#like. I have lots of failed samples before but this is supposed to be THE last one. and it's supposed to be EASY. but it failed over & over

[vingler-mirror]

[1d1195]

Most I

Read Most here | ~3.9k words

From me: I've been watching sad Instagram reels to feel something so I wanted to just write those feelings out.

Warnings: angsty af. Like you're gonna be sad in this part. It's only some fluff and a lot of love, but it's a lot of angst. Just like an absolute ton of it. Also you're supposed to envision Harry as a firefighter so you have to deal with that at the same time.

Summary: She was his soulmate when he didn’t believe in them. He was the love of her life–the one she planned to write about. But was soulmates going to be enough?

“Hi baby,” her giggle was infectious. The kind of laugh that sounded like music and felt like sunshine. He didn’t even need to see her to know there was a smile on her face. The very same smile that had been his favorite one to see since they were young. Only recently did it turn into the one that he loved so much. Well, at least he could admit how much he loved it openly. It made his own smile appear; just knowing when he turned around, he was going to see those pretty lips, her straight teeth (although when he envisioned it, he still remembered it before she had braces; teeth just slightly crooked at the cutest angle—but he would never tell her that). The word baby was for him. She was in his heart. So completely, so wholly. He loved the way the word baby sounded in her voice. How it left her smiling lips. He had dreamed about it for ages. Since he was old enough to name that she really was his crush.

But in the end, he didn’t even have to tell her he liked the name baby. It was just the one she chose.

Like she knew that’s what he wanted.

“Hey kitten,” he chuckled, smiling over his shoulder as she approached. She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. She nuzzled her face against his back. His shirt smelled so intoxicatingly good—like him. He was warm, perfect. He continued his conversation with Niall. Resting his hand on top of hers, settled on the front of his stomach, right above his belt. She stayed glued to him. Niall hardly paid any attention to her. Not in a mean way, of course; no, she was simply there because she was supposed to be. She was a permanent fixture—no, an extension of Harry’s body. When she wasn’t around, it was the first thing anyone asked. Where was she? Was she okay? She liked to be thought of as a package deal. Even her mom, for all her faults, always wondered where Harry was when he wasn’t there. It was like he was the oxygen in the air and when he wasn’t around it was hard for her to breathe.

She loved Harry. She was so in love with him, she thought you could take a sample of her blood and find love for him in the cells at a molecular level. Loved him beyond description. She didn’t think it was possible to love someone that much until she did. It was the stuff of dreams and romance novels. Every time he looked at her, she was overcome with the feeling like he never wanted to stop looking at her.

Harry truly was in love with her. Astronomically in love with her. He thought he would need to create a new unit of measurement just to explain how vast and deeply he loved her. But there wasn’t any justice for it. He simply loved her. Like his life depended on it. He loved her more than he could describe. More than anyone could ever really witness.

He encouraged all her dreams and ambitions throughout the years. When she wanted to be an astronaut he stayed up until three in the morning researching workout routines for them to practice in his backyard so he could help train her for a life on the space station. The week she wanted to be a baker was spent experimenting with flour and sugar. Failing miserably when they set the smoke alarm off so many times that his mum insisted that they take a break.

But it was her writing that he encouraged more than anything else.

He didn’t care what she chose to write. He read it all. Essays, articles, love stories, a grocery list turned into poetry when it came from her pen. He bought her notebooks upon notebooks for birthdays and Christmases. When she was feeling upset, he never brought her flowers; a new pen and notebook, that was all she needed.

People who didn’t know them well, said they were crazy. Falling in love at a young age like that. It wasn’t a good idea. Harry was going to leave for college a year before her and it seemed doomed before it started. But to her it didn’t matter. Because each of those notebooks that Harry never opened without her permission, never strayed from the page she let him read, all were inscribed on the inside front cover with a heart she had drawn and written their two names inside. Like she was going to write their very future into existence.

Yes, Harry loved her, but it was more than that. There wasn’t anyone sweeter. No one was prettier—inside or out. Her kindness was so touching he couldn’t believe someone like her was in love with him some days. It seemed unfair. If there was a perfect person, it was Harry. She was sure.

Harry didn’t believe in soulmates. But whatever she was and how she fit into his life, he was certain it was as close to a soulmate as he would ever get.

So finally, when Harry was finally exhausted from waiting, the day before his last year of school started—before he would be going off and applying to universities, he needed her to know. “You know I’m in love with you, right?” He asked, point-blank.

She smiled.

That gorgeous, perfect smile that melted him right to his core.

“Yes,” she whispered, and she opened one of the notebooks that were stacked beside her bed, all the ones from over the years that she had hidden exactly what she wanted on the inside front cover. “I know.”

Harry saw the hearts, their names.

She was his soulmate. Whether he liked it or not.

So, when they held hands in the school hallways, went to astronomy class together, and sat so close to one another at lunch and in study hall, no one really paid any mind to them. It seemed like most everyone already thought they were a couple, so their adorableness didn’t change how anyone perceived one another. No one noticed how in love Harry was with her because it seemed like nothing had changed at all.

No one cared that she loved Harry with every piece of her heart. Every part of her mind and soul because it seemed like she always had.

Well. 

Almost everyone.

*

Their love wasn’t without fault. Harry worried about the future, if she would grow tired of him because he wanted nothing more than to live in this town of theirs, the place where he met the love of his life and take care of it in thanks for bringing her to him.

“I can write from anywhere, Harry,” she reminded him. “Actually, I would go nowhere to be with you,” she smiled. It was corny. A poem she would probably jot down later before she fell asleep.

“Y’would go nowhere,” he repeated. That dimpled smile of his made her heartbeat twice as fast. His hands slid around her waist. It nearly made her shiver even though it wasn’t the first time he touched her, and it wouldn’t be the last.

She nodded; her hands linked behind his neck. His forehead pressed to hers and he brushed the tip of his nose against hers. His mouth felt like a magnet, and he was going to draw her in whether she wanted to be drawn in or not (but she did—oh, did she want). “Nowhere with you seems like heaven.”

“When y’write your first poetry book, are y’gonna dedicate it to me?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Yeah? Y’really gonna dedicate it t’nobody?”

“You’re not a nobody,” she rolled her eyes.

“M’not going anywhere. M’jus’ a nobody from nowhