#and this idea is... not there yet. but honestly progressing faster than anticipated

[imunbreakabledude]

how nuts would it be if i started posting chapters of this currently untitled maeveannie fake dating fic before i've evern figured out how long it is and what's really happening. how nuts would that be. 3 likes and i do it

[hains-mae]

Flowers - Pt. 5 (The End)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (The End)

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

The Flowers: @call-me-prodigy @annoylinglyaries @zphilophobiaz @comic-brew @biglilwing @awkwardspontaneity @lozzybowe @mariiecapo @distressedearie @diyosku @dracoaereum @thesuitelifeofafangirl @chims-kookies @blade-xingston @danicalifxrnia

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays.

Notes: Wow that was a fun ride. But every story comes to an end, I hope you guys enjoy the final chapter! And thank you everyone who has taken their time to like, comment, and reblog. I appreciate it a lot <3

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

Robin visited every other night after that. It was surreal to have a hero that you’ve so long admired become your frequent visitor. Then again, nothing seemed normal anymore.

“It’s past the convention week. How do you keep coming here?” I asked curiously one night.

Robin gave me a lopsided grin and tapped the side of his nose. “I have my ways.”

After Mom’s week long leave was up she begrudgingly had to go back to work. The hospital assured her that I was healing fairly well, and that I would be transferred to Gotham Hospital the following weekend.

I was never really lonely though. Besides the friendly staff, my midnight visitor always came right on time. I wondered why he would take the time. Maybe it was to get to know me better? Perhaps my speech that night managed to get through to him. I had hoped it was both.

If I was being honest though, I was a little more than glad he did. I had meant it when I told the boy that I found him intriguing. He was a tough nut to crack though. I couldn’t blame him.

During the day when I would shower, I’d trace the flowers across my frame and wonder just how much he had gone through.

Soul marks start to appear at 10 years of age. You could imagine the shock (and worry) my parents had gone through when they found me one day absolutely covered in flowers.

From a young age I would hide them. Always wearing my sleeves till my palms, my neck constantly covered with either my jacket, scarf or high placed collars. It wasn’t that I was ashamed, but Gotham liked to talk – and when you’re the subject of attention, then you’re an easy target for criminals.

As I got older, the marks around my neck forearms slowly faded. I had worried about my soul mate and their well-being. Now that I understood everything, it was a different type of worry all together. The kind that would sit at the pit of your stomach and tie knots, heavy enough to keep you on edge.

My T.V in the hospital room was always on the same channel, Gotham News. Every battle would have my heart clenching as the camera’s desperately tried to follow the fight. Most of the time’s they wouldn’t be able to capture the end, and I’d be left holding my breath.

That’s one other reason I looked forward to our nightly visits. I could relax knowing he was alright.

I still wasn’t sure what I felt for this enigma of a person. But I knew that I wanted to get closer.

“I have an idea.” Robin said one evening. There was a glint his eye, the mask was off since my mom wasn’t around anymore. “And it’s got something to do with your invention.”

I arched a brow. “The bullets are complete but I still have yet to finalize the counter measures.”

He nodded understandingly. “Counter affect can wait. We don’t want to encase anyone in rock at the moment, but I’m putting it out there since you wanted to help.”

Intrigued, I urged him to continue.

Damian was quite brilliant in his own way. After much thought and planning, we had about 3 more types of chemically enhanced concoctions laid out. All of which were to go through Batman before beginning the experimentation process. He has assured me that I would be leading the research team for that under Wayne Ent.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital.

“Do you like sweets?” He asked randomly.

Arching a brow I studied him. He was slouched on the couch with his leg dangling on one side and a book in his hands.

Charles Dickens.

“Yes.” I said, noting his obvious attempt to look natural. “Do you?”

“On occasion.” The boy shifted a shoulder to mimic a shrug.

The very next visit he had a black bag slung across his shoulder. His face gave nothing away but from the times I’ve spent with him, I realised it was his eyes that did most of the talking.

“Whatcha got over there?” I asked curiously, scooting closer to him at the edge of the bed.

“Patience.” He said and pulled up the make shift table that was attached to the side of my bed. Placing a medium sized box on top, he carefully undid the lid and opened it. “I present to you, baklavas.”

In the dim light I saw that they were flaky, almost like a croissant. There were some with a mix of nuts, from pistachios to almonds. Others were plain but still looked heavenly. They gleamed with a moistness, as if coated with a syrupy substance. I picked one up and popped it into my mouth.

It burst with flavour and dissolved much too fast. I squeaked at the exotic taste.

“Oh my gosh these are so good.” I said, licking my thumb.

Robin looked pleased.

“You should have one.” I pushed the box towards him but he shook his head.

“They’re yours.” He said.

“Nonsense. Food always taste better when shared.” I picked another one up intending to eat it.

“If you insist.”

I had barely managed to register the wicked glint in his eye before he took hold of my wrist and brought my hand that was holding the sweet close to his mouth. He took it carefully from me in one easy motion and lightly licked my finger.

“You’re right. It does taste better when shared.”

I felt the burn on my cheeks and ears before I heard the warning blare of the heart monitor. Immediately, Robin slipped behind the couch just as the nurses for the nightshift burst into my room in a panic. They fussed over me as I repeatedly tried to tell them I was alright. My heart finally calmed and once they left, Robin got up covering his mouth. He was trying to keep himself from laughing.

-x-x-x-

The weekend came much faster than I had anticipated. When the doctors checked on my progress, they gave the thumbs up for me to be transferred to Gotham’s hospital.  Mom was relieved, and wouldn’t stop fussing over me when we got there. I let it be though, thinking it was more for her own peace of mind than mine.

After that it was a short two weeks before I was fully discharged.

Robins visits never wavered though. If anything, he had stayed for longer periods of time. I got to know the boy under the mask more than I had hoped for and opened up in return more than I had intended.

I found out his brothers were vigilantes too. He pointed them all out one evening with a family picture he’d secretly stashed in his wallet. They were a “thorn” to his side — as he had so eloquently described, but I could see just how much he loved them. That was another thing I learnt about him, his speech patterns were very posh. He liked to use formal names and slang was not completely in his vocabulary. I asked him about that one time, to which he only replied “another time”. It was probably a touchy subject, where he exactly grew up.

His favourite colour was green, and his adoration for animals was as deep as black hole. It was crazy how perfect my mind painted him to be, and the more I knew, the harder it was to ignore the feelings growing inside me.

He enjoys reading, but would gladly spend the day locked in his room with his tablet and pen drawing the day away. He is good both in traditional and digital art, and sometimes dabbles in graphic design when he feels like it. He prefers his tea without any additives, but would not hesitate to pour bucket loads of milk and sugar in his coffee during the rare moments he drinks it.

I could list everything down but it would just solidify my attraction to him, and honestly I doubt this was he needed right now. Juggling a double life sounded a lot more stressful than he showed it to be. He hardly ever talked about it but from the amount of flowers blooming on me, it was difficult to see it any other way but exhausting. He’d kick butt at night, get hurt, then go to school the very next day like nothing happened.

He arrived one evening like he normally did and I had rushed up to pull off his glove. I felt a sting earlier and found a Sakura branch littered with pink flowers. I was right, his arm was soaked in red, and the gash looked bad.

“It’s just a scratch.” He promised me.

I didn’t reply. Taking him straight to the bathroom, I rinsed out the remaining blood and addressed the wound. After bandaging him up I finally looked into his eyes and showed him just how worried I was.

That evening we sat next to each other, with our fingers intertwined and his thumb randomly brushing against my knuckles.

-x-x-x-

Finally I was able to return home. Being able to lie down on my own bed, inside my own house, I could let loose and properly relax. I threw myself onto the soft comforters that smelled like fabric softener and smiled to myself.

Home sweet home.

But not for long, I reminded myself that this evening I would be dining with the Wayne’s. Swallowing hard, I hurried my face onto the pillows. I can’t mess this up, not after everything they’ve done for me.

Damian’s smirking face suddenly came to mind, and all his welcomed visits. It made my stomach grow warm. Remembering us sharing the sweets he gifted – soft lips against my fingers.

I groaned into the pillow, the room was getting a little hot. Getting up gingerly, as to not aggravate the newly healed stitches, I manoeuvred my way to the window and pushed it open. The cold evening air felt good against my heated skin. I sighed in content.

If I were being honest, I didn’t know what exactly was happening between us. I didn’t know if I wanted anything to happen between us. Wouldn’t it be weird, considering that I’d be interning for his dad in just a couple of months. Possibly work there if my luck doesn’t run out first. Not to mention WHO he was.

You’re just a normal girl, I chided myself. Not someone important enough to stand beside such a prestigious boy and his ridiculously wealthy family.

But even then – I found myself wondering. Seeking. Imagining… What if we were to become something more? What if it works? What if we fall in –

“Y/n!” Mom’s voice broke through my reverie, waking me up from the needless train of thought.

Closing my window, I poked my head out the door and found her putting on a bracelet.

“Are you ready? The cab is nearly here.” She asked.

I nodded and took a step closer to her. Looking quickly at the vanity mirror in the hallway, I gave myself a once over to make sure everything was in place. I had on a slightly fitting turtle neck sweater, paired with a high waisted pleated skirt and dark stockings. On my feet I sported on my boots. It was safe to assume no one would be able to see my soul marks.

My mom grabbed her purse and headed downstairs. I followed close behind her, handing her her coat before locking up the front door.

The cab driver arrived a few minutes in, and we drove off straight to Wayne Manor.

“This is exciting isn’t it?” She said to me with a lift in her voice, as she exited the cab to get the gates opened.

Once we could enter, we were greeted with a very large land that was pristinely kept. The grass was cut evenly, and the trees lining the estate were trimmed to perfection. Bushes were perfectly shaped into different animals, and flowers systematically grown to create swirls and shapes beside the road. A big fountain was situated just in front of the mansion while a man in a black suit waited beside the opened doors.

We exited the cab after paying and did our best to take it all in without looking like fishes out of water.

“Ah, Mrs. & Ms. Y/l/n.” It was the man who I saw pick up Damian that one night in Metropolis appeared. I also remembered him in the family photograph. His accent was thickly laced with British poise. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth, I shall be you’re attendant for the evening.”

“Thank you.” Mom was quick to compose herself.

As soon as I entered the house I felt my breath stolen away. It was huge. Everything looked so new and polished.

I barely registered my mom and Alfred chatting away as he led her to the dining hall.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I nearly jumped at the voice that startled me. Whipping my head around, I found Jason standing with his hands in his pockets.

“I remember my first time coming in here. Completely floored.” He chucked.

I waved a small greeting. “Everything looks so –“

“Expensive? Exorbitant? Grand?” He tried to guess.

“Beautiful.” I breathed out.

He laughed. “Not what I expected. But you’re full of surprises aren’t you.”

I blushed. “Ah, I’m not sure about that. I’m just me.”

“Hey, no stealing our guest before dinner.” Dick walked down the stair case with Tim beside him.

“Feeling better Y/n?” Tim asked as we grouped just below the stairs.

“Yeah, thank you.” I answered, suddenly feeling flustered as they surrounded me.

Stay calm.

“Don’t be nervous.” Dick said with an air of comfort.

I wanted to ask what made him think so, but he answered before I even began to articulate the words.

“You’re fidgeting like a college student during a thesis debate.” He said simply.

“You’re… very good at reading people.” I arched a brow at him.

“One of my many amazing abilities” He winked.

Jason let out an air of playful frustration and pulled Dick aside. “And now you’re stealing her. Can’t hold a normal conversation can you Dickie, always a flirt.”

“First of all – do I need to remind you who mostly does all the talking during dad’s parties. And second of all – I am not a flirt. I can’t help it if I’m charming.” Dick mocked a suave look and shot it as his brother.

Jason looked like he was about to gag and Tim was less than pleased. I laughed at their antics.

“What’s funny?” Damian appeared beside me. I jumped and held a hand to my racing heart.

“Jeez, do all of you have a talent for sneaking up on people?” I wheezed out, trying to gather my bearings.

They all grinned at me without answering.

Robins, my inner muse whispered. I brushed off the thought as quick as it had come.

We had made it to the dining area just in time for Alfred to begin serving the meals. My mother was already chatting up a storm with Mr. Wayne. A wine glass in hand and a slight tint to her cheeks. She looked happy.

I began walking towards the seat beside my mother when Damian pulled out the chair like a gentleman. I bit the inside of my cheek and mumbled a thank you.

He took the space beside me and the rest of his brothers seated themselves opposite us.

As we opened our plates for dinner, I was amazed to see how well it was presented. Mr. Pennyworth continued to serves other dishes, and once he was done he left the room.

The food tasted just as good as it looked.

Easy conversation wafted around us, the usual topics of school, and future plans. Mr. Wayne brought up the internship which I nearly gushed over due to my excitement. Damian held back a laugh with a cough when he noticed my little slip up before I composed myself again. I bumped his knee under the table and playfully glared at him. He smirked and bumped me back.

“My compliments to the chef Mr. Wayne.” Mom said.

“I’ll be sure to tell him.” He smiled through a glass of wine. How many glasses in were they at this point? Damian and I were the only ones who weren’t allowed so both our glasses were filled with water and juice.

“And, please,” Mr. Wayne continued. “Call me Bruce.”

“Hey, we should give the women a tour.” Dick suggested. “I’m sure you’ll both love it.”

Jason and Tim had excused themselves, and I had an inkling as to what they were up to. Patrols were a common thing, as Damian told me.

And so with Dick and Bruce leading, my mother and I followed as they showed off the grandness of the manor.

I couldn’t help but be awestruck all over again. The library was huge. Their shelves towered from ceiling to floor, and filled with all kinds of books. From novels to more informative documents. I recognised a couple of titles from the times Damian spent the night reading.

The sunroom was next. The glass was near invisible. I took in the sight of the gorgeous garden just beyond the panels, being able to outline a gazebo at the far end with flowers twisting around its pillars. I unconsciously touched my stomach where the stitches were, randomly pondering what kind of flower had bloomed from such a brutal wound.

“Are you okay?” Damian was beside me immediately and his hand supported my elbow. His voice was laced with concern.

“Oh.” I realised what he was talking about and pulled my hand down. “I’m okay, just a little tired.”

“Honey?” My mom’s face pinched in concern. “Is it hurting again?”

“I just need to rest Mom, I’m fine.” I assured her. “You should continue, I’ll just sit here for a bit.”

Mom was hesitant but there wasn’t much she could do, and she knew it. So they moved on, but not without Mr. Wayne asking for some painkillers to be brought to me.

After taking the medicine, I thanked ‘Alfred’ (as he had asked me to call him) before he left.

Damian was sitting on the arm rest of the couch. My hand was in his and he rubbed random circles around my knuckles. His brows were furrowed, and his features were set in a deep scowl. I could practically feel the guilt and worry radiating off of him.

“I have to be honest, I thought I’d see more animals around.” I said, trying to lighten up the mood.

“Father asked me to keep Titus in my room for the time-being, he didn’t know how you two would react to a Great Dane, or vice-versa.” The boy said simply.

“Great Dane?” I asked flabbergasted.

The corner of Damian’s lips turned upwards. “When you feel better I’ll introduce you.”

“It’s a date.” I answered before thinking. All at once I realised what I said and felt my cheeks burn. “Ah – I mean, not date. If you aren’t comfortable with that, people just use the word date as a meeting time or –“

“It’s a date.” He brought my fingers up and ghosted his lips over them. I had to hold my breath fearing that my heart would stop.

I was momentarily stunned by his forwardness and calm. Looking away I managed to slow down my heart rate to a regular beat.

“I still need to guess the rest right?” I asked coyly.

He gestured for me to continue.

“Let’s see.” I rested my head on the couch and closed my eyes to recall our conversation back in the ball room. “We’ve got a dog, a cat.”

“Mhm.” Damian nodded, moving from the arm rest to the empty space next to me.

My brain brought up an old song from the Princess and the Frog, when they had to ‘Dig a Little Deeper’.

A dog, a pig, a cow, a goat – the lyrics were sung in my subconscious before I could stop it.

“A cow.” I guessed.

Damian’s eyes grew a little wide, before a grin made its way to his lips. “Yes.”

“What seriously?” I giggled. “You actually have a cow?”

“Bat-Cow.” He chuckled. “I was a child, and that was the first name to come up.”

I was full on laughing now. “I cannot wait to meet them. But that was seriously a random guess, now I feel like my confidence is dwindling.”

“Then how about you wait till you see them?” He suggested.

I bit my lip and shifted in my seat, our knees brushed and I felt that warmth spread across my chest. We’re close. A little too close.

When I looked at him I found he was staring at the garden outside. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. There was something about this boy that just drew me closer, making me want more. I traced the little moles across his cheek and wondered when I had let this magnetic pull take over me.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.” Damian commented. His intense green eyes bore into mine as he threw a deviously charming smirk my way.

I blushed and looked away, suddenly finding my shoes a lot more interesting than it was. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

He turned towards me. And I made the mistake of facing him again, because now our faces were just mere inches apart.

I found myself gazing at his beautiful green eyes that contrasted so well with his tanned olive skin. There were so many different shades of green looping and mixing with one another, it felt like a maze – one that I would willingly get lost in.

My fingers rested in the spaces between his, and I marvelled at how everything in that moment felt right.

I tilted towards him, and he did the same towards me.

“What are we doing?” I whispered, stealing a glance at his lips.

Heart pounding.

Blood racing.

It left me dizzy.

“I’m… not sure.” Damian replied, his tone low. “But if you asked me to kiss you, I would.”

His thumb grazed the inside of my wrist with a feather-light touch and I burst into flames.

“Kiss me.”

And he did.

-THE END-

[blackrose343]

Hopeless - Chapter 4: The Decision

Warnings: Angst, gore, language, and violence

Devil May Cry - V x Gender Neutral Reader

Fanfic summary:  You have been kidnapped by a Soul Snatcher clan that used to reside within Red Grave. They’re torturing you for more information about the one who helped you kill their leader. While being held captive you begin to think about how to escape, how this all started, and if someone will find you. Then again, what would happen if you escape?

Hopeless Masterlist

Yay! I finished this earlier than I thought I would. I honestly have no idea if the chapter titles make sense or if they’re necessary. 

