is gone, so it’s time to cover my own tracks.

I extend my arms straight, at my sides, I close my eyes summoning nature to me. When the hair covering my arms stand with static and my fingers tingle with tiny shocks of electricity, I clap my hands way above my head bringing down a mighty flash of lighting that scorches the ground and singes the bark of the nearest trees.

Looking at my handiwork with satisfaction, I leave Panem behind. It’s the last time I stalk Katniss Everdeen, awake or asleep. Anonymity is my gift to her.

Sure enough, when morning comes, the death of that awful man, gets attributed to lightning.

——————

Plump, bodacious Delly Cartwright is as opposite in looks and personality to Katniss as humanly possible. I chose her painstakingly for that very reason. Her hair is a mess of yellowish curls that remind me of the majestic mane of a lion. Pretty enough face, with fair skin dotted with freckles, thin pink lips framed by laughing marks and wide set blue eyes full of trust and kindness.

Delly’s had a sheltered, pampered life, and is very free with her affection. She is engaged to be married come Spring, but she’s by no means a pure, innocent virgin. I go at her like a dog with a bone.

I’m in the process of covering her eyes with my special heavy sleep scales, to ensure she won’t wake in the middle of our tryst, but I feel the tug overpowering my whole body before I hear Katniss’ voice calling me by my proper, given name.

Delly stirs in her sleep, while I try to hold on to the bedposts, refusing to answer the summon, but Katniss says my name again. It’s too powerful a pull. My fingers slip off the polished wood and my body pops out of existence in this room, and snaps back into being outside the familiar tiny shack the Everdeen women call home.

The air crackles around me with electric pulses and a cloud of fog surrounds my body.

Once the fog clears, I can see the single oil lamp sitting on the porch railing, illuminating the slim figure of the girl I’m trying to avoid with all my might.

She’s beautiful though. I take her in hungrily.

She’s standing barefoot on the old doormat that’s seen better days, wearing a white, threadbare nightgown I’ve never seen her in before. An equally threadbare shawl that can’t be providing any warmth in this chill wraps around her shoulders. Her hair falls loose down her back, but she keeps fiddling with the end of a lock she’s twisted around her fingers.

Her pink lips tremble slightly from cold every time she exhales a foggy puff of breath from her mouth.

Without really stopping to think of what I’m doing, I glide up the porch steps until I’m in front of her and tighten the shawl over her chest with both of my hands.

“You’re shivering. You shouldn’t be outside in this cold with so little clothes on.” I try to sound stern, but my voice is too soft and caring.

Her lips twitch up at the corners. Her gray eyes shine in amusement. “I wouldn’t have gotten so cold if you hadn’t taken so long to show up. I called you over 120 seconds ago!” She admonishes in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

I narrow my eyes at her, trying to figure her out, but I give it up when her teeth start clattering together. She speaks before I can comment further.

“Come inside with me?” It’s not really a request, since she’s holding my hand like a vise and dragging me towards the door.

“Is that wise?” I ask her arching an eyebrow. “I’m not the Being of Light you previously thought I was.”

She scowls at that, “No, you ain’t. But you’ve still saved my life more times than I care to remember. I owe you, and I’m not very comfortable having a debt so steep hanging over my head.”

“Consider the balance void, Katniss. It’s safer that way.”

She purses her lips and tightens her hold on her shawl. “We’ll see.” She pushes the door open and in we go, without hesitation.

“I spoke to Greasy Sae,” she tells me, as we cross the living room and kitchen area, into the bedroom with the two beds, both empty tonight. “She’s the oldest person in the District, you know.” She states as if that explains anything.

“There’s a wealth of wisdom in the elderly’s counsel,” I comment looking at her profile curiously. “What did this Sae have to say?”

Katniss pulls a chair from a writing desk and motions me to sit. I obey without questioning it.

Katniss shrugs, “I asked many things, really. Sae talks a lot, and she knows everyone, so people come to her for advice.” She sits on her bed opposite me, yet her eyes shy away from mine.

“What advice did you ask for?”

“No advice. Just information.” Her eyes flick to me quickly, then go back to a point over my shoulder. “You know, what you did to Cray… well, it wasn’t subtle at all.” She finally pierces me with a glare, but that only lasts a second. “I mean, you tore his body in half with your bare hands and left his carcass to rot in the meadow. Who does that?!” Another glance, this one I can’t tell if she’s disgusted or terrified. She should be both.

“I made it appear as if had been a lighting strike.” I protest.

“It wasn’t storming that night, Peeta. We had beautiful, clear skies the whole, entire week. People knew something supernatural was behind that monster’s death.”

“He was about to do terrible things to you, Katniss. Have you thought of how scared and devastated your sister would’ve been if something awful had happened to you?”

“Of course I have!” She interrupts me. “It would’ve destroyed her. Don’t get me wrong, people are happy to see the bastard gone, because he’s always had a history with harassing girls, but everyone is scared now of something they don’t understand and can’t start to explain! The whole district is so shocked they close their shutters earlier, hide their youngsters fiercely, walk in large groups when going places like school or the market. Even at school teachers step out of their classrooms to make sure the students milling around the halls are safe. It’s horrible and traumatic…”

“Then you know why I had to take care of that predator.” I spit venomously.

Her shoulders sag, “I know.” The pinched look falls off her face.

She stands up and walks towards me.

In a surprising move, she lowers herself sideways on my lap. My arms go around her waist immediately, in case she changes her mind, but Katniss leans her head onto my shoulder and sighs deeply.

In all the centuries I’ve fucked my way through humanity, I’ve never been this close to a girl before. I do not mean merely physically, but intimately. I’m not sure how to respond and reciprocate the affectionate gesture, so I settle for resting my cheek on the crown of her head.

“Where’s your family?” I ask.

“Tending to a birth. Twins. There’s some kind of complication, so mother took Prim to help her. They will be out all night.”

I accept her explanation with a sound at the back of my throat. After a minute of easy silence, I ask, “Were you satisfied with the information you yielded from Mrs. Sae?”

“No.”

She doesn’t elaborate for a few minutes.

“How did you know Cray was attacking me?” She finally asks shuddering in my arms.

I scowl. “That kind of evil. It comes from me.” I tell her. “I recognize the ones who maim the soul and hurt the spirit, because that’s my job. That perversion originates from the same darkness I come from, and responds to the same urges I do.”

Katniss tries to appear unperturbed about my words, but she can’t hide her trembling.

“Sae said she didn’t recognize any spirits by my descriptions. I tried to remain vague and distant, as if asking on someone else’s behalf, but she was troubled by my questions, and I think she knew I’d witnessed Cray’s disembowelment. I had to stop my inquiry.”

“I’m right here, Katniss. You can ask me anything you want to know. Isn’t that why you called me here tonight?”

She shakes her head in denial. “Sae said it sounded like a dark one was protecting his mate, or maybe grooming a prospective mate. But of course, she’d never heard of something quite like you. She didn’t know who or what you were. She couldn’t tell me how to proceed.” Katniss straightens up, and stares into my eyes apprehensively. “I have an idea of how you may like me to pay off my debt to you.” She says blushing violently, averting her eyes and fiddling with her shawls fringe.

