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37sommz · 11 days

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✼. COME TO ITALY | 2015.

CH. 01. NOW PLAYING: dreams by the cranberries [fluff, angst]. ✼.⠀summary: prema saves michaela's career, 2.1k.

MICHAELA WAS NEVER GOOD AT SITTING STILL. Her mother used to scold her for the fidgety nature that seemed to plague the young girl when she would bounce around the doctor’s office or disrupt the teacher during storytime. Her father thought it was a good trait to have as a racer. He found it helpful that his daughter’s endless supply of energy allowed her the chance to spend many hours in their garage fixing up a broken kart or reviewing racing footage from that day. She would bounce around, spurting out corrections for her form, or her pace.

I’m breaking too late…

too early…

I’m much too wide…

that was a chance to overtake.

As hyperactive as she was, she was also incredibly self-critical. Her uncle always lamented she was much too focused on being perfect—in action, in talent, and in response—that she often missed her chances to celebrate. Her response was always the same, “For every single mistake I make, they give the same amount of grace to the boys on their 10th.” She reasoned that her perfection would eliminate any opportunity for the males in the sport to discredit her.

Not that they needed much opportunity.

✼.⠀OCTOBER 20, 2015 — surrey, england

“WE CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU A SEAT FOR NEXT SEASON.” That was what the team principal told her after she fell short of the rookie cup. Second to il Predestinato and his shiny Dutch car. Though Michaela was rarely still, she stood still in that moment. Staring up at the older Englishman’s eyes as he continued on with some excuse she had no interest in hearing.

It wasn’t until he delivered a short, “The team wishes you the best. We’re sure you’ll have your fair pick of teams to choose from next season.”

Bullshit.

She muttered to herself as she turned on her heels to leave without her famously permanent smile to comfort the older man.

“I outperformed those jerkoffs in every single race,” The words stormed into the silent room as Travis, her uncle and manager, stood across from her.

Approaching her with caution, he gently reached to grab her shoulders, pulling her in for a gentle hug. Meant to calm her, but it did anything but. After a beat, Michaela tore herself away from her uncle, a sigh emitting from his chest signaling to her he was just as frustrated as she was.

“Travis—”

He cut her off before she could say what they were both thinking. His eyes slowly tracked her movements as she paced from one end of the room to the other.

“Mickey, we both know that you outperformed Ryan and Gus. But let’s not pretend we don’t know what’s going on here.”

She scoffed at that, eyes rolling with angry disbelief as her arms found their way back into their pretzel over her chest. Travis, in his stubborn wisdom, continued speaking, “This is a test—”

“A test?”

She exclaimed, arms thrown from their place on her chest. Her head shook from one side to the other as Travis watched on with a subtle sympathy for his ambitious niece.

“They tested me all season.”

The words peaked in tone, hitting Travis’ ear with a sense of pain he hadn’t seen in the 15-year-old since she was back in Australia breaking the news over the phone that her father had been laid off.

“They gave me the least reliable car, they refused to protect me from the pricks who terrorized me off the track. Then, when I get a win in Germany—”

Her lips pursed together at the memory, stopping in the middle of her words to keep herself from crying.

“The only win between the three of us—”

Failure finds her, tears puddled in the corners of her eyes spill over.

“The engineers abandon me on the podium to talk strategy with the other two.”

“How many times do I need to prove that I’m just as,” Stopped to correct her words her head shook again, “...better than the boys?”

It’s Travis’ turn to fold his arms over each other. His head fell back against the door that stood behind his frame, too pained to watch Michaela fight to hold back the tears that kept flowing down the sides of her face. Their lips equally pursed as the silence filled the room once again.

This was what most of their conversations ventured into. That question of being enough tortured both of them, for admittedly different reasons, but the toll of it weighed upon their shoulders the same. It had been a question Michaela frequently asked her uncle, usually in jest, though revealing the depth of her insecurities just the same.

They both knew Travis would eventually have to offer her an answer.

One definitive so she would stop asking.

But Michaela would be lying if she tried to act as if she was naively unaware of the answer Travis fought back every time the question was posed.

She knew the answer was never.

She knew the answer would destroy her if confirmed by the one person who believed she was better than the boys. She knew the answer would tear down every step forward she took in the name of chasing the success she so desperately craved to taste.

So Travis didn’t answer. Neither of them was sure he ever would.

Instead, with his head pressed against the hardwood behind him, he offered up a solution. As he always did.

“We’ll call around in the morning like we always do. We’ll use every trick, every piece of leverage we have. I’m going to get you that seat. Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter how.”

When Michaela didn’t respond, his head broke away from its hold tipped back. His eyes met hers searching endlessly for a sliver of hope in her clouded brown eyes. The same eyes she shared with his older brother.

“C’mon Mickey—” He coaxed in an attempt to draw an emotion out of the teenager who stood before him. Any emotion would do in that moment. “I’ll make it happen. You believe me? Right?”

It must have been nearly a minute before she broke the staring contest she held over him. She shrugged her shoulders, arms folded over to offer a sense of comfort to her pained self.

“Yes?” Travis pushed once more, eyebrows raised in a way that reminded her of her father’s own instinctive heroism.

“Yeah.”

A nod was all he needed to cross the space over to her. With a shake of her shoulders, Michaela released the smallest of giggles. His paler hand ruffled at her curly hair, a move to diffuse the tension that hung between the two family members.

“Right,” He exhaled as his hand retreated to its place. “Let’s get out of this shithole.”

✼.⠀NOVEMBER 05, 2015 — london, england

“In a post to her blog, Susie Wolff has announced her formal retirement from Formula One.”

“The prospect of a female driver on the grid.”

“The events at the start of this year and the current environment in F1 the way it is, it isn't going to happen."

IN THE FEW WEEKS SINCE HER DROP FROM JAGONYA, MICHAELA HAD NOT LEFT HER RACING SIMULATOR IF NOT TO EAT OR SLEEP. The TV directly to her left was left on Sky Sports, news within the racing world kept her both alert and melancholy.

Paradoxically, it worried Travis, and his wife, just as much as it reassured them. The duality of the feeling pulled at their emotions as they witnessed the extent of Michaela’s worries that she wasn’t—and couldn’t be—as good as the boys. That’s what most of her hyperactivity came down to. At least in their eyes.

“Michaela, love.”

Bea’s words were as gentle as ever given the depths of her concern for the teenager. Her eyes caught the end of Michaela’s racing journal as it perched on the edge of her desk. Battered from her obsessive writings, Bea picked it up carefully to place it down carefully.

As she turned back to her niece, Michaela’s tired eyes stared up at her, hands still gripped at the wheel of her simulator with the screen paused in wait.

“It’s been ages since you got up.”

With a softness, her eyes conveyed the true weight behind her words. Michaela was more than aware her obsession with perfection worried her aunt, though she was unwilling to give it up. A relaxed sigh left her mouth as she rose from her chair, the simulator shutting down as Bea observed from her stance just across the room.

“Come eat, Travis has news.”

The casual words stunned Michaela more than she would be willing to relate. A knowing smile pulled at the corners of Bea’s mouth before she shrugged calmly.

“I’m not sure what it’s about, but he was quite insistent you come down.”

Those words were all it took before Michaela rushed down the stairs, her hair flying behind her in a messy haze of brown and blonde curls, bouncing against the gravity of her run.

“Mickey?”

Travis’ voice beamed with excitement as he caught the attention of his excited niece.

“We have a guest,” His head shook with a laugh. “Best behavior?” His pinky finger reached for Michaela’s own, an ill-fated attempt to calm her down before the unnamed guest presumably seated in their living room.

A clear of her throat and a twist of their pinkies and Travis led her to the living room.

A full head of dark hair turned to face the overzealous 15-year-old clothed in a raggedy Lightning McQueen t-shirt. With a laugh, he stood to attention, and a hand reached out to shake hers.

“René Rosin,” She exhaled with a breathiness that conveyed her amazement. A smile graced his features at her recognition, sure his decision had been reassured in that moment.

“I heard the Brits left you without a seat for next year.”

“Can you imagine?” She muttered, her smile never faltered despite her uncle’s clearance of his throat as a reminder of her ‘best behavior’ promise from just moments before.

“Sorry, I’m really—”

She cut herself off as René raised a hand to signal he graced the comment.

“When I found out, I can admit I was shocked beyond belief.”

The team principal’s Italian accent bled beautifully into his words. Michaela almost found herself distracted by the flourishes he added to the end of his sentences as she hung on to every word he expressed to her.

“How has your break been?”

Caught off guard by the question, Michaela shrugged her shoulders. With a nervous bite of her lip—terrified and in awe of the principal’s appearance in her living room—she chose her words wisely.

“Unfulfilling. I miss the track.”

With a nod of his head, René exchanged a knowing glance with Travis who gently chuckled at his niece’s criticalness.

Michaela’s mind spun at a mile a minute, an infinite number of scenarios of René’s next words ran through her consciousness. Hope was tussled with paranoia at the back of her mind. Hoping that this would be her moment of redemption but paranoid she would be put in her place once more.

They got someone to convince me to give up.

The thought displaced her for a moment before she snapped back into reality. Her teeth chewed at the inside of her mouth and her fingers pressed into her palms. Both were nervous habits that didn’t escape Travis and Bea’s attention though they exchanged subtle smiles that completely escaped Michaela. With a gentle tap on her shoulder, Travis coaxed Michaela to stop her movement. The action reminded her to exist in the moment before her.

“How soon would you like to be back? Racing?”

Michaela didn’t need the clarification he offered before she burst with attention.

“Tomorrow—today—I… I don’t care when. Just as soon as possible.”

René chuckled again at her eagerness. With a clap of his hands that startled Michaela as much as it excited her, René cleared his throat.

“Then tomorrow, I’ll see you in Veneto.”

Michaela tilted her head in confusion, feeling as if she had missed a few words before the statement.

“Sorry,” She stammered, paranoia crept back into her. “What—what do you mean? V-Veneto?”

His smile did little to calm her until his response accomplished the mission instead.

“How would you like to race for Prema in GP2?”

✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. taglist:⠀@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar @d3kstar @thewannabewriter

#driver!oc #f1 female driver #f1 fem!driver!oc #f1 grid x driver!oc #f1 grid x reader #formula one fic #formula 1 x fem!oc #formula one imagine #formula 1 #formula ona #f1 fiction #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x oc #f1 x oc

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ailithnight · 1 year

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A few notes:

I originally planned to have this one have a couple of povs like the first, but then u got carried away writing feral Danny so, just Tim today.

I hope to get the next one out sometime this weekend cause it's harder to write when I have work.

Also, everyone thank @cursedzucchini for writing the comment that gave me the executive function to take these words out of my brain and put them in my phone. Reading that there was someone out there checking the tag for updates every day really motivated me.

Now, without further ado

Chapter 1

A King in Arkham

Chapter 2

Tim sighs, rubbing his temples and attempting to will away the sleep deprivation headache currently pounding on the inside of his skull. Pushing 80 hours awake, the last 38 of which have been spent combing backwards through any and all Arkham documents pertaining to one Daniel James Fenton.

He moved his hands away from his head, placing them on the fresh cup of coffee that had materialized while he was massaging, giving a cursory "Thanks" the retreating body. Normally, Alfred would have cut Tim off from caffeine yesterday. But it seems even the old butler was keen on something being found to justify pulling the kid out of Arkham.

Or maybe that was Jason fueling Tim's addiction. Man had been hovering since Batman called him back at the last break out. At least Dick had been able to reason better with the most volatile of the Wayne siblings.

"Picking him up and running won't do either of you any favors, Little Wing. It'll just put him and Hood on wanted posters. If you want him to have any shot at a life out here, you gotta let Bruce take it through the proper channels."

That had at least prevented Jason from snapping on anyone immediately, though he had seen fit to warn everyone that of they didn't have something by the next break out, he'd be doing it his way.

Which is why Tim had spent the last day and a half poring over every medical record, therapy session, schedule, action report, and discipline slip Arkham had on file that even mentioned Patient 26B.

Meanwhile, Oracle had her hands full trying to find any background information on the young ward. A task which itself was proving challenging because the place the kid came from seemed to have no digital presence at all. None. Not a Facebook or Twitter or MySpace pinging from the area. Not an email address or YouTube account. Not a single god damned website. Not even a .gov! Hell, the only reason they knew the city's name is because it was listed in the CPS paperwork from Chicago.

In other places, small towns and communities in the middle of nowhere, this wouldn't really raise any red flags. But Amity Park was not actually a nowhere town. It certainly wasn't a Gotham or Metropolis. But it was big enough to have formed a conurbation with the nearby city of Elmerton. Which had a perfectly normal digital presence. So Amity Park's lack of digital presence screamed Communications Blackout. A frighteningly strong one to still be giving Oracle the run around almost 2 days later.

Once Tim was finished reviewing Arkham reports, then the 3 weeks of documents from Daniel's stay in Chicago, he'd probably offer to help her. Though she might tell him to go the fuck to sleep instead.

For now. Tim was nearing the beginning of the kid's Arkham stay and; on top of not yet finding any clues as to why the kid was in Arkham, nor anything that could possibly exonerate him; the kid just made no damn sense!

His therapy sessions were all the same dead end.

The therapist would ask he he was feeling. The kid would apparently shrug, or sometimes mumble something the therapists could never quite catch.

They'd ask the standard suicide questions. "Any thoughts of wishing you could go to sleep and not wake up?"

A shrug.

"Any thoughts of wanting to take your own life or wishing someone would take it for you?"

Vehenement refusal bordering on a panic attack.

Move on to the hurting people questions.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm other people?"

"No." According to the doctors, his tone here is immediate, calm, confident. Truthful. If the Arkham psyches are to be believed.

"Any thoughts of wanting to harm yourself?"

"No." Slower, quieter, meeker. Noted as a clear lie, citing the injuries as evidence.

"Then why do you, Danny?"

"I don't."

"Then where did your injuries come from."