Present Day

Lower class Soul Snatchers made their appearance as V and Vergil got closer to you. Vergil swiftly cut through them. Griffon and Shadow were ahead weakening the others. V ended each one with his cane. None of these Soul Snatchers were a priority but there were too many to ignore. V and Vergil knew this was a ploy to tire them before reaching you. V had to retain his strength and demonic power so Vergil told V to go ahead. (These were nothing compared to what Vergil had to face in the past.) V left Vergil to deal with the pests. 

It didn’t take long for V to find the hideout. Your captor was standing on the roof, waiting. V stopped. His eyes widened with worried disbelief. You were pulled to the edge of the roof then you were forced to kneel before your captor. Your captor stepped on your ankle’s chains ensuring you’ll stay put. You were so happy to see V, but your tears were not of joy. You were mortified with V seeing you like this: completely exposed and defeated. You turned your head away, unable to look at V. You bit your lip keeping your whimpers to a minimum. Your captor forced you to face V by pulling your hair.

V's eyes darkened. Without realizing it he prepared to summon Nightmare. Vergil appeared, grabbing V’s arm. He warned V not to be rash. They couldn’t risk injuring you more than you already are. Vergil feared you wouldn’t last much longer. You’ve been tortured for over a week straight. No time to rest or heal. He knew your injuries were never treated. If anything you were given below minimum treatment. Anything to keep you barely breathing. Vergil could sense you were grasping the last bit of life you had left. They had to save you before your time runs out.

“Well, I was expecting only Vergil Sparda. The other I was not. Maybe now (Y/N) will tell me who killed Carmilla.” You felt a blade above your throat. All you could do was stay still. You wished more than anything that you had the energy to fight him. Cold sweat formed as your body became numb. Your heartbeat became faster anticipating the worst. Your eyes gazed up at your captor. His sinister smile instantly told you you were going to die no matter what answer you gave. You took a gulp of air. You looked down at V and Vergil mentally telling them how thankful you were they found you. The featherlight slice from the blade brought you back to your situation. “I’m waiting.”

“As I told you when you captured me. I’m not telling you shit!” Out of spite your captor brutally sliced your throat. You struggled to breathe as he kicked you off the building. You felt the kick, then everything became a blur. You weren’t sure why you chose to keep V a secret until the very end. Perhaps it was because you wanted to protect him. You couldn’t let him die because of you. Or perhaps you thought the ones in front of you were other Soul Snatcher’s deceiving you.

V and Vergil were frozen in place absorbing what they just saw. Seeing you fall is what snapped them out of it. V ran to you, desperate to catch you. Vergil knew V wouldn’t get to you in time. He teleported closer to the building then jumped. Gently, he laid you on the ground as V made his way to you. Vergil was doing what he could to help you. V knelt beside you pushing your hair out of your face. V was speechless. He tried to speak to you but his words got tangled in his throat. All V could do was watch you, feeling completely useless.

“V!...V?...V!? HEY SHAKESPEARE!!!” The other Soul Snatchers were gathering ready for their meal. Griffon was waiting for V to summon Shadow and for a command. V was still not saying a word. “Why?” was all V could think of. Why couldn’t he find you sooner? Why didn’t he save you sooner? Why couldn’t he help you now?

“Damn, you two didn’t have to steal all the fun.” Dante shot at the Soul Snatchers getting too close to V. Nero shot at your captor preventing him from getting to V. Dante stood behind V while Nero crouched next to V. Nero’s heart nearly stopped. He couldn't process what happened to you. What did you do to deserve this? Nero couldn’t fathom what was going on with V. Unlike V, Nero would be reassuring you you would be okay while concealing his wrath. And that’s what he did.

Dante’s attention was fixated on your captor. His nostrils were filled with the scent of your blood. His ears were filled with your struggle for air. He wouldn’t deny he became more worried when he heard Nero’s reassurances. He asked what happened but no one answered. Your captor encouraged Dante to look. Dante knew better. Your captor lunged at Dante as Dante shot another Soul Snatcher. Nero quickly got up and helped Dante get rid of the remaining Soul Snatchers.

V couldn’t motivate himself to get up; to fight. He truly believed he lost you. Vergil convinced him otherwise. While searching for you in the Underworld, Vergil found a demonic healer. Vergil doesn’t know what it would want in exchange for healing you but it was the only option they had. V didn’t care what the price was. What he wanted was for you to live. V nodded at Vergil giving him the okay to take you. Vergil sliced a portal to the healer then left with you.

V terminated the Soul Snatchers that attempted to pursue Vergil. He faced your tormentor filled with wrath he thought he could never conjure. V made it his personal mission to obliterate him and every Soul Snatcher that walked the earth. Tightly he gripped his cane then pointed it at your tormentor. Mindlessly, he commanded Griffon and Shadow then summoned Nightmare. “What evil lurks...I must destroy.” 

----------------------------------------

Vergil placed you on the ground, then the healer kneeled next to you. The healer hovered her claws over your body. Vergil had his guard up even though he knew she was examining you. She felt all of your pain, your sorrow, your fear and much more. Vergil growled indicating she needed to start healing you before it was too late. She was annoyed but understood. She let her hand rest above your throat then casted a small spell to ease the pain. To Vergil it appeared that she did nothing. She continued to examine the rest of you. The healer looked at Vergil with grief filled eyes. “I can heal them physically if that is what you seek. Although, it will take much more to completely heal them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think they will easily continue living normally after the suffering they endured?” Vergil grunted with annoyance. He looked away unable to answer the healer. She was right. Vergil couldn’t imagine what you’ve been through. The torture Mundus inflicted upon him was probably worse than what happened to you. It took some time for Vergil to heal and adjust after escaping Mundus and becoming whole. Yet, Vergil knows you’re not him. It may take a long time for you to fully recover or maybe you never will. “I can seal their memories...but it will not be forever.”

“...Do what you must to fully heal them.” The healer nodded, then placed her hands on your throat and forehead. She chanted a spell to heal your body. Once your body became fully healed, she looked into your memories. Vergil sat down next to you holding your hand. He was unsure if he made the right decision.

One Year Ago

The opposite side of Red Grave was a graveyard compared to where you and V were. To you the area was empty yet you could sense the presence of others. The corpses you saw weren't drained by the Qliphoth roots like the others. These were mutilated. Someone or something became desperate for food. It was evident from the bite marks. To keep yourself in a decent mood you wondered if V was joking about eating a demon. (You really hoped he was. The image of him eating one made you want to barf.)

You opened Creatures of the Occult and How to Summon Them to see where you needed to go. You thought following the symbols would be easy. Instead the symbols were a riddle revealing where to go. Or maybe it was just your guilt for leaving V distracting you. Maybe a part of you didn’t want to complete your mission without him. You shook your head. You left him behind for his own good. There’s nothing you need to feel guilty about. You needed to focus or you could get killed.

“I see you made some progress.” You turned to the voice. You couldn’t believe V found you so quickly.

“V, you should be resting. You’re supposed to meet Nero in a couple days.”

“I have gotten more than enough rest.”

“V, go. You need to spare as much strength as you can to defeat Urizen.” You turned your attention back to the symbols. You hoped he would listen. He didn’t. You can hear V’s cane tap the ground as he made his way to you. You buried your head in the book. 

V prevented you from stepping away by trapping you between his arms. He was almost pinning you to the wall. His proximity was a bigger distraction than you wanted to admit. His breath tickled your ear. His lips lightly brushed it with each word of his reasoning to stay with you. You honestly wanted to give in. NO! You had to stick with your decision. You pushed V’s arm out of the way then continued to figure out what the symbols were saying. V wrapped an arm around your waist. He pulled you to him as he twirled you. Your eyes widened when his lips hit yours. His tongue easily entered your mouth as he pushed you up against the wall. You were more than hesitant to repay the gesture. Yes, you enjoyed it but you never thought V would resort to something like this to get what he wants. Something was off.

“V, enough.” V tightened the grip on your waist as you tried to pry him off of you. The nibbles on your neck became rougher, harder. It felt as if he was trying to eat you. Realization hit you. This wasn’t V. This was Carmilla. You did the first thing that came to mind to get her off of you. You stomped on her foot then slammed your knee into her. You took advantage of her loosened grip by pushing her away from you. Her fangs grazed your skin, giving her a tantalizing taste of your blood. You managed to gain some distance between you and Carmilla.  “I said enough, Carmilla.”

“I can already tell your soul will be worth the wait.” Carmilla licked her lips as she morphed to her preferred appearance. You now understood why she was able to devour so many souls so easily. Saying she looked like a celebrity was an understatement. Her beauty was more godlike, divine. Her strawberry blonde hair was somehow able to show off her figure perfectly. Her delighted laughter was enchanting. You would bet her silver tongue had no faults. She looked at you so sweetly yet with so much hunger. That look changed to determination when she charged at you.

You did your best to avoid Carmilla while shooting her. Carmilla was able to dodge your bullets with little difficulty. Very few grazed her. She threw you against a building almost knocking you out. You tried to get up but it was feeling near impossible. You heard the building above you readying to fall. Quickly, you gained composure to dodge the falling building. You were pissed that you were getting your ass beat. You wanted nothing more than to see her cockiness turn into sheer terror.

Carmilla was watching you like a predator who watches their prey. To herself she admitted she was amused with your efforts to survive. (Too bad the fun had to end.) She knew you weren’t going to last much longer. She was looking forward to having your soul. For the first time in almost a month she was going to have a delicious meal. All the souls she could find were disgusting. At first she devoured the souls of her fellow clansmen. As time passed she had to settle for bums off the street or whatever she could get. Nothing could beat the taste of a powerful soul. 

Carmilla appeared before you then threw you up into the air. She kicked you back into the ground from midair. You rolled onto your arms coughing up blood. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer if she kept this shit going. She was going to play with you until the very end. You shot at her while she was in the air then quickly rolled to the side as she landed. The force of Carmilla’s landing caused a hole in the street. You continued to shoot at her as you both fell into the subway system. 

As you got up you saw Carmilla make a graceful landing then headed straight for you. You tried to shoot her only to find out you ran out of bullets. You threw the guns then drew your katanas. Just as she strikes you swung your katana. All you managed to do was give her a shallow cut. The only thing you could do was fight her head on. Although, you were trying your damned hardest to get her away from you. Carmilla nearly took your eye out as you dodged her strike. You cut her abdomen earning a scream from her. 

You don’t know how but you managed to hide from Carmilla. You were lying under a subway. Trying to breathe without making too much noise. You were more than certain you wouldn’t last much longer. You severely underestimated Carmilla’s abilities and strength. You never encountered a demon like her. Not one with strength like hers. The other Soul Snatchers you encountered were nothing compared to her. This mission is way more than you could handle. You would bet your client kept as much information to himself because he knew this. Fucking bastard. You would demand more from him once you were done with this bullshit.

You tried to think of everything you could do to end her. Not much came to mind. If anything, it was to retreat and find V. Except you knew Carmilla would never let you get away...alive. As if the wind was passing, Carmilla was right next to you. She threw the subway you were under out of her way. You bolted from your lying position, preparing for whatever came next. Carmilla threw you against the subway. You couldn’t get up; continue fighting. All you could do was sit up and wait for your demise. But one last idea came to you. It was more than likely not going to work but it was better than doing nothing. Carmilla made her way to you, chuckling. She was more than certain she won this fight.

When Carmilla was close enough, you used the last of your strength to lift yourself up. One last time you cut her hoping this fight would end. Unexpectedly, something pierced through her heart. (Whatever pierced her, cut you pretty deep.) Carmilla’s body fell once the object was removed from her. You collapsed onto the ground, landing in a puddle of Carmilla’s blood. Her lifeless body was facing you. Her strawberry blonde hair now dyed crimson red. Her empty expression staring into your soul. 

“(Y/N)!” V’s voice was replaced by purring. An all too familiar tongue was licking you. You wanted to repay the kind gesture with a scratch behind Shadow’s ears. You couldn’t move. You were beaten and exhausted. All you could hear was V saying your name and begging you to stay with him as you lost consciousness.

You could hear V reading from his book. He was trying to read loud enough for you to hear without grabbing the attention of any nearby demons. Slowly you opened your eyes to a petite candle’s flame. You gingerly sat yourself up. The pain from your fight with Carmilla caused you to take a sharp breath. All you wanted to do was stretch your arms. You were not going to enjoy the next few weeks with the condition you were in. “Fuck.” 

“Don’t push yourself.” V closed his book then looked at you. His gentle green eyes stared at you. You gave him a small smile then winced. You were starting to feel the aches your slumber numbed. V almost shot out of his seat to help you. You forced him back down when you hugged him. V hugged you back, pulling you into his lap. Your face was buried in his neck. His was buried in your hair. Both of you sat still letting your hug express what you were feeling.

V brushed your hair behind your ear then kissed your forehead. His head slightly dipped to peck your lips. You kissed him back wanting to deepen it. V pulled away. He did not want you doing anything that would further harm you. You complied by going back onto the “bed”. You scooched to the side so V could join you. You laid your head on his shoulder while he resumed reading poetry to you. Loosely you wrapped your arms around one of V’s. You glanced up at him noting a hint of a smile from him. You never wanted this moment to end.

Ruffling, shuffling and Griffon’s voice instantly woke you. You immediately thought you were getting attacked. Seeing Shadow lying on the “bed” said otherwise. Thank, god. You found V getting ready to leave. You were saddened but you knew V had to go after Urizen. Thinking about when you and V met made you giggle. V gave you a questioning look. “It seems I made the right call with my counter offer. Don’t you think?’

“Indeed.” V gave you a bittersweet smile.

“Having second thoughts?”

“...Not for the reason you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“...After today, you will never see me again…Remember?”

“Y-yeah, I remember…” You bit your lip to stop yourself from crying. You wanted V to stay with you and you could sense he wanted to stay with you. Both of you knew you couldn’t stay with each other. You were still healing. V would die if he chose to stay with you instead of going after Urizen. “So, this is ‘goodbye’?”

“I am afraid so.” V gave you one of his rings so you would remember him. He gave you one last kiss then made his departure. You couldn’t look away from him as he got further away from you.

[ihaveatypeanditstrickstergods]

Operation Hearthfire Chapter 1: It’s Better Warm

Finally, it’s up!

Post-Avengers canon divergent.  Loki is exiled to Earth, placed under magically binding house arrest in a SHIELD safehouse, watched by a bevy of highly trained agents... and one "caretaker," who up until recently had been a low-level archivist.  Heather Seagin doesn't know why she was chosen for this job any more than anyone else seems to, but she'll be damned if she isn't going to do it to the best of her abilities, even as surrounding circumstances and Loki himself endeavor to make it as difficult as possible.

Read it on Ao3!

@loki-yoursaviourishere  

(if you want to be tagged for this, just let me know!  If you asked before and I forgot, I’m sorry!  if you thought you wanted to be tagged for this and changed your mind, also let me know!)

It was one of SHIELD’s smallest facilities: an archive, built in Upstate New York sometime in the 1950’s, filled with reports, both news and scientific, then left mostly alone.  It was tended by only two low-clearance staff members, who were each only at the facility a few times a week (rarely on the same day), or by appointment if one of the files there needed to be consulted.  A woman who, until her recent recruitment for a more... unusual job, had been one of those two staff members was seated in a chair facing her former desk, looking over it at her supervising agent.

“Long-Term Operation Codename Hearthfire, Verbal Status Report 3,” Agent Richardson said into the pocket recorder, “27 August 2012, present Level 6 Agent T. Richardson and Exceptional Level 1 Archivist H. Seagin.  Recorded at 0900 hours at archival building designation 023.”  He set the recorder down on the desk and sat down in the chair.  Heather always thought that Richardson looked like he’d just stepped out of an episode of Law and Order, which didn’t help her nerves when they met at the archive for these status reports.  It made her feel like she was being interrogated.

“Alright, let’s start with general thoughts.  How have things progressed with the Subject since the last report?”

“They haven’t,” Heather replied bluntly.  She was now into her third week as Loki’s caretaker since he’d been exiled to Earth, and she could count the number of words they’d exchanged without taking off her shoes.  Or well, words she’d spoken to him.  He had yet to acknowledge her existence past a few glares, never mind speaking to her.

“Loki--sorry, the Subject,” she was still getting used to the phrasing SHIELD wanted her to use for these reports, “is still just staying in his room all day.  I did try staying up until when he usually gets up Wednesday night, but he didn’t leave his room then either, so I think he’s waiting until he’s sure I’m asleep.”  

“So, no progress, okay...” Agent Richardson nodded as Heather winced, then he went on to the next question.

“Have you been able to make any contact?  You were talking last week about leaving notes.”  Heather let out an uncomfortable chuckle.

“I tried,” she admitted.  As far as she was concerned, part of her job as the exiled god’s caretaker was helping him adjust to the minor details of life on earth.  At the time, leaving post-it notes explaining how to use various items across the isolated SHIELD safehouse where they’d been placed seemed like a good idea, but in practice, well...

“I do think he read some of them, anyway, at least it seemed like he was able to successfully use the shower, but there was no response, unless you count me finding them torn up the next morning.”

“Well, that’s something, I guess.”  He folded his hands, “Alright, elephant in the room.  Let’s talk about the attempted perimeter breach.”  Heather sighed.  “I think I already said what I wanted to say in the incident report,” she remarked.

“Can you just humor me and go over what happened again?  I need to have this on the record.”

“Fine.  So four days ago around 5 AM, the Subject,” she emphasized the last two words with a frustrated gesture, “attempted to leave the house and was knocked unconscious, I assume by his inhibitor cuff.”  The cuff was Asgardian, part of the provisions for Loki’s house arrest.  Neither Heather nor anyone else in SHIELD knew how it worked, and no one wanted to risk taking a closer look at it in case that disabled it, but it was supposed to keep him from using magic and, apparently, from leaving the house.

“I was asleep when it happened,” she continued, “since, you know, he only leaves his room when I’m asleep, but the team watching the house was able to bring him back in without incident,” even if it had taken six of them.  “One of them woke me up and brought me in, so I was present when he woke up about five minutes later, but he didn’t say anything and went back to his room pretty quickly.”

“Have there been any changes in the Subject’s behavior since then?”  Heather had to think about that question, but only for a second.

“Yes, actually.  He’s stopped making messes every night.”  At first, Heather would often wake up to find one room or another turned upside down--couches taken apart, drawers removed, the works, but she hadn’t since Loki had attempted to leave.  “At least for now.  It’s only been four days.  He might just be giving me a break.”

“Interesting.  What about changes in his psychological state?”

“I wouldn’t know.  He’s been avoiding me and refuses to make contact with me.”