She breathes in deeply, and lets the shawl fall from her shoulders. She takes my hand and brings it to her clavicle; her fingers interlace with mine, to venture under the neckline of her nightgown. Before I can make sense of what’s happening, I brush the soft skin of her full breast with the pad of my digits.

Katniss presses my fingers to her delicate nipple, and I surrender my will to a human, for the first time in the memory of creation.

I trace her areola gently, with practiced ease, until the nipple puckers up in response. Her own hand falls away, leaving me to my own devices.

Katniss shudders a little, clenching her eyes closed. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” She asks me, not quite in accusation, but unsure and fearful

“Yes.” I tell her. No sense in denying the truth. I lean into her ear to whisper, “Katniss, you should have left that debt alone when you had the chance, Sweetheart.” She shivers in my arms, but presses her torso against my body.

“This is the price isn’t it?” Her voice wavers.

“Partially. The price I’m charging is something you already told me you were unwilling do. Now we will have to come to some agreement.”

“How long have you been touching me like this?” She’s holding back tears, but not stopping the pinches and kneading of my fingers on her flesh.

“I’ve only done this twice to be honest. I palmed your behind once. Somehow, touching you without your knowledge feels… wrong.” She nods, a stray tear trails down her cheek. I nuzzle the sensitive spot behind her ear. “I’m sorry, Katniss. I’m not a one mate being. I go around the world, taking women such as yourself during their sleep, oftentimes impregnating them with my spawn. It’s not my custom to groom my partners, but everything about you has been different from the beginning.”

“Aren’t I the lucky gal?” She spits bitterly, yet her breathing is getting shallower and a pretty blush is starting to color her skin from her face to her chest. She’s actually enjoying my ministrations on her breasts. “What makes me so special?” She asks.

“You’re strong minded. One of my powers is to whisper things into a human’s ear, and plant ideas, orders, images… you’re too stubborn to listen to any of that. I’ve command you to cut all of your ties to that Hawthorne boy at least thrice, but you’ve refused to forsake his friendship and companionship each time.

“I’ve tried to get you to wear dresses and shifts to bed, but you keep wearing your father’s clothing even to sleep.

“Every time I try to induce a sexual dream into your mind, you clam up, and never stay asleep long enough to get too far into the dream for it to affect you the way I’d want it to. But, things seem to be changing right now.” I pull my hand out of the neckline of her gown and place it on her knee.

Once I make to hike my hand up her thigh, Katniss clenches her legs together, whether she’s doing it to deny me access, or because she can’t handle the arousal, I am not sure. I drop my hand off her knee all the same.

“I can’t take you without your consent, Katniss. That much is clear after my failed attempts at wooing you while unconscious.” I whisper into her temple, dropping a sweet, barely-there kiss. “This ‘grooming’ debacle has happened both ways.” I state. “Katniss Everdeen, you’ve tamed the feared and despised Incubus.” She gasps. I suppose, Incubus she’s heard off before.

“I’m still a demon.” I say solemnly, “A sex fiend. My nature hasn’t changed, despite your domesticating me. You could reject me right this second, and I’d go away without ever touching you. But, once out of your snaring presence, I’d have to prowl around in search of other women to satisfy my needs.”

“You’re saying that other women and girls well-being rest upon my shoulders?” She asks looking a little green in the face. “You couldn’t possibly do anything to them without their express permission, would you?” She sounds hopeful, and her eyes are pleading.

“You’re the only one with power over me, Katniss. I only care for your wants and dislikes. I am yours to command, anyone else is disposable.”

“How am I supposed to agree to these terms, Peeta? You… you’re- you molest women in their sleep! You get them pregnant against their will and nearly every one of them dies as a result of your encounters with them.” Her eyes fill with tears, but she doesn’t look away from my own. “I never want to have children. But that’s what you want from me, isn’t it?” She murmurs shakily, her body sagging into my chest. “I don’t want to die either. My sister needs me.”

“Katniss, I’m obsessed with you, because you’re the sturdiest girl I’ve met. You’re a survivor. You don’t give up when you know the difference between death and survival is you. I’ve been investing my own powers on perfecting your body and preparing your internal organs so you’re in top condition for mating, sustaining a pregnancy and delivering a live half human, half demon child.”

This stuns her a second. “You really were grooming me for years.” She sounds devastated. “I told you I didn’t want marriage, loving a man that could die and take away my will to live to his grave with him. It happened to my parents. I can’t abandon my children to their fate the same way my mother did to me and Prim. You knew all this. I told you all about it before… you still want me to… to—” she chokes back a sob and clams up.

I’m aggravated with her. I had walked away from her, left her alone, freed her from my presence, yet she summoned me back here because she can’t let some fabricated debt go. I growl lowly, trying to keep my temper under control. She really won’t be able to survive my wrath, and I don’t want to harm her in an angry rush.

“Since you insisted on calling me here, then I must inform you, you will become pregnant if we mate. That’s a guarantee. But I’m no man. I can’t die. I will never grow sick and time will never age me. My children won’t suffer human needs either. They’ll be strong and capable of hunting their own meals, much like you do now. If you can’t mother them properly, I will take them away and raise them myself. We have little room for negotiations at this point. Mating and childbearing are inescapable if you pursue the debt route.”

“Kill me now then!” She snaps, trying to push away from me, but I keep her in place with my hands.

“I will not kill you.” I say it like it is a command.

“If I refuse to m-mate?”

“Will you?” I counter. “Mating will happen on your terms. On your time.” My voice sounds gentler now, like it was before. “Then I’ll leave you alone for good if that’s what you want.”

“You… you would?” She’s shaking all over.

“My word is my bond.”

“What should I call you? Master? Sir? Lord?”

“Peeta. Just Peeta. That is my given name.” I tell her simply.

“Why me? Why now?”

“I don’t quite know. I just know you’re the one strong enough to stand the physical toil of carrying my offspring which has caused all the previous hosts’ demise.”

She nods absentmindedly. I’m surprised when Katniss starts undoing the tiny buttons at the neckline of her gown, and slowly slips off my lap, to stand between my legs. I lose no time pulling the soft material covering her body down her arms, to pool at her feet. I stare at her naked torso and then at the apex of her thighs, drinking in her beauty with relish.

“I’ve never seen you nude before.” I tell her in awe, rubbing my hands up and down her arms.

“Let’s do this now. No sense delaying it. It would happen eventually anyway.” She says, shyly.

She most see the greed and lust in my eyes, because she tries to cover her chest and the curly, black hair covering her sex. I remain seated on my chair, until she starts squirming under my heated gaze.

“Do as you must, Peeta. Do it quickly.” She says after forcing her eyes back to mine.

“You need to be more specific, Katniss. Otherwise I’ll stay planted here until dawn slashes me away.” I tell her arching a brow. I burn with desire for her, but I cannot move without her permission.

She grunts and taps a foot impatiently. I smile at that. She’s still so strong willed even now, and so pure deep down; it’s endearing.

“Take me, Peeta. Now. Mmm… sexually.” She punctuates.

I can’t help smirking deviously. I stalk up to her and reach my hand to rest on the curve of her waist, gently pulling her forward.

“I am going to kiss you now.” I purr into her ear.