"The ghosts," said with a sigh

At this point, it seems Daniel shuts down. He says nothing else for the rest of the session. Shows no outward response as the therapist tries to convince him there are no ghosts and Daniel must be giving himself those injuries.

2 and a half months. Daily therapy sessions. And every single one is the exact same script. The only differences are some minor notes as Daniel is passed around between therapists as they all inevitably get frustrated talking to the emotionless block of ice.

Outside of the therapy sessions and medical reports documenting the frankly horrifying amount of injuries Danny accumulates, there's not much in his file. He follows all instructions to the letter; never causes trouble for guards or other inmates; and every single locks malfunction, he has afterward been found lying on his bed in his cell staring at the ceiling. If he was somewhere else when the malfunction happened, security footage catches him walking there himself. If he was already in his cell, footage keeps him there the whole time.

Tim sighs again, clicking out of the medical report detailing the nasty bruise that had appeared on the kid's lower left back, then opens up the next file up without reading the name fully expecting it to be another tedious therapy session report.

Instead, he finds a discipline slip with the relevant security clip embedded at the top. The first frame is of the cafeteria. Daniel is sitting alone at a table in the top right. Tim's breath catches in his throat as he recognizes the demented clown in the center of the frame. Hastily, he plays the clip.

There is no sound but Joker appears to say something to the room. Daniel is suddenly standing, whipped around to face the clown. The Joker turns towards him. Daniel tenses. The Joker tenses.

In the next second, Daniel is on the Joker. He's kicking, scratching, biting. Absolutely feral as he just reigns fury upon the most feared and hated rogue in all of Gotham. Surrounding inmates are fleeing to the sides of the room as the Joker seemingly tries to get away from the kid, only succeeding in moving the "fight" around the room. It's hardly a fight. More like a vicious, brutal assault. Inmates cheer as blood appears on the floor. Guards move in, pulling the feral 15 year old off of the Joker; who stays down, potentially unconscious. 2 guards go to help the one currently attempting to restrain Daniel. 6 more converge on the Joker, blocking him from view. As soon as he can no longer see the Joker, Daniel seems to go limp in the guards hands. Then he tenses again, though not struggling. Tim just catches the beginning stages of what seems to be a panic attack before the clip ends.

Tim stares dumbfounded at the screen for several moments. When he snaps out of it enough to actually read the incident report, it is a basic transcription of what Tim just witnessed with confirmation that Daniel had a panic attack immediately after. The report also notes that other than the panic attack, Daniel seemed to sustain no harm. He was disciplined with 3 days without cafeteria privileges, so his meals were brought to his cell, and 3 days without Crafts room privileges.

A note at the bottom of the report reads "To prevent further incidents, Patient 26B and the Joker are no longer permitted to be in the same room or yard."

This makes Tim click out of the discipline slip -without closing it, just moving it to a different section of the batcomputer's massive screen- and scan the rest of the files. There are 2 more. One from a week prior and one from Daniel's first dat at Arkham. He opens both, placing them at points on the screen so that all 3 are visible.

The one from the week prior shows the Crafts Room. Danny is again in an upper corner. Time plays it. The door opens. Joker walks in. Seems to look at Daniel, then rushes him. Daniel looks up before the Joker makes it half way across the room, then in the next second meets him there. Another feral fight only broken up by the guards when the Joker stops moving. Again, Danny goes limp as soon as the Joker is out of sight. The rest of the report confirming a panic attack but no injuries. 2 days lost privileges.

The report from Daniel's first day again shows the cafeteria. This time, Daniel is center frame. Joker comes up behind him. Daniel tenses but doesn't turn yet. Joker seems to be saying g something, then laughs. Daniel hunches in on himself, seeming to mumble a response. Whatever he said makes the Joker laugh harder. Then he leans down over Daniel's shoulder, talking. Daniel seems frozen for not even half a second before he suddenly pushes himself out of his seat, straight in to the Joker, twisting as he goes to begin the attack. Since it's obviously the first time, the rest of the cafeteria freezes. No one reacts for a solid 6 seconds. Then guards are moving in, hauling the teenager away. The Joker stands unsteadily then takes a knee. He has to be led limping out of the room. Guards struggle to restrain Daniel until the Joker is gone, whereafter Daniel goes boneless, then begins panicking. Report confirms panic attack and no injuries. 1 day lost privileges.

Tim stares at the batcomputer for several minutes, trying very hard to process what he has just learned. His brain feels like soup. He rubs his eyes, looks at his coffee, grabs a comm to put in his ear. His voice is strained as he speaks.

Anyone nearby who can come to the cave for a minute?

Jason responds instantly.

Upstairs. Find something?

I don't... know. I just. Someone come confirm I didn't just hallucinate what I just watched and read.

Red Robin? What did you find?

Not saying until someone else can confirm it.

Red Robin

On my way down.

"What the actual fuck?"

#Tagslist will go in a reblog cause there are #a lot #Dp x DC #A King in Arkham #I'm sure everyone wants to see Red Hood swoop in #And whisk Danny away #I promise we'll get there soon #Next chapter if I don't get careies away again #But for now #I simply could not resist giving Danny clown trauma and making him feral about it #Enjoy!#Mentions of suicide #Mentions of self harm

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marvel-ous-m · 6 months

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Writing Sucks

Written for @steddiemicrofic Challenge Prompt: Suck | WC: 480 | Rated: T | CW: none |

Author’s Note: inspired by me buying Dave Grohl’s autobiography today and then having writers block about the title of this microfic/writers block about this prompt in general 😅 hope you enjoy!

“Ugh. This sucks.”

Steve glanced over from his cellphone- away from the very amusing video that Robin sent him, a fan cast about his husband in the early 90’s- to look at Eddie in response to his frustrated outburst.

Eddie had been working on his autobiography for the last three months. What was once an ADHD-fueled hyperfixation had become a thorn in Eddie’s side, especially after he got a sternly-worded email from the government to not even allude to anything Upside Down related. Given that almost every Corroded Coffin song was inspired by what happened during Spring break of 1986, that the guys got their start because of Argyle, someone they would have never even known had Eddie not gotten roped into the mess that was the alternate dimension in Hawkins, and that Steve and Eddie only started getting to know each other, and subsequently started dating, because of the trauma-bond formed from the Upside Down, this requirement had put a substantial burden on Eddie’s creative process.

Eddie also, naïvely, promised the publisher that he would have the book finished for review by Halloween- which had now resulted in many mandatory late nights and forced writing, which were two things Eddie did not enjoy.

“What section are you working on, Teddy?”

Eddie let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I finished writing everything after Argyle got us hooked up with our producer in Cali. So… the middle and the end of the book are done, but I’m stuck in the beginning, like I have been for the last two months, after the asshole government decided to bring up the NDAs that shouldn’t even be enforceable because they were basically signed under duress-“

“Hey, Eds? Why don’t you read me what you have, baby.” Steve gently cut him off, having heard this very rant many, many times before.

Eddie scrubbed a hand over his eyes, then gave his computer a scorned look and began reading. “When I was twenty, I got mauled by a bear-“

“-Okay, yeah, that sucks.” Steve cut Eddie off with a giggle, but quieted once he saw the devastated look on his partner’s face. “Hey, it’s okay. You just need to write it like one of your songs, yeah? Make a bunch of metaphors, maybe tie in some Corroded song lyrics. Make it all artsy, people love you for that shit. Just be yourself.”

Eddie frowned for a long moment, his brows creasing in thought. Finally, he turned back to his computer with a large grin- the kind Steve always saw him get when he was writing the songs that would go on to become his greatest hits.

Steve watched his husband write with a smile on his face. They had come a long way over the last almost-forty years, and he found himself falling more and more in love every single day.

#my writing #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficoctober #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #married!steddie #established relationship!steddie #rockstar!eddie

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chimivx · 5 months

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yellow. (6)

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader (and always ot7)

summary: It's finally happened, you're living your dream. You've landed the job of your wildest fantasies, doing it beside someone who means a hell of a lot to you. It's only been a few months, but it's been pretty easy to settle into this way of life- the constant on the go, the always working, the barely sleeping. Your relationship has been flourishing as well, you and Yoongi working together better than ever... It seems, until now.

words: 5.5k

warnings: none for this part, still 18+ for nsfw occasional themes, if i missed anything please let me know!

a/n: I didn't mean to get angsty... but... I did. Thank you for being here! (Also, want you all to know that with what they're doing in this part- I don't have exact dates/I can never find exact dates. So if some timing is off because I don't have the actual facts, I apologize. )

~ sometime in february, 2016 ~

“Put them in front of the camera, play the track, and let them go nuts,” you mumbled, chewing on your thumb nail while you studied a couple of shots the crew was monitoring.

The man dressed in all black who had asked you what you wanted to do next wasn’t walking away to do what he was told. Instead, he eyed the folded piece of paper in the hand that was folded over your chest, and lowered his brows ever so slightly.

Shifting your gaze over to him, you frowned. “What?” The man met your eyes and shrugged.

“Just thought there would be more, that’s all,” he said. “Usually there’s more detail involved.” His voice tapered off, and the tone he used was equally hesitant. All day every single male on this set had been speaking to you as if you hadn’t a clue as to what you were doing.

Well, every single male excluding seven of them.

Tilting your head to the side, you cross both of your arms and sit in your hip, raising a brow at the man. “There’s no detail involved, get them into that swimming pool, put a camera on the ground, and let them- and I mean it! Let them go nuts.”

From over his shoulder you spot some of the boys reviewing choreography while the others mess with the set. Sunny was on the sidelines, comb in hand, ready to jump in the moment someone needed a touch up. Her dark eyes were sharp, focused on the boy's details. Work mode on, you knew there wouldn’t be any getting through to her until after the shoot had wrapped.

Behind Taehyung, who was goofing off for a camera capturing behind the scenes footage, Yoongi lingered beside Jin, half listening to his friend while he watched you from across the set. Dressed in a bright orange shirt and ripped jeans, your silver haired boyfriend scrunched up his face and raised his fist, gesturing to the man who walked away from you.

Holding up a finger you widen your eyes and smile, telling him no with a single look. You could handle this yourself, you were a big girl. You’ve done this before, you’ve dealt with the men before, and you’ll have to endure it for the rest of your life. The curse of being a woman.

On the set of Run, the entire company was concerned where things were going, and where the concept was being taken, but you didn’t care. You didn’t let any of their opinions stop you from creating your art, even if you improvised most of it.

Sure, the company created the storyline. The company gave you guidelines and the basics of what to do and when to do it, but everything in between? Well, that was up to you, and you ran with it.

Run was your baby, and it will be forever. It’s chaotic, it’s over the top, it compels emotion. The boys were acting, the boys were having fun, the boys were smiling and laughing- and to you, that’s a win. You’ve seen how their shoots go when it’s just the other director on set. They exhaust themselves faster and don’t have nearly as much fun between shots. Bringing you and Sunny onto the team was the best thing the company could’ve done for these boys.

Yoongi smiled, then he drug his eyes up and down your body. You were dressed in all black and he was having a field day. The leggings you wore clung to your curves just right, and the long sleeved shirt that hung loosely off your figure belonged to him. Showing up in it this morning he had smirked at you and asked you where you had gotten it, acting like he didn’t watch you pick it up off of his floor mere hours before you both had to be on set.

Heaving a sigh, you walked away from the screen that replayed the shot of the choreography and took your time getting over to him. Eyes were on your back, you could feel them watching. Yoongi waited patiently, his smile growing the closer you got.

“What was his name, I’ll kick his ass,” he said with a smile once you were a few feet away from him.

“No ass kicking,” you said. “I can handle them. Drop the fake smile, I know you’re in pain.”

His smile didn’t fall, but it did falter. “I can handle it.”

The shoulder had been talked about twice since you heard the full story of what had gone down to keep him living in this everyday hell. The first time was shortly after you found out, when you caught him taking pain meds he swears he never has to take in a bathroom at the company between rehearsals. Brushing past it quickly because it seemed to get a rise out of him, you preferred if he didn’t get mad and would hopefully talk about it later.

He didn’t.

This was the second time it’s been brought up.

“I’m good,” he shrugged. Pointing at the piece of paper in your hand he found a way to change the subject, fast. “What’s this?”

Taking him in for another couple of seconds, your eyes letting him know you couldn’t believe he wasn’t taking his injury seriously, you unfold the paper that had scribbles upon scribbles written on it from late night cram sessions.

“Notes,” you said. The boys' names, and nicknames, were all over it along with random ideas that weasled their way into your brain at inconvenient times while you were away from your projects. This sheet of notebook paper was the ‘inconvenient thoughts about Fire’ paper. It had been folded so many times that it wasn’t as strong as it used to be, and some of the corners were torn because it was poorly handled most of the time.

You were an artist. The state of which your notes were in didn’t matter, as long as the finished product was perfect.

Yoongi took the sheet from you carefully and held it close to read your tiny, scribbled writing, his eyes squinting to pick up the faded pencil marks. “Holy shit, you’re thorough.”

Folding your arms over your chest you nodded. “I am.” Your tone struck him, making him look up at you with softened brows.

From somewhere in the back your name was called, a member of the crew beckoning you back to look something over so that they could move on. Leaving Yoongi without a word, he watched you walk away, and flattened his lips. Folding up your notes gently, following the creases that were permanently wrinkled into the paper, he starts toward you to return it, but in turn is summoned to wardrobe by Sunny and another woman.

The boys trudge over, Taehyung already stripping out of his jacket, but Yoongi hesitates. The way you were observing the shots on the screen, gesturing toward the equipment, speaking to the men like you were the boss, it was captivating. He adored watching you work, he adored getting to watch you make your art. He was proud of you, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had pissed you off.

“These shots are going to flash back and forth between the ones we’re going to film tonight,” you held both of your hands up to the screen, flipping one back and forth to visualize what you were thinking. “It looks boring now because it’s just one solid shot, but that’s also why we were zooming in and out so often.” The man who was sitting beside the screen held an empty stare. Swallowing a groan, you smile. “We needed one basic full shot of the choreography, if you get rid of this, I get rid of you.”