“That’s fair.  Anything else?”  

Heather hesitated.  She did have one more thing to say, but if she did, either Agent Richardson would shoot her down or she’d be committed to this course of action, and at this point, after talking over what a bad job she was doing, she wasn’t sure which she was hoping for.

“There is one thing,” she said, deciding to go for it, “I want to try to directly attempt to establish contact tonight.  I have a plan.”

“I take it the plan’s more involved than post-it notes?”  Richardson raised an eyebrow, causing Heather to internally roll her eyes.

“Yes, it’s more involved than post-it notes,” she said with a small annoyed sigh, “You watch the house at night, right?”  She had trouble keeping track of the monitoring squads’ shifts, but he’d been there during the attempted perimeter breach.

“Some nights, yes.  Why?”

“Is there a usual time that he eats?  I know that he has been pretty much every night.”  At least if the dishes she found in the mornings were any indication.

“It varies, but usually between 0200 and 0400.  So you’re gonna try to get him while he eats?”

“Yeah.  Last time I stayed up it was in the living room, which is closer to his room... I think if I stay up in the sitting room by the kitchen, he might think the coast is clear and go about his business, then I can approach him when he enters the kitchen to eat.”

“And what, you’ll ambush him while he eats and try to get him to talk to you?”

“Hopefully.”  To Heather’s surprise, Agent Richardson leaned forward and paused the recording.

“Look, Heather,” he said, “I can tell you’re trying, and I appreciate that you’re taking this job seriously, but honestly?  You shouldn’t feel like you have to do this.  Given what Loki’s done and what he’s capable of, no one would blame you if you just let him sulk.”

While she could sort of see his point--they both knew that she wasn’t qualified for this, that there wasn’t anybody really qualified to share space with a demigod war criminal--something in his tone made her temper flare.  Only three weeks in, and he was already telling her to give up?

“I appreciate the thought,” she said, trying her hardest not to scowl, “but y’all brought me in to be Loki’s caretaker.  Last I checked, that meant more than just letting him eat my leftovers while I sleep.”  This job was aggravating, a little terrifying, and more than a little potentially dangerous, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to try her utmost to do it.

“Hmm,”  Agent Richardson tilted his head, and if Heather hadn’t known better, she might’ve picked up the slightest hint of a smile on his normally inscrutable face.  He leaned forward and turned the recorder back on.

“Alright,” he said, “sounds like a workable plan.  Puts you at a bit of risk, though, so I want to go back over contingencies for if he reacts negatively.”  Heather was silent for a moment, surprised at the agent’s change of attitude, but decided to continue on with her plan before he tried to talk her out of it again.

“So, first off, the sitting room by the kitchen is connected to the back door.  The perimeter breach proved that he can’t go too far outside the house, and if I come in while he’s eating, he’ll probably be sitting down, so as long as I stay by the door I’ll have a decent chance of making it out if he reacts physically.”

“Uh-huh.  And if he’s faster than you anticipated?”

“I say the cuff’s command word.”  It was the ultimate failsafe, a single word she could say to make the cuff knock Loki unconscious as sure as if he had left the house.  The perimeter breach had proved that the cuff acted quickly enough that she’d most likely be fine.

“Good,” he said with a nod, “Sounds like a plan.  Hopefully we’ll have some more positives to talk about next week.  End recording.”  Agent Richardson turned the recorder off and stood up, pushing the chair out behind him as he asked, “Was there anything else you needed to take care of here?” causing Heather to shake her head.

“No, I don’t need to do any of my fake job today,” she joked with a small grin, tension reduced now that she wasn’t actively being interviewed.  Officially she was still employed at the archive, although she only ‘worked’ in the building once a week. “Got some errands to run, though, so I’d better head out.”  If she hurried, she’d be able to get a nap in before her stakeout.

“Are you alright, Heather?” She was almost out the door and nearly missed the agent’s question, but turned around when she did.  There was a look of concern on his face, the most emotion she’d seen him express since they’d met when she first took the caretaker job.

“I’m fine,” she assured him with a small smile, “frustrated more than anything, but hey, maybe I’ll actually accomplish something tonight.”

“Alright.  Just... be careful.  This is Loki we’re talking about.”

“I know.  I will.”

***

After a grocery run and a couple of other stops, Heather did, in fact, make it back to the safehouse in time for a nap.  The house was tucked into a forest just far enough away from civilization that people were unlikely to come looking, although not so far away that cell service was nonexistent.  Until she’d been recruited by SHIELD, first for the archive job, then as Loki’s caretaker, she had lived in the downtown area of a small city in Virginia, so the quiet still weirded her out a little--although it was very nice when it came to napping.  When she woke up a few hours later--hopefully enough sleep to get her through the night--she had something to eat in the kitchen, took care of both her dishes and the ones Loki had left the night before and headed through the door on the far side into the sitting room.

Despite more or less having the run of the house, she didn’t usually bother with the small sitting room by the back door--she was pretty sure the most time she’d spent there was putting the armchairs back together after Loki had trashed the room one night--but it was perfect for her stakeout. It was adjacent to the kitchen, on the far side from the rest of the house, and the door between the two rooms created a blind spot that would hopefully keep her hidden.   Leaving the door just ajar enough that she could hear what was happening in the kitchen, she settled herself in a chair with a book. Soon it would be too dark to read, but she could at least get some in now before she had to try to keep herself awake on nerves alone.

One hour crept by, then an hour and a half, then two, each easily seeming twice its actual length.  Bringing a book had seemed like a good idea at the time, but she was so focused on the night ahead that she’d barely been able to pay attention to the words in front of her.  It was after two hours, around 9:40, when it finally got too dark to even pretend to read.  On the bright side, even if she hadn’t taken that nap, she was pretty sure her nerves would keep her from falling asleep.  As she sat in that chair, watching the door and waiting for any sign of life, she found herself wondering what if he didn’t come into the kitchen, what if he left as soon as he saw her... And what if she succeeded?

According to her phone, it was 2:27 AM when she finally heard footsteps entering the kitchen. Heather sat upright, muscles tense, the drowsiness of a moment ago forgotten. She could go in now, she supposed, but she wanted to wait until he was eating. Hopefully a plate full of food in front of him would make him less inclined to leave as soon as she came in the room--or at least put a table between the two of them if he reacted violently. The footsteps stopped, replaced with the sound of the refrigerator opening, followed by a drawer. Heather waited for the buzz of the microwave, but it never came. Instead she heard more footsteps, then a chair being pulled back.

Oh god, she thought, has he just been eating cold leftovers?  She mentally ran through a list of everything she’d put post-it notes on and internally facepalmed as she realized that she’d forgotten about the microwave.

She slowly began to stand up, her brain rapidly running through all the things she’d considered saying during her wait, only to freeze when she heard a voice--his voice--through the gap in the door.

“I know you’re in there,” Loki’s voice was hoarse, rougher than she’d expected, although she supposed that no one sounded their best after not speaking for three weeks, “Did you really think to hide from me?”

For a moment, Heather remained frozen part way through getting up from the chair, unsure of how to respond.  Somehow, all the times she’d run through this moment in her head, she’d never thought he might notice her--or at least if he had, she hadn’t thought he would acknowledge her.  For a moment, fear spread over her mind and she regretted even coming up with this plan in the first place.  But no.  She’d stayed up this late so she could try to talk to him, and dammit, she was going to talk to him.  Slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a skittish animal, she opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. 

“I just wanted to talk to you,” she admitted as she closed the door behind her, “this was the only way I could think of to do it.”

Moonlight shone through the window, hitting Loki like a spotlight.  The god sat at the kitchen table, arms loosely folded across his chest.  His blue-green eyes stared intently at her as she emerged into the room, the casserole dish of baked ziti sitting on the table seemingly forgotten.  As he watched her, still as a statue, she struggled to remember even a single word she’d planned on saying.  For a moment, the two just stared at each other, he in interest, she in apprehension, until finally the god spoke.

“Who are you?” he asked, his eyes scanning her face as if it was a book in a language he couldn’t quite comprehend.

“My name’s Hea-”

“No, who are you?” Loki stood up from the table and took a slow step towards her.

 “I had wondered,” he continued as he slowly and casually walked towards her, “if Odin would choose to exile me to Midgard.”  Unconsciously, Heather took a step back, backing herself against the door.

“I had even considered the possibility of being turned over to my previous captors,” his stare broke away from her for a brief moment as he looked into the room's camera, adding, “never mind that they only held me briefly, and only because I willed it. But I never anticipated you.” He turned back to her, closing the space between them as he asked, “What are you meant to be to me, hmm? A jailor? A servant?"  He leaned a hand on the doorframe, looming over her, "A sacrifice to an angry god?"

Heather looked up into Loki’s face, her eyes meeting his. She was sure he could see her fear, her wide eyes, her trembling legs. Her fight-or-flight instinct was screaming for flight, urging her to back through the door to the sunroom and either make a run for the perimeter or use the newly gained space to say the cuff’s command word and drop him. But instead, she took a quick breath, steeling herself.  If she ran now, she knew, she may as well leave the house, because she’d never get another opportunity to really talk to him.

"Your caretaker," she answered his question with only a slight tremble in her voice, "So a little bit of all three, depending on who you're asking."  

Loki’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment that seemed an eternity, he said nothing and stared into her face, his head cocked in what Heather hoped was just curiosity and not anything more sinister.  Finally, the god let out a sharp exhale through his nose--she wasn’t sure, but part of her thought it might have been the smallest hint of a chuckle--and shook his head.

“A caretaker?” he asked mockingly, “Your masters would throw a rabbit into a wolf’s den to, what, leave me notes explaining the obvious?  To wait up all hours of the night, for naught but a chance to speak with me?  No, you’re no caretaker.”

Any other time, the way he sneered the last word would have been enough to demoralize Heather then and there.  Her report that morning had been a reflection of how little an idea she had of what she was doing, and even now, the situation she’d engineered, one she’d intended to have full control over, had been all but usurped by the god who was now practically pinning her to a door.  By all accounts, she could be doing a lot better.  But then, that was why she was there.  After all, how the hell was anyone supposed to know what kind of caretaker she was when her charge made it this hard to even try?  Heather took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and began one more attempt to shift the conversation in her favor.

“So,” she said, pointedly looking past him to the ziti on the table, “you’ve been eating cold leftovers this whole time?”  Her nerves made the question spill out of her mouth more quickly than she’d intended, and she wasn’t sure if the confusion on Loki’s face was because the question was abrupt or because it was unintelligible.

“What?” the god asked, glancing over his shoulder to follow her gaze.  She continued while she had him off balance.

“I can heat it up for you,” she said, gesturing towards the table, “The ziti, I mean.  It’s a lot better warm.”

He actually did laugh at that, a rolling chuckle that seemed to come right from his chest as he turned back to look at her.

“Such tenacity,” Loki murmured, more to himself than to her.  She tensed, preparing for more insults or possibly even threats, but instead he stepped back, finally giving her some blessed breathing space.  

“Very well,” he said, “if you’re that dedicated to your role, by all means, show me.”

Heather took advantage of her newly-gained space to make her way towards the cupboards, still tense as she braced herself in case Loki tried anything.  The god remained still, but she could feel his gaze following her as she opened a cabinet and a drawer, removing a plate and butter knife--anything sharper was locked up, and she didn’t really want to deal with that at the moment--and approached the table.  The fork he’d had was still sitting next to the casserole dish, and between that and the butter knife, she managed to put what she thought was a good-sized serving of ziti on the plate.  She carefully walked the heavy-laden plate to the microwave, put it in, and pushed a few buttons, wondering once again how she had forgotten to leave a post-it explaining that--although, she didn’t know if it would’ve done much, given the shredded paper she’d found all over the house the morning after she’d placed them. As the microwave buzzed, she turned back to face Loki, who was still standing by the door.

“It’ll be ready in a moment,” she informed him, “so you can sit back down.”  To her surprise, he complied, although his eyes continued to follow her intently as she removed the now-steaming ziti from the microwave.  As she set it in front of him, he gestured at the chair across from his.

“Sit,” he ordered.  When she hesitated, he added, “You wished to speak with me, did you not?  You may as well sit where I can see you.”

“Oh, okay.”  That made sense.  Heather sat down, looking at the god now seated across from her.  Despite his claimed desire to look at her during their conversation, Loki was barely paying her any attention, instead focusing on the steaming plate of food in front of him.  He almost looked human now, a tired part of her brain noted.  As that thought ran through her head, he looked back up at her, one eyebrow cocked as if silently asking Well?   Right.  He wasn’t human.  He was a god, he was her charge, and this was quite possibly her only opportunity to talk him around.

 During the silent hours she’d waited for him to come into the kitchen, she’d mentally run through this conversation dozens of times.  She’d put together a speech she was confident would have had Loki understanding her position, and of course she could only remember it in scrambled bits now.  But she could tell that his patience--such as it was--was running thin, so she let as much as she could fall out in whatever order came to mind.

“Look,” Heather said, “I’ll admit that a lot about this situation is... weird.  I don’t know if there’s any sort of precedent for it, I mean, I’ve never been a god’s caretaker before, but I want to do the best I can for you.  To help you out here, I mean.”  As frustrating as Loki’s avoidance was, she understood why he would be wary of her--she was, after all, working for the organization that had helped to assemble the Avengers to defeat him a few months ago and now was overseeing his confinement. 

“Obviously I don’t expect us to be friends or anything,” she continued, “but I do think that things would be a lot more comfortable for both of us if we communicated... or at least if you didn’t completely avoid me.  I get if you need space, but...”

“Enough.”  The sudden clatter of Loki’s fork hitting the table cut off whatever she was going to say next.

“I’m impressed with your persistence,” the god pushed his now nearly empty plate forward, “I’m sure that some would even find it admirable.”  He picked the fork back up, idly playing with it in one hand,  “But you needn’t treat me like a fool.  We both know that you didn’t consent to being locked up here to ‘do your best for me’.  You’ve all but given yourself to a god who invaded your world not one of your years ago.”  His eyes narrowed as he stared directly into hers, “I would know why.”

“Why?” Heather hesitated.  Shit.  She’d hoped he wouldn’t have asked that.  Up until this point, she had been completely honest with him--she was sure Agent Richardson would say too honest, given Loki’s reputation for manipulation.  But she’d even kept her full reasons for agreeing to the caretaker job from SHIELD; there was no way she could tell Loki.  It would leave her far too vulnerable.  Maybe she could tell part of the truth, just enough to--hopefully--satisfy him.

“I mean...” she began, looking up to meet his eyes, “I was offered the opportunity to live with a literal god.  I knew that it was going to be dangerous, but, well... if I’d said no, I would have regretted it.  I would have spent my entire life wondering what would have happened if I’d agreed.”  Her words hung in the air between them for a moment, and she was afraid she’d said too much, but then Loki shook his head, a smirk twisting across his face.

“And you never thought you might regret agreeing?” he asked.  Before Heather could come up with an answer, or even properly register the question, Loki stabbed his fork into the table, leaving it standing straight up.  She started, almost knocking her chair over.  Before she could even right herself, she was looking up at the camera, shaking her head and hoping that Richardson or whoever else was watching wouldn’t come barging in.  If Loki had meant to hurt her, some part of her brain that wasn’t panicking reasoned, he would have hurt her, and she didn’t want to ruin whatever miniscule progress she’d made.

The god snickered, flashing his teeth in a vicious grin.

“That’s what I thought.”

By the time Heather turned away from the camera, Loki had stood up and was silently making his way to the doorway.  Before he left, he casually said over his shoulder, “You were right, by the way.  It was more... palatable warm.”

Supplemental Status Report 08/28: Subject S has successfully made verbal contact with Subject L.  L seemed unaware of any significance S may have to Asgard, although he and footage can both be deceiving.  For the time being, continue observation and noninterference unless Subject S appears to be in imminent physical danger.

 - T. Richardson, Level 6

[diegosclownshoes]

more s2 progress! the agent and elliott talk and five brings back diego and lila. this part’s around 3.3k since I wanted to really get the ball rolling on the storyline, and I also really wanted to finally bring in diego, who’s my absolute fav lol

The agent turns away from Elliott and looks back at the spot where the boy had just stood. She puffs out her cheeks before pushing out a loud breath of air in exasperation. Elliott speaks up first.

“So I take it he’s... also from the future?”

The agent sighs. Honestly, she hadn’t thought this far ahead, about what would happen once her mission actually began. If she’s being completely honest with herself, a part of her believed it would never happen.When she’d told Elliott the truth about herself, that she was one of multiple children all spontaneously born on the same day, with superpowers, sent from the year 2007 on an unknown mission, she’d been more concerned with whether or not he would believe her. He’d accepted the explanation easily enough, and it hadn’t come up again after that.

“I think,” she begins slowly, “I think he, and the rest of what, his family? He called them that. I think it’s safe to say that they’re all from the future. But I have no idea what year. And I have no idea what they’re here for either. Because telling me would have been far too much.” She feels herself getting more and more angry as the words leave her mouth. “The only thing I know is that I was supposed to wait for them here, and then once he shows up, keep him safe. I don’t even know from what and I don’t know why. Hell I didn’t even know he’d turn up three years later.”

She knows she hadn’t exactly been The Handler’s favorite, and doesn’t blame her for it completely. Maybe it’s because she can still remember her parents, still remembers her mother’s voice as she sang softly to her each night, the amber of her perfume enveloping her as she drifted to sleep. Maybe it’s because she could never truly see The Handler as a parental figure; if anything she was more of a teacher, especially given the hours of training that made up the majority of the extent of their relationship. And while Lila happily called her mum, the agent, even as a child, would call her The Handler in a quick, clipped tone. She feels an odd mix of guilt in her stomach when she remembers the times The Handler would pull both her and Lila close, saying how proud she was of her daughters, regardless of the agent’s own coolness towards her.

Still, she thinks, abandoning her in a completely different time, stressing the importance of this mission, and then not giving her any direction, leaving her to wait in a constant state of anticipation eating at her is a little much. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye to Lila, who no matter the peculiarity of their relationship, was still a sister to her. The Handler had insisted that Lila would join her on the mission soon, before she was sent through time with nothing but the clothes on her back and the photograph in her hand.

The agent’s pulled out of her reverie when Elliott speaks again. “I’m sorry,” he says softly, stepping closer and placing a warm, sturdy hand on her shoulder. “I know we’ve been pulling up empty, for years, but hey, this is a major step forward. This means it’s actually something. You don’t have to wait anymore, this is actually going to begin. And I’ll be right here too.”