Kissing my partners is unusual for me, but this is Katniss. I take her lips with mine in a searing kiss that burns down my body. I lay her on the bed blindly, caressing her velvety skin tenderly.

I’ve master the art of masturbating my conquests to assure lubrication, but other than that, I’ve never given thought to foreplay for the sake of pleasing my partners. I’m doing things here, I’ve never done before. Human lovers may be more adept at romancing, but I’m doing my best to pleasure Katniss with my hands, lips, tongue and words.

I taste, kiss and nip at her skin. I tweak, pinch, knead and caress her flesh; I suck on her nipples and nuzzle the cleft between her thighs. She tenses, melts, and chokes back sounds on intervals every so often, not quite sure if she should resist me or enjoy the sensations I’m evoking in her.

“Relax, Katniss. Clear your mind. Enjoy the moment.”

She lifts her head in time to watch me take a long swipe of my tongue along her labia. Her head falls on the flat pillow and a soft moan escapes her sweet mouth.

“You smell and taste divine.” I tell her while inserting my middle finger inside her warm, wet pussy.

Finally, Katniss cries out my name, and I swear it’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever experienced.

A second and then a third finger find their way inside her making her bow off the bed. She’s moaning loudly now. My thumb makes contact with a small kernel of flesh I haven’t really paid much attention to while with other women.

Katniss shouts with the first few passes of my thumb, she begs me not to stop, to “please, please, please, keep doing that!” And I can’t resist lapping at the copious arousal bathing my hand and Katniss’ thighs.

I’ve made women orgasm before, unintentionally of course. They cum just by the sheer size of my shaft, but it’s never been as extreme as this. My sweet, little Katniss arches off the bed, her shout dies in her throat, and then she falls on her back, convulsing and twitching.

At some point her fingers tangled in my hair. She pulls on it every time she shudders her release, until she lays still.

I sit up and catch my reflection on the oval mirror propped on Mrs. Everdeen’s night table, next to the blade her late husband used to shave his face. Both items remain in the same spot they were left at 6 years ago. Young Primrose polishes the reflecting surface everyday, readying it for a father that will never use it again.

As I take a minute to inspect my appearance, I’m surprised I don’t have Gale Hawthorne features. I’m taken aback at how young and kind my face is. I guess I must be 16 or 17 in her mind’s eye. Blond, wavy hair. Warm blue eyes. Chiseled jaw, defined upper lip and a strong straight nose. I rip off the simple white button down shirt covering my upper body to find lean, defined muscles over a wide set of shoulders that look strong and used to manual labor. My skin is fair with a smattering of freckles and light blonde hair cover my arms. I realize this is what Katniss finds appealing. Whatever she’s attracted to.

I look down at my trousers, and see flecks of flour on dark brown sturdy material. I find it amusing that she’s dreamt me off to be a baker of all things, but I guess in her mind, it makes sense. I did give her bread in the backyard of an abandoned bakery the first time we met.

I will the rest of my clothes gone, and it disappears on the spot. I kiss her navel sweetly, and hook my elbows under her knees. When I sit up, I pull her hips towards mine.

“My turn.” My voice is raspy and needy. Katniss nods, widening the opening between her thighs for me.

“Will you… fit?” Her voice wavers, her gray eyes watch the turgid appendage between my legs nervously.

My cock twitches. “I will fit, Sweetheart. Don’t you worry about it.” I assure her sweetly, caressing her outer thigh.

She nods. “Okay.” She breathes out softly. “I’m ready.”

Katniss gasps when I run the head of my dick through her wet, swollen folds, and without much ado sink my full, long girth into her in one swoop motion. She releases a breathless, long, drawn out moan once I’m seated all the way in. She’s so tight and warm, I wish I could freeze this moment, here, right now, and live in it forever. Alas, time is not something I have control over, so I give into my need and start moving.

Katniss keens breathlessly every time I rock into her. She’s digging her blunt nails into the skin of my shoulder blades, after having hooked her slim arms under mine. Her face is practically buried into the hollow of my neck, letting me feel the brush of her lips and her hot breath against my pectoral with every thrust. Having her awake for this was the best decision ever!

I kiss her sweaty forehead, and bury my nose in her hair. She always smells so good, like lavender and fresh rain. I kiss her temple, and then her cheek; lastly I kiss her lips and she sighs into it.

“Does it feel good?” I ask her, genuinely interested in her answer.

She nods faintly. “It feels… wonderful. Different. Strange. I feel so full, like I’m stuffed to the brim, yet I need more of you, of your… hmmm…”

“Cock,” I supply. “Call it a cock.”

“Alright.” She breathes out. “I- I think I like the feel of your… cock, in me.” She says rubbing her cheek against mine.

“Good. Let me know when you get tired, and I’ll finish.”

She gives me a frowning look. “You can do that at will?” She asks.

I shrug. “Usually. Sometimes, when I’m to keyed in, I just explode after a few pumps. It’s not very often. But it’s happened.”

“Well, I don’t want to rush you, but, my legs are starting to cramp up, so…” she winces.

I chuckled and kiss her mouth again. “Alright, Sweetheart, your wish is my command. I’ll fill you up with my thick cum right away.”

She’s trying to smile at my jesting words, but I pick up my pace before she can respond, and soon I’m driving into her like a possessed madman. It only takes a few pumps, but it takes almost a full 2 minutes to finish spilling my load into her. My hands aren’t idle during my release though.

My thumb presses tight, fast circles against her clit, and my sweet, beautiful Katniss starts clenching and shaking with her own orgasm. I nearly mistake her body obviously reacting to my semen because she’s riding her release at the same time as her organs start knitting the embryo of my heir deep in her womb.

Her body tenses, and breaks out into a high fever. She shivers and her lips turn pale and dry, her skin is ashen and papery, and her eyes are closed. She’s convulsing in my arms, but not in blissful orgasm anymore. Since I’m still inside her, I can feel every one of her muscles contract on my cock, and it is too much for me to bear, I pull out of her quickly and spill a second load just shy of her pussy. I gather her into my arms, and mumbled an incantation into her hair, holding tightly to her.

I’m not allowed to pray, but that doesn’t stop me from pleading for her life over and over as I sit on the bed with her limp body cradled to my chest. “Please, don’t let her die. Please, don’t let her die. Please, don’t let her die…”

Fuck! I don’t care if the child lives as long as she does… and I keep rocking her until morning surprises me, and Mrs. Everdeen walks in on me holding her almost dead daughter.

——————

Katniss gives birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl.

The child looks completely human with a mop of dark hair on her head and the bluest eyes a child can have at that age. Still, rumors break out of the origin of the child, and people start attacking both Katniss and the babe when things start getting too weird for them.

Mrs. Everdeen reluctantly accepts her daughter has mated with a demon, and has a very hard time looking her in the eye. I’m sure the fact that she sees me as an exact replica of her dead husband, has to have caused some psychological disturbance for the healer. It must have been unpleasant to walk in on her obviously freshly fucked daughter, limp and unresponsive in the arms of a man that looks just like the father of said daughter.

Primrose is not allowed to stay in the same room with her sister and niece without Mrs. Everdeen present, and Katniss is livid about it.

“I’ve practically raised Prim on my own at the age of 11, when you were too sick to care for anyone, least of all yourself! We are all alive thanks to Peeta!” She yells at her mother one day while bitter tears slide down her cheeks.