Now that caught his attention. His eyes shot open wide as he offered you meaningless apologies, turning toward the screen to make sure he saved every shot. You weren’t sure if you had the power to fire him. It wasn’t that you wanted to fire him, nor did you want to act like a bitch, but there was no way your point was going to get across if you didn’t threaten him with something.

“We’re done here for now, boys let’s change!” Sunny’s voice flooded the set, catching your attention for a second, but you didn’t dare look away from the men working around you. You could see Yoongi lingered behind. Wanting to see what he was waiting for, you held yourself back from giving him what he wanted- your attention.

It boggled your mind that he didn’t want to discuss what happened to him. In some ways, you can see why he wouldn’t want to, but at the end of the day, who can hold onto something so horrific and not talk it out? Seeking help through the boys, you asked every single one of them if Yoongi had talked about it since he first told them, and all six of them said no. Jin was the only one who had heard more, but it wasn’t like Yoongi acted as if it was a big deal.

If he could keep this hidden from you, and act like there wasn’t anything wrong with keeping it hidden from you, you were worried he’d be able to keep other things from you. And now that you were finally feeling a little bit excited about life, you weren’t about to let him get away with shit.

“Back everything up, please,” you said to whichever crew member was listening, and followed the boys and Sunny into the building you were set to shoot in next.

In the tiniest room all seven boys were changing, and getting their hair fixed and their makeup touched up. Elbows were bumped and chairs were knocked into, but this room with tile for walls was still bigger than some dressing rooms the group had been shoved into on the road.

Pulling the creaky door open with force, it was heavy as shit, you almost walked head first into Jungkook who was shirtless and adjusting his belt while the woman who worked with Sunny toyed with his hair.

Barging into the room, your simmering anger- if you could call it that- fueled your feet, and you collided right into the kids chest.

A muffled “Whoa!” came out of you both, and though your voices were hushed, they carried around the room that was full of low chatter from everyone else.

Stiffening your hands by your side, you didn’t want to think twice about what you had accidentally touched, you looked the boy up and down and laughed. “Sorry, Kook.”

That toothy grin reassured you that you had nothing to worry about. “Why’d you look so mad?”

“I’m not mad,” you breathed, giving your shoulders a shrug.

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “Yeah, okay. What’s the matter?”

Looking over his shoulder you spy Yoongi checking himself out in a little square mirror, adjusting a hat that covered his hair. As he turned around to button the shirt he had slipped into, you figured he’d want your attention like he did outside, but he didn’t seem to notice you were there.

“You guys fighting or something?” Jungkook asked, sneaking a glance at your boyfriend.

Fighting wasn’t it, that wasn’t the word you’d use to describe what was happening, but you definitely were not on the best of terms at this exact second. Actually, for the past month or so things have been off. Part of you wondered if it was the two of you adjusting to a new life. Well, you were adjusting to a new life. Yoongi was adjusting to having a girlfriend.

Still, the way these weeks have been going by, melancholy and a little stale, aside from the combined hours you’d spend between your sheets, it was a total flip from the second half of last year.

You wouldn’t be lying if you admitted the fear you had in the start of all of this was haunting you.

Popstar bored with his latest conquest.

Rockstar getting sick and tired of the same old, same old.

Twenty two year old male got what he wanted out of a twenty two year old female and is pushing her away so he didn’t have to be the one to send her home after she literally uprooted her life to take her dream job, one he unfortunately is heavily involved with…

“You are not okay,” Jungkook's quiet voice broke you out of your thoughts. He had a shirt on now, his outfit was complete all the way down to the accessories. Meeting his gaze, he was worried. The cheesy grin and crinkly eyes were gone, replaced with concern and furrowed brows.

“I’m fine, it’s fine,” you choked out. “We’re fine, everything is fine.”

Jungkooks hardened glare refused to let up. “You’re an awful liar, Honey.”

“I could say the same about you,” your tone was laced with snarkiness. “Where’s Jimin?” Glancing about the room, you finally break into a giggle when you watch his expression go wild.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he sneered.

Popping your brows, you smiled. “Exactly.”

“No, seriously, what are you talking about?” Jungkook stepped closer to you, but you reached for the door behind you, pushing it open. “No, no, you’re not escaping, get back here!” With a laugh you fled from the makeshift dressing room and hurried out toward the empty swimming pool that was in the center of the giant warehouse.

Circling the edge of it, you came to halt and could not hold back the screech that came out of you when Jungkook grabbed you by the waist, almost knocking you into the concrete abyss that was only five feet deep. “Don’t run away from me when I’m talking to you, especially after you say something like that.” You could hear the grin on his lips.

Lifting you away from the pool while you laughed like crazy, he carried you to a quiet corner and put your feet back on the ground, turning you around to lecture you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said for what felt like the umpteenth time. Jungkook groaned, tipping his head backward.

“Why did you bring up Jimin?” His big, doe eyes bore into yours, genuinely asking you. Quirking a brow you tilt your chin a bit to question him. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t make me say it.”

Gulping, you gave him a slight shrug. “Do I know what you’re talking about?” This was not where you thought you’d have this conversation, on set, surrounded by crew members, while the very boy you spoke of had wandered out of the dressing room with the others god knows how long after you ran away from them.

Yoongi included.

Jungkook's lips tipped down a bit. The sight made your heart twist. “I swore you knew… What I was talking about… What you were… talking about… God.” Scrunching up his face he gripped his forehead and groaned again.

“Jungkook,” you whispered, putting your hands over both of his wrists.

“Thought I wouldn’t have to say it to you, the words, because I don’t know how to say them, and if you already knew then it’d really help ‘cause I dunno what the hell to say-“

“Jungkook,” you said louder, cutting him off, though you’d never heard the boy ramble like this before. He dropped the hand from his head and scrambled for your hands, squeezing them as tight as he could. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you… panic.”

He took a deep breath, one that helped you relax some. “I can’t…” Pausing, he sucked down another breath and shook his head. “I can’t say it.”

“Okay,” you nodded, dragging your thumbs over his hands. “That’s okay, you don’t have to.” He swallowed hard, beginning to nod with you. “Can I… Can I ask you a question? Just to make sure that I do know what you know?”

His brows met in the center of his forehead. “Um… Yeah,” he answered with a sigh. “Sure, ask me.” The way his shoulders rose made him appear like he was bracing for impact.

This was going to be hard. Getting him to break out of whatever norms he was used to was going to be a challenge. You knew already, you have for a while. You didn’t have to ask him about it, or torture him anymore by talking about it longer than he wanted, but he needed your help. He had to talk about it, or he would be stuck in this place forever.

Much like somebody else.

“I’ll… take this slow. And careful,” you said.

“Thanks,” Jungkook sighed. “It’s my first time.” He truly was an eighteen year old boy. Cracking a laugh at his stupid joke, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. He was thankfully wearing a smile when you looked up at him.

“When you see me with Yoongi, do you want that?” Your question sucked the humor out of the moment. His lips pulled together curiously. “That type of… relationship? With a girlfriend?” His lips were sealed now. “Kookie, it’s okay,” you smiled, shaking his hands so they’d swing by your side. “Nothing’s gonna change.”

You were once again reminded of the separate worlds you and these boys came from. You grew up in New York, and spent most of your life in the city. In Manhattan for that matter, literally where everybody no matter what version of queer you were came to celebrate themselves.

Jungkook parted his lips, hesitating big time before he whispered, “It’s terrifying.”

“I know,” you said. “And that’s okay, it’s going to be. But, I can tell you right now that I will still love you no matter what, and I know damn well those six idiots over there, fully clothed in an empty swimming pool,” he giggled, “They will still love you. You are their pride and joy. Do you know how easily you could get away with murder with those guys on your side?” A laugh is shared before quiet falls around the two of you.

The voices of the six idiots in the empty swimming pool echoed through the warehouse, their words getting muddled in the air.

“You don’t wanna say it,” you began, and Jungkook rapidly shook his head. “I know,” you started to smile. “But… can I?” His face twisted with discomfort, or disgust, or he was cringing… You couldn’t piece it together. “I won’t say the word, relax,” you said. “I just need confirmation, I don’t want to get this wrong.”

A nod was all you were going to get from him.

Lowering your voice to the point where you weren’t even sure he’d be able to hear you though he was standing five inches away from you, you whispered, “You like boys.”

A sharp inhale ripped through his chest. His face remained stone cold as he jerked his chin up and stared at the ceiling for all of three seconds before scoping your surroundings. Letting him have his moment, you knew he’d come back to you when he was ready. And he did.

Another small, meek nod was all you were going to get from him. And it was enough.

“Kookie.” A grin was plastered onto your face. He attempted to smile as well, but he wore his nerves… everywhere. “You did it, you just told me. That’s huge.”

He gasped a breath and huffed a laugh. “Technically you told me.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you squeezed his hands, throwing them away to wrap your arms around his growing body. He was getting more muscular everyday. “I’m proud of you.”

His arms snaked around your shoulders. Placing his chin on top of your head, he took a deep breath, one that made you rise and fall with his chest. His heart was racing, you could feel it pounding between his ribs.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Always here for you, Kook.”

“Honey!” Sunny’s voice shouted toward you, echoing against the roof, vibrating the walls. The sweet nickname she gifted you with when you were twelve had a way of sounding incredibly menacing when she forced it from her glossed lips with a bite.

Pulling away from Jungkook you looked toward her and the way she’s standing at the edge of the pool, gesturing into it.

“It’s like herding toddlers who just learned how to sprint,” she raised her brows. “They are all here, it’s now or never. The sun sets in three hours.”

“Let’s go,” Jungkook said, nudging you with his shoulder as he started toward the pool.

Following close behind him you watched as he jumped over the edge fearlessly and landed on his feet, rushing to Namjoons side. The leader threw an arm around the youngests shoulder and gave him a smile, one that Jungkook returned.

Bumping into Sunny, standing as close to her as possible, she eyed you curiously and asked, “Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He will be.”

Shifting your gaze over each boy to inspect what they were wearing and to ensure they were camera ready like Sunny declared, you find Yoongi looking up at you, your eyes meeting for the first time since you spoke outside. You couldn’t read him.

Hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, he was clenching his jaw so tight his teeth could crack. It was hard to tell whether or not he was angry, or upset, but he seemed it. Everything about his energy was… off. Like the past few weeks.

If he was miffed at you for whatever reason he could conjure up, you were certain it wouldn’t be as good as yours. All you wanted to do was talk to him. At this point in your relationship, you should know a whole bunch about him, not be discussing your days for a mere twenty minutes after work just to have sex and either fall asleep or go home.

Gritting your teeth, you sent a reciprocated chilling glare back to him, as much as it hurt your heart.

“Okay! Let’s go,” you called out to bring everybody back into the shoot, breaking the stare when it became too much to handle. “Bring it boys, let’s have some fucking fun!”

There was about an hour spent around the pool, you and Sunny either sitting on the edge behind the cameras, or jumping in to fix something or adjust the details. Both you and Yoongi fought to not look at one another, and you wondered if anyone else was being suffocated by the air in the room.

When you approached Jungkook to shift him over, adjusting the spacing so that he wasn’t covering too much of Hoseok, you felt his eyes burning into you. Like you putting your hands on the teenager's shoulder made him want to burn the place down. You swear the earth rumbled.

You couldn’t help but feel a tad guilty. The two of you had spoken about Jungkook before, or Yoongi’s made jokes rather. He didn’t know what you knew, and now it was confirmed that Yoongi had nothing to worry about when it came to his friend. He just had no idea.

By the end of this style of shots, after watching the seven of them cruise through the choreography again and again, your eyes wandered to Yoongi when ‘cut’ was called. He rolled his left shoulder backward, frowning as he did. Folding your arms you joined the camera team behind the screens to monitor what they had captured, keeping your peripheral glued to your boyfriend who shimmied something out of his pocket.

He was coming toward you. He was looking directly at you, coming toward you. Turning your chin, nerves shot up your spine as you took him in. Not a single word was spoken. Looking into your eyes, he slipped something into one of your hands, paused for half of a second, then followed the boys out of the pool.

You waited until he stalked off to look at what he had given you. Opening your hand you found your folded up sheet of notes that you forgot you gave him. Shaking your head the slightest, you open it up to see if anything on it would spark your inspiration, and down in the corner, in the last available blank space, ‘I love you’ was written in his chicken scratch.

A lump lodged in your throat, one you attempted to swallow away. Folding the paper up quick, you glanced out to where he had walked away to, but he was gone.

The shoot wrapped up around two or three in the morning. No one was paying attention to the clock, everyone was having way too much fun. This video was carefully calculated chaos dipped in mischievous partying- The exact image BTS was aiming to articulate. And you did that.

After thanking the crew, thanking the staff, and thanking the boys, you ventured into the dressing room where seven exhausted bodies were still shouting at one another. It usually took them a good hour to wind down after something like this, especially if it were a show. Both you and Sunny knew that the second their heads hit the cushions in the car they’d be out.

Except Yoongi. Another thing you both shared, the inability to get good sleep. Unless you were beside one another.

Letting the heavy door shut behind you, the scene of the boys stumbling over their feet while they changed into their cozy clothes made you want to smile. Taehyung was already laid back in a chair fighting to keep his eyes open while Hoseok straddled his lap, dancing around to the latest trend to try to keep him awake. Jungkook was slipping into a hoodie, Namjoon was helping Jimin wipe off his makeup, and Jin was hovering over Yoongi, blocking him out of your view.

Sunny wasn’t here, she and her assistant stylist had cleaned up their things already to give the boys their space. The two were combing through the set now, making sure they didn’t leave anything behind all while cleaning up after the boys. There wasn’t much for you to collect aside from the piece of paper in your pocket.

You came in here for one more thing.