The agent swallows hard. The emotions she’s been forcing down the past few years have caught up, and between the feelings of disorientation, anger, and insignificance that now bubble up in her chest, combined with Elliott’s reassurance, she doesn’t know what to say and doesn’t dare try. She blinks away the heat at her eyes and gives him a silent nod, and she’s grateful when he doesn’t try to nudge her into speaking. Instead, he gives her shoulder an extra squeeze in understanding before letting go.

“I’ll make us some coffee, and then we can discuss this when you’re ready.”

*

The agent sits across from Elliott at the kitchen table, fingers clasped around a mug of steaming coffee, and feels a sense of déja vu. That first night three years ago had them in the same arrangement, though instead of the distrust and trepidation she’d felt as she’d eyed Elliott back then, this time she feels a wave of gratitude. She gives the mug a squeeze, lets her palms feel the burn of the scalding coffee for just a moment before she lets go with a sigh.

“So.

“So.”

Well he’ll be back sooner or later, so we need to get our story straight,” says the agent, feeling much more in control of herself than she had before. “We already know he has powers, and it’s safe to assume the rest of his family does as well. Strange how he didn’t make any attempt to hide it though. He just zoomed around the place, pretty casually too.”

Well,” says Elliot, “He did also mention saving the world. Maybe whatever happens is worth letting a couple strangers in on his not-so-secret-powers.” The agent nods in agreement. “We definitely need to ask him about that too, he said he only has ten days? How does he know that?”

“I think being from the future kinda gave him a clue,” the agent replies drily. “Hm, but if it’s only ten days away he can’t have been born at the same time I was. That was 1989.” She frowns.” Wait, if the world ends in 1963 then how was I born?” Her eyes widen. “Do you think something from the future accidentally got sent back here? Whatever it is that’s gonna end the world? Like a Godzilla egg that got smuggled over or something?”

Elliott’s brows shoot up as he leans forwards across the table. “Could be. Do you think that’s why he was saying all that stuff about Area 51? Because it’s actually relevant to this end of the world business? Shit, there probably is some weird alien creature that’s going to doom us all. Think we bought enough groceries? Should we go stock up on some more?” He asks almost frantically.

“No,” the agent says quickly, “No, hold on, we don’t know for sure what it is yet. I think for now we should wait for him to come back, and then we’ll give him the rest of the info that we have on his family. At least then we can get an explanation out of them.” Elliot nods firmly.

“Agreed. I’ll get everything together in the meanwhile. And hey, we’re not going to bring up your own little skill now either are we?“ The agent quickly shakes her head.

“No, not until we know what the rest of them can do, and not until they actually tell us just what the hell is going on. We don’t even know what they’re here for yet either.”

”Well then, let’s get to work.”

*

They don’t see the boy again until the next morning. The agent finds herself awake earlier than usual, and a look out the window tells her it’s before sunrise. Groaning, she pulls herself up, splashes some cold water on her face, slowly gets dressed, and makes her way into the kitchen. She and Elliott have yet to splurge on an espresso machine, but they have a battered little Moka pot which works well enough for now. She’s just set it up on the stove top and is about to run down to grab the day’s paper in the few minutes it’ll take for the coffee to brew, when she sees a shadow flit across the wall behind the stove. She turns around with a startle and upon spotting the boy from the day before, lets out a sigh that’s somewhere between relief and annoyance.

“You know you’re gonna have to either learn to use the door like a normal person or make some noise when you’re lurking around in here like a little creep.” She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, scowling as he, in turn, looks the least bit bothered.

“Well, this way’s just faster, wouldn’t you agree?” He eyes her for a moment before catching sight of the pot on the stove. The agent follows his line of sight before turning back to pull the coffee off the stove. She has a feeling she’s going to need it extra more than usual today. Wordlessly, she pours out two cups and means to carry them out to the table when he once again blinks over to right in front of her, takes a mug from her hand and lifts it up slightly in a silent (and what she feels is also mildly sarcastic) thank you. She scowls when she sees he’s once again taken her mug, but doesn’t have the energy to fight him on it.

Instead she says, “That’ll stunt your growth, you know. Can’t have that, now can we.”

“Speaking from experience?” He shoots back. The agent rolls her and takes herself over to the open area of their study-cum-living room, before perching on the arm of the sofa, the only clear place to sit on it as it’s still covered in piles of papers and cardboard boxes from Elliott’s search yesterday.

Speaking of Elliott, the man himself walks in right at the moment already dressed for the day. He spots the boy drinking coffee, leaning up against the arched entryway, and, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary, and schoolboys stealing their coffee is regular occurrence, pulls a carton of milk out of the fridge before pouring himself a bowl of cereal. The agent can’t lie, it’s not the strangest morning she’s had.

She watches as the boy pushes himself off the wall and slowly walks over to inspect the room. He stops and looks over one of the cork boards they have set up, photographs and video stills pinned to every available inch of its surface. Elliott trails after him, eating his cereal as he walks.

“Elliott, did you develop these photos yourself?”

“Of course. Can't exactly drop that stuff off at the neighborhood Fotomat. Government's got eyes everywhere." He takes another spoonful of cereal.

"I didn't see a darkroom."

"We converted the hallway closet,” the agent explains. She watches the boy pull a small yellow film box out of his pocket, then frowns when she sees him grab a pen off one of the tables and scribble something over the back of the box.

“Can you develop this?” He asks Elliott, but before the man has a chance to respond the agent’s on her feet and snatching the box out of his hand. She frowns.

“Why’d you scratch over the date?”

“The date’s irrelevant,” he shoots back shortly.

“Okay, well, if it’s so irrelevant why don’t you want us to know what it is?” She quickly pulls the box behind her back when he makes a grab for it. She quirks a brow, but before she can say anything the box is pulled out of her grip.

“Hey!” she protests and whips around to see the boy holding the box. “If you don’t stop doing that we’re gonna have a problem.” She glares.

“Oh, I think we already have a problem,” he scoffs, before Elliott plucks the box out his hand and flips it around, munching thoughtfully.

“‘Frankel Footage,’” he reads. “Friends of yours?”

The boy sighs. “Look, can you do it or not?”

“Sure I can.”

“How long?”

“Well, I mean, I’m running low on acetic acid. Beeker’s Camera’s is open today, but it’s two miles away. I mean, I’d have to take the bu-”

“It’s five hours, give or take,” the agent says, cutting him short. She knows when Elliott’s going to go off on a tangent annoyingly well by now. She’s about to again ask him why he’s hiding the date on the footage from them, before a crackling on the (stolen) police scanner interrupts.

“Attention all units, we have a code 3-15 at the Holbrook Sanitarium,” a man's voice says over the radio.

“The hell is a code 3-15?”

“Fugitives on the run,” Elliott explains.

The radio man's voice continues. "Twenty five patients still at large.” The trio make their way closer to the radio, the agent reaching over to quickly fiddle with it until the voice comes across more clearly “Many are considered armed and dangerous."

“Oh, Diego,” the boy whispers.

“You said that name yesterday, too,” the agent points out. “Who is he?”

“Imagine Batman,” he puts his hand out flat, then lowers it considerably, “Then aim lower.” The agent snorts, quickly covering it with a cough.

The indistinct radio chatter continues as the boy continues. “You get started on that film, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Before either of them can ask just where he’s going, he’s once again gone with a blip.

“Is it too soon to be getting sick of that already?”

*

The agent sits in the middle of a pile of newspapers. Elliott was finishing up on the Frankel Footage, and she’d spent that morning trying to piece together just where the rest of the strangers in the alley were now located. Diego, the only one whose name she was now familiar with, was arrested and placed in the Holbrook Sanitorium, the same place with the mass fugitive escape that morning. The next two were easy to pin down; the first was one Allison Chestnut, a prominent civil rights activist, and the second was simply known as Klaus, leader of one of the largest cults that she’d heard of. The last two, the insanely huge man, and the small woman in white, were much harder to track down. In fact, she couldn’t even find anything on the woman, but the man was a bouncer at a nightclub owned by Jack Ruby. That couldn’t be good.

She’s just finished writing down the relevant information on a slip of paper when she hears the door click open as Elliott enters. She watches as he begins to set up the now-developed film. He catches her gaze and beckons her over before heading over to close the curtains

“Now let’s see what we’ve got here,” he says. The agent nods, and then the footage rolls to a start.

It opens to an elderly couple struggling to determine whether or not their camera is on before it begins to make some sense.

“I'm Dan Frankel, and-"

"I'm Edna Frankel."

"Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas to see the president. Today's date is November 22, 1963" 

"That’s six days from now!” Elliot says incredulously.

“Shit,” says the agent, as realization dawns on her. “Shit, I know what this is.” Elliott gives her a puzzled look.

“What? What is it?” Before she has a chance to reply, the sound of gunshots and screams break out through the film. Dan Frankel’s voice can be heard exclaiming, oh my God! The president!

Elliott’s face pales and he immediately turns to look at the agent. “What the hell was that? What the hell was that?” He gets up in a panic and as the agent rises to meet him he takes a stumbled step backwards. “You knew about this? You said you knew that what, that the president is going to be assassinated in six days?”

“Elliott, listen to me.” She holds her hands up placatingly. '' Yes, the president was- or, is going to be, assassinated and I knew that it happens but you’ve gotta understand. I mean just consider the years of history that happen afterwards. That was nearly 45 years ago in history for me! You can’t expect me to have remembered that And okay, I know about, so then what? What are we supposed to do about it? If we tell someone, the cops, anyone, they’ll think we’re threatening them. And even if we do something about this, and we manage to stop it, then are we just supposed to try to stop every single bad world event that we can? What happens then?” She finds herself out of breath as her words stumble to a stop and breathes in sharply.

“I-,” Elliott opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again. “Look, I know you’re not a bad person, or a spy or anything like that, but you can’t expect me to not be a little skeptical at the moment!”

The agent sighs. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry, But it happens, and it’s not our fault. As bad as it sounds it’s a known historical event that just happens. I know what you’re thinking, but neither I nor that guy and his family are involved in it. It happened before I was born and sent back here, and it looks like it’s going to happen again now. As for the footage, I have no idea how he got that but again, none of us are involved.”

Elliott, still looking conflicted, though less so than moments before, sighs before taking a seat, dropping his head in his hands. “I-” He swallows before looking back up. “I believe you. You’ve been here for what, three years now, and you know how much I know too. You could have killed me for knowing any time. I just. It’s just a big shock.”

“Of course,” she replies immediately. “Of course, I know this is just ridiculous to hear. But I’m on your side here, and once that kid gets back we’ll ask him everything.” Elliott nods wordlessly. “Come one, I’ll make you a cup of coffee.”

*

It’s half an hour later when the sound of the front door of the shop opening catches their attention. Not a minute later there’s footsteps coming up the stairs and the agent heads over to check on who’s come. She’s unsurprised to see the boy, next to him a tall man with long, scraggly hair and an unkept beard (she assumes this is Diego, the escaped felon), but the sight of the next person her eyes land on makes her stop dead in her tracks. Lila.

Surprise flits across the agent’s face for only a split second before she schools her expression back into one of neutrality, maybe mild confusion. Lila, who looks considerably older since she’d last seen her, (nearly ten years older if she had to guess) looks unsurprised as well, and doesn’t say anything to her, though she does give her a cursory look

“Who’s this, five?” The man she figures is Diego asks. She scowls.

“Well I’m not sure how good your eyesight is but even then anyone can tell that I’m clearly not five. I’m twenty one, the same as what I’m going to assume your IQ is.”

While Diego looks annoyed, Lila bursts out a laugh and automatically holds up a hand for a high-five. The agent smiles softly and slaps her hand, hoping the gesture didn’t look as familiar as it felt.

The boy gives her an amused look, shaking his head before he says, “Five would be me. Though you’re right about my brother being less than intelligent.” The boy, Five (which, the agent thinks, is a pretty weird name), pointedly ignores Diego’s hey! Of protest. “And come to think of it, you still haven’t introduced yourself either.” He gives her an expectant look.

“Alright then, if you’re Five, you can call me Apeiron.” The smug feeling only lasts a second before Five, without missing a beat, replies.

“Huh. Well, while I can appreciate the use of ancient Greek, the language itself is actually derived from Sanskrit. If you want a truer version of Apeiron, I’d recommend Ananta.” He gives her an infuriatingly smarmy grin.

“From Final Fantasy?” Diego cuts in, confused.

“Final what?” Asks Elliott, then frowns. “Actually never mind, that’s not important. What is important, is just what the hell exactly it is that we saw on that footage and why you had it.”

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

I have an interesting idea. How about a shy reader who has been with Jaskier for a while. She’s interested in kink stuff, like spanking and bondage, but she doesn’t want to bring it up and risk Jaskier freaking out. But one day it just slips out and Jaskier is definitely willing to show here the ropes

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,853Rating: MTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @amirahiddleston @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @coffee-and-stories  a/n: This was very fun to write, nonny, thank you! Hope you enjoy!

Every part of your life with Jaskier was thoroughly satisfying and sex was no exception. He was attentive and thorough and sweet and gentle. Sometimes just a little too gentle. You weren’t naïve despite how you may seem due to your naturally shy nature. You knew of some of the more… advanced maneuvers people could do in the bedroom and you were excited by the possibility. Still you weren’t sure how to bring it up. You didn’t want Jaskier to think that you were unsatisfied or worse think you were some sort of freak for wanting him to tie you up and find ways to use pain to heighten your pleasure. You almost asked several times when you were talking about the future. Jaskier was always asking what you wanted to do with it, what would make you happy, and you saw in his eyes a sort of unconditional love and appreciation that made you feel safe. But you overthought your words and the moment passed and you decided it would be something you brought up with grace and the proper context.

That is not what happened.

Jaskier had been retying a length of rope and your eyes watched the progression with avid interest.

“You know,” Jaskier said as he coiled, “I knew a sailor who taught me how to tie knots exceptionally well. I keep offering to tie people up for Geralt but he uses magic which sort of overshadows it.”

“You could tie me up.”

You spoke the words in a nearly breathless whisper that made Jaskier do a double-take, not certain that he had actually heard it until he saw the hungry way you watched him as he held the rope taut between his muscled forearm and large, capable hand.

“Is that something you’d enjoy?” he asked, genuinely curious and not a little bit surprised.

“I mean…” you floundered a bit, blushing and looking askance, “Well it’s not something I need per se…”

“That’s not what I asked,” Jaskier insisted, “I asked if you’d enjoy it.”

“Well I don’t know, I mean, I can’t say for sure that I would but… I might?” you glanced up to meet his eyes tentatively and saw nothing but a glint of excitement in the pale blue depths. He considered you carefully for a moment and then set the rope aside, moving over to sit next to you as he pulled out his notebook and quill.

“What’s that?” you asked, a little startled as he poised to write. You worried he may be about to pen the Ballad of the Lusty Wallflower but at the top he scrawled: TO DO.

“I would very much like you to tell me all of the things that clever little brain of yours has been thinking about trying and we can track it here,” he explained.

“Oh, a sex ledger,” you said. He bit his lip to keep from laughing and just nodded.

“At the top here we have ‘get tied up’ but tell me, lovely, what happens next?” he asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Oh gosh well I suppose most of the usual things. Touching, kissing, teasing… Perhaps… and this doesn’t require being tied up because honestly sometimes I think it sounds more exciting to just have to hold myself still. Like, you tell me to stay in a position and I just have to hold it while you do all sorts of debauched things to me,” your words came a bit faster as you stared into space, picturing the images you’d brought to mind a thousand times before, almost forgetting that Jaskier was there until you heard the frantic scribbling of his quill as he wrote it all down.

“Well don’t stop now,” he insisted, looking back up at you, “What else? Tell me everything.”

And you did. You told him about the spanking and the edging and the blindfolds and how much you craved a rougher touch, how powerful you imagined you would feel if he treated you less like a tender, precious thing and more of a sturdy, capable woman. He suggested a few of his own and clarified and vetoed items to be used on you (yes to a hairbrush, maybe one day with a belt though you’ll have to build up to it). By the time you were done Geralt had returned and your heart sank. You’d wanted to try at least one of things out but, though you had discussed a bit of voyeurism, fully doing it in front of Geralt was just a tad too far for your taste.

You traveled in near silence, Jaskier filling the empty air with songs and anecdotes and generally anything he could do to make Geralt nearly smile or, for your entertainment, scowl. You were thrilled when Geralt suggested staying in the nearest village and less thrilled when he rented only one room for the three of you. Though he knew that you and Jaskier were an item, you were usually good about timing things out so he never walked in on anything he’d rather not see. You suspected he used his witcher hearing to aid in that. But you didn’t want to have to share, tonight. You wanted the time and space to do everything and Jaskier sensed your disappointment. When Geralt left the room he was still casually fishing through his pack and the moment the door shut behind the witcher he crossed the room and bolted the door. When he turned back to face you he was transformed from the carefree bard to someone far more solemn and nearly stern.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered in a voice he had never used with you before. You were struck by how quickly it affected you and you undid your laces with trembling fingers as he watched you, eyes blazing a path down your form. He rolled up the sleeves of his undershirt, eyes still on you as he bared his forearms. You’d seen every inch of his naked form but somehow this glimpse of flesh was more erotic, more charged than those moments you spent wrapped around his naked body.

“Turn around and rest your hands against the windowsill,” Jaskier commanded, roughly turning your body by your hips. You enjoyed the way he manhandled you, tossing your body around and bending you over lewdly as you grasped the wood framing the opaque window. You could see the dark forms of people walking past and this thrilled you all the more.

“If you move a muscle I will refuse you your release, do you understand me, Y/N?” he growled into your ear, nipping your lobe at the end of his words. You arched against him and though he was still fully clothed you felt him, hard and straining against his trousers, and your need grew.

“I said do you understand me?” you he asked.

“Yes,” you answered breathlessly.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Now, before this continues, we need a word to say if anything happens that you want stopped. It can be any sort of word, just one you feel you will remember.”

“Roach,” you said. There was a pause and an odd choking sound as Jaskier fought back more laughter.

“Perhaps not the name of a companion. Right idea, just… it may be awkward to cry out the horse’s name in a moment of overstimulation, yes?”

“Ah… good point… What about lute?” you offered. You gasped as you felt his large, calloused hand touch your back, following the path of your spine until it landed on your ass.