Mrs. Everdeen asked Katniss to leave the house, after catching my reflection on the window glass while the baby nursed. The healer can’t stand my presence, let alone the appearance my body takes in her mind’s eye, particularly when I can’t hide my lust for Katniss regardless of the face I’m wearing.

On top of the obvious, understandable reasons why Mrs. Everdeen wants nothing to do with her oldest daughter, she claims to be afraid I’ll go after Primrose as well, as if I could have the faintest interest in the young girl, when I only have eyes for the mother of my child.

“Please don’t say that cursed name in this house, Katniss. That monster will be drawn to it.”

“I can call his name whenever I want, because he’s the father of my child, your grandchild!” Katniss argues. “He has never done anything to harm us. He’s saved my life numerous times, and he’s fed us, and kept our health when he didn’t have to. You’re being unreasonable!”

“She really is not.” I say in my most gentlemanly voice, as I shimmer into existence in the middle of their room. “Your Mother has reason to distrust me, but to displace her own daughter and brand new grandchild is cruel.” I say turning eyes full of fire to the woman cowering away from me.

I go back to Katniss and smile, showing her only placid blue when she looks into my eyes. “Do not worry, Katniss. You’re mine to care for, and that I will do. As for your family…” When I shift my gaze to Mrs. Everdeen, my pupils have taken over the blue of my irises, leaving only a pool of empty darkness. “We will figure something out.”

————————-

The babe nurses with vigor, and my favorite time of day is when I sit and watch the evening feedings. My fascination with the baby is offset by my ever growing lust, sparked by Katniss’ exposes breasts.

When the child is asleep and safely tucked in her crib, I take Katniss to the living room of the grand house I built for her in the middle of the woods. I strip my lover of her clothing, piece by piece and drag her to her own bedroom, where the softest, most comfortable bed waits for us.

She doesn’t want to be pregnant again so soon, so she bends over and lets me take her in the rear. By the sounds she makes, I dare say she enjoys it greatly. Her pussy doesn’t stay neglected though; my fingers keep my sweet, beautiful mate satisfied and relaxed.

I seldom need another body to satisfy me anymore, but until I have a mature offspring to take my place devouring the sleeping women of the world, I’m bound to keep prowling the Earth seeking to douse a dying lust for other cunts; my conquests all fall flat and insipid compared to the vivacious woman I have waiting on me back home.

I’m not sure when Katniss’ place became Home for me, but it is the place I always return to.

————————

Katniss starts hunting again six months after the baby is born.

On the second day, the child sits in her pen while Katniss skins the game. The baby cries and cries until her mother picks her up and sits her on her lap as she works. Katniss shrieks when the child’s chubby hand plunges into the bucket of entrails next to the stool they sit on, and tries to bring the gore to her open mouth. The little girl throws a mighty tantrum, until she’s fed meat from a squirrel Katniss cooked. After that, the baby only wants to feed on game, not on vegetables and milk like normal babies.

Katniss thinks it’s unnatural to feed a child so young meat, but she wasn’t truly frightened until a few days after the child’s first birthday.

Primrose visits with her pet cat, Buttercup. Our baby grabs the feline by the tail and tries to strangle it with a choke hold worthy of a professional wrestler. Primrose nervously laughs it off as childlike curiosity and lack of force control, but Katniss knows better. Our child tried to kill and eat Buttercup.

I knew it was time to take charge of the toddler.

Katniss cries with guilt, because she now understands her own mother’s fears, but still hands the little girl over to me, to take to my realm. They get to see each other every day, and our daughter loves her mommy to death. They just don’t understand each other’s natures, and know it’s better to remain separate.

Our daughter’s growth has accelerated in my realm, so she’s now at the level of a 5 year old child.

“Will she kill humans?” Katniss asks me tearfully one night after my seed is drying between her thighs.

I lean down and kiss her temple. “She might. She may become a Succubus. She may become something totally different. She’s still half human, darling. Only time will tell.”

That’s poor comfort for Katniss, so she cries in my arms until fatigue takes over her. I can’t help myself. I fuck her again while she’s asleep, and this time I don’t pull out when my release is imminent. That’s when it happens again. Only this time the reaction is different. Obviously supernatural.

Her breathing picks up, her mouth falls open, her skin starts to glow. I place my hands on her abdomen, where the glow is more intense. I push my erection inside her pussy, because I want to feel it happening from the inside, and the heat leaching from her walls is almost unbearable. Her forehead breaks into fat beads of sweat, her skin is burning up, and she shivers uncontrollably under my weight. I’m involuntarily cumming again. My hips can’t stay still, so I give in and piston into her at a frantic pace, digging her slim frame deeper into the mattress.

Poor, exhausted, Katniss, passes out before I can pull out of her. Much like the first time, my mate is in a short coma for the next week.

I make her mother tend to her like I did the first time as well. This time, Katniss delivers twin baby boys.

There’s absolutely no doubt at all the infants are my spawn and hold the powers of the incubus. When Katniss holds them, they look exactly the way she sees me: soft blonde curls that fall on their forehead in waves, pleasant blue eyes like summer sky, long eyelashes that brush chubby, rosy cheeks. The boys look cherubic, and she can’t stop kissing them and showering them with attention.

They’ve won over their grandmother completely as well. When Mrs. Everdeen takes them, the boys look just like Katniss: straight dark hair, gray eyes, olive skin. They have Mr. Everdeen’s chin. But if Prim is the one to hold them, they look completely different.

The twins breastfeed exclusively, refusing any other nourishment well into two years of age. The boys are cunning, not showing any demonic tendencies, or habits that’ll scare Katniss away. Mommy— as they call her affectionately— is way too fond of them, and barely leaves their side. She’s lost weight and her skin and hair turned brittle, but her children come first all the time.

They can’t fool me though. I catch them whispering thoughts into their mother’s head, planting ideas and fears she’s never had before, and I know it’s time to take them away when they don’t even try to hide their wrong doing from me, just staring boldly into my face, sporting identical smirks as they sing into Katniss’ ear they’re the only ones that love her in this world; they need her to care for them.

Katniss fights me over them, until I show her how manipulative the little fuckers are: I’m fucking her in our bedroom while the boys are supposed to be soundly asleep in their own warm beds, instead, they sneak into our room and watch in fascination as I take her hard and fast. They snicker when my hand makes contact with their mother’s romp and I make the curtain fall, revealing their presence after casting a protective block on her mind against the boys’ trickery.

Katniss scrambles to cover up her nakedness, but the boys ask excitedly when will they be able to do the same?

I sit them both on my lap— that my mate has hastily covered with our sheets— and lovingly explain to my sons they will have their chance once they reach puberty. And the best part is, I’ll be able to retire!

Katniss leaves the bed to wrap herself with a robe and watches my exchange with the boys disgusted from a corner of the room. Her limbs are tied into a tight ball, and her distress is palpable enough for the boys to pick up.

“Not you mommy,” one of the twins clarifies.

“Mommy belongs to you, father.” Adds the other one helpfully.

“And she’s too sweet to break.” Explains the other.

Katniss does not oppose me taking the boys after that.