As the shoot went on it seemed Yoongi loosened up, the two of you shared the occasional laugh when something would happen, but other than that you didn’t speak. By the end of it all your heart was positively broken, watching him walk away from you with the boys without a second glance back.

Not many of your past relationships made it past this point. Once you hit the first bump in the road it was split city. None of them had been as invigorating or exciting as this one has. You used to be able to see this coming, the relationship's demise hovering toward you like a cloud in the sky, letting you know it was all about to go to hell.

You didn’t want this one to go to hell.

You wanted this one to work out.

You weren’t sure what your future looked like quite yet, but you knew you wanted to figure it out with Yoongi. When you were with him, he knew parts of you you weren’t even sure you knew yourself. He could see you, he could hear you, just as you could see and hear him. Which is why this doubt started hanging over you in the first place.

Brushing past each of the boys who hit you with a generous thank you in some way or another, you only had a small smile to offer them. By the time you shuffled toward the back of the room and reached Yoongi and Jin, the eldest of the two took one look at you and scurried away.

“Nice,” you said quietly, watching Jin as he glanced about the room, looking for something, seeming to ask the other boys where to find it. “Was I a bitch today? Or…” Yoongi, who had his arms crossed over his chest where he sat, sighed heavily and shook his head, screwing his eyes shut.

“No,” he mumbled. Holding your hands behind your back you looked down at him and thinned out your lips, hoping he’d say more. Beneath your gaze he could feel it, the need for him to say more, to talk about it, to talk about something. “Honey, I… Listen…”

“I’m listening,” you whispered, barely moving. Yoongi threw his arms to the side.

“Why am I in trouble here?” His eyebrows furrowed over his eyes, just visible under his messy silver hair. The stiff tone of his voice sent a chill over your skin, and signaled to the boys that it was time to leave the room.

“Never said you were in trouble,” you said. The door slammed shut, echoing against the tiled walls. Jungkook was the last to leave, sending a longing glance your way, but you missed it.

“Then why act like I did something wrong,” Yoongi said, sitting forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “All day you’ve been treating me like I’ve done something to you, and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it is.”

After a deep breath you mumbled, “Yoongi,” but he cut you straight off.

“I’m so happy that you have this job. I’m so happy you are doing what you love to do, and you’re creating, and you’re making the art that you want to make. You’re changing the game for us, for the industry… For me. You’re breaking boundaries, you’re taking it a step too far, and it’s so damn exciting, Honey, it really is.” He paused to look up at you. His wide, pleading eyes lost in more ways than one. “I feel like I take the fun out of it for you.”

You didn’t miss the way his voice cracked, the sound hitting you straight in the heart. “D, please, don’t do that,” you whispered, taking a step closer to him. He drug his hands over his face.

“How can I not?” he shrugged. “You have more fun with Jungkook, you don’t speak to me, and when you do I somehow turn it all to shit.”

“D, what the hell are you talking about?” Taking to his side, you crouched beside him and rested your arms across his lap. He couldn’t look at you, his focus was elsewhere. “You do not turn it all to shit.”

The way he looked at you pained you like a slap to the face. “Don’t try to make me feel better when I know you’re pissed at me.” Narrowing your eyes, the only thing you can do is shake your head. “I know everything you want me to do. And I won’t do it.”

“You can do it, you just have to-”

“No,” he was firm. “I won’t do it. I don’t want to.”

Standing to your feet you tucked your arms behind you like they once were. His words were confirmation enough. If he wasn’t going to speak, if he wasn’t going to communicate… If he wanted to just brush over everything as if it were nothing, and continue living in ignorant bliss, acting like everything was fine… It was over.

What once was bliss and ecstatic euphoria had hit a dead end. This gorgeous face and beautiful mind that had shown you in many ways what it was like to live, to live for yourself, was giving this up.

Granted it’d only been a few months, and you’re certain you both said ‘I love you’ way too soon, but it was authentic, it was real, it was you. It was Yoongi. From the start you’ve moved way too quick, you’ve been sprinting since the day you met. It was a whirlwind of dramatic excitement, and it was everything you had ever wanted, everything you ever wished for.

But, maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe living in fast forward was what pushed this over the edge. Jumping headfirst into a relationship with a complete stranger from an entire different world, falling in love with them in mere weeks, moving across the globe, running from a life you used to know…

It wasn’t meant to be.

And that thought alone nauseated you.

You wanted him to be your forever.

Walking toward the door without looking back, you did your best to ignore the fact that he didn’t even try to stop you. He let you walk away.

He let the relationship crumble to pieces right in front of him, and he didn’t do a thing to save it.

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samobservessonic · 6 months

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Why do you want to read Sonic the Comic?

The short answer is because it was my intro to the Sonic series as a whole, but I haven’t reread most of it since I was a kid. But I’ll go into a little more detail about that below the readmore, as well as outlining what I will and won’t be reading for this blog

Sonic the Comic issue #80 rewired my brain and changed my life

Now, the first issue of StC that I bought as a kid was #80. I should add a disclaimer here that there was a kid I knew back then who recommended me the comics - she had issues #78 and #79, so I probably at least glimpsed those as well. But #80 was the first issue that I had for myself (and I still have my copy!), so that’s the one that gave me my first impression of Sonic

I’m sure StC fans will know why this issue was a big one and even Sonic fans who have a casual familiarity with StC will probably see Super Sonic on the cover and guess that a lot of stuff happens in this issue… and you’d be right! I’ll save the review for when I actually get to this issue in my reread, but the basic premise is that Sonic goes to visit his friend Porker Lewis on the Floating Island (later known as Angel Island in the games), where the chaos emeralds and master emerald are kept suspended above a giant… hole thing that holds their power (kid me didn’t ask questions, adult me still doesn’t). Sonic fell in this hole and got a full whack of their power, turning him into the evil Super Sonic who’s hellbent on destroying the last person who’d been on Sonic’s mind, who happened to be Amy Rose

The story ends on this cliffhanger and I can pin-point this single image as the reason I got into Sonic in the first place

…Like, look at this!! The art is so cool! What’s going to happen to Amy Rose? Why has Sonic turned into a crazy powerful being who wants to kill her? I have to know more! I have to get the next issue and maybe devote my entire life to this series! Like, Super Sonic looks so powerful and Tails looks terrified of him! But Amy still looks quite calm and collected. Maybe she’s only just noticed Super Sonic zooming into the scene or maybe she’s just composed enough to not be as fearful of him as Tails is. Obviously, even without knowing anything about the series, I could tell that Amy is Sonic’s friend and I want her to be okay. But something about seeing her reaction in this panel made it seem like the “Next Issue: Amy vs Super Sonic!” advertised at the bottom of this page wouldn’t be as one-sided as some might expect it would be And that’s how, on (roughly) 21st June 1996, an 8-year-old who’d just spent their £1.20 pocket-money had their socks blown off by a Sonic comic (Out of curiosity, I looked up where Archie Sonic was at around this time and it was… issue #37! The Knuckles spin-off comics would also be released the month after this. But I wouldn’t know about the existence of either of these until later)

Now, 80 issues into an on-going series is obviously a late point to hop on, but I can honestly say that it never hindered me reading the comics as a kid. Every two weeks I’d get to see Sonic and his friends have adventures and sometimes they’d mention established lore that I might not have known, but it was easy just to write that off as something from an earlier issue and carry on Also, after a certain point, StC started to reprint older stories. Which was both a blessing and a curse, because on one hand it meant that I could catch up with older stories I hadn’t read before, but on the other hand it deprived the issues of newer stories, until the comic would eventually become entirely reprints from issue #185. Even so, I can confidently say that there are probably stories in the first 79 issues of the series that I’ve never read, so I’m looking forward to getting to those on my read-through So, will you stop reading at issue #184? While I intend to read from #1-184, the reprints issues do feature new covers from Richard Elson

Many of which show newer takes on earlier stories, featuring the green-eyed Sonic of the modern era. So while it’s far away now, I’ll most-likely do a post about these covers to conclude my read-through. Although man, looking at #185’s cover in particular puts me right back into being there as a kid, expecting to see new stories, only to open the comic and get entirely reprints…

Will you be reading the non-Sonic stories?

Early on in its run, StC featured stories from other SEGA titles of the time, before committing to being entirely about Sonic. While not to diminish the merits of these stories, I just don’t have the same familiarity with most of their source material that I do for Sonic, so I won’t be reading them. The exceptions being probably the Ecco stories (because I did play Ecco as a kid) and Decap Attack, because Decap Attack was still running after I started reading the comic and I remember enjoying it. But I won’t be blogging about either of these in the same way that I will be the Sonic comics themselves, so you won’t have to skim past posts about loads of other series to get to the Sonic stuff

What about the Sonic spin-offs?

I will absolutely be reading these once I find or make a good reading-order that slots them into their proper place. The above summer ‘96 special was also one of my first StC issues and I remember it fondly

What about the Captain Plunder stories?

Yep! Captain Plunder exists in Sonic’s universe and I enjoyed his standalone stories as a kid, so I’ll be including him in my reread Anything else?

For a time, StC included game reviews and ofc they also had a fanmail and fan art section, like Archie and IDW. For the most part, I’ll only be including small bits of these that I find interesting or relevant, but I won’t be talking about them wholesale. Though I’m sure that a Sonic comic’s reviews of Sonic games will be worth a look at

#sonic the comic #sam observes sonic #stc blogging #sonic the hedgehog #super sonic #amy rose #captain plunder #decap attack

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ladyloveandjustice · 8 months

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Otherside Picnic Volume 8 Review that Devolves into a Bunch of Quotes and Gushing

I’ve been wanting to do a review of Otherside Picnic Vol 8 because I loved it so much, but haven’t been in the right mindspace to properly convey my enthusiasm. But I’m about to get busy so it’s now or never. Here are my thoughts that are inevitably going to devolve into a bunch of quotes and gushing. Let's just go through it all!

-I loved this so much, first off. It literally inspired me to have an honest discussion with my partner about my own intimacy and relationship quirks and what we want from each other. It made me feel a little better about myself and my own weirdness, that’s how much it affected me. It really got across the relief of just communicating in a relationship, of having frank conversations with your partner, and accepting your differences from the mainstream as okay.

-The conversation about romance, love, and sex being different actually made me tear up, which is how I knew this book would murder me from the beginning. It’s just so nice to see one of my favorite yuri and favorite romantic stories ever acknowledge asexuality and the full spectrum of experiences in such an understanding and thoughtful way.

-I love that this book really recontextualizes the oblivious-to-love protagonist, slow-burn and often stalled development that aren’t uncommon in animanga adjacent media romances and made it into something incredibly interesting. This was already hinted at in previous volumes, but Sorawo’s disconnect with her own feelings and slowness in responding to Toriko wasn’t just to tease the audience, but because her view of romance and her understanding of her own feelings conflicted with societal ideas of romance and it left her lost and confused. It makes everything that came before it so much more meaningful. This is also extremely relatable, and I love that Sorawo was frustrated with the idea of her relationship fitting into a socially acceptable box, when she felt what she had with Toriko was a lot more complicated and far reaching and didn’t want to define it so neatly.

-Honestly reading about Sorawo not being all that into kissing and basically being like "I don't hate it but it doesn't do anything for me" made me feel a little bit less alone and little more confident in talking about this aspect of my experience. ME TOO. GIRL.

-Every single yuri should have a line like “sounds to me like you’re a raging lesbian” from now on. How can anything ever live up to this.

-Toriko looking into sexual abuse gave me a heart attack because at first I thought she was trying to understand what happened with her and Satsuki. But she was researching Sorawo, because the stuff with the Red Person made her realize Sorawo has trauma and I felt so vindicated about my article. Then we have the hilarity of Sorawo, who literally has a “cult mode” when she’s made to relive where she had to deal with abuses from cults, where she becomes like a different person and talks to herself like she’s a separate person and is disconnected from her normal self…claiming she doesn’t have lingering cult trauma and doesn’t dissociate.

And then Toriko going “uhhhh what about the Red Person?”

“Huh oh that didn’t count. Cuz your love saved me.”

THE most un-self aware person, I love her.

(And EVERYONE knows it, especially Toriko, loved this exchange:

“Don’t try to force something I’m not aware of onto me.”

“Sorawo, there aren’t many things about you that you actually display self-awareness of.”

“Wow, insulting much?!” )

-The fact Toriko noticed how thirsty Sorawo was for her the second they met is so funny and makes that scene 100 times better in hindsight.

“It took me by surprise. Here I am, holding you in my arms, and you go and stare at my face, then your eyes start working their way down. I was like, ‘Girl sure has a lot of energy for someone who almost drowned.’”

“So, what? When you were talking about me ogling you before, you meant—”

“Yeah, right from the get-go. From the moment you saw me for the first time.”

Sorawo didn’t realize she was doing it…the entire exchange is hilarious. SO much of this book was hilarious honestly, here are some other choice quotes:

Who would’ve known there could be such a touching scene right next to a shelf stuffed full of erotic manga with titles so incredible that I couldn’t possibly name them...?

And this, the best love confession ever:

“I love you! I love you!”

“For real?”

“Apparently!”

-I really liked that Toriko was genuinely worried Sorawo might not have consented to the previous kisses and might be bothered by them. It built on the ongoing theme of Toriko struggling with emotional and physical boundaries, giving her such good character growth, and It shows a concern and care most stories gloss over.

…Which is kind of a stark contrast to the lack of concern she shows about that time she hit Sorawo in volume 6, despite Sorawo bringing it up as a problem. This has been an ongoing issue that’s bothered me, and it’s been mentioned often enough I hope Miyazawa is going to actually do something to address it. He DID address the questionable consent of the earlier kisses, going beyond my expectations, so I actually have my fingers crossed this is something we’re going to explore and confront. It’s really jarring compared to the rest of how well everything else has been handled, and is the only mark against the story, so I’m hoping this is intentional. The Toriko who worries Sorawo might have been sexually abused and goes above and beyond to try to be sensitive and understand her and the Toriko who is dismissive of the time she hit her (now) partner seem so in opposition to each other, and I there could be some interesting exploration and resolution of that.