“So if I do this,” he said, giving a little smack that made you jump, “And you don’t like it or you want me to stop, you’ll say lute. Do you understand the rules?”

“Yes.”

“Repeat them for me,” he ordered.

“If something happens I don’t like, I say lute,” you replied.

“And?” he asked. You thought for a moment and then another swat came.

“You keep your hands on the windowsill,” he said, “I won’t remind you a second time.”

You nodded and again his open fist came down on you, pulling a gasp that bled into a moan.

“Use your words,” he growled.

“Yes,” you said, fingers grasping the windowsill as proof of your determination to obey.

“Good,” he said, nodding at you appraisingly, “Now we don’t have much time, and there is too much I want to do to you to do it all justice tonight. But a taste is in order. So you stay just as you are and let me show you just how capable I think you are.”

He roughly parted your legs and you felt him palm you, chuckling at how wet you already were.

“I haven’t even touched you yet and look how badly you want me,” he murmured, lips trailing down your spine as he knelt. You craned your neck to see what he was doing but soon it was apparent as his tongue replaced his hand. His hands gripped your calves and it wasn’t long before he felt you trembling. You clutched the windowsill for dear life but when he began to teasingly circle your clit, the faintest brushes that stoked but didn’t satisfy as you wanted, one of your hands fell to his head. He pulled away, rising imperiously over you, face slick and red.

“What was the rule?” he asked.

“Um. Keep my hand on the windowsill,” you answered, feeling a thrill shoot up your spine at the look he gave you, disappointment that couldn’t fully hide the glimmer of excitement in his own eyes at the chance to punish you.

“You disobeyed, love, that has consequences,” he said. He looked pointedly at your hand and quirked an eyebrow, prompting you to place it back where it was supposed to be. One hand slid into your hair, seizing a handful and holding your neck taut while the other teasingly traced up and down your skin, still sensitive from prior spankings. He pulled his hand back and you tensed in anticipation.

The doorknob rustled and Jaskier released you quickly as Geralt knocked on the door.

“Jaskier, let me in,” Geralt called.

“Uh, just a moment Geralt!” Jaskier called as you scrambled to pull your dress back on, suddenly grateful that Jaskier had stayed clothed. Jaskier attempted to adjust himself to hide his still painfully hard erection, glancing back to make sure you were dressed before he unbolted the door and swung it open with an overly casual gesture. Geralt peered between him and you and muttered something under his breath.

“The innkeeper would like to know if you’ll be gracing them with a performance tonight,” Geralt said, clearly annoyed at being the messenger.

“Of course!” Jaskier said before turning to you, “Y/N, would you like to accompany me?”

“Yes,” you said, “I’ll fetch your lute.”

There was a tense pause at the word where you and Jaskier shared a heated look that deeply confused and worried Geralt but he hadn’t survived this long by putting his nose where he knew nothing but trouble lurked so he simply grunted and walked away.

[sfb123]

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

B:  What was the first fandom you read fic in?  Which was the first you wrote fic for?

J:  What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with?  Did it turn into a story?

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

U: Is there a pairing you would like to write, but haven’t tried yet.

V: Are there certain comments you’ve received on your stories that have stuck with you?

W: What is your favorite pairing to write?  Favorite pairing to read?

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories?  Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?  

Z: Is there a story you’ve written that doesn’t seem to get much love?

Dang, these are so many asks, I’m so excited!

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why?

So, I have two answers to this. For personal reasons, it’s Sapere Aude. I had written one half assed one shot, and for some reason, I thought that qualified me to write an entire series. I was in so far over my head, and I wanted to quit so many times. But now that I’m done with it, I see how much it helped me grow and improve as a writer.

For content reasons, it’s Housewarming Heart to Heart, it always rubbed me the wrong way that Drake never got any closure with MC (if you chose Liam), so it’s always assumed he spends the rest of his life pining over his best friend’s wife and following her around like a lost puppy. I wanted to give him that closure, so I wrote this little one shot where he and Riley reflect and he finally gets to clear the air with her.

B:  What was the first fandom you read fic in?  Which was the first you wrote fic for?

The first fandom I read was TNA, which lead me to tumblr, and that opened up a whole thing. The first I wrote was TRR, which is still basically the only one I write (I dabble in TNA, but only one of those has been posted on tumblr, I don’t know that the others ever will be).

J:  What’s your favorite fanfic trope?  Have you written it?

I’m a big fan of the slow burn, all that anticipation, and then there are those moments where you’re like ‘oh boy, here it comes, finally’ and then it just doesn’t and you still have to wait? So frustrating, but in the best way possible!

I have not written it yet, Liam & Riley are my OTP, and pretty much the only couple I’ve written, like ever, and my stories joined their regularly scheduled programming already in progress. I might have an idea for one in the works (aka I have an idea for one that I’ll likely never get to 😂)

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with?  Did it turn into a story?

I have only ever really thought of one AU scenario. I started writing it a while ago, and will probably get back to it someday. It’s not weird though.

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

I don’t know if it counts as a fanfic trope, but I’ve been very outspoken about my dislike of just pairing characters outside of the OTP (Drake x Olivia, Maxwell x Hana, etc). Just because the characters exist, doesn’t mean they need to all be this incestuous group that can only be with each other. Bring in some fresh blood, and give these people a real chance!

U: Is there a pairing you would like to write, but haven’t tried yet.

I created a pairing at the end of Sapere Aude that I just said existed, but it was just mentioned in conversation. I would like to actually write that pairing and dig into those dynamics.

V: Are there certain comments you’ve received on your stories that have stuck with you?

Anytime @burnssoslow compliments my Drake, it makes my life. She’s one of the foremost Drake aficionados, so her word means the world. She made a comment once that in the back of her mind, Uncle Drake was just days away from meeting Alyssa (or something like that, not an exact quote), and that made my whole entire life, to think that my Drake was worthy of her beautiful, wonderful OC.

W: What is your favorite pairing to write?  Favorite pairing to read?

I think it’s pretty obvious that Liam x Riley are my heart. I just love the love these two have for each other, and how they will do anything to make the other happy. I don’t think I could pick just one as a favorite to read, if I did I guess I’d have to go with Liam x MC pairings. He’s just too sweet and amazing to not want to read everything.

Y: What are your thoughts on your personal satisfaction with something you’ve written vs. the popularity of your stories?  Do you tend to be most satisfied with your most popular stories?  

I always find that the popularity far exceeds my satisfaction. I am very critical of my own work, and will always be able to tell you what I hate or wish I hadn’t done far faster than I could tell you something I liked or was proud of. Anytime I get any kind of attention on any of my fics, I’m shocked and happy.

Z: Is there a story you’ve written that doesn’t seem to get much love?

I don’t think so, all of my stories pretty much get the same amount of attention. I’m honestly surprised anything I write gets any love at all.

Thank you for asking! 💚💜

Xoxo sfb

[obsidiancorner]

I have a question!!! How long have you been drawing and how long have you been doing digital art? Was it difficult to start with? I'm looking at learning to draw, but I'm not sure if I want to start traditional or if I want to get a tablet. TELL ME!!!

Hey there! Sorry this took me a full day to get to. I wanted to make sure I had time to properly search/attach links and whatnot. Then I had to contend with bath and bedtime for Kiddo. I literally started this post at 7pm... It’s now almost 11. 

I have been drawing in traditional mediums since I was a LITTLE kid. Really little. Before I was in Kindergarten. I broke away from it after I graduated high school but came back to it after I moved to Florida. Chibi Cullen was my first digital piece, though. So... technically since October of 2017. I got my tablet at Christmas 2017 and that is when I REALLY got into it.  

To answer what you should learn on: That’s largely a personal decision and not one I can really help you with outside of giving you some info and some links to help get you started. 

Bare bones basic info:

Traditional is cheaper but you can play and learn without restraint on digital. It’s just that the tablet is going to be a MUCH bigger deposit. To get started in traditional art supplies, you can get away with approximately $20. A tablet is going to run you at least $50, likely more. 

Keep in mind: expensive equipment does not a better artist make. A graphics tablet will not make drawing easier. Sure it has tools to help, like line stabilizers and such... but only practice will truly make you better. 

I expand on this stuff below but first, my opinion. 

My humble opinion: 

If you want to just dabble and see how you get on: go traditional. 

If you absolutely positively KNOW art is a skill you WANT to pursue no matter the degree of difficulty it is for you, that’s when you can begin to entertain the idea of a getting a tablet, but make sure you weigh everything out. 

I don’t want to see anyone shell out that kind of money and have it be used once. I cannot stress enough to make sure you know your heart before sinking in on an expensive piece of equipment like a graphics tablet. 

The rest is under the cut because this is a long post and I don’t want people to hate me. 

Digital 

If money isn’t an issue and you have a decent computer, you can consider going digital. 

 FireAlpaca, Krita, and MediBang are all free to download digital painting software. I, personally, have FireAlpaca and I love it. But I have also been toying around with trying Krita out. However, all of these programs are good enough that I don’t think you’d miss not having PaintTool SAI or Photoshop. 

I will sing the praises of my Huion graphic tablet until my dying day because it will honestly probably last me that long if I don’t upgrade to a more advanced one sometime down the line. 

Seriously. The one I have right now has already been dropped (because I’m clumsy as fuck), thrown (courtesy of a melting down kiddo), peed on and subsequently washed and sanitized (courtesy of an asshole cat), and stepped on (because my guy tripped over the asshole cat and knocked a whole bunch of shit off my desk in the process). The thing still works. They ARE built to last.  

The version I have is the H610 Pro which costs about $80.00. There is some hand/eye coordination that needs to be learned because you will be drawing on the tablet but the image will be on your screen. That can take some time to get acclimated to. 

My H610 is not the cheapest tablet they offer... I know that much but I haven’t really done a deep dive into Huion’s selection. But there are other types of tablets as well. Wacom, Yiynova, Lenovo, Microsoft, Apple, and Samsung all have tablets for artists. 

If you want to talk tablets with monitors that allow you to see what you are drawing where you are actually drawing, you’re gonna be looking at throwing down a hefty chunk of cheddar (a couple hundred at least). For Huion products, that’s the Kamvas series of tablets. 

I have had my tablet for 14 months already and I use it All. The. Time. I tell you that to tell you this: I have not yet replaced the nib on my pen and don’t anticipate having to change the nib for another year at MINIMUM. The tablet comes with four backup nibs. So, at almost daily use, you can easily get a decade worth of art out of the set they give you out the gate.

Traditional

To just do some light sketch stuff while you are getting used to drawing, it’s cheapest to just get some cheap mechanical pencils or drawing pencils and some simple printer paper. If you want a sketchbook, go cheap. 

Once you get into your groove and want to start branching out, by all means, buy more expensive supplies if that suits your fancy. But to just get started on basics: Go. Cheap!!! There is no reason to spend more than $20 (and that’s being exceptionally liberal) at Walmart or the local dollar store.  

I cannot stress enough that to just start out you don’t need pro quality anything. Crayola or RoseArt is what every. single. artist. started on because most of us started in school and just kept going from there. Those companies are still around because they are the building blocks every artist started on (at least in the USA... I don’t know about foreign markets). Guaranteed. 

I still, to this day, use Crayola colored pencils. Two reasons: 1. I’m incredibly cheap and, most importantly, 2. they work just fine. 

Conclusion (at last, amiright?) and Affirmation

I know I sold my Huion tablet pretty hard in the digital section but that’s ONLY because there is more information needed to make an informed decision (like sturdiness, brands, etc.). There is a lot less to discuss for basic supplies to just get started.  

I will suggest traditional more often than I will suggest spending boatloads of cash for a beginner.

The choice between digital and traditional largely boils down to two things:

Cost

Drive / ambition / want / dedication

For the average person/household, cost effectiveness is critical in this economy. Even if you know in your heart of hearts digital art is a skill set you want to achieve, if you can’t afford a tablet, go traditional at first and gradually save up for a tablet. If you aren’t sure you will like drawing enough to sink in AT LEAST $50- and that is a fairly low-balled price tag- go traditional. 

I will only ever recommend a tablet as a starting point to those who know with 100% certainty that drawing/digital painting is a hobby/skill they WANT to pursue. 

I know I cannot tell people what to do because, ultimately, the choice is theirs. All I can offer is my opinion and some words of wisdom and caution. 

I will say this, though:

Art is a skill, just as much as writing, sewing, knitting, and so on. ANYONE can learn this skill. Some advance faster than others due to natural aptitude but anyone can do it. You just have to dedicate time and patience to learning it. 

Every artist started with stick figures. ;)

Remember that. 

Every single one of us started by drawing stick figures. 

That’s not to say that’s where you will begin, but an affirmation that literally EVERYONE, including commissioned artists, starts in the same place. Stick figures in crayon when we were kids. We all evolved from there.   

Do NOT under ANY circumstances beat yourself up if you set out to draw a cat and it looks like Ditto with whiskers. (It’s happened to me. Literally that exact scenario. It’s okay to laugh. I sure did.) This is a Ditto, in case Pokemon isn’t your thing:

Keep at it and you will improve. I promise. Regardless of which way you go. Keep. At. It. and you will improve.

Drawing/painting is a constant evolution, regardless of medium, be it digital or a traditional one. Once you get the basics down, you begin to develop your own style. And even your own style changes as you progress. Look at mine. I’ve drawn two things for you. Hannah and Satinalia Cullen. Both mine but the styles are lightyears apart because I worked and evolved.

Studies in anatomy, color theory, light theory, and the like will be your best friends. Good reference photos will be your best friends. 

And always remember: art is 150% subjective. Look at Picasso and Jackson Pollock. They are nothing like Michelangelo, Da Vinci, or Georgia O’Keefe. All of it is art. 

Abstract, Renaissance, Nuveau, Deco, Modernism, Fauvism, Pointilism, Impressionism and the rest... All art. All very different styles. 

All. Are. Valid. 

All started with stick figures somewhere in their history. You gotta start somewhere but keep at it and you will succeed.

[longgonegays]

LGG’s Long Gone Days Chapter 1 (pre-update) Review

A year in the making!

PREFACE

In April 2018, I played through Long Gone Days for the second time. I had more of a critical eye after my first run through, and I wanted to write down my impressions. However, I got incredibly busy and wasn’t able to publish my initial reactions. As of now, I have played through the story a third time, alternating endings all the way, and even though the game is getting a MAJOR update probably soon, I figured I might as well post my thoughts and suggestions here!

SPOILERS BELOW

THE GOOD STUFF

Let me start off by saying that the art is phenomenal. I’ve loved it ever since the first demo was released in 2016, and it’s honestly one of the best looking RPGs I’ve played in a long, long time. The characters are interesting and have lots of room for growth, the music is atmospheric and cool, the devs are responsive, the story is unique, and the community is new and exciting! There’s so many good things. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve shared this game with. One of my friends even backed the indiegogo along with me!

As with any up-and-coming Early Access title, there’s bound to be mistakes or mechanics that could be optimized better. I’ve found many things that have the potential to make a greater impact on the player if done a little differently. However, I am no video game developer, so if any of my suggestions on the technical side are impossible, just know it’s not my intention to make the team do 500 more hours of work. :P

LET’S GET INTO IT!

There are different categories of issue. They will be sorted chronologically and marked as CONSISTENCY, GAMEPLAY, LANGUAGE, STORY, or TYPO.

TYPO: A pretty crucial one! The directions tell you to press X to shoot the drones in the tutorial, but when pressed, X does nothing. Z is the correct key.

CONSISTENCY: There should be a period after the word "half". All other notes at this point end in complete sentences, so it feels strange to not end the same way.

CONSISTENCY: The lowercase b in "Power bar" should be "Power Bar" since it appears that way in the Consumables menu, and it is properly capitalized when another one is picked up later on.

STORY: It's a little strange that the Shooting Range Clerk can fix a broken elevator card. I would've never related the quest to him; I actually didn't solve it the first time because I didn't think talking to the clerk was worth it. Unless there's a briefly explained in-story reason for him knowing how to fix them, another NPC beside him or even a sign with something akin to "Repair" in the description would give the quest direction more of a hint. (Just as an aside, it would be neat to return to the Kitchen Clerk and discuss what you saw thanks to the fixed card!)

TYPO: The description should read "has run out of batteries" and not "has ran". It would read "ran" if it were simple past tense (The watch ran out of batteries), but not when it's the past participle (anything with has/have). 

LANGUAGE: You could say "The following series of exercises only take five minutes at the time...", meaning it would only take 5 minutes to do them on the field, but it may flow better with the way the phrase is most commonly used, "...only take five minutes at a time", or just shortening it to "...only take five minutes."

TYPO: Instead of "Why are we hiding for?" it should either be "What are we hiding for?" or "Why are we hiding?"

TYPO: The real hut code is 07734, but afterwards, it states in both the Quest List and the Notes that it is 007734, which is incorrect.

CONSISTENCY: The Quests for Kaliningrad are available in the menu a little early. You have access to them before you get to the stone bridge on the right and fight The Core soldiers for the first time. The player hasn’t even met Ivan at this point.

TYPO: This is the beginning of the quest. "Found" should be "Find" since we haven't actually found her sister yet.

TYPO: “Forget” should be "I almost forgot", since "I told you I'd bring cake" is past tense.

GAMEPLAY: The "find the items" prompt only appears AFTER you collect the first item for Gleb's mother. Before that, it's just "convince the mother to go to Gleb's house". It would make more sense for the description to switch immediately to "Find the items" after she tells you which items she needs. (Sidenote: If someone accidentally clicks through the dialogue too fast, they'll have no idea what they're looking for. It may help to list Flower Pot, Painting, and Toy to show what items are needed.)

CONSISTENCY: Any time you talk to a group of two people, it's the same dialogue. It sets up the expectation that I'd just get the same words over and over no matter which person I talked to or in which order. HOWEVER, in Pay It Forward, the dialogue differs depending on which woman you talk to in the Residential District. You MUST talk to the lady on the left. I couldn't figure out how to solve this quest the first time because I didn't know who to look for (I thought I had seen all NPC dialogue since I already talked to the lady on the right). This is a minor gripe in the grand scheme of things, but I felt like I had to mention it.

STORY: Pay It Forward ends with you giving Anton the Conduct Pass. Yuliya (Downhearted Lady's Sister)'s dialogue doesn't change after progress reaches 100%, and she'll keep telling you to talk to the Residential District woman. A change in dialogue could help emphasize the fact that the quest is COMPLETE and no further action is needed on the player's part, just like the Business-Savvy Woman's dialogue changes after completion of the same quest.