—————

The third pregnancy nearly kills my Katniss.

The baby’s aura is just too evil for her body to sustain. I conjure up my most powerful sleeping magic and cover her eyes with scales so heavy she stays asleep for three days.

I take the child from her womb before she can wake up, but the little demoness survives.

Katniss never gets to see her new daughter, and the child hates her mother so much I have no choice but to send her to the one place that can hold a being as dark as her. Deep into Hell.

I tell Katniss the baby was stillborn and she never asks questions about it.

——————

Katniss is 25 the day she becomes pregnant for the last time. She delivers a second set of perfectly healthy twins; a boy and a girl this time. Both completely human. Both looking exceptionally normal and nothing like me, except for their bright blue eyes. That trait could’ve come from Mrs. Everdeen and Primrose for all I know.

I’m so out of my mind with rage, I terrorize poor Katniss by pretty much destroying everything in the house. I accuse her of sleeping with human men while I was away, Gale Hawthorne perhaps, since the babes have that Seam look to them.

She denies it vehemently, bawling and pleading, so scared for her life, but shielding the newborns with her battered body after labor.

I push her aside and stride to the crib, ready to smite the infants with a blow of my hand. She falls on her knees begging me to believe her, screaming her innocence, crying out my name pitifully. “Peeta, please, you have to believe me!”

“Why should I?” I yell in her face.

“Because… because… I love you, Peeta!” She cries out loudly, hanging from my wrist, my hand lifts her body off the floor wrapped around her delicate neck, squeezing it tightly.

I see the petechiae forming in the white of her eyes. The oxygen in her brain will soon be too scarce to function.

But she’s stunned me into silence.

“No you don’t.” I slam her down to the floor gracelessly.

Katniss’ tear stricken face looks up. She crawls closer to me ignoring her sore throat and neck. She tugs on my pant legs, pitifully. “I do, Peeta. It’s the truth.” She rasps painfully. “I’ve loved you since I was a little girl. I could never let any other man or being lay a hand on me. I’m in love with you.”

“Well…” I struggle for something to say. I’m choked up, words won’t come to my aid. “You shouldn’t, Katniss. Nobody loves me. I’m a demon.”

“And my body is your temple.” She pleads.

But the imprint of my fingers marring her neck, are a reminder, not even living a thousand lifetimes atoning, would be enough to deserve her. “And look how well I look after my temple!” I speak mainly to myself, my voice dripping sarcasm and regret.

“I am yours for eternity.” She vows placing my hand on her chest, where her heart is frantically pounding. “I give you my soul. Please, Peeta. No one has ever touched me, but you. I swear on all of our children. The infant twins included.”

“Katniss! No!” I lament deeply, falling heavily on a chair the farthest away from the crib.

“No what?” She murmurs, coming to caress my shins, then she massages my knees, and her nimble hands creep up my thighs, making a beeline for the fastenings of my trousers.

My cock becomes hard as steel in a second. Katniss Everdeen has been the first and only human to perform oral sex on me. The way she falls on her knees to worship my cock with her mouth, and when it is evident my length will go down her throat only so far, her hands join the cult to my phallus and I loose all my faculties, along with my will to lord over her; I become her slave when her sweet mouth is around me, even when she’s the one in the servitude position. It’s one of the many reasons I know for a fact I could never leave her, is one of the reasons I know she’s my one true mate.

But I ignore my erection and the all consuming need to be in her mouth. She’ll convince me to anything if I let her suck me off, then where will we be? There are more pressing matters than the gratification of my lust to consider.

“Katniss, you shouldn’t have pledged your soul to me. That was foolish! Reckless. A gigantic mistake!” I tell her pulling at the roots of my hair, soft and silky, the way she likes it. “Now you truly belong to me, for eternity.” I tell her, and finally cup her cheek in my palm, tangling her dark tresses in my fingers.

“Peeta, I live in the woods. Everyone has shunned me because I’m the Incubus’ whore. No one talks to me, but everybody fears me. I’m an outcast in this place. My mother barely stands to see me, let alone talk to me. My sweet sister is the only person who loves me and my children. In her eyes the kids are just her nieces and nephews despite their dark inclination, but Prim’s reputation suffers every time people remember we’re related, so I’ve been trying to keep my distance from her.”

Katniss shakes her head sadly, and sits back on her haunches. “I chose you a lifetime ago. I knew the price of being your lover would be steep. I still choose you. Do you still not know this?”

“Nobody has loved me before.” I mutter sadly.

“Well, I do. And I will until you take me from this earth.”

I nod, my mind resolved on what needs to be done.

“The day the twins are completely independent, living their own lives, happily according to their own expectations, I’ll come for you, my beautiful mate.” I tell her. “Since these babies are human, they belong to you, and you will care for them until they reach maturity.

“To makes things easier on you and them, no living human will remember anything about me. The children’s father will just be a foggy memory no one can quite recall. You will be safe, and I’ll be gone until time brings me back to you.”

“And what of me? Do I sit here pretending I don’t miss you? Feeding our children lies about their father?“ She argues scowling at me angrily.

“Sweetheart, I’m afraid you won’t remember much about me either.” I tell her firmly.

“Peeta, you can’t! Peeta—“ She tries to catch my arm, her voice is full of anger and betrayal, but my enchantment is already done.

“Until then… my love.”

—————-

The girl with dark hair and blue eyes dances on tip toes in the meadow. The boy with blonde curls and gray eyes tries to twirl like his sister, but his chubby legs can’t keep up.

Katniss laughs merrily from her spot on the picnic blanket. I’ve never been good at staying away from her, but I’ve made an art of longing from afar without touching her, our the children. This time I can’t resist the temptation, and reach my index finger to brush away the lock of gray hair that has escape her loose braid.

She shivers at my touch, and gathers her coat around her.

“Children,” she calls, standing up and already folding the blanket, “it’s time to go home for the evening.”

“Do we have to, Grandma?” Whines the little girl.

“Yeah! Woo ve haf too?” Pipes up the toddler.

“Remember, we promised mommy and daddy we’d come home early enough to take baths.” Says Katniss with a sweet smile.

The little girl groans and kicks a pebble. Her brother tries to imitate the behavior, but can’t quite get the sass. Katniss rushes at them both, and takes them in her arms for hugs and kisses. The children laugh until they forget to grumble about cutting short their playtime.

I gave my family new memories. Then I gave the whole district a similar version to complement.

Katniss lives with our son and his family above the bakery we met at when she was a child. The walls leading up the apartment are covered with family pictures, full of love and happiness. There’s one single portrait of Katniss’ late husband among the pictures: a wide shouldered baker, with a riot of blonde waves on his head, summer sky blue eyes that match his twins’ perfectly, and a sweet lopsided smile that makes his widow’s heart swoon even now.

“Tell us a story, Grandma!” Begs our grand daughter after her mother and father tuck her in bed.

“Stowry!” Shouts the boy from his side.

“Tell us about Grandpa and his watercolors!”

Katniss laughs, and sits down on the children’s bed. She tells a beautiful story of how her husband used to paint beautiful pictures of flowers and plants for her, how her husband was a painter, and a baker, how he never put sugar in his tea, slept with his windows open, and always double knotted his shoelaces. I stare at my beautiful mate from the shadows, recounting a romance of great bravery, that defeated odds and trials, just to emerge victorious and true.