(Miyazawa does mention something about having to treat serious issues casually because of Sorawo's detached, cynical POV and hoping readers will understand; and I think it's likely he was referring to that, which gives me more confidence).

-Sorawo understands Toriko’s moms are lesbians now I’m so proud of her.

-the fact that Toriko wanted to fuck in her dead parents bedroom …she has so many problems, I cherish her.

-I loved getting more Toriko backstory and her moms. Love Sorawo being like “wow I probably should have asked about this but…” YES YOU SHOULD HAVE, FOR MY SAKE. But Sorawo’s focus on living in the here and now, and being content with the Toriko in the here and now, is such an interesting aspect of her.

-EVERYthing about the final scene was so good. Like how can I even talk about it? Toriko fucking Sorawo with her weirdass interdimensionally-corrupted hand while getting jazzed by Sorawo's magic eye is just PEAK lesbian fantasy, no other series had delivered this exact weirdness that I want, thank you for being there for all of us bizarre sapphics.

“I...might make you go crazy.”

“That’s okay.”

Toriko’s hand drew closer. It meant something different now than it had before. If Toriko touched me now, I’d be the one to go insane. She snuggled up to me, so close our noses could touch, and with a voice full of heated passion, she whispered, “Let’s go crazy. Together.”

“Girl hit me with your evil eye, let’s get real fucked up” I love them, they’re such freaks and I am here for it. THE PASSION. THE METAPHOR. THE PURE CHUUNI WISH FUFILLMENT.

-Honestly I just highlighted the entire final scene because it hit me right in my weird gay little soul the way few other things have and I want to be able to whip these out the next time some loser says wlw media doesn’t have poetic declarations of love and passion so I’m just going to go through them.

Here’s one:

But that’s not what happened. Toriko looked beautiful, opening before me like a flower in bloom, and I was aware of every minute branch of the tree, down to their very tips…[]

Toriko became rude, polite, lewd, or embarrassed. I didn’t have the composure to focus or think as I watched, so Toriko changed from one thing to another as my gaze wandered. Laughing, getting angry, crying, fearing, moaning—feeling as if she were flowing from one state to the next, in constant flux, and yet in all of them simultaneously.

Sorawo accepting all sides of Toriko, all her complexity, how she’s everything all at once! And the fact they have such amazing sex they basically GO TO THE OTHERSIDE? Dimension transcending lesbian sex? Showstopping, incredible.

The way her hand moved, tracing the outline of my body—its true outline—was as gentle as could be, sensitive yet bold, overflowing with care, incredibly unreserved, and audacious. It felt like it was packed full of all the experiences of being touched by another person. In another way, different from mine, Toriko was unraveling the person that I was too. I was being decomposed, broken apart. The things that had been pressed into a human form were decompressed, and expanded outwards without limit.

This is how you do a sex scene. If your partner doesn’t unravel you and make you see all the shattered pieces of yourself, is it even worth it? I love the motif of falling apart but becoming more whole at the same time- isn’t that just every human experience all wrapped up into one?

I had been afraid to look at Toriko. Toriko had been afraid to touch me. Now, as we were looking at, or touching, our partner directly, tossed about on the waves of madness, we began to gradually find a way to take control of the situation.

The idea of how maybe you can’t help losing your minds when you look and feel all the other person is…but maybe if you lose your minds together it will be okay. Romance.

These two beasts with all these bodies converged through their desire for one another and were bound together. We were blending together at the interfaces where we connected. The different ‘us’s melted together, without ever becoming a perfect whole, but without fully separating either. Like a chimera made from two types of living being. Or two galaxies colliding.

“We became a chimera” is the absolute nerdiest way to describe making love and thus perfect for them (also lol the beast with two backs).

That’s too long, so how about shortening it to Soratori?” I burst out laughing as I remembered the time she’d tried to use the name Soratori Road for what we now called Route 1 in the other world. “

That’s like one of those ship names,” I told her.

“What’re those?”

“You’re a mangaka’s daughter and you don’t know that?!”

“Nope, not a clue. Is it something dirty?”

“Well, maybe?”

“Hmm.”

Okay, so Sorawo is clearly in some fandom and ships something. Place your bet on what it is. Probably she ships creepypasta monsters.

Do you know what the ‘nue’ is?”

“It’s a Japanese monster, right? Made up of a bunch of different animals mixed together.” “Yeah, that’s the one. As an extension of that, the word can also refer to something that doesn’t have a discernible form.”

[...]

While we were there, the two of us got all mixed up together, right? Intertwined, melting into one, like animals... Depending on how you look at it, you might say we were like a nue.”

“So, basically, if you wanted a word to represent our relationship, we wouldn’t be ‘lovers,’ or ‘accomplices’...but a ‘nue’?”

Okay forget what I said this is ACTUALLY the nerdiest way to describe your relationship. And speaking of nerds, I love this stupid conversation:

“It’s cute. Nue. I like the sound of it. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo of the kanji.”

“You’d take it that far?”

“You’re not gonna get a matching one?”

“They might not let us in the hot springs in Japan anymore. You sure?

” “Huh?! I wouldn’t like that... You think it’d be okay if we put them somewhere no one will see?”

“Where would no one see? This is sounding painful, and I’m not really on board with it.”

“Wha?”

Anyway, yeah, this section was everything I wanted, no notes. Toriko and Sorawo have the most demented, fantastical sex possible, having a threesome with the otherside because they all are strange and wonderful, being the nerdiest dorks it’s possible to be, their relationship is now a chimera because that’s even better and more all encompassing that something boring like lovers, Miyazawa really gave us it all, love wins, gays win. What more can I say? I adore this series.

#otherside picnic #otherside picnic 8 spoilers #my reviews #books #yuri #sorawo kamikoshi #toriko nishina #soratori

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winonaparadise · 7 months

Text

short story 💯

wrote a very quick story about a class i took in college. if you like my writing in my videos you may like this

Five years ago today I was clawing through state university. I had switched majors in an effort to come away with something more material from my college experience – but I was also trying to earn as many credits with as few courses to keep my schooling short and cheap.

I took a heavy weighted class in “media law.” A subject notoriously as intricate as it is absolutely fucking stupid. Anything you could learn, Disney will change tommorrow. The professor was an adjunct, splitting his time between the humble basement where boys with Pulp Fiction posters in their dorms fiddled with cameras and the actual law school where he was employed some miles down the road. I have never seen Pulp Fiction, but I’ve fiddled with enough cameras and enough of the boys who own them to have reviewed it twice. This is not a problem to me now.

Then I was stupid. Twenty. And basically friendless. I spent all my time trying to make something the same way the universe spent billions of years pouring hot soup into holes and hoping life would bubble out. I studied Japanese during quiet matches of PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds. I never got a win, and I never got an “A” in Japanese.

Weeks of school went by as I skimmed textbooks, got high, and thought about talking to literally anyone. Academic words danced around the edges of my brain like sand. I wrote essays on the same autopilot I write today. Feverish. Flowing. Fantasizing about what it would be like to go out with someone instead of texting a girl who now lived in Japan and making ramen noodles while listening for footsteps in a digital warzone.

I did all my work. I submitted it on something called “canvas” that the muscle memory in my fingers still types in search bars to this day. I never checked my grades. I knew they were bad.

Classes dragged me through the week on a bungee cord. I lived a block away from the bulk of them and found myself drifting in halls of buildings I’d never attended just to keep myself from meandering back home to draw a bad comic about a girl who lived in hell.

I knew nobody. I went nowhere. I struggled to do classwork alone on outdoor benches dreaming of someone speaking to me. I needed to live in hell instead.

My media law professor was late the weekend after our first term essays were due. I don’t know what mode of transportation he took to get from one school to the other but today the Carolina sun had drenched him sweaty. We were chilly waiting for him to begin.

“Just about every single one of you failed.” He spat and chugged coffee through the entire period. “While I first was grading I thought I was the one who failed.”

He didn’t let the moment of respite last. “But I also did something I’ve never done before.” He paced like my father did when a restaurant was closed early. “I gave out my first perfect score. Which prevents me from grading on a curve.”

He huffed, he assigned a new reading, and he rushed out like he had lit dynamite. “Do better!” “What an asshole.” The girl who sat next to me in every class spoke as if she had been holding her breath. “Fuck him and fuck whoever got that hundred.”

“I know right!” I launched in on her anger, feeling it too. Back and forth we complained. We walked off campus together. She had long blonde hair and towered over me. I had felt ugly and mousey next to her, but today I felt like her equal. It felt good to bitch.

“I got a fucking 50. What about you?”

“It wasn’t pretty.” I recalled how I stayed up the night before the assignment was due. I milked bullshit into a puree. I got a rush of adrenaline from killing someone with a shotgun through a door in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Pochinki. I was probably close to being expelled. “This class is too fucking hard,” she smoked and shook her head by a bus stop on Tate Street. “I’m not about to lose my freetime over it.”

“Right.” I imagined her at parties. Black silhouettes against colored lights and deafening music. Like The Social Network. “We should be partners for the next assignment,” she got out her phone and passed it to me for my number. I typed it in. I waved her off on the bus. We did the assignment together. We texted each other about our studies. We joked about finding the guy who got the perfect score and beating him senseless. I thought about talking to her about my art or what we were making in other classes, but never did.

Towards the end of the semester I had to plan the next. A whirlpool churned in my stomach as I clicked on “grades” on my campus’ online portal. I had an A+ in a single course.

Media Law.

My friend from class texted me that she was dreading the final. I texted her that if we failed I would kill Mr. Perfect Score. She texted “lol.”

She passed the course. I got my degree so I assume I did too. We stopped texting.

That professor emailed me asking me to take a course at the law school down the road. He said he would let me sit in and see if I wanted to change majors a third time. I never replied.

A law degree would just make Mr. Perfect Score a hundred times more punchable.

#short story #nonfiction #drugs cw

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animereviewsbykyranskye · 8 months

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My current top 15 Anime and why

Because why the fuck not. I'm doing top 15 so that I have some variety behind it. Otherwise I would just be gushing non stop XD

Apparently numbers go big now - AND THEY GO SMALLER IF YOU TRY TO TYPE IN THE SAME LINE AS THEM???

comparison:

15 -

DA HECK????

(Edit: I was going to colour all the numbers because I wanted a rainbow. WHY THE FUCK FOR THEY CHANGE TO SMALL WHEN YOU COLOUR THEM??????)

Guess the titles of the anime get a small heading. Anyways. Onto the actual list!

Technoroid OVERMIND

Ayo. Starting out with a really random one. So if anyone were to look at my Anilist then they might be a bit confused. I decided I'd keep movies out of here as well as anything I haven't specifically finished. Also takt op. Destiny needs a re evaluation.

Anyways. This premise is so sick and I feel like they managed it really well. The characters were all really fun and the music was fantastic which is honestly the most important thing about Idol shows. I really like idol shows but often struggle with the stupid drama in them that just leads to seasons upon seasons that didn't need to happen or wouldn't actually happen.

In this they're just androids. The fantasy twist works so well for the genre and I honestly don't know why it isn't done more often. This way they can bullshit the drama and it actually makes sense.

Honestly my favourite character was Kite. He was great and his voice always gave me shivers. Especially his piece in the closing. Damn.

I don't want to go into full reviews with this, rather just gushing about things I like and stuff. I really don't think this got the recognition it deserves - probably because of it's deviation from the norm - but it would be cool to get some sort of sequel.

(Edit: There's a manga releasing apparently. Imma check that out.)

UniteUp!

Continuing on with the trend of idol animes apparently. UniteUp! was so good. As I mentioned in my Reviews while I watch of the show, it felt so grounded and real that other idol shows just don't seem to capture. These were all real people with real problems dealing with real life.

I also like how we had such a large cast of characters but it never really felt overwhelming as they focused on group dynamics and specific individuals rather than trying to cram every single person into their own arcs.

Once again the music was fantastic and by god was this show pretty gay. Honestly I don't know what the sentiments of others are, but the Anela duo definitely weren't straight and neither were Akira and Daiki. That bath scene says it all.

Anyways. If you want a fun time with a really solid idol anime, please check it out. I saw earlier that we're getting a season two soon. I am so looking forward to it.

Trigun Stampede

Damn! I don't even know what to really say about this one. The visuals are absolutely stunning - there is no doubt about that. The score and the characters are excellent. And how dare they leave us on that cliff hanger.

I have absolutely no history with this story and still need to watch and read the originally but I am really looking forward to seeing how the story adapts between the three.

You can ask my partner. I've already said we're watching everything trigun related as soon as we are done with our current show.

I'm really looking forward to season two. And especially seeing how this all pans out. Apparently there will be tears according to the fandom. Concern.

Re-main

Damn this show came out of nowhere for me. I watched it quite awhile ago and have been meaning to rewatch it again.

The premise is definitely a sports anime but honestly so different. All because of one thing. The fact that he is an amnesiac is such a fascinating concept to work with - especially with how he was before (trying not to spoil - can't remember when this comes up in the anime)

And then the ending?? Damn. They seriously set up that cliff hanger and I really hope this show gets a sequel.

I really can't say too much about it without giving away some spoilers but damn does it change up the formula and do it so fucking well.

Given

Given is great. Such a pure but heartbreaking portrayal of love on one side with such conflicting but also nurturing views on the other. Having the different realtionships throughout this is really well done how they all bounce off of each other. Especially when they entertwine it with the music.

As it is said. That is how they communicate - through the music.

I'm busy catching up with the manga and really hope the anime continues with it.

Also the fucking is just fucking gorgeous. It has no write to hit you that hard.

Also - something else that shouldn't be allowed to hit you that hard. Damn Mafuyu has had a difficult past. We love how he learns to heal and grow with Uenoyama at his side.

Anyways, moving on.

Bakuten!!

Okay. Who said a sports anime could be this pretty.