TYPO: Just past participle again! "An uprising has began" should be "An uprising has begun".

TYPO: In the battle before you meet up with Ivan and Adair, an 's' should be added to make "Aggressive Soldier". I posted this one on the Bug Report forums a while ago, so I’m guessing it’ll probably be fixed in the next update.

GAMEPLAY: Maybe give a warning that Adair's going to heal you after the battle? I used a ton of my food for the first playthrough because I anticipated more fighting. Perhaps include some dialogue of Adair saying something like "I'll heal you properly after we fight the soldiers inside of the house." It would save some people from using too many of their resources too early and wasting them.

TYPO: "Why are you standing here for?" should be "Why are you standing here?" or the correct phrase, "What are you standing here for?"

GENERAL SUGGESTIONS

GAMEPLAY: You mentioned planning to implement the option to switch control keys, which is great. I think the second most popular suggestion is to Toggle Shift (and add Right Shift) instead of having to hold it down every time you want to run. Both will save a lot of fingers!

STORY: Instead of “[Enemy] has fainted” you can put "[Enemy] is down". It is ambiguous yet straightforward if you really want to avoid the word "dead". The fact that the Gun Drones “faint” as well seems questionable. Using “down” or “has been downed” would eliminate the strange phrasing and make a little more sense.

GAMEPLAY: More information in the Kaliningrad Quest descriptions! In Pay It Forward, it would be good to specify within the description that the sister has red pants. In Searching for the Cure, noting the location of the pharmacy would help, even if it just mentions heading North. In Animal Rescue, tell the player to head East to find the Animal Advocate; add a sign for the Residential District! In The Lost Girl, include Lynn's hints about a sandy / dirt-filled location. The very first time I ran around starting these quests, it was incredibly confusing trying to navigate the map effectively and remember which direction things were. Especially when the descriptions are so vague; you have to remember a lot of tiny details only referenced in the Quest Start dialogue, and there's no guarantee the player will recall all of them if they're solving a bunch of quests at a time. Small hints can go a long way.

GAMEPLAY: All quests appear to be able to be completed as soon as you enter the area. However, it would make things INFINITELY easier if they were sorted in "Not Started", "In Progress", and "Completed" tabs. It's a bit of a hassle to scroll through and find which quests you're working on, especially since they aren't sorted chronologically or alphabetically. Additionally, "Locked" quests could be greyed out ones that cannot be completed anymore or ones that cannot be started at that point in the story. Some organization would be nice!

GAMEPLAY / STORY: After playing the game, my friend had this to say: "One thing I would like to see more game-mechanics-wise is the option of using stealthier methods of taking down enemies. For example, when you can sneak around the gun drone in Kaliningrad nighttime, have it so you can utilize your high vantage point (the rooftop) to snipe down enemies and avoid direct conflict."

I absolutely agree that Sniper Mode should be used more. It only makes sense. Why charge into battle with a long-range weapon? Even if Rourke has other methods of fighting, wouldn't he want to prevent close-quarters situations in the first place? That guy even has his back turned! Ambush opportunities are not used effectively.

LANGUAGE: A LOT of the dialogue could use more contractions. For example, at the beginning, Lynn saying "They are here!" would take longer rather than "They're here!", and she'd probably want to get the information across to Rourke faster. This isn't a necessary fix, as everything is readable without contractions, and some characters may just have a tendency to speak like that, but it would make the dialogue seem more realistic and flow more naturally for most of the cases.

CONCLUSION. . .

Long Gone Days is a wonderful game. I would recommend that everyone at least play the first 30 minutes, because it is definitely something else. I still get very emotional at certain points, like that scene with the Civilian Fighter where they first speak in Russian but then try to sound things out in English, finally telling Rourke "We are counting on you. Good luck." It gets me EVERY TIME. It's such a good and powerful moment, couldn't stop half smiling half tearing up when I read it the first time. The text speed and how it was presented was really effective.

I loved the Boss fight as well! The fact that the morale boosting events were saved for the very end of that chapter made it much more impactful than the consistent battle-to-battle challenges in the demo. During my first playthrough, I had to stop myself from letting the Lieutenant use his Attack because of how freakin' COOL the art and animation looked! Everyone’s cut-ins are great!

Unsolicited Advice-Giving Soldier is also hilarious, and I think sprinkling that kind of humor in is very important in a game like this. :P

Overall, I love this game. I really want it to grow. It’s a lot of fun to talk and theorize about, and Chapters 2 and 3 should have no shortage of conversation material. With a bit of polish, Chapter 1 could be an even more effective introduction to the dangers the Kaliningrad Squad will have to endure in the future!

Thank you for reading! I’m looking forward to the full release!

[alliswell21]

I wish you would write a fic where Katniss and Peeta take the toast babies roller skating

Thank you for the prompt @jroseley! Sorry it took me so long to write the fic. I hope you like it, since I changed it a bit, from rolling skating... since is still winter and all. Enjoy!

KPKPKPKPKPKPKPKP

Winter has been on the bitter side this year. We’ve been by snowstorm after snowstorm unrelentingly for four days, until the District was buried under a wall of snow.

One good thing about New Panem is that all districts now have access to all sorts of machinery and vehicles; 12 got plows and salt trucks a few years back, and when the sun finally made its appearance two days ago, and it’s heat started to steadily melt some of the powder away, the shoveling and clearing got a smidge easier. The snow on the streets soon gets replaced by slush, but that too starts to clear up.

By the the sixth day, I’m done being caged inside the house. Everyone home is getting claustrophobia attacks, really, starting from Peeta, who finally ran out of baking ingredients and is going insane with worry about the rest of our neighbors also running out of food.

The children are so bored, that they even stopped running around the house, being loud and unruly and funny. They just drop on random places like rag dolls and fall asleep on the spot if we don’t come and tickle them.

Enough is enough!

“What are you doing?” Peeta asks from the archway watching me pull on my boots.

“I’m going on a hike, and so are you.” I answer, throwing his favorite scarf and hat at him.

He catches them easily with one hand, and I have to avert my eyes from his muscular form before I do something stupid, like climb him like a tree and demand he takes me hard and fast, while the children are awake and roaming around. I could blame my libido spike on the snow-in, but honestly it’s just him, sometimes I can’t believe I resisted my attraction to him so long.

“Okay,” He drags the word, breaking me from my lustful spell, “And where exactly are we hiking to?“

“We’re going to the lake,” I say firmly. “We’re going skating.” I inform him. “I promised the children at the beginning of the season, that I would take them there as soon as the lake had frozen, and I figure this is a good time as any to uphold my word to them.” I stand and smooth down my flannel shirt.

I look up in time to see him shrug his consent, and turn away from me. He curls his hand next his mouth and calls on the children, telling them to go to their rooms and put on their thermal underwear, in a minute, the house is a flurry of tiny running feet and excited hooting, my babies don’t disappoint, their enthusiasm is contagious.

Between the two of us, we get the kids ready in ten minutes. Everyone has at least three layers of clothing on, mittens, hats, boots and Peeta has packed the last of the apples and rolls into a knapsack and I’ve gathered some drinking water in a couple of bottles. Lastly, we take our skates from the coat closet on the hall, and leave for the lake.

District 12 has expanded outward towards what used to my woods. At first I was outraged they would build stuff past the old fence, and into what used to be my hunting grounds, but the alternative was disturb the meadow and no one was willing to do that. I’m still unhappy they’ve eroded so much of my sanctuary, displacing my prey, but finally they’ve come up with plans to save the wilderness.

The only silver lining to this ‘progress’ is that the lake where Gale and I used to fish and hunt for waterfowl, is now easier to access. And so we reach the lake in half the time, even snowy as it is, than it would’ve taken me alone back in the day when my survival depended on the woods.

The children are beside themselves!

As we track through town and past the neighborhoods bordering the forest, people start to emerge from the warmth of their homes, just to see the four of us walk by. We’re still recognizable people to some degree, some of the newer residents of 12 still watch us curiously, although not with the same same celebrity craze as 20 years ago. But they still watch sometimes.

We stop at the bakery at Peeta’s insistence, he makes a couple of calls, since the phone lines are back to work, and soon a handful of his employees agree to come in tomorrow to open up the shop and start serving bread again.

“Honestly, most of them sounded excited about coming to work,” he comments with a small smile once we’re on the road again.

When we arrive to the lake, the children find a big rock to sit on and start pulling on their laces, the faster they can get their skates on, the better. I don’t blame them.

Peeta hags our bag of food on a tree branch close by, and then join me and the children on the boulder to change into skates.

The first time we wore skates I didn’t anticipated him being so graceful and nimble on the ice, but my man is artist skater! He can move and glide so effortlessly is unbelievable. The way he turns and spins and skates backwards is just beautiful. Most impressive, just like swimming, he had never had the chance, occasion or place to learn it, but he did and it’s been one of our favorite winter activities from the get go. When the children finally came into our lives, and we’re old enough to join us in the ice, they just fell in love with it as well.

Once our footgear is safely on, we check on mittens, hats and coat fastenings again, and we each take one little hand in ours, and reach the edge of the frozen lake. It takes some maneuvering to get into the solid slab, but we finally do, and in no time Peeta is off, making a warming lap, while the two children get used to standing on their skates. It takes me and them a few minutes longer than Peeta to get acclimated but the girl joins her daddy soon enough, while the boy clings to my hand in unsure legs still.

We go around the ring once, slowly, so we can get confident, it’s more for my benefit than my toddler son’s, he’s ready to take off and start on his attempt at a pirouette, just like his sister is showing off to her father, but I can’t let go of his hand just yet. I want to feel his tiny fingers around mine just a minute longer, and then let him free to enjoy his time out here. And then his mittened hand slips away when Peeta and the girl pass us by, he goes chasing after them, laughing the whole time, while the girl throws her arm to catch him.

They hold hands, and start spinning in place. The girl calls for her dad to join them, and he obliges happily. The boy squeals in delight, and then his Seam eyes find me.

“Mama! Come play!” He calls in his tiny boy voice, and come readily, laughing as they swing around me and finally the three of them circle around me.

At one point, another family descends onto the icy lake, stepping gingerly on the ice. They aren’t as graceful on their skates, but they seem to be having a nice time too, so we wave and smile politely, and keep on playing with our children. The lake is big enough.

“The more, the merrier!” Peeta says.

When the children tire of our spinning and pirouette game, we start a competition, to see who reaches the edge faster, Peeta looses to the girl many times, and she looks Please with herself. Then he looses to the boy, and she protests that he lost on purpose. Peeta claims he’s old and tired, and then he says he’s also hungry, and the little ones quickly agree.

We come to the rock just as a group of teenagers slip on the ice. I get our picnic ready, while Peeta helps the children out of the lake. The boy announces his need to go potty, and the girl joins in as well, I offer to take them to a secluded patch of bushes, so Peeta can rest his bad leg, and he smiles at me with gratitud.

By the time we’ve eaten our meal the kids are yawning, and more people have come to skate or lounge around under the warming sun. It’s been a good day, and I’m glad so many people has the chance to enjoy it as much as we do.

Peeta puts his arm around me and leans down to kiss my cheek. “Thank you, Katniss. Coming here today was a good idea.”

“I know it was,” I tell him humorously. “I’m always right!” I kiss his lips quickly. For the longest time I refused to share any public physical affection, on principle alone, but now I don’t care if people see us. We love each other and we are free to express it.

The boy changed into shoes a minute ago, and comes to climb on my lap, he wraps his little arms around my neck and yawns widely. He’s out like a candle in no time.

“I guess we should get home,” Peeta laughs.

“I don’t wanna go home!” Our daughter cries out.

“But your brother is asleep, and I saw you yawning too a moment ago. We should get you home so you can rest, sweet pea,” Peeta tells her, caressing her cheeks.

She scowls and crosses her arms over her chest, “I’m not tired!” She says.

“I am. And daddy needs to rest too, since has to work tomorrow,” i reason with her.

She wavers for a second, then nods rolling her eyes. “Fine… we can go home, but I’m not taking a nap!” She announces.

We gather our stuff, and Peeta reaches out to the take our son from my arms. But I point at the little girl, slouching as she shuffled her feet, and he smiles knowingly. “Hey, you wanna ride in my shoulders?” He asks her with a caring hand to her tiny shoulders, she nods and smiles at him.

We haven’t reached the cobblestone path to town when she’s snoring on top of Peeta’s head. Gently, he shifts her slowly, so she’s securely in his arms instead, and we walk home, leaving behind the lake, now full of laughing and squealing and merrily shouting people.

I guess sharing my woods with my District is not so terrible after all.

[ohleander]

02.18

I know I have so much in me, its intimidating to wonder how I’m going to do all the things that I’m gonna do. But it only hangs me up to wonder how. I really gotta go with the flow and just accept all the best offers that I can.

I feel like there’s a wonderful new mindset settling into my head and I dont have much practice with it yet.. it is intimidating but more so than ever before, I feel a little bit of excitement for the process. I know I’m going to get tired and I know I will burn out at some point. We all do, the most practiced and the newbies at all this mindfulness stuff. I’m still so new. I’ve been at it for 4 years and I’m only just starting. But everyone has different perspectives, different experiences that get them to places faster or slower than others. Its all okay. I’m learning to see that once you let life flow, it has a strange way of harmonizing all by itself. I really hope I can continue to focus on doing good. I do still have a great fear of failure.. a fear of being lead astray once I start mingling with people again. Its not always easy to be so in control of your world like I’ve been able to be. And I realize thats both immensely good with flavors of bad. Having too much control over things often sent me into obsessive spirals of anxiety.. the process of letting go of all the anxiousness, the feelings of being watched and observed and judged.. I strive to not allow those kinds of feelings to control me so hard anymore. I refuse to regress to old energies and old ways. Growth is key.. love and light are great, but personally I cant force positivity all the time. My personality is tinted with shades of melancholy.. stained glass instead of clear glass, it feels like. I’m learning to accept my deepest melancholy moments as part of the process. I’m a person who really does go waay up or waay down and while I try to stabilize, I accept when I haven’t quite gotten it right.

One thing I’m learning right now is to just be open. I am still scared, but I am more earnestly trying to have faith that things will fall into the best place possible. I really do try hard to keep a high vibration, even when its hard to. I anticipate some hard times commin this year. It also might be hard in a way I don’t even understand yet. It also might be a good kind of hard. I am open to feelings and experiences that are foreign to me. I am more open now to getting things wrong. I am more open now to being kinder to myself, giving myself a little more grace. I would like to say that I wouldn’t let anyone else treat me the way I treat myself, but Its been close. How can you have boundaries with others if you have none with yourself?

I am still so earnestly trying to learn as many things on purpose as I can. I fear that a big change in environment will change or hinder my progress, but honestly, as I type this, I have an intuitive feeling that it will be better than it is now. I have to admit I am so attached to the peace that this New Light House has given us. I’m so sad to see the nature changing, being dug up and driven over.. its painful but I don’t know where to begin on trying to stop it.. I don’t think this is one of those things that’s up to me to worry about stopping, even though I have very strong feelings about it.

Who knows what the future holds, I can really only harness the best energy I can at any given time. Astrology really does help and ever since dad dubbed me an aries out of the blue, I’ve been doing my best to live that life. I always lived my life as a pisces (I truly am on the cusp, zero degrees aries, i am) and even more so since my dad is also a pisces. We always bonded over it. But out of the blue, he read something about my cusp sign and birth time.. he’s certain I’m an aries, so of course I immediately accept it.. ( I have been denying it for 2 years, though it is the aries way to be so stubborn I’ve been told) I have to say, my life has been 1000% easier since I embraced this strange and fun part of myself. Identifying as a fiery and action-oriented individual has truly gotten me to act more on my impulses than ever before. I’ve gained confidence galore. I think it can only get better. We have so many resources, connections, I do have to spread things out and take them more slowly. I know now that people love me very much and I do have a safety net if things go awry. That’s been my biggest fear to process lately. The idea that if I reveal myself, I’ll no longer have that safety net.. and the safety net wasn’t that strong in the first place. I had no trust of anyone. I feel more strongly now than ever that the people I’m around DO love me and will help me and they don’t expect anything of me other than being myself. And that’s what I should expect to.. nothing but myself. everything will be okay for the three amigos here, I know it. I do, I know it I know it.

And yet the fear still creeps in. The unease, the unsureness. I breathe deeply and try to slow down. I try to let go and let things fall into place. I ask more questions from now on. I consider things more slowly and do not try to narrate others in my head. I strive for peace. I strive for love. I am full of curiosity and love.

LM

[cromulentbookreview]

Definitely Not Chocolate Wine

Because life in late 19th century Paris was basically just Another Period but real.

To my fellow non-French speakers out there: vin de coca does NOT mean “chocolate wine.” It really doesn’t.

And by that, I mean: Sensational, sequel to Spectacle by Jodie Lynn Zdrok!

Paris! June, 1889! The same year as The Gilded Wolves! The year of the Exposition Universelle! It’s almost time for the 100th anniversary of the Storming of the Bastille! The Eiffel Tower makes it’s grand debut! Vincent Van Gogh paints The Starry Night! The Wall Street Journal is established! Seattle, in spite of the incessant rain, somehow manages to catch fire! Bustles are slowly on their way out, but weighty ornaments added to dresses is super in! Ribbons! Flounces! Lace! Bows! All that, plus corsets laced far tighter than they should be and no air conditioning! Sounds great! 

Anyway: it’s been two years since the events of Spectacle, and our heroine Nathalie is now 18. Things are going pretty great: she no longer has to hide her identity writing her morgue column for Le Petit Journal, she has a steady boyfriend in her fellow insightful, Jules, and she’s even found a workaround for the memory loss caused by her visions: she keeps extremely detailed journals, keeping a record of everything she does in case she forgets later. With the support of her family and friends, Nathalie might just be able to pull of this whole “insightful who witnesses the deaths of murder victims from the perspective of the killer for some reason then reports those visions to the police but suffers memory loss as a side-effect” gig work. 

Just so long as she ignores all the lingering looks she gives to her friend, the morgue’s police liaison Christophe. And her lingering guilt over the death of her friend Agnès at the hands of the Dark Artist serial killer. And her institutionalized aunt’s deteriorating mental health.

But besides all of that, Nathalie’s life is going pretty well. She’s 18 at the height of Belle Époque, routinely attending the Exposition Universelle with her boyfriend and her best friends. Life is good!