I wish her memories were as real as the sweet smile they bring to her face.

Rumor has it the baker died attacked by tracker jackers. A horrific and tragic death. Nobody wants to think about it, so they don’t. All anyone knows is that the Mellark’s are a respectable, loving family of bakers that had to survive without their beloved husband and father.

Katniss learned her husband’s trade and passed it down to their twin children. Both very creative and skilled bakers in their own right. The boy married first at the age of 20. His wife is sweet and devoted and had her first baby the following year. The twin sister, decided to stay single and travel the world, learning culinary secrets from other places to improve the business back home. She returned recently with a dog in tow and has been trying to adopt an orphan girl she befriended in one of her travels.

Katniss is almost 50 years old now. Tonight I’ve come for her. She’s lived a full, happy life reflected in the laugh lines around her lips and eyes. Her hair has streaks of gray all over; wrinkles and soft skin have appear on her face and arms, but she’s as beautiful as the day I left her.

She’s asleep, and content. I almost regret waking her… but she’s mine, and I’ve missed her. The world is such a lonely place without her waiting for me everyday. Sure, I have my demonic clan to keep me company in the dark realm, but they’re all wreaking havoc on their own now, and fuck it, no other pussy compares to my mate, despite her human age. I haven’t taken another woman since I released the boys onto the world, they’re even more devious and manipulative than I ever was.

The girls are the truly scary ones to be honest; they can kill any man with precision and never get a speck of gore on their pristine outfits. Deep down I believe it’s because of their mother’s hunting skills and stubbornness.

I smile fondly at her, while hovering over her bed. I kiss her forehead, whispering the command into her mind. “Wake up, Sweetheart. It’s time to go home.”

Slowly, her eyes open, and I see the bright gray hue I’ve missed so much all this years. A sweet, soft smile curls her lips slowly.

“Hi, handsome. I’ve been waiting for you.” She says and accepts my kiss on her lips.

“The adoption was approved.” I tell her quietly, of our daughter’s last pending matter. “The twins are already independent and have everything they’ve ever wanted. You did a beautiful job raising them. I’m here to collect you, darling.”

“You look so handsome.” Katniss says “That silver hair suits you, and your wrinkles match my own. I always knew you’d look devilishly beautiful in your mature age. I’ve forgotten how striking you truly are, though.” She says caressing my cheek and smiling. “The children would loved to meet you.”

“The children know their father loved them enough to give them a good life. They’re happy and have filling lives, It won’t do them any good to know me.” I tell her without self pity. “Now come, It’s time.” I take her hand, and help her up.

“Oh!” She exclaims when her soul separates from her body. The wrinkles in her hands smooth out, her hair turns black as night and elongates to her waist that shrinks and tightens. She could be 16 again.

She looks down at her old body lying peacefully in her bed, now an empty shell. Her eyes widen. “Am I dead?” She asks.

I nod. “You pledged your soul to me, Katniss. It’s the only way we can be together for eternity,”

“Will I get to see our children again?” She asks.

“Any time you want.” I promise. “You’ll see and talk with the ones that live with me every day, but the ones we leave here, in the human world… They will feel your presence, but they will never see you again.”

She looks sad about the news.

“It’s the way of mortals, my love.” I tell her caressing her face tenderly.

“It is.” She acquiesces, leaning into my touch, and then kissing the palm of my hand.

“You gave them a good life and sweet memories to remember you by.” It’s not much, but it’s enough to get her to move on.

“That I did.” She looks up at me, gifting me with a bittersweet smile. “Take me away, Peeta. I have so many hugs in store from the grand babies to give you.”

“Then let’s not delay.”

“You will really be content with me for eternity?”

“Always.”

#Springtime Edition 2019 #aliswell 21 #animekpopxx #prompt 49 #submission

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lightyourowntunnel · 5 years

Text

It’s show and tell time!

This spiel is courtesy of @thewriteblrarchives and their NaNoWriMo Support Group. Let’s talk my process and my NaNo project for this November. It’s really long, so I’ve put it under the tab; enjoy!

Questions for you:

How long have you been writing?

I’ve been writing for as I can remember, honestly. I used to write little stories and poems long before I entered kindergarten. By the time I was in late elementary school, I was consistently planning more coherent stories. I never finished one of them, though.

When you start a project, how do you start? With character, setting, plot, aesthetic, something else?

So inspiration usually hits me like trucks hitting anime protagonists. Sometimes the foundations of a character I find interesting will inspire me, other times it’s a setting. There’s been at least one time that I’ve seen a trope I really liked an off-shoot of that I wanted a full story about (i.e. found family where they’re actually friends and don’t act like they secretly hate each other).

What’s your favourite part of the writing process?

World building is hands down my favorite part of the writing process. I have way more worlds than I have stories for. Normally, I’ll only have vague concepts for characters and a plot until I have a solid world I can play around in, so world building is also one of the longest parts of my process, too.

What genres do you write?

I write a lot of fantasy. Like a lot, a lot of fantasy. Realistically, it’s usually leaning more into science fantasy, but it’s still always very definitively a fantasy world. Everything I write usually has some LGBT+ , aspects of adventure, and potential romantic subplots.

Where’s the strangest place you’ve ever written?

I think it’s personally stranger when I write in a normal place like a cafe, library, or on a desk. I tend to write on the go -- in cars and buses -- and I was scribbling stories throughout my classes and college prep program.

Questions for NaNo:

Have you participated in NaNo or camp NaNo before?

I almost participated in NaNo eons ago, but I chickened out on October 31st. Ever since then I’ve always considered it and just never went through with NaNo or any Camp NaNos.

What made you decide to join up?

So I’m kinda always thinking about joining NaNo and chicken out at the last minute.I’m an expert at making excuses for myself where creative writing is involved! But a little before I finally decided to join I saw this Preptober video by Alexa Donne on YouTube. I had been watching writing tips for a few days because I was distressed about how little I’d been writing recently. Seeing that really just made me decide that there’s no time like the present; even if it’s horrible, I love writing and I just gotta do it.

What are you most excited about/looking forward to?

I’m really, really excited about where this story’s going (in part because even I don’t really know yet). I’ve fallen in love with these characters and there are so many routes their arcs could go. I’m still nailing down an embodiment of an antagonistic force, though, so that’s something I’m looking forward to coming together.

Anything you’re a bit nervous about?

Writing in general, haha! I’ve never successfully written a full-length manuscript before and I’m trying to just go in order for NaNo so I get the experience of it. I just finished the first chapter and cried because I felt so relieved. My favorite part of the novel to write is the middle, but I need a lot of improvement and motivation for the beginning and ending; I’m glad to have the first chapter weight finally off my shoulders.

Have you done a lot of preparation? Or none whatsoever?

I’ve done some prep for my novel. Key word is some. I started prep work on October 16th with a brand new idea, so I was bound to be pretty behind on planning in general. But I’m also a total pantser, so I was trying planner for a change. In the end, I had established my protagonists, the world, and a vague sense of the plot. I also nearly created a language as a part of the PoV character’s culture.

Do you have a workspace, schedule, or daily goal?