I love the art style and the music throughout all of this. I love the portayal and the evolution of these character - seriously all their arcs are great. The interactions of the team is so tangible and real.

I watch a lot of sports anime and I often struggle with some of the drama used within the sports - it feels like the only thing that ever fuels the story is the matches. Whereas in Bakuten - the character seriously fuel the story. You can understand their motivations much more than just - I want to play this sport and be the best!

I also feel like they really captured everything really well in the movie. The whole concept of wanting to sore is great and really well executed.

I also love the interactions they have with the other team. It's not just a once off competition or practice match that they face each other. We actually get tangible characters for the whole team and see how much they two teams are similar to one another. It's a very healthy rivalry that isn't normally this expanded on in sports anime.

Sasaki and Miyano

Yesssssss. These two are just absolutely amazing. Their whole story arc and relationship is just tooth rottingly sweet. They bounce off of each other so well.

And I love the fact of how slow the actual story is. They meet at the start of Miyanos first year (from what I know - I still need to read the novels) and sasaki's second and they only end up confessing just before graduation happens. It really plays out well and is so healthy.

There is no problematic elements like in so many BL stories which is such a breath of fresh air. And the fact that sasaki is very specific about making sure to maintain boundaries to ensure that miyano is comfortable is also excellent.

On a slightly different note - I still need to see the Hirano and Kagiura movie. Been dying to watch it. I've been keeping up to date with both manga and both of these stories are amazing. I love the dichotomy of the two stories and how they are coming to their own realisations of their feelings in honestly very different ways.

I also recently watched the dub of the anime due to some videos on tiktok. Fucking hell it is absolutely hilarious. Kellen Goff as Sasaki has no reason for being that good. Seriously. Damn.

Link Click

On a completely different note. Damn this one makes you questions your own morals and reality as you know it.

I really don't want to get into this one much as I do believe watching it blind is the best way to go.

The art style is fantastic and that opening hits like a truck it is so good. The characters just click (pun not intended) and you just understand their motivations and don't know which side to side with most of the time. It brings about such high moral dilemmas that will seriously mess with your brain sometimes and there is one episode that will likely make you cry.

Anyways. Season 2 has just started airing and I am so ready for it.

Buddy Daddies

Why did a show about two queer platonic dudes who adopt a child while beings assassins hit so damn hard.

The show jumps between episodes with backstory and episodes with them just being good dads and it is balanced so well. This anime won't end up getting a sequel most likely with how it ended but damn I wouldn't say no to one.

Rei is my favourite character and I relate to him far too much. His interactions with the world are so fascinating and his whole arc with Miri is honestly some of the best media I've seen.

I absolutely loved watching this show weekly and it always brightened up my day when I realised a new episode would be up.

If you would like further thoughts on this one then check the Reviews while I watch on it for more chaos.

No Game No Life

So. This was the first ever anime that I ever watched. It was a random recomendation from a friend. Look at where we are today.

This show is honestly just so fun. The characters are silly and the whole plot is just absolute chaos. I really enjoy the games aspect and how it was all incorporated into the world.

I can't even really say much about it. It is just a guilty pleasure of mine and will always hold a special place in my heart.

Also. Please can it just get a second season already.

Assassination Classroom

So. Unlike everything else on the list - this one I only finished really recently. My partner and I were watching it together. And to put it out there straight away. I cried. That ending was far too emotional.

I really enjoyed the humour throughout the whole thing as well as the constant underlying dread of the whole situation.

They also really played out Koro-senseis backstory really well. The teasing to it was excellent. I must say though that one of the twists seriously came out of left field. Like damn.

I've just recently bought the boxset and am reading through the manga. Once again. It's absolutely amazing.

Also the openings of them all jumping are absolutely fucking hilarious and you can't tell me otherwise.

If you want to know what officially sold me on the show was just in the first episode. (Note we watched in dub)

Don't ask me why but I found this to be the most hilarious thing ever. The absurdity and the line delivery was magnificent. I annoy my partner by quoting it atleast once a day.

Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan

Speaking of comedies. This show has no right to be this good. The absudist dead pan comedy in the middle of whats meant to be a TV show is such a random premise but just works so well.

Due to the nature of the show, the characters are extremely relateable. I especially love Kumatani and Kikaku.

If your on the same side of anime tiktok that I am then you have definitely seen/heard snippets of the dub.

I think this was the first anime that I originally watched in sub and then tried it in dub and actually enjoyed it. (I often find that whatever I originally watched it in is the only one I can watch it in - it's very difficult for me to change it)

The voice acting on both sides just works perfectly for the show. And that final episode and how they did it was the best thing ever.

Please just give it a try.

Angel Beats

Okay. Time for a hard hitter. This comedy like assassintaion classroom is fucking excellent but will make you cry, like damn.

In complete and utter contrast to No game no life, this was the second anime I had ever watched. I had found a video that gave some suggestions and thought I would give this one a try. When I say it destoryed me, I mean it literally. I constantly think about the end of this and I absolutely love revisiting it.

The twist and turns along the way are fascinating and I love how each one alters the characters and the narrative. Each of the characters feel unique - even the lesser developed side characters - with fascinating and complex backstories.

The whole thing just makes you question your own place in life.

Moriarty the Patriot

Another one I just randomly tried because I saw a video on tiktok. The first episode immediately pulled me in. I thought it was just going to be some simple detective story (At the time I didn't know much about Sherlock Holmes and who Moriaty was so I didn't have any of that to guide me into this story.) But nope.

I keep saying this but in this one I really mean it. The characters are built so well. The dichotomy between William and Sherlock - as the fandom would probably agree - is just amazing. How they bounce off of each other - i don't even know how to really descirbe it.

Honestly just go watch it.

And if you enjoyed the anime - please go check out the manga too. If the anime was done well - then the manga is done to lamost perfection.

This show was what got me into reading and then eventually buying manga. I now have every single one that is out.

Yuri!!! on ICE

Did I make the title gay? Yes.

Okayyyyy. This is just going to be me going on about how much I love this show. Bare with me.

So I was in an anime watching slump just before I picked up this show. I had been seeing some videos popping up talking about it and decided to give it a try (this was in 2020)

I immediately fell in love with this show. Literally everything about it. I ended up rewatching it three times over the course of a week. It got to a point where I was so upset that there wasn't more content for it that I just cried for half a day. (Ask my partner - it was chaos)

This show is the reason I now read fanfiction - all because I found a way to technically have more content for it.

This show holds such an important place in my heart that I sincerely cannot express it properly.

If you've never watched it - go give it a try. It would mean a lot - and hopefully one day we might get a season two.

----

Thanks for reading, if you managed to get to this point. I find it interesting how my explanations managed to slowly get shorter throughout the list as I just started becoming more emotional than factual.

I hope you enjoyed it and maybe grabbed a recommendation or two. If you'd like to know more or hear me ramble on more about anything in particular then please let me know.

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werewolfnightwalker · 4 months

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Author!Dabi; Part Two

Part One here!

Dabi pretended to forget about the book after a while. Hawks never really brought it up again, though Dabi caught him reading it every now and then.

Sometimes he called Dabi "Raven," to which Dabi replied, "Songbird," but that was it. He never confirmed or denied that it was his book, that he wrote, that contained dozens of poems that were dedicated to his hero. He didn't want to, nor did he need to, so he didn't say anything when he spotted even more books by T. T. Arrow show up on Hawks' bookshelf.

He did watch, though. Watched as the first book- Starless Night and Other Poems- was read again, and again, and again. Dabi watched the spine crack, the page corners get dog-eared, the dustcover begin to tear at the edges.

All from repeated rereads.

"Read any good books lately?" He asked Hawks casually as he saw the hero glancing at the worn tome again.

Hawks hummed, smiling to himself. "Yeah, been thinking about rereading my favorite, though."

His favorite. Not even the five stars and essay-length, raving reviews from critics gave Dabi the same warm, fluttery feeling as that simple statement.

Finally, on a rainy afternoon that had him cooped up in Hawks' apartment while the hero was napping, Dabi got up and approached the bookshelf. He tipped the book towards himself with a finger and pulled it out of its place, carrying it with both hands back to the couch.

He retook his seat and flipped it open, searching the front page for… something. A sign, maybe. A reason, an explanation as to why it was Hawks' favorite.

The pages whispered against each other as he turned to the first poem; Mountainside of Embers was the title. His eyes completely passed over the printed words, so nearly packed into their stanzas, as they zeroed in on the messy scrawls along the sides.

"I'm so sorry." It was written in Hawks' slanted, curly handwriting, next to the paragraph lamenting how hard it was to breathe with lungs full of ash.

"I would have dug you out of the ashes and carried you home." Was scribbled at the end, that compared the mountainside to a graveyard for a single child.

Dabi flipped to another poem quickly; Sleepyhead.

"I wouldn't have left your side." Hawks' pen strokes promised next to the story of a sleeping, yet lonely boy.

"And he woke alone, so alone. Second, he thought of hunger, but firstly thought of home."

The whole line was highlighted, underlined, with a scrawled note beside it: "Come home with me!"

That fluttering back in his stomach, Dabi turned the pages with trembling fingers. Poem after poem was highlighted, underlined, scribbled, and doodled by. Notes and comments filled the margins, filled Dabi's vision and chest.

He turned to the first poem he'd written for Hawks, Origami Butterflies, and quickly scanned to one of the middle stanzas:

"Take my sharp edges and fold me together. Make me something beautiful, something that lasts forever. Tuck me safe into your pocket, Into your heart, into your bag, or your locket. Cradle me in work-worn hands, Promise never to let go again."

Next to it, in red ink and in all capital letters, Hawks wrote, "I PROMISE!"

Swallowing against the tightness in his throat now, Dabi looked through a few more before he finally dared himself to look at their poem, Cage of Bone.

The first page was blank.

As was the second.

The third page, where the story of the raven and the songbird ended, only had a single note by the final stanza:

"Begging forgiveness, as towards dawn they flew, The raven sobbed, "I love you, I love you, I love you.""

The poem ended there, in black, printed ink. But the note, written in blue, added on:

"The song bird settled into raven's chest, into his cage, into his nest, And began to sing into the sunrise, "It's alright, raven, dry your eyes. I am swift, and I am strong, And it was always you who heard my song. My wings do ache, my back is sore, So I will rest with you a little more.

Don't weep, dear raven, for you see, When I'm in here, I am free. I will stay in this cage of bone, So you and I are not alone.

Be my wings, and I'll be your heart, Because from you, dear raven, I wish never to part. So you start the song, and I take my cue, To sing on for forever, "I love you, I love you, I love you, too.""

Dabi closed the book like it would fall apart in his hands, carrying back to the shelf and slotting it into its place with the reverence due a holy scripture.

Wiping the blood from his cheeks, he headed for the bedroom, to do just as his songbird, his heart, had said.

He never fully figured out why it was Hawks' favorite book. But when he looked down at his hero, asleep, his head on Dabi's chest, he realized he didn't need to.

Not when the sound of their heartbeats, the sound of their breathing, the sound of Hawks' wings fluttering and the sheets shuffling and bloody tears pattering off Dabi's chin-

Not when they made a symphony, a song, all their own, that sang more than a raven and songbird ever could.

End.

#conans writing #dabihawks #dabi #hawks #keigo takami #touya todoroki #mha dabi #toukei #mha hawks #bnha hawks #bnha dabi #long post #poetry

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 8 months

Note

What about a headcanon inspired by the tv show the nanny? Mike is a broadway producer and the reader is the nanny, and there is so much angst between them🥹

“The show was a hit tonight, Mike. Don’t beat yourself up over a couple of negative reviews.”

Michael silently shut the door to his five year old daughter’s bedroom, the glow from her night light disappearing. Michael brushed past you, frustration lining his features.

“Michael,” Y/N grabbed his hand, “Cheer up.”

Michael paused outside of his room. He looked over his shoulder at you, then his brown eyes descended to your hand in his. Tonight had a perfect start. He gifted you a diamond tennis bracelet from Tiffany’s and treated all three of you to a fancy dinner before the Broadway show. He’d been so caught up lately with work that he hadn’t expressed his appreciation for you being such a big help. He wouldn’t know what to do without you. Widower and single dad with a demanding job in New York City was a lot to carry on his own.

“I worked hard on this show, Y/N. Years. Maybe you’re right…maybe there will be more positive reviews…I took a chance at something different and I just want everyone to see the same vision as me.”

“They will. Those close to you know. I loved it. Everyone worked so hard. Sage was crying during the finale. She’s so proud of her daddy. I’m proud of you.”

Michael locked eyes with you before blinking away to fight tears. You’d never seen him like this. Usually he’s all put together but to see him so vulnerable made your heart swell. You stroke his hand with your thumb and pull him into a tight hug. Michael wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his cheek against your bare shoulder. His cologne burned your nose pleasantly. His strong arms felt secure and comforting.

“Thanks, Y/N. For real, without you…I would be lost. I was thinking…”

Michael sniffled and then used his thumb to wipe away a single tear from his left cheek. You were attentive, eyes searching his.

“…Maybe you should move in? Sage would love that…I’d love that.”

“A live-in nanny? Really?” You were shocked by him asking you. Usually, he’s throwing around orders and grating on your last nerve— part of your usual banter — you didn’t know what to say.

“Please? You can have the room you stay in right now. I’ll increase your salary, you won’t have to worry about anything anymore. What do you say?”

“I–Michael, this is crazy,” you smile, “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” Michael returned the smile, his hand coming up to caress your arm, “Sage is gonna be so happy.”

“She can eat pancakes every morning now.”

“Not every morning, Y/N,” Michael gave you a stern look before a smile spread across his lips.

“I’m happy to see you smiling again.”

Michael stared at you for a while before dropping his gaze to his hands. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway.

“I just want to make my father proud. He doesn’t come to any of my shows but…to know that he’s proud of how far I’ve come? That warms my heart. My momma used to take me to Broadway shows on the weekends. I loved watching her dance ballet. She was so magical. After she passed, my dad didn’t want anything to do with theater. I felt like it was my destiny to keep the legacy going. It was either that or being a lawyer.”