Until Nathalie and her friends stumble upon a severed head among the sculptures of the Galerie Rapp. Then, to make things worse, a spectator jostles the pillar on which the head is sitting, knocking it over. The head falls and, without thinking, Nathalie puts out her hands to catch it.

Much more than una catastrofia con una pelota de beisbol.

Anyway, this causes Nathalie to have a vision, and, faster than you can say “cocaine wine,” the whole of Paris is gripped by the both the spectacle (first book title drop!) of the Exposition, and the rampage of a new serial killer who dumps his victims on Exposition grounds. The killer is soon dubbed Le Rasoir by the press, as they behead their victims with a guillotine. 

Fun fact: the last time France used the guillotine to execute someone was in 1977. That seems far too recent to me, but, I mean, I guess it works...?

So far as sequels go, Sensational gives us more of Nathalie’s story without being bogged down with exposition and questions. We get to jump into the action right away, but there are plenty of callbacks in case you may have forgotten a detail or two from Spectacle. My favorite part, of both Spectacle and Sensational is all the detail we get about what life is like in 19th century Paris. Paris is a fascinating place in general, but Paris during the late 1880s, early 1890s? During the era of the Third French Republic, Belle Époque and the birth of Cabaret? If time machines were a thing, I would definitely go and party in late 19th century Paris - hang around Montmantre, get wasted at Le Chat Noir...

Speaking of which: one of the things I will freely admit is that I don’t speak French. Like, at all. I know a few words here and there, but Deutsch ist immer noch eine wunderschöne Sprache. So, in Spectacle there’s a scene where Nathalie is hanging out with her friends Simone and Louis along with her boyfriend, Jules, at Simone’s apartment. Simone has managed to get her hands on a bottle of vin de coca. Now, for some reason, I immediately thought “oooh, chocolate wine!” 

Yeah, vin de coca is not chocolate wine. That much became obvious as the scene progressed, and I felt like a total moron. 

Vin de coca is wine with cocaine in it. 

Because in the 19th century, that was just fine. I mean, just watch The Knick if you want to see just how much late-19th and early-20th century medicine relied on cocaine. (Seriously, watch The Knick - I’m still pissed that show got cancelled). 

Still, whenever I see the word “coca” I think chocolate. Because chocolate is great. Even though I know a “pain au chocolat” literally translates to “chocolate bread” and coca refers to any of the four plants in the family Erythroxylaceae, but mostly Erythroxylum coca, which is where cocaine comes from. It’s where the “coca” in “coca cola” comes from. Seriously, how did I miss that?

Speaking of pain au chocolat: fun fact, the Japanese word for bread, pan (パン) is a word they lifted from the Portuguese after the Portuguese went to Japan in the 16th century. Pan means bread in Spanish, in Portuguese it’s Pão (I guess the Japanese had a hard time with the tilde and went with the Spanish version instead) and it’s barely a step away from the French word Pain and the Italian Pane.

Meanwhile, in Germany, we say Brot because the Romance languages are insane and we want nothing to do with them. Hurray for the Germanics! In Dutch, it’s brood, in Danish it’s brød, in Swedish it’s bröd, Norwegian? Brød (you’d think it’d be the Swedes to copy the Danes since they’re literally right next to each other but...nope). Icelandic? Brauð. English = bread! And in Afrikaans, Dutch’s weird, long-distance cousin? Brood. Yiddish? ברויט (broyt). Even the Welsh went with “bara” for bread. 

And in Finland, bread is called leipä, because Finnish is it’s own special brand of insanity. Same with Hungarian (kenyér = bread).

Damn, I’m kind of hungry. Maybe I should go and get some bread. Mmm. Gluten.

Anyway, my point being before I got off onto a bread tangent, the word “coca” instead of “cacao” or “chocolat” should’ve been a pretty big clue that what Nathalie and her friends were enjoying was NOT chocolate wine. Also the fact that they started to get really high while drinking it should’ve been a tip-off. 

Also, there’s a scene in season 1 of The Terror where the Goodest Sir, Harry D.S. Goodsir, offers the increasingly frantic Mr. Collins wine of coca as a treatment for his lead-poisoning-and-ice-diving-vision-induced crazies. Wine of coca is mostly, wait for it: 

How that would’ve helped a man going absolutely insane, I have no idea. I mean, wouldn’t cocaine wine make him more agitated? I don’t know, don’t ask me how 19th century medicine worked. Frankly, it’s a miracle anyone lived past the age of thirty back in those days. 

This whole tangent was an excuse for me to include some glorious gifs of the world’s Goodest Sir and King of all the Sideburns, Goodsir:

Watch season 1 of The Terror. Seriously, it’s amazing. How have you not watched it yet? Also, watch season 2 while you’re at it, both will hit you right in the feels but in different ways.

Anyway - the whole time I was reading Sensational, I was laboring under the delusion that this series would be a trilogy - I kept looking everywhere for the setup for book three, and finished the book fully believing that there would be another book.

Then I learned that this series was to be a duology. Not a trilogy. And that Sensational was to be the end of the story. Honestly? I was disappointed. I kind of wish I had looked that up going in, rather than blithely assuming that all YA serieses end up trilogies (or quartets. Or just, you know, never end at all). 

So while this book does give our characters a nice ending, there are still so many unanswered questions that could very well be answered by a third book. We never did find out what exactly caused Nathalie two-days worth of memory loss that made up the cliffhanger at the end of the first book. Like, what about all the other people who were affected by Dr. Henard’s magical mystery blood transfusions? How many people out there who, like Nathalie, inherited powers from their parents who took part in the experiment? Acgh, there’s just so much out there that can’t be covered in two books! Bah. That and I just need more YA mysteries set in late 19th century Paris. More, I says!

RECOMMENDED FOR: Fans of YA Historical Fantasy Fiction, 19th century Paris, murder mysteries, and badass girl journalist protagonists.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone familiar with the term hemolysis, anyone thinking that this was going to be a three-book thing, Lillian and Beatrice Bellacourt.

RATING: 4/5

RELEASE DATE: February 11, 2020.

TERROR RATING:

KNICK RATING:

ANOTHER PERIOD RATING: 

PARIS RATING:

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR THIRD BOOK THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN: Makalu.

[kosmicdream]

Flight or Fight Drawing mode

for me, i think there’s always this restless feeling that comes when working on comics. That feeling that time is running out or not being utilized to its fullest degree. You are aware of how much more there is to go in your story and can calculate the progression of your journey, but only the present. As you keep going on your story, the circumstances change, and it is always this fluid process you cannot fully accommodate and plan for.

I know in the few years since I started drawing FFAK my expectation for myself and my work has changed tremendously. Its something i reflect on a lot, since i forget how not too long ago, I felt like i was somewhat incapable of producing a comic because of the way i enjoy to write and explore stories. I still think fundamentally, FFAK reflects that raw unedited version of my writing and creative skills in a unique way that I doubt will be replicated again (in the same manner) even as i explore and work on other stories. FFAK just carries this certain kind of momentum of forwards and backwards both at once. You stretch all over the place and peek through small doors to go in strange places. Growth is difficult to gauge because of the way time is handled in the story. Goal points seem endless and bleed together from my perspective. There’s always so much more to go and so much planned that when you make accomplishments they feel sort of like a bunch of tiny small steps in many different directions. And honestly, No one is more impatient than i when it comes to waiting to share this story than me. I am always biting my nails and wanting to get it out faster SOMEHOW even though I work on it constantly as it is. FFAK is no longer just.. a random comic idea i started on a whim that I felt i would only dip my toes in and never actually attempt making. and now it really has consumed my mind like a wildfire. it is also my fireplace and my home in my heart and my peace. I don’t even think I could ever fully be prepared for and handle such a thing but I am glad to have it in my life. But as the haze.. shock? of starting this project starts to fade i find myself fully committed and trying to evaluate the steps and process i take for this comic as a whole. I think its interesting how 2ish years of planning basically gives me enough time to know what sort of story I’m doing. But I am in no eager rush to finish it because my excitement for it only grows and feels more satisfying the more i write and plan. Part of me gets upset I don’t blast pages out the “same” way anymore, even though i appreciate the exploration of ‘putting more effort’ into my drawings. Instead of drawing thru 20 pages a night I’m polishing like, 2.. or 4 a work night. Its kind of annoying!! because I’m not really one for polish and editing (or maybe I just never believed myself capable of doing it in a way i liked? lol) but.. it just feels like the right thing to do right now. it feels almost impossible to ‘rewind’ myself or go back to like, thinking things in a different way than what i try to do now. by attempting more things visually it kind of makes some things easier too. im often pretty surprised like “hey alright that came out ok. i guess i can push myself a little bit more next time to make it look better!!” I think about my early eggshells pages a lot and how i labored over like.. 15 pages over an entire year and felt miserable and in the end, often over rendered + lost clarity and energy and now i just get what i was doing ‘wrong’ to make it not fun for myself. Like, even when i was offered advice at the time I wasnt so welcome to it nor did i understand it, its like I had to suffer a bit before I was able to understand what I needed to do with myself lol. The lesson feels much more impactful after discovering it for myself too on my own pace imo. SO i am thankful for how that turned out! Then i broke down my art to its most base level (earliest ffak pages) and i’ve just been rebuilding myself back up since then and now I’m attempting things I didn’t even think I’d be able to do -- or be interested in. (like color, for example, has never been something I was too interested including with my comics but like.. blammo here i am doing it anyway now.) anyway. its really cool, this art journey thing. i kinda wonder how long ill coast on this certain part of it before i like, end up doing an unexpected detour again. Maybe I won’t..? i dont know!! FFAK is so raw and alive it makes me happy i get to make it and do whatever i want in it. I always wanted to make a comic that I could contribute to on a day to day basis rather than something you just make so you can get it done asap and move onto the next thing. When ffak does eventually finish I wonder if it will be really hard on me. I look forward to its ending because its really neat but it is not a world I want to let go of so quickly. Even tho i have several other stories I’d like to do.. (and have started a couple already LMAO) I think about that expectation with ending stories a lot and completing projects. Most of my very favorite comics have yet to end despite going on for decades.. and when i think about that too, it almost feels very strange. Readers generally want closure to reflect on their experiences reading something so endings are that important ‘release’ from that fake world and  time you participated in it. But when i ask myself what I want to do for endings to my story, i try to contemplate  my favorite endings to stories ive read/watched/experienced to figure out what i want to do with my own. Since.. its my story and my satisfaction with it is really going to be reflective of what I like. Everyone interpretes ‘good’ endings differently and like, clings into diff parts of what makes a satisfying story so its important to isolate what elements you find are important to try to replicate that in your own work. But like.. its hard to see what kind of ending you’re going to make before you make it???? And making the story is a difficult thing to let go of vrs just being funneled all the stuff. Maybe my ‘ffak reader’ half of me will be satisfied but will my ‘ffak creator’ side be happy? Will i feel fufilled on both parts? I mean an experience is going to just be an experience.. i cannot manufacture or control it to be anything than what it will be so to think about it too much is probably only going to go in circles. It certainly has changed me a lot as a person and an artist. WHich is disorienting b/c im also introducing my work to everyone while not also knowing myself completely. (not that is ever fully achievable but, its been something i get forced to confront a lot.) When I work on this project I fight so many demons of my own life, chase ghosts of my heros that i feel are so beyond my ability, and stare down the illusion of my own reflection of what kind of artist i want to be every time i draw a new page.. I’m never going to really be that reflection, and my heros will always be my heros and they’ll always do things I cannot, but I wonder what kind of creator I look like from the outside?? from a person who isnt me. I cannot experience myself as a ‘reader’ but I try to pretend I am seeing myself as one. And the most exciting thing about myself, from that outside perspective, is that I am not sure what I will attempt next or what strange journey i will write about. I am happy that despite every difficult thing I have been through, I am still excited and having fun with my art like I have only just first attempted to draw. Soon FFAK will be three years old and (likely) 4000 pages by then.. I still havent gotten to write and draw out things I planned the very first day, but now I know roughly how the story will end (without actually getting to draw it yet, of course.) And i’m just anticipating the future while knowing  that...i have no idea what it will bring!!! O_O (one thing is for certain i hope to fuck my house doesnt burn down again because, istg, that fucking SUCKED!!!!!!!!) Wooh.. well. i just felt like sharing some thoughts since i just got done re-reading some of ffak and feel a bit overwhelmed with emotion.. Thank you all for sticking around and experiencing this comic with me..! :’3 -kosmic

[theloniuswomb-blog]

Spiderman: Homecoming Can Suck My Fucking Dick.

Holy Shit. Where do I even start with this film? I wanted to like it a lot. I was intrigued by the casting of Tom Holland as Spider Man. He came off well in the Marvel Civil War movie, I remember thinking to myself; “Hey! His part was funny! Just the right amount of awkward, slash, comical that I instantly recognize as Spider Man. Awesome!” Now, I usually have doubts about any superhero adaption since the hit to miss ratio is all over the place, but this I thought could work quite nicely.  I saw the trailer, and like the little whore that I am, it got me wet. Wet hot with sexual anticipation. The CGI looked impressive. The action sequences looked crisp and innovative, the tone of the shots were dark and brooding. I expected drama, emotion and a plot-line that, although may not be the most original, could perhaps come through with some good acting and a tight script; with some inspired direction thrown in for good measure. This was the package I was creating for myself in my brain. My golden goose's egg.  And, much like Verruca Salt, I made a big song and dance about it to everyone, throwing glitter and sheets of colored plastic all over the room. But also like Verruca Salt, I also got hit with the trap door. A trap door that golden eggs get shat down, and so do we, right along with em; to burn for all eternity while Gene Wilder laughs at our scorched bodies.  First off, let's start with the tone of the movie. It doesn't have one. It has no idea what kind of movie it wants to be. It's got this light hearted vibe when Spidey is around that feels completely alien to the murky goings on of the Vulture. You get scenes where Peter Parker is walking through the school, drooling over hot girls in the most forced and gormless way. (SPOILER: Most of the film is of Tom Holland looking gormless at everyone around him.) Juxtaposed with Michael Keaton straight up killing people in the most nonchalant way possible. It's kind of infuriating, it was like there were two movies going on in tandem and neither of them had any particular relevance to the other. I must say, Michael Keaton gave a fairly decent performance, but he could have been used so much better. I saw Birdman recently (something I couldn't ignore as a massive, quite probably intended irony of Keaton's career) and I was impressed. I had problems with that film too (But I'll leave that for another review) but overall the acting was really fucking solid. Like I say, I was impressed. But obviously, good acting doesn't matter anymore for films like this. I honestly thought the newer incarnations of Batman would have taught a lesson to the makers of these kinds of movies. But obviously not.  Let's get to Peter. Peter is the most insufferable character ever. He's meant to be very smart, yet doesn't use his brain once. Not only does he not use his brain to problem solve, but he doesn't use it for introspection at all. The amount of times he puts other people's lives at risk in this movie is astounding. If this feature of the plot was used as a tool to move Peter's character forward as he matures into a new and exciting world, I can forgive this whole problem. In fact, that's kind of what I wanted to see. Progression. But it never comes. Spider Man sees bad guys robbing the bank. He attacks, not even stopping when he realizes they have incredibly powerful weapons. He carries on and ends up blowing up a deli over the street of a man that earlier in the movie is established, that he knows. Not once does he show any remorse for this horrible incident. He ruined a man's career, livelihood, and potentially could have killed him if he happened to live above the shop.

In another instance, Parker sees bad guys driving; he attacks them on the highway where loads of other people could die from all the high tech weapons going off at high speeds. He knew the types of weapons they had but did it anyway. He could have followed them to their destination, found out where the base was, who was involved in the organization and work out a plan. He could even find out the buyers if he cased them for a few weeks. But this thought never crosses Peters mind. It's just attack all problems in the face until they die. I mean fuck, this is a whiz kid of physics and science, some of the most logical shit ever. Yet he can't even think up a simple fucking plan to take on his enemies? Honestly, it's so hard to relate to Peter in this movie. You'd have to be some kind of autistic sociopath in order to find him tolerable. After a while Tony Stark comes along. Fuck me, Robert Downey Jr. couldn't give one flying fuck about this movie. And it showed like hell. His whole character in the film was just him playing himself not caring in various tropical places. I honestly believe Tony Stark represented how little of a fuck the writers and director cared about this film. He was a direct mouthpiece for the writers of the movie to say “fuck you” to the audience. Honestly, every time Parker fucked up, Tony would say “Oi, Parker, stop fuckin around!” but never explains why. He never says “Hey, you could have killed people back there! Are you insane?” instead he half asses his reasons and when Parker questions him on it he just says “because I said so.” Like fuck, you'd think after the first time Spidey fucks up, that's the time to sit down and talk. Jesus Christ should you even wait for a first-time-fuck-up in this scenario? Tony Stark, one of the smartest men alive, waits for Spidey to fuck up three times, THREE TIMES, with the third seeing spider man nearly sinking a whole ship of people due to his negligence. Hundreds would have died. It's incredible.