In theory, I have a daily goal of 1,667-2,000 words. Because I’m writing a fantasy, I want to get as close to the average word count of my genre as possible. In general, I tend to write at night after work and on my way to work, but I’m trying to wake up earlier so I can write in the morning and not have to transcribe it from a notebook later. I usually write at home, typically isolated in a bedroom.

Questions for your wip:

What’s your NaNo wip titled (if it has one)?

If We’re to Carry Stars

Tell us a bit about your NaNo wip! For example the plot, genre, themes…

If We’re to Carry Stars (IWCS) is a fantasy adventure novel set in the world of Eondes. Thousands of years before the beginning of the story, Eondes chose the Yuvel as its protectors.The Yuvel were merely a race of healers with a high magical aptitude; their styled after nymphs, elves and fairies, with pointed ears and features meant to mimic the planet itself (fiery eyes, green hair, blue blood, etc.). In exchange for protection, Eondes granted the Yuvel access to its magical core, which they were tasked with keeping clean. It gave them elemental magic and strengthened their healing magic. Over the years, the Yuvel had managed to eliminate all known illnesses and dutifully served Eondes.

However, their protection came at a price. Not only has accurate records of old cures and ailments fallen from folklore and records, but no one’s immune systems were prepared to battle any future threats. Faith in Yuvellen magic had made these things unnecessary.

Until now.

A magic-resistant illness has begun to spread through Eondes’ other races. Meanwhile, Eondes’ magical core has begun to pollute, thus weakening the Yuvel with an illness of their own. Many Yuvel have begun leaving their home on Yuvellse in search of answers and a cure, while other races have followed in suit. Faith in the Yuvel has plummeted and tensions between races rise as unlikely alliances strive for Eondes’ hope.

In the midst of such dread, a Yuvel named Eiríńé finds herself wrapped up in one of these quests as she searches for happiness in a dismal life.

Themes: I want to play with the concept of love and selfishness. Is it more selfish to remain where you’re unhappy or is it more selfish to leave in search of happiness? How do you communicate love? How do you communicate your needs when it comes to love, such as styles of affection? I would also like to play around with some other things, but they’re not as concrete yet.

What is your protagonist like?

So I’m playing with the 5 Man Band trope, and therefore have 5 protagonists with one as focal PoV character

Eiríńé in the focal character and the PoV character (as much as she can be in a third person limited perspective). She’s quite a soft-spoken and hesitant Yuvel. Because she frequently second guesses herself, she ends up taking forever to make a decision. She’s rather kind and strives to be a people pleaser. But she’s also horrendously cynical and deeply discontent with her own life. At the beginning of the story, Eiríńé is engaged and has a good, supportive network of friends and family, none of whom seem to realize how deeply unhappy she is with her life. She makes the decision to leave her life behind and join the others on their quest once Mirunise prompts her to make a brash decision and said impulsiveness lights her heart unlike anything before.

Mirunise is the party leader. She’s a Capescu, a shape-shifting race that can shift into any animal they can imagine; they have heightened sense in their default form. Mirunise is a bubbly paragon with a hurricane for a personality. She’s bombastic and aggressively friendly, to the point Ayondi is frequently trying to calm her down. Her cheer and smile is considered infectious. When confronted with negativity, her optimism usually takes the competitive form of refusing to let the source of said negativity win. Because she’s such a dominating force of personality, she can come off as insensitive and/or rude to some; whenever this is pointed out, she quiets and displays an aggressively compassionate side that’s surprisingly a great listener. Mirunise comes across Ayondi and V'haǵir on her way to see her father. Upon learning of V'haǵir’s condition and ambitions, Mirunise quickly joins their group and spearheads them forward.

Ayondi is V'haǵir’s childhood friend. She’s a Darunshin, a human-like species with bird wings that grow and shrink on command, they have an almost supernatural strength. Ayondi is calm and reserved with a deep motherly streak. She cares deeply for other people, but has a habit of expressing it through nitpicking. She is both the most intelligent and has the most common sense in the part; her strategies tend to fall on deaf ears, though. She’s a realist, but a pessimistic side grows after V'haǵir falls ill; everyone who’s contracted the illness thus far as died, and she fears her days with him are numbered. So she picks up V'haǵir‘s quest and decides that she’d rather save others from the grief of loss than just wallow in her own.

V'haǵir is Ayondi’s childhood friend; his illness is the catalyst for his initial quest with Ayondi to search for a cure. He’s a Wevri, an aquatic race with webbed ears and control over existing water. V'haǵir is boisterous and optimistic, a typical paragon like Mirunise. He’s excitable and generally cheerful. He’s the least thrilled about combat in the party, too. In life, he wants to make everyone happier than he’s ever been (and seeing as he’s almost always been generally happy, that’s a lofty ambition). When he first exhibits symptoms of the illness, V'haǵir laments his poor luck and feels discouraged by the lack of a cure. However, he quickly decides that he doesn’t want to idly wait for death and sets out on a quest for a cure, even if he may never live to use it for himself.

Somayn is the last person to join the party before Eiríńé. He’s a Zuifeel, an elf-like race with pointed, drooping ears and a magical connection to nature. Somayn is quiet, but friendly. He’s very worldly and often acts as a sort of folklore guide for the rest of the party. Despite being generally intelligent, he doesn’t really have a great deal of common sense. He’s realistic, calm and collected, and emotionally open with his allies; he sees no point in lying or hiding one’s feelings. On their travels, Mirunise, Ayondi, and V'haǵir find him in the middle of battle (more specifically on the losing side) against a group of bandits. Somayn decides to join their quest after he’s been healed of his injures, citing a need to scour Eondes’ libraries for potential cures.

Have you been planning it for a while? Conversely, do you know anything about it yet?

I wish I could say that I’ve been planning IWCS for a while. But I started planning this story October 16th of this year and started writing it on November 1st. I have a solid handle on the main characters and the world of Eondes, but it’s still up in the air where it’ll all go.

#NaNoWriMo 2019 #NaNo 2019 #NaNoWriMo #NaNoWriMo Support Group #Writeblr #My Own Process #Oh My #Long long post

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graciecatfamilyband · 6 years

Note

I saw somewhere that today is fanfic author appreciation day! I am unsure if this is accurate or not, but assuming that it is, I would like to take a moment to say: I appreciate you, my beloved fanfic author friend!!

My Dearest Tachiisms,

It was in fact fanfic author appreciation day when you sent this (August 21)! I deeply appreciate this gesture of appreciation from you, my RP friend. :)

I am going to use this opportunity to say that that day- usually a day of great joy for me, as someone who has loved many works for fanfiction since I began reading it two years ago- was a bit of a hard day for me. My relationship with the fan fiction community (at least within the community I currently write in) has changed considerably in the last year and, on top of that, I have not written nearly as much as I have wanted to (or, to be honest, read as much as I wanted to either).

The good things that I did get to reflect on for Fanfic Appreciation Day:

Getting to beta the work of @mary-twig. We are going slowly in terms of putting the finishing touches on the remaining chapters, but she has a very sweet and spicy Han/Leia story in progress right now, and I’m very excited for audiences to get to experience some upcoming dialogue and sexual tension. It’s been an honor to get to be there with a young writer as she develops her style and learns how she wants to story-tell, and I’m so impressed how she manages to navigate the differences between English and her native language. (Check out her FF.net page here.)