“I bet he’s smiling right now knowing that his son is a successful Broadway producer. I bet your mom is looking down on you as proud as ever.”

Michael smirked at you, his eyes warm and glossy with tears that begged to fall. You lean in and kiss his cheek, lips slowly withdrawing from his skin. Michael met your eyes and without warning he’s pressing you against the wall opposite his room, hands on your waist and his fluffy lips against your red stained lips. His tongue dragged against yours hungrily. Your lips moved in sink like a sensual dance. Your hands were on his shoulders and then your fingers yanked his dress shirt aggressively. You’ve wanted this for so long.

Michael broke the kiss suddenly, staring at you with a mixture of lust and confusion. You press a hand against his cheek and reassure him with your touch that everything is okay.

“I’m sorry—we shouldn’t have done that—”

“It’s okay, Michael, it’s okay—”

“We have to keep thing’s professional between us, Y/N. I shouldn’t have kissed you—I’m sorry.”

Michael turned his back on you and your hand slipped from his warm cheek. You watched him enter his room quickly and you rushed to follow him but his door shut in your face. You stood their staring at the door with hurt swimming in your eyes.

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #michael b jordan #headcanon #ask nahimjustfeelingit

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mpov · 5 months

Text

Op on the original thread blocked me.

@redfemmayy

I have run down hundreds of examples people gave me of shitty MRAs. Every single time the person was spouting legit hate towards women, they either never said a damned thing about Men's Rights, or declared overt contempt and hatred towards them.

Show me videos from MRAs saying you can't rape your wife, drunk women are asking for it, etc. I want proof. What MRA books? Give me titles.

Why did I bring up Karen Straughan? Because @midnight-roses-candy claimed MRAs wouldn't stand to be "surrounded by queers" when there are literal queer leaders in the movement.

Who the fuck is Pearly White? The MRM has wholly disowned "Red Pillers" regardless. In fact when there was a documentary about MRAs being made "The Red Pill" They begged her to change the title as they don't want to be associated with them.

I'm not an MRA. I have been on this site over a decade begging for a link to one solid example of MRAs being shitty. I'm still begging to this day. Will, you finally be the one to link to something real? I can only hope.

But the proof so far is always the same circular logic.

A classic example is the "Furiosa Effect". In which people decided that MRAs hated Mad Max: Fury Road. When if you actually go to MRAs, or sites they have, you find glowing reviews. There was never an MRA boycott of the film. Nothing of the sort. But then anyone who gave it less than a perfect score was an MRA, so the narrative became:

"MRAs hate MM:FR! Reviewer didn't love MM:FR! Reviewer is an MRA. (which reinforces) MRAs hate MM:FR"

But ya'll never listen to me. Maybe you'll listen to a feminist.

youtube

Give me book titles, links to videos, articles, anything. I always run them down in good faith.

#feminist #feminism #mra #ted talks #circular logic #lolgic #Youtube

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orangepanic · 4 months

Text

Baatar Sr. adopts Asami AU for @thatoneguy56fanfic

In spite of their chef’s best efforts the girl—young woman, he supposed—only picked at her food. A small bite of fish here. A single sliver of purple sea onion. She tucked each one into her red-lipped mouth as if putting marbles back in a sack after playtime. Not an ounce of pleasure on her face. Baatar found his eyes drawn to her again and again in the same way one might watch the aftermath of a head-on collision. Asami Sato, both body and ambulance.

“She’s your daughter’s age,” Suyin teased as soon as they were alone.

“It’s not funny,” he replied. An uncharacteristic disagreement. “Spirits, Su, can you imagine? Opal said they’d only just reconciled.”

The laughter in his wife’s face faded as she turned away. “No, I can’t,” she said. “But I do know something about not having a father.”

Baatar sucked in a breath. He’d walked right into that one. “I’m sorry, darling,” he said, pulling her close. Suyin slotted against him, so warm and familiar. Her delicate breath tickled his neck. “It’s not a comparison. I only wish we could do more than give her somewhere to visit.”

“Because we don’t have our hands full with Baatar and Kuvira right now?”

“Because Baatar and Kuvira are the reason Asami doesn’t have a father.”

Su had nothing to say to that.

The next day Baatar began his project. “Excuse me, Asami?” he asked after breakfast. “I wonder if you could lend me a hand?”

Her eyes met his, hollow. “What do you need?”

What Baatar needed took most of the morning. He hadn’t really required a second person to help him move his chalkboard from one side of his workshop to another where the light might be better, but in the end it was nice to have a capable set of hands to balance and measure and mark on the wall. Asami proved swift and efficient. Once the final screws were screwed and they were both thoroughly covered in white chalk dust Baatar asked her if she might review his plans for an expansion of Zaofu’s opera house later on. As a favor. Asami said yes.

They continued like that the rest of the week. Every day Baatar created a project for which he might need the assistance of a fellow engineer. Some were items on his long to-do list; many he simply made up. And every day Asami agreed to help, and spent anywhere from an hour to half the day working on whatever it was he’d decided needed doing. At first Asami mostly took instruction. But as time passed Baatar started to press her for her own ideas. Did she think the lift should be hydraulic or not? Which way should the road cut? Had she come across a better material for the coating in her own work? To these questions he also started adding the odd bit of fatherly advice or occasional terrible pun. It took three days for Asami to laugh at one of his jokes, but eventually she did. And Baatar found that not only were her ideas often good and not at all what he would have done, but that he got more done that week than he had in the whole two months prior.

“I’ve missed this,” he said one afternoon as Asami tightened the lug nuts on the last tire of the new heavy duty motorized garden wagon he’d decided the estate somehow needed. Hu Meng was getting old, and while they could simply hire another gardener he’d never much liked changes in staff.

For a long time Asami didn’t say anything. Sweat dripped down from her hairline into her tank top as she strained against the wrench. But finally Baatar heard it, just a whisper. “Me, too.”

That night he talked to Suyin again. What was one more child after all? With Opal moving in with Bolin they even had a spare bedroom.

“It doesn’t have to be forever,” he said. “Just until she finds her feet again.”

Su gave him a knowing smile. “Sure, Dad,” she said.

#asami sato #baatar sr #tlok #legend of korra #fanfic #drabble

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rhaenella · 1 year

Text

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 1

Masterlist | Part 2

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Word count: 1.4k

A/N at the end.

Song: Royals – Lorde

Montrose, R.

The name of your next victim was written in elegant cursive handwriting on a small business card. Your employer had given it to you along with an envelope filled with your payment for the previous job you had just completed.

The name seemed familiar to you. You briefly glanced up at your employer as you slipped out your phone to quickly look up the name he had provided you with.

You typed in the name Montrose and within nanoseconds after you hit search, the app showed you thousands of hits on the name. Newspaper articles, clips of talk show appearances, book reviews, both positive and hate tweets (although the former outweighed the latter), and of course many, many pictures of the man. You recognised him instantly.

You raised a single eyebrow inquisitively, once more glancing at your employer.

“I’m aware that it’s high-profile.”

You scoffed as you scrolled through the many articles. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Your employer cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “Can you do it or not?”

“Of course,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Good.”

“But it’s gonna cost you.”

“I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”

You hummed, locking your phone and placing it in your back pocket. Your employer diverted his eyes, looking nervous? No — stressed — your mind supplied. You smirked inwardly. The man was desperate for this job.

You’ve done work for him before. Six times, in fact. Two of which had been abroad, including the one you just completed. Your flight back from Toronto had landed just a couple of hours ago. And now here you were once more.

The man had resources and was rich beyond words. He had power. Lots of it. Which incontrovertibly led to him having many enemies. Enemies that he needed to get rid of. Quietly. That’s where you came in.

But something was different this time. Your employer seemed off, more desperate than you’d ever seen him. Before he was always perfectly in control, never blinking an eye as he provided you with your next assignment or payment. The man was perhaps even more cold blooded than you. And that’s saying something. Nevertheless, he would never get his own hands dirty.

Your nostrils flared, having had enough of his stalling.

“Out with it, what is it?” You demanded.

Your employer glanced around before his gaze fixed on an old desk next to a broken window that had been boarded up. He kicked back a broken chair laying askew on the wood-rotten floor. He always preferred to meet in inconspicuous places. And if you might add, downright shitholes.

He sighed as he cautiously leaned back against the desk, looking back over his shoulder to make sure it would support his weight. He definitely wasn’t overweight. But you were certain that even the weight of a feather could make the desk collapse in on itself. Surprisingly, the desk remained standing after it gave a slight squeaky noise.

“I need it done within 48 hours.”

You couldn’t stop the bark of a laugh from escaping. The man had gone officially bloody nuts. Who the hell did he think he was? The king of England? In all honesty, he might actually wield more power than the king himself. But all of that was beside the point.

“48 hours,” you snickered, shaking your head at his ridicule.

“I know, I know,” he amended. “But I wouldn’t ask this of you if the situation hadn’t been this dire.”

“Dire or not, the man is currently number one trending on social media. He’s a beloved politician, likely preparing his campaign to become mayor of one of the biggest cities in the world. And you think I can make him disappear without a trace within 48 hours?”

“Yes,” your employer replied.

If the man and his ideas weren’t as delusional as the present situation would suggest, you would actually take quite a bit of pride in that simple statement.

“It’s not simply a matter of the public eye. He must have well established security. I need time to figure those details out as well as his schedule.”

You took a few steps closer, stopping a couple of feet away from your employer.

“I can get it done, but I need time.”

“I don’t have time,” he all but shouted at you as he got up angrily, his attitude changing rapidly. The man was known for his temper, but you hadn’t witnessed it yourself yet. His control was really severely lacking today.

“Which means you don’t have time,” he growled.

The space between you reduced to mere inches but you held your ground. You weren’t afraid of some rich businessman who wasn’t used to being told no.

You chuckled softly, making his eyes narrow to mere slits.

“See, the funny thing is. I don’t need to do a thing. I don’t have to accept your ridiculous job offer.”

A smirk grew on his face and he retreated a few steps. “Oh? But you haven’t heard the full offer yet.”

Now it was your turn to narrow your eyes. Truly, who the hell did he think he was, playing with you like this? You briefly contemplated killing him on the spot, but really you couldn’t be bothered.

“I am offering you three times your regular fee.”

Now this — this — made you stop right in your tracks. Yep, it was confirmed. The man was definitely delusional.

It may have been a cheap trick. Typically the rich social elite — buying their way through life. But damned be all if it wasn’t effective.

Your employer knew nothing about you, except how to contact you. To give you the time and place for your clandestine meetings. Which means he also didn’t know anything about your personal life and your financial situation. In your line of work, you liked to keep it that way.

Truth is, you weren’t poor and you weren’t rich. But you needed the money your unorthodox job provided you with. It wasn’t about becoming rich yourself. It wasn’t about gaining status or anything like that. No, the money went straight to your sisters.

You had two younger sisters who still lived with your mother, a raging and highly unstable alcoholic. You often debated whether to take full custody of your sisters and have them live with you, but you also knew your job came with certain risks and you didn’t want to jeopardise their safety.

You tried to take as much care of them as you could from the sidelines. Especially since no one else fought for them. Definitely not your father because he had left years ago, claiming he could no longer cope with your mother’s issues. Hell, like you all could?

Your youngest sister, Sadie, had fallen ill two years ago. Mainstream medicine had failed her, so you were now paying for her exclusive medical trials. The good thing was, they were working. Your sister’s health was improving, but she was still nowhere near healthy and being fully cleared by the doctors. She probably never would be as she suffered a rare chronic disease.

But she was going to school again now. A private school to be exact, same as your other sister, Zoe, who was currently acing her first year at the prestigious Darcy College. You were so proud of both of them, but with the medical bills and their education, you needed the money.

Which is why your employer’s offer made both your skin crawl but also your heart clench. You needed it. Maybe just as much as he needed this Montrose guy killed.

You glanced down at your left hand, your sisters’ initials that you had tattooed on your wrist serving as a powerful reminder of what you inevitably had to agree to. A possible suicide mission. Because how were you going to pull this high-profile kill off without being able to actually device a plan in advance? Without getting caught.

And yet you found yourself accepting his offer.

“Okay.”

Your employer didn’t look surprised, seemingly confident that money could indeed buy anything. Or anyone. He had been completely oblivious to your inner turmoil. Probably because of your very well practiced poker face that you never let slip.

“I will do it,” you said. “On one condition.”

“What?”

“Like I said earlier, this is gonna cost you. Not just three, I want five times my regular fee. Take it or leave it.”

He seemed exceptionally pleased with himself as an unsettling smile creeped onto his face.

“You have a deal.”

Fuck the rich, you thought as you bitterly shook his hand.

––––

A/N: sooo this is the first (kinda short, introductory) part of this Rhys x reader fic. The next parts will be longer, don’t worry! Although I’m very busy with work, I will try to stick to my regular posting schedule (Tuesdays, Fridays, and Sundays) as much as I can. Know that the next few parts have already been drafted and are almost ready to be published :) And boy, it’s going to be a ride. Thank you for reading!!!!

#rhys montrose x reader #rhys montrose x female reader #rhys montrose fanfic #rhys montrose fic #rhys montrose #you netflix #you season 4 #you season 4 canon divergence #jonathan moore #joe goldberg #goldrose #ed speleers #rhys montrose x original female character #on ao3 #you and me #i can really say only one thing #buckle the hell up

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dia-souls · 1 year

Text

☕️ Reiyui fanfic ☕️

Pairing : Reiji x Yui

TW : ⚠️ Death, Tragedy end ⚠️

Author : Admin Afra

Admin's Note : This fanfic is about the Reiji HDB Manservant ending and Cordelia's soul is still in Yui's body.