So, Iron Man finally gives some punishment after this. He takes away Parkers new shiny Stark Spidey Suit, to which Parker says “I'm nothing without that suit!” to which Stark replies; “if you're nothing without this suit, you don't deserve it.” or something to that effect. Instead of Peter having a moment of clarity and saying “fuck, people nearly died, I nearly died. Maybe I need to switch up my game and show Iron Man I'm more mature than this. Show I can use some strategy and grow into this role I'm destined to have and finally use my genius brain to devise a plan.” Nope. That's wishful thinking partner and you can get shot around here for that kinda talk.  Instead what we get is Parker learning nothing, and him creating some kind of device that allows him to go out and fuck up even faster and directly than before. They use some kind of tracker map to find the Vulture, who is breaking into an airplane full of Stark weapons. An Iron Suit included. Now, what the actual fuck? I don't know if the Vulture knows this, but Iron Man can remotely control his suits. If one were stolen, you can bet your bottom dollar he'd activate it and cane your operation into next week. But the Vulture MUST have known that, since he remotely controlled his own mechanical wings to try and kill Parker earlier in the movie. So what in the actual fuck is this man doing? He's inviting Iron Man into his lair. Willingly. It's the most stupid thing ever. It also gives so little motivation for Parker to do anything about the situation. Once he realizes it's Stark tech, he should have left. Because Parker also knows Iron Man remotely controls his suits, there's a whole scene that points this out near the beginning of the film for fuck's sake. The Vulture would have been a goner immediately upon the knowledge of the hijacking. It's easily the most retarded part of the film.   So Spidey decides to go all-in despite knowing Iron Man could easily kill this guy remotely and nearly ends up causing this plane to crash all over the city, no doubt killing thousands of people. In fact, an engine falls out while they're fighting on the plane's wings. Parker shows no regard for that at all. No remorse for the people that no doubt were killed by the falling debris. Fortunately, Spidey manages to use his webs to bend the out-of-control plane wing and steer them to safety. (Well, he crashes the plane into a sandbank.) He takes down the Vulture and leaves him tangled at the scene old school Spidey style, with a note to boot. Wow. How amazing. And he did it all without his shiny suit! He overcame so many obstacles and shortcomings, we really went on a journey there with old Petey boy there. Oh wait, that was the film I was daydreaming about while I was being shat on by this movie. Upon Stark learning of this situation, he instantly has Spider Man brought to the new headquarters of the Avengers, where he was about to announce Spider Man as a new, key member, along with an even better shiny suit. Like, what? Seriously? This kid needs a dressing down, not a new three piece. But it doesn't come. All we get is Parker declining the offer, you get a mild sense that he realizes that he's in over his head, and maybe this is all a bit much for him. But it's not really expressed very well. It all feels so odd and disjointed. I mean here we have Iron Man, the guy who cared about people dying from collateral damage in Civil War; who hunted down the Winter Soldier because he was a danger to the public, (who also for some reason killed Tony's parents,) caused a rift with the current most powerful heroes and his teammates, as he also wanted them to register their identities to an official data base to help reign them in and hold them accountable. Yet for some reason Tony couldn't give the time of day to say “Hey kid, tone it down you're getting crazy out there.”  I'll stop ragging on the film soon, but before I do, I want to mention the love interest. This was one of the most wooden romances I've ever seen. No chemistry. She was called Lizzy. It turns out Mary Jane is the other sarcastic girl who makes the closest things to jokes in the movie. Which I liked, but they didn't do nearly enough with. Again, there was an opportunity for him to grow with this character, have his attention turned to MJ, have him realize this Lizzy girl was a bit vacuous and boring, while this other girl was interesting and fun. But again it didn't happen. Instead, Lizzy moves away because of plot reasons that I won't give away, and MJ is merely hinted at as the new romance for the next film. Which is fucking boring. Honestly, it's so dull. I hated all the romance scenes. I wanted to like them, I mean shit, the girl was so hot. They even get an ass shot of her in her bikini. I was like “wow these are meant to be 15-year-old kids, what are they thinking? Isn’t this inappropriate for a kids movie?” (They are not 15-year-old kids, just to clarify. But for the plot, they were). They could have used this screen time to have Peter reflecting on his Uncle Ben, or bonding with his Aunty. Who, in my opinion, should have been told about the Spider Man thing. I think her knowing earlier in the film would have been a good dynamic to use. He should have told her right away after his first fuck up. I know it might deviate from traditional Spider Man lore, but as a film, it would've been a much more interesting watch. Aunt May is such a central figure to the Spider Man universe, as is the Uncle Ben storyline, but neither are given any sort of focus. Overall this film is garbage. In true Warski style, it was Garbage. Full on trash. I hated Guardians of the Galaxy less, and that's saying something. That is really saying something. Because that movie was awful. For Spider Man I have to say: the overall plot was good, but there were so many missed opportunities that it became more like a midlife crisis by the end. The choices to make for this story seemed so obvious, it was almost like they were purposefully not taking the logical steps in the narrative in order to make this movie as painful as possible. (Because the razor wire they'd jammed way up in your ass, to the tune of £13.50 for 3D, just wasn't quite painful enough.) Fuck this movie, nobody should see it, I hope it fucking bombs in the box office. Which it won't because, like the little whores that we are, we're all just gonna fan-boy for Spidey like we always do. I honestly regret spending money on this. Don't even buy the DVD, it's not worth it.

Before I go I need to mention something else; humor. Peter was not funny. He had moments of fun, sure. But he was not funny. Peter Parker is witty. He is known for wit, not fun. Again, this could have been used as a plot device to show his coping mechanism for dealing with such raw shit all the time. He exudes wit and comedy in the face of danger, then behind closed doors doubts himself. Like fuck, is a 15-16 year old really meant to be doing this shit? Getting involved in weapon trafficking and the criminal world after his Uncle Ben being shot and killed? As an aside, thank god they didn't make us re-live Uncle Ben's death. I was glad they kept that as a past event that we didn't need to see. One of the few good touches of the film. You could say it was like wiping just a bit of shit off your arse with your finger. There's not quite as much shit there anymore, but now it's on your finger, so. There you go.  So, what's my ultra biased and not subjective at all, star rating for this film? 1.5 out of 5. Some action was good, the 3D sucked, the acting sucked, the writing sucked, the CGI was good, Michael Keaton was good, everyone else didn't give a shit and ultimately it showed. Don't see this film. Boycott it harder than Isreal.

[lavalampelfchild]

Fics/Stories I’m working on

I was tagged for this by @celeritassagittae, and honestly, there are quite a lot of fics I’ve made kinda-sorta progress on, but I’ve limited myself to certain ones until I update (you know which ones, @celeritassagittae).  There’s also one I was trying to finish for the DA remix event that @trulycertain and @aphreal42 started.  So here are some of my WIPs: 

To Answer the Call - This is the main one I’m working on right now, because dang it, that 1st chapter has been sitting by itself for too long.  So here’s an excerpt: 

Duncan’s mouth thinned and he exhaled calmly before continuing, “We leave at sunup tomorrow. The journey to Ostagar will be four days.”  He paused then and looked around at all of them, careful not to let his gaze linger on Velyn.  “We can’t afford to waste time.  After tonight, there will be minimum stops, to rest only when we absolutely need it.”

He didn’t relish what these final four days would do to his recruits, but there was no avoiding it.

Duncan placed his pack on the ground and cast a glance toward the town.  “I need to ascertain the state of Ostagar and the king.  I’ll return later.  Feel free to explore the town at your leisure.  I recommend the tavern for—”

“Better food than what’s in our packs,” Rondall called with a smirk.  Duncan shot him a quelling look.  

“That’s certainly one way to put it,” he acknowledged. “However, I would advise caution.”  He surveyed his recruits with an odd combination of amused anticipation and edged wariness.  Two elves, one mage, two dwarves, and two humans.  What a group they would make.  Hopefully not one that draws unnecessary attention to itself.

“And…”  Duncan turned his eyes to Velyn.  “Velyn, I suggest you remain at the camp and rest.  Moving about excessively will only make you weaker at this point, and propel you faster to your demise.”

Harsh, perhaps, and blunt, but Duncan had never been one to mince his words, and Velyn so far had not been receptive to anything but the most direct of commands and orders.  

Around him, the camp tensed, the air growing thick.  Silence greeted Duncan’s suggestion, and the group’s collective gaze came to rest upon him and Velyn.

Velyn narrowed his eyes and sneered at Duncan, saying nothing yet still managing to leave Duncan with the impression that he was being defied.

Well, this could turn out one of several ways.

Growing Pains and a Mabari, Part 2 - This I have been agonizing over solely because I want to make sure I write three-year-old Alistair well.  Tentatively, here is some of what I have:

“Uncle Teagan!”  

The voice, familiar and beloved, had Teagan straightening immediately, his face alight as he turned to greet the newcomer.  

There, in the entrance to the stable, stood little Alistair, eyes wide and round, mouth open in excited shock, body quivering as he waited to be called over to Teagan.  Teagan knelt down and held out his arms.

“Well, are you going to come here and give me a hug, or just stand there?” he asked with a smile and wink. Alistair giggled and shot over to Teagan as fast as his legs could carry him.  Teagan caught him up easily and scooped the boy into his arms, settling him snugly against his hip.  Alistair’s arms twined around Teagan’s neck in an awkward but heartfelt hug, and Teagan was helpless not to return it.  When Alistair pulled away, his smile seemed to take up half his face and his cheeks were flush with excitement.

Oh, he was a welcome sight.

“You,” Teagan said seriously, tapping a finger against Alistair’s nose. “Are getting bigger.” Alistair’s grin widened and he squirmed proudly in Teagan’s hold.  Tegan laughed.  “Why it seems like only yesterday that you were smaller than my head!”

Alistair laughed and shook his head.  “No!” he said, as though Teagan were the silliest human being in all of existence. “That’s wrong!”  

“It’s wrong?” Teagan parroted, pitching his voice higher to make Alistair laugh harder.  It worked, Alistair momentarily unable to quell his delighted giggles.  “Are you sure, Alistair?  Very sure?”

Alistair nodded vigorously.

“I was not small—I was always big!” he declared, holding his chin up with pride.  Teagan gave him a look of awe.

“Always?” he asked. Alistair nodded.  “You were always big?”  He gave Alistair a look of exaggerated suspicion.

“Yeah!” Alistair said, nodding again. “Always! ��And besides.” He paused to give Teagan an exaggerated sigh, as though educating Teagan were some great burden.  “I’s not possible to be that small.”

“Well, may the Maker preserve me, you’re right,” Teagan conceded, smacking his free hand to his forehead. “And you’re bigger now, then, aren’t you?”  Alistair nodded.  “How big are you?”  Alistair held up three fingers.  “Three? Three whole years?”  Alistair nodded again, and Teagan was momentarily worried that he was going to strain his neck with the force of it.  

“Yeah!” Alistair replied. “And we had a pie today!  And-and it was really good.”  He paused and his brow furrowed for a moment as he considered.  “Prob’ly the best pie ever.” Teagan chuckled and bounced Alistair.

Unnamed fic potentially for the remix event - This is basically just a self-indulgent oneshot of Alistair x Amell pre-relationship puppy love... Have an excerpt:

He was going to do it. He was.  Any second now, Alistair was going to get up, and go over there, and—

Alright. Definitely.  Right now.  Getting to his feet, that was a thing he could do…

“By the Maker, Alistair, I do not think I’ve ever seen a man in such agony over a single decision,” Zevran’s laughing voice cut into his thoughts.  Alistair immediately turned to glare at Zevran – why was he even drinking with him, anyway?  Zevran only smirked in response and tossed his head toward the other end of camp. Where Aja was.  Alistair almost followed the motion with his eyes but then remembered he was supposed to be glaring at Zevran.  

Because really, that was much easier than actually doing what he was most definitely going to do in a second.

“And who says I’m in agony?” he asked pointedly.  He raised his eyebrows and tried to give Zevran a condescending look.  “I’m just… considering all my options.”

“All options available to you for the next stage of your… wooing?”

Alistair blushed and made a face that he hoped was adequately unimpressed.  Zevran only winked.  

“Well, I think it is very sweet,” Leliana chimed in, leaning toward Alistair to give him a supportive pat on the arm. “It shows that you are truly concerned with how you present yourself to her.  A lady always appreciates that.”

“Ha!” Alistair crowed triumphantly at Zevran. “See?  I’m sweet.”  Zevran was unfazed.

“What you are is still sitting here,” he mumbled as he took another drink.  Alistair glared again and Leliana giggled.

Walk the Mile, Pay the Price - It’s on the list but I haven’t been able to get started on the chapter just yet as I’ve been focusing on my multi-Warden fic most recently.  I do have an outline for the chapter, though!

Well, that’s it for the moment.  I’ve got ideas for other fics, and there’s also a second part for the possessed!Alistair fic that I’ve been thinking about, but I haven’t gotten to starting that one yet, with the other ones I’m working on.  As for the tagging, I’m not sure who else will have already done this, so I’ll just go ahead and say if anyone hasn’t done this but wants to, consider yourself tagged!

[datingadviceonreddit]

Hey guys!I recently got out of a 2 year relationship and I almost immediately got back on tinder and all of the other apps.​Prior to my two year relationship I had absolutely NO luck at all on Tinder. I had a decent amount of matches from all of my time on it but I could never get dates and when I did I bombed completely.​Being fresh out of a relationship gave me a new perspective on dating which is why I want to share my experience.​MY APPROACH BACK THEN (FOR CONTEXT)​I would view online dating with a sense of scarcity. I put too much pressure on every interaction because I was lonely and I really wanted to make something work. I'd send too many messages, over too long of a period and things would eventually fizzle out. I never matched the girls pace or style of messaging, often responding much faster than she did etc. In a few instances I managed to get a date but the girls would never want to meet up again after that. I wasn't sure what I was doing wrong but now after my new experiences it all makes sense. I put WAY too much pressure on these interactions. I treated them too much like DATES, like the shit you see in the movies. I tried some of the less intense stuff I'd see pick up artists doing on YouTube, I'd try to initiate touch to build rapport but it all felt forced. It probably didn't help that I was nervous too... I'm sure they could pick up on it regardless of how hard I tired to hide it.​I eventually got into a relationship with someone I met through a friend. I chalk it up to luck.​MY APPROACH NOW​I got back on tinder pretty quick but the idea of dating someone new sickened me a little. I approached it with the idea of just wanting to make new friends (I didn't say this to the girls though). I approached it with a sense of abundance. If one girl doesn't work out, another one will.​I'd start by sending some of my matches a casual opener. Some would respond and we'd end up having a simple conversation about about our day or plans for the week etc. I'm not trying to get to know anyone deeply over tinder, it's boring in my opinion. The important thing here was to match the girls responsiveness and frequency of response. If she responds with one line after an hour, I'd do the same. That being said, if she responds pretty quickly, I still usually let it sit for a little while so I don't appear too eager.​After about 10 exchanges or so, I'd super casually throw out the question of whether they'd be down to meet up for a quick coffee in the following week. 6 of the 7 girls I tried this on said yes pretty much immediately. I think it's the idea of it being a casual "quick" meet up that makes it so appealing. At this point we exchange numbers and few more texts locking in the details. Between now and the date I make an effort to only text them if they text me first, and I won't usually continue the conversation if it isn't that interesting.​DAY OF THE DATE​IMPORTANT NOTE: I had to do public speaking for my job one time and I am an absolute nervous wreck so I got my doctor to prescribe me this drug called propranolol. I can't stress enough how amazing it is, especially for dates. It effectively gets rid of all side effects of being nervous (sweaty hands, tremors, shaky feeling, fast heart rate, dry mouth etc). It really lets you be in the moment, and truly allows you to be yourself. If you're like me I'd seriously considering getting this.​The intent of this date is to meet face to face and get a scope on the person in a short amount of time. I'm talking like 30 - 60 minutes max. Keep things casual, don't try to hug her or initiate any touch, don't try to be flirty. Just talk to her like she's your friend. After you've had a chance to get to know her a little, tell her that you have to be somewhere at X time, that it was nice meeting her and that you need to head out. Do not say anything at all that implies a future with the girl, and by that I mean making plans for the next date etc. She should leave the interaction not being sure of how you felt about it.​POST DATE​At this point she might be waiting for you to text her. Just don't. Give it a few days and then send her an innocuous message to spark conversation again. It's best if it can be about something you guys talked about during the first date... ie. "I tried that other coffee shop you mentioned, it's actually super dope."​At this point you guys may have another short conversation. Here's where you make plans for date 2. Ask her what she's up to next week. After her response you might say something like, "Cool, let's do something on Wednesday if you're free". If she agrees, good job! I'll usually leave it at that and then message her the day before the date with the details.​That being said, if you weren't feeling the first date you can just end thing's here. Be courteous and let her know that you enjoyed your time but didn't feel a spark etc.​DATE 2​It's essentially a rinse and repeat process with the main difference being the amount of time you spend with her. For date 2 I'd recommend 1.5 - 3 hours. Of course it all depends on how smoothly it's going. You should always be the one to end the date. Just like before, make an excuse for why you have to head out. Don't try to hug her or kiss her unless she's the one initiating it. If you've played it cool until now she'll likely be wondering why you're not trying to make a move, she'll be intrigued. Again, don't give her any idea of how the date went from your perspective.​Here's what a girl had to say about all of this:That’s a really good approach!! Allows the woman to feel safe and you guys can build a genuine connection. And honestly it’s way sexier when a guy doesn’t implicitly say he wants to hook up, it makes it almost a challenge to get in his pants. Could just be reverse psychology but it’s definitely effective (for me at least).​DATE 3​We're in a pattern now. She might be texting you more at this point but don't overdo it from your end. Using the same style as before set up date 3. I feel that the anticipation adds a lot so setting them up a week in advance can actually work to your benefit.​Date 3/4 is where things can get interesting. Go out for drinks if possible. Don't try to leave this date early. I usually go to this lounge that has these nice couches. We might start the night sitting across from each other but by the end of it we'll usually be sitting super close side by side on the couch. You're still not making a move at this point. Let her feel comfortable around you. Let things develop naturally. If this was just a platonic female friend of yours, what would the physical interaction look like? Just do that. Pretend you're a mirror and reflect her body language back at her.​The night will wrap up naturally. Have no expectations but pay attention to what she's saying and doing. If she's getting closer to you, reciprocate. If she says something that implies that she may want to keep hanging out, here's your chance to keep hanging out at one of your places. The crucial thing in all of these situations is to keep things ambiguous.​At the end of the night one girl said. "I'm surprisingly not even that tired yet (it was 2am)". I was like, "yeah neither am I, I wish places were still open this late". She straight up said "I think I have some drinks at my place, we could just hang out there?"​And the rest is history.​CONCLUSION​My 2 year relationship left me feeling numb. Fortunately dating in this state was the most eye opening thing. I didn't want anything physical, but I DID want someone to connect with emotionally. The biggest take away is to just be a friend first. Show her you truly care about her and who she is as a person. Play it cool and let her do most of the talking. Be aloof but caring and sincere. Let things progress naturally and don't rush it.​It helps a lot if you keep yourself busy with work, friends and other dates. It'll appear to her that you a high value man with many other priorities. It's sexy. Having multiple dates set up with various girls also helps by distributing the pressure of going on dates. It's the theory of not keeping all your eggs in one basket.Best case scenario; you find someone to love. Worst case; you make a great friend who you may end up having for life. Winning either way.​I'm not one to boost, but I want to give some credibility to what I'm sharing here; I've only been out of my relationship for 35 days but I've already built great relationships with 4 girls and have already slept with 3 of them. Going on two more first dates in the next few weeks. All just doing what I described above. I honestly don't recognize myself from who I used to be. It's a good feeling to feel like I understand dating for once. If anyone has questions I'm happy to answer them below or over PM.​​ via /r/dating_advice