Betaing the final installment of @organanation‘s Wild West AU. I was so impressed at her continued growth in writing period, her ability to create imagery in a world she created, her ability to effectively write action scenes that did the job more than well but weren’t excessively long (i.e. they kept my attention, and made me laugh and cheer, and I sometimes struggle with paying attention to those!), and her continued mastery of romance and sexual tension. I owe her some reviews, but the final, short chapter of the story is probably my absolute favorite part and a must-read for any Han/Leia fan. The flirty, saucy, playful romance of it, so Han/Leia, and yet such a happy ending. Having the privilege to do all the nitpicking on the story while she does the heavy lifting has been a joy. (FF.net page here.)

Continuing to admire the sheer productivity of @lajulie24, her ability to do so much in such a short space, and to integrate themes that speak to me with excellent characterization and great plot. (And now she does mood boards? Amazing!) Just a very impressive writer on many spectrums. (AO3 page here.)

@jediofgrace For her writing, and for nerding out with me about what makes stories work and what speaks to readers, and for writing with a sense of humor and detail. She is an equally great writer and reader. (FF.net page here.)

@jainadurron who shared some interesting, honest, in-depth, and thoughtful discussions about writing, story-telling, characterization, etc. with me. I deeply appreciated them. (I especially recommend her NJO fic The Road to Recovery and her AU An Alderaanian Love Story.)

@swimmergirl71 who took the plunge from reader into writer this year, with great results. So many “readers” have worlds within them that they carry inside for fear of looking foolish or being incapable if they put them to paper, and it’s so thrilling when they actually share them with us. Thanks for doing so swimmergirl, and I hope you will feel free to share more in the future. (FF.net page here).

@smugglerofsass’s unique point of view, commitment to exploring the depths of Han’s inner world, and ability to take any given piece music and turn it into Han/Leia scenes. I hope she will keep posting snippets of whatever she wants to work on or is in her head at a given moment, as well as keep working on some of those MCs she taunts us with. (Her FF.net page is here, but really, she puts so much on Tumblr only!)

@otterandterrier‘s Scoundress Saturday, which provides such a great opportunity for people to try their hand at writing in a low-pressure and accepting space! This is a true treasure of the Han/Leia community. Fanfiction is, to me, about “everyone can do it”, and Scoundress Saturday, to me, makes people really feel like that is so. (Although all types of content and its creators are welcome! But I particularly enjoy how well it attracts fic writers.) It’s also just great to have an organized place where one can see Han/Leia fanfic weekly. Thanks to Dessi for all the work she puts into making it happen for everyone.

@otterandterrier herself (check out her writing blog @otterandterrierwrites ), who has remained committed to her foc writing while finishing major RL writing tasks. I wouldn’t know where to start on reccing her last year’s worth of work because it’s so varied and so good, but I’ve particularly enjoyed seeing Han and Leia getting to know each other in the bedroom, Leia attempting to meditate, and that time Han asked Leia to marry him. (AO3 here.)

@yoyomarules an incredibly talented writer whose mastery of dialogue and sense of humor make her a must read! I am so woefully behind on her work, but I am so grateful I discovered her this year. Again, too hard to recommend a specific work, because it’s all so good! (AO3 page here.)

@inelegantprose whose dedication to exploring the themes which most interest her in varied, never-ending, and never ever boring ways, and with such skill, is a breath of fresh air (or, because of the heaviness of some of the writing, a gust of storm wind! but either way- bracing, making an impact, different from one’s usual experience, etc.). The Lynnie ‘verse and what comes next particularly stand out to me, but I have such admiration for her as a writer. I also appreciate her willingness to talk openly about the themes she thinks about and how they become part of her writing, her enthusiasm about connecting with other writers, and her extreme dedication to her readers even with many personal real life challenges. (FF.net page here.)

@madame-alexandra, one of the first fanfic writers whose kept me returning again and again to an MC and finally forced me to share my thoughts in the form of a review because I was too obsessed. (And who therefore made me into the kind of reader who reviews!) I also admire the way she takes care of herself and her ability to write by setting her own boundaries and limits with what she’s able to do and engage with. I loved the fic she gifted me with this year, and am just overwhelmed (in a good way) by the varied content she produces so consistently. (FF.net page here.)

@onwardintolight whose dedication to working quietly on The Opening behind-the-scenes until enough is finished and it is consistent enough that she’s ready to start posting it again is something I appreciate regularly without her knowing it. :) It is hard to be a fanfic writer who does not post very much, especially when writing a whole multichpater that people can’t see recent progress on. I admire @onwardintolight, adore The Opening, can’t wait for more, and appreciate her lyricism and attention to psychological detail. And admittedly, she is an amazing cosplayer! (FF.net page here.)

@ashlynncoy‘s Misfire ‘Verse is a stand-out for sure, especially for . those of us who love Bail and Breha Organa and imagining them interacting with Han. However, I also hold a special place in my heart for writers and stories who can allow or give Han or Leia previous romances, especially in a way that deepens or strengthens their relationship with each other, and she stands out to me as someone consistently able to do this (and who does it repeatedly despite attracting a lot of ugliness for it). (FF.net page here.)

@followfire who does not think of themselves as a writer (although they are a great reader!) but who nevertheless gave us this. I know you have fic ideas, and I hope you will write more, if it will bring you joy to do so!

@not-a-committee I’ve never stopped thinking about this.

@corellianangel’s consistent creativity is also full of delights. Still thinking about General Distraction tbh. (AO3 here, but she’s another one with many Tumblr-specific gems!)

@winterbythesea this continues to haunt me, in a good way.

@amilynh Her forays into writing, enjoyment of engaging in the psychological depths of Leia, and constant support as a beta and thinker of character and plots and things, as well as her Rebel fanfics, are impressive and I am grateful for them. (AO3 page here.)

@chancecraz You’ve heard of her, and rightfully. There’s nothing I could add. Her writing is really something- the character work, the prose, the detail, the imagery- I recommend it!!!! (AO3 here.)

@alderaanallday You silent gremlin, I see you. :) You may write only under extreme duress, but my writing would not be the same without your beta work. I can’t emphasize enough how many times commenters have said “oh, I loved this detail!” and I have had to tell them, “Oh, @alderaanallday came up with that one!” I hope they believe me. ILY.

@aloemilk, who is not part of the Han/Leia or Star Wars fandom (Luke Skywalker who?), but who is a great Romione writer and, and generally all around great person. Great companion as we walk this fanfic road. (AO3 here)

@fanfictionwriter101 I’ve been really enjoying this (also non SW/non HL) individual and their commitment to that fanfic life. Enjoyed that they’ve started to offer some writing challenges too!

You all inspire in me in one way or another and help me tap into my own creativity. I admire each of your efforts and successes. I am privileged to be part of some of your creative processes. Thank you for being fanfic writers and for sharing your fantastical inner worlds with us!

If you read any of these writers (and you should!) please, absolutely, positively thank them for writing by leaving them a comment or sending them a message to let them know you enjoyed their work! It’s the best way to feed a writer. :)

#happy fanfic author appreciation day!#(belated)#tachiisms

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