🌸 Silver Moonlight 🌸

Yui woke up with a heavy feeling in her body and found herself laying down in Reiji's bed. A month had passed since Reiji saved her from Cordelia. Yui thought she had recovered from the traumatic event, but the pain still lingers and keeps her awake at night. She had frequent chest pain from all the times her heart stopped. The fact that Cordelia was still alive and still in control of her body made Yui restless. The whole situation was unbearably sad and depressing.

Yui rarely sees Reiji anymore. He locked himself in his laboratory to develop a solution for destroying Cordelia. Reiji also attempted to bring his mother, Beatrix, back to life with a potion. He had been experimenting with it for a long time now.

Yui slowly got up from the bed and walked towards Reiji's laboratory. At the entrance, she cracked open the door. For even how slightly she opened it, there was a loud creaking noise. Reiji turned to look at the peeping girl in the hallway. He looked in the midst of studying. In his hands held a large, open book.

"Oh, are you awake? Why are you here?" The man shook his head in confusion.

"Umm, Reiji-san. I wanted to see what you were doing?"

"You don't need to know. Go back to your room and rest, and if you notice anything strange, let me know immediately." He gestured toward the door.

Yui felt sad again. Reiji was showing her the cold shoulder yet again. She knew deep down it was only because of Cordelia’s presence in her body, but his quick dismissal still hurt. Yui was worried about him and his condition. Cordelia was still a real danger, but maybe Reiji was being too hard on himself? He has been cooped up in the laboratory day after day working for who knows how long. Another unwanted thought kept prodding her mind too. If there was possibility that Cordelia came back to life, what would that mean for Reiji? What would that mean for herself? With so much to say but not a single soul in the room who wanted to hear it, Yui turned around and walked away without another word.

TIMESKIP :

Reiji reviews the final details of administering the potion and leaves the room. He creeps down a set of long hallways that lead behind the Sakamaki mansion. Once outside, he crouches down where a brown coffin is laying on the ground. The coffin is made of oak wood and gives off a slight fragrance. Lifting his hand, he reaches for the latch and slowly opens the coffin door. The coffin reveals the body of a woman with skin as cold as ice.

"Hah. It's been a long time. It's time for you to come alive, Mother."

Taking out the potion, he twists open the cap. Then he slowly tips the liquid and pours it into the woman’s parted lips. This was no ordinary woman, she was the beautiful queen of vampires. Her beautiful blue eyes shot open, as if she was never asleep at all.

"Hello mother, welcome back."

{[_______________ 🌹 _______________]}

Yui walked slowly under the moonlight in the courtyard of the Sakamaki mansion. The pure and concentrated radiance of the moon gave off a silver shimmer to the ground below. But the beauty of the courtyard did not silence her painful thoughts. Feelings of loneliness overshadowed her more and more every day. She was trying to stay away from Reiji so Cordelia wouldn't hurt him. After all, this was Beatrix’s advice to Yui after being revived.

It had been almost a month since Beatrix returned. Since then, Reiji spent less time with Yui and was always by his mother's side. The problem didn’t end there because Beatrix was not very friendly. Beatrix knew Yui’s weak spot, and never passed the chance to bring it up. With Cordelia’s heart beating so strongly, Beatrix forbid Yui from contacting her sons. And although Yui disliked her insults and casual put-down, deep down she knew staying away would be the right thing to do…no matter how hard it was.

With a heavy feeling in her heart, Yui continued to walk the path in between the thorny bushes. With one of the roses sticking out, she caressed the soft petal with her thumb. Despite all her sadness, the ambassador’s garden was still beautiful and the moonlight was ever present.

She sighed, "I wonder what Reiji-san might be doing right now?”

Yui continued to caress the white rose. With one last stroke her thumb slipped, scratching one of the thorns.

"Ouch! Ah, it's interesting how even the most beautiful things can hurt. That's probably the best description for Cordelia. Beautiful but dangerous."

Pulling her hand away, she put the injured digit in her mouth. It stung at first, but the warmth enveloping her finger was soothing. With her finger rinsed of most of the blood, she continued to walk with more caution.

TIMESKIP

The moonlight continued to spread it’s beautiful and bright light in the mansion. The light leaked through the windows and the almost transparent curtains. For hours, the small and beautiful girl walked under the moonlight. Not that she was bored or for any other reason other than drowning out her thoughts and loneliness. Her soft hands caressed the flowers in the garden as she passed by. Her pink eyes resembled bright roses as she scanned every surrounding bush. Every feature of the girl shinned under the brilliant moonlight. Her once golden and fluffy hair was muted into a silvery blonde. If someone was close enough, it could be mistaken for glitter. Some might be tricked into thinking it was an otherworldly goddess walking on the ground.

Yui looks at the moonlit sky with tears in her eyes.

"Reiji-san, I miss you. I want to be with you."

In this quiet solitude, tears flowed from her eyes. She gripped her left hand to calm herself down. She overwhelmed by all these sad thoughts that never seemed to go way, until her attention was drawn to a sound behind her. At first she thought it was a cat hissing. Once she turned her head it was a very different vision. The queen of vampires was staring straight at her. Her bright and beautiful blue eyes could cut through glass.

"It's unbelievable to see a mortal human being so enamored by a predatory vampire."

Yui, who was trying to hide her tears, slowly turned her head and gave a bitter smile.

"Oh, Beatrix-san. Are you awake?"

"Don't forget that I'm a vampire. Unlike humans, I don't need sleep."

The beautiful vampire slowly approached the scared girl.

"More importantly, you don't have to hide anything. I know how your feeling."

Hearing this, Yui blushed and tried to hide her embarrassment.

"Ummmmm. Beatrix-san. I....I..."

"In any case, if you really love Reiji, then stay away from him. As long as that woman's heart is in your body, being around Reiji every moment is dangerous. Please don't be upset, I just don't want anything to happen to Reiji."

The beautiful queen said this and slowly walked away from Yui. The moonlight trailed her figure as she disappeared back into the shadows. Now exasperated, Yui sat on the floor with a heavy feeling in her heart. She couldn’t escape this feeling of sadness and cried silently.

While lying on her bed, Yui looked at the beautiful reflection of the moonlight coming from the window. Raising her hand, she was mesmerized how the light filtered through her fingers. Opening and closing her palm looked as if she captured the silver light in her hand.

Eventually, the dark clouds would pass over and conceal most of the remaining moonlight. This left Yui alone in complete darkness with nothing left to comfort her sorrow.

When Yui woke up the next morning, she felt a heavy weight on her backside. Turning her head, she was surprised at the sight next to her. Reiji was sleeping with a hand around Yui’s waist.

"When did Reiji-san come to my room?" She muttered with sleep still in her voice.

Doing a double-take at her lover's face, she began to quietly admire his beauty. Thinking of how beautiful Reiji looked, she slowly threaded her fingers through his hair. Maybe she shouldn’t be doing this right now, considering Beatrix’s warning, but that didn’t stop her. What DID stop her though was what followed next. Only seconds after she started petting his head, a hand reached up and grabbed her wrist.

"How dare you touch me secretly in my sleep"

"Oh Reiji-san! Are you awake? No…I didn't mean to…I just wanted to—"

Before Yui's could finish speaking, Reiji sat up on the bed. Still holding her hand with a death-grip, he pulled her towards his chest and into his arms. Although it looked like an intimate embrace, this didn’t relax Yui. She couldn’t move at all with his arms entrapping her.

"Fufu…it was a good attempt to justify your mistake. Now tell me, how can I punish you for the bad thing you did?"

"Ummm. Reiji-san, I—"

"There's no way you're going to run away from it. So stay still while I begin my training."

Reiji puts his head on Yui's shoulder and as his hot breath tickles Yui's skin. His lips met Yui’s skin as he started pecking soft kisses on her body.

"My beloved Yui, today I want to drown you with my love."

Reiji kissed Yui’s soft skin, until she felt two sharp teeth biting down. Red blood flowed down Yui’s snow-white skin as he sucked her blood. Yui was close to fainting at how much blood was coming out.

"Reiji-san.....please stop....I've reached my limit......I'm losing consciousness..."

This reaction made Reiji smirk.

"You haven't forgotten that this your punishment, did you? You were a bad girl, so now you have to be punished."

Yui looked at Reiji with bright and teary eyes. She hoped her expression would do all the work and convey to him that she was sorry.

"Reiji-san.....please..."

Reiji stroked Yui's head with his glove-covered hands.

"I don't mind if we end it here, but only on one condition. Say three golden words and I will release you."

"Reiji-san…please forgive me."

At her response, Reiji grabbed Yui's chin and forced her to look him in the eyes.

"No. Those were not the three words I asked for."

Hearing this, Yui blushed and tried to hide her embarrassment. She knew what he wanted to hear but the words were unable to come out. Reiji was staring directly into her eyes too. His eyes were so wide in anticipation that Yui could see her reflection. There was no way to get out of a confession this time. So, Yui lowered her head and tried to whisper.

"Reiji-san, I…I love you."

These words satisfied Reiji.

"Good girl. This is your reward."

Reiji pressed his face into the girl’s soft lips for a kiss. After the long kiss, he guided her head to rest on his chest. Her hair was so soft that he was compelled to touch and feel it. It smelled so clean and fresh too. Drawing his head down, he pressed another kiss into her hair.

"My beloved, stay calm and relaxed for I will always be by your side."

[{ _______________ 🌹 _______________ }]

The sound of glass breaking enveloped the bathroom. Yui had locked herself inside to drown out the noise. She had been screaming to the point of tears. Her frustration resulted in a broken mirror.

"Get out! Get out. Get away from me! Please get away from me…I'm begging you! Please get out!"

While screaming, she fell on the ground and fainted. She had been fighting with Cordelia for a long time to get out of her body. She desperately wanted to stay with Reiji. She tied her best, but Cordelia was too powerful. This is what Beatrix warned of. Yui loved Reiji dearly. The thought that Cordelia could come back and hurt Reiji made her sick. Locking the door seemed to be the only reasonable option. If she didn’t keep her distance, Cordelia could try to possess Reiji in some way. Of course, Yui knew Reiji was smart and knows when he is being deceived. But this was no relief for Yui's heartache.

Yui slumped down to the floor and thought of ways to calm herself. Reiji always visited her and brought her food, but Yui avoided eating lately. Her inner turmoil and self-destruction made it hard to swallow a spoonful of anything. It made her weak, but it was at least better than throwing up. Guilt panted her for how much trouble she caused Reiji.

Yui felt very lonely. She couldn't bear this cramped and dark room anymore. Finally, she decided to go outside the room and explain herself. Maybe Reiji would understood her and find a way to help?

TIMESKIP

Yui, who was squeezing her chest tightly, ran along the corridor as fast as she could. Covering her ears didn’t help anymore, Cordelia was already inside her head. But over all the voices, she could not believe what she heard in the other room. Was it…Beatrix…and Reiji?

“No…did she just ask Reiji to…kill me?” she whispered to herself in disbelief.

Refusing to believe what she just heard, Yui continued to listen for more information and tilted her head toward the noise. They wouldn’t be happy if they caught her eavesdropping, but the noise practically bounced off the walls.

Listening further into their conversation only confirmed Yui’s deepest fears. She was asking Reiji to kill her.

Knowing this new information, Yui turned around and ran back down the corridor in the opposite direction. Not knowing whether she should hide or try to escape, or maybe even try to forget what she heard. Is ignorance bliss in this situation? Reiji would never do this to her. He physically could…but would he? Drowning in these thoughts caused a severe pain to overwhelm her.

"No! Please stop it! Please don't hurt Reiji-san!"

Cordelia took over Yui's body and reached for a knife hidden away in her clothing. The knife was untarnished silver that reflected in the moonlight from the window. A new idea sparked in her head…

"If they want to kill me. I will do it sooner"

Yui's soul was trapped deep inside her body and she was struggling to save her beloved. Her efforts were useless, Cordelia had fully taken over her body.

Gripping the weapon in one hand, Yui slammed open the door to Reiji's room.

"Yui, is something wrong? Do you need something?"

With a knife behind her back, she slowly approached him.

"Reiji-san, I am very lonely. Can I be with you?"

Reiji looked into Yui's almost innocent eyes and hugged her. She was ‘lonely’…how typical of Yui to say.

Using the flat side of his hand he tried massaging Yui’s tense shoulder blades. But before he knew it, there was a tightness in his chest. Stumbling back, he looked down at the knife that split open his chest. His legs went limp and he fell to the ground. Fortunately, the knife did not puncture his heart.

Yui, at a last resort to save her lover, finally returned. She looked at Reiji again with innocent eyes. There was so much bleeding. She thoughtlessly put the weight of her hands on the wound to stop it. Reiji shot up from the pressure and gritted his teeth from the pain. She had no clue how to stop it. She could rip off some clothing and apply more pressure…but is that enough to save him? Tears gathered in her eyes as she hugged Reiji on the floor.

"Reiji-san. I'm sorry…I'm really sorry. It's all my fault! I won't let you get hurt anymore." Her tears choking at the words.

With this final message, she kissed Reiji's cheek and stepped back, pointing the knife at her heart.

Reiji was shocked.

"Yui, wait. What are you doing?"

"Fufu...Reiji-san. I love you."

Yui said her last words with a bright smile and plunged the knife into her heart. The force of the knife made her body fall backwards.

"Yui! Yui! NOOOOOO."

Still in pain, Reiji rushed to Yui’s side. He frantically shook her lifeless body.

"Yui, wake up! Please, I'm begging you…wake up…my beloved Yui. Please wake up..."

Although a beautiful smile remained on her face, she was in a deep sleep. She was happy that her lover was now free of Cordelia.

Reiji pressed his tear-stained cheek to Yui's. The knife we still sticking out of her heart. So, he bit his tongue and ripped it out. It couldn’t hurt her anymore now.

"My beloved Yui, you said you loved me. Now I will whisper those same golden words to you."

Reiji whispered softly in Yui's ear.

"Yui. I love you."

He said this and plunged the knife back into his heart.

Once again, moonlight filled the room with a silver glow. A thin veil of light over two dead lovers and a bed of red roses. Hands entertained. Forever.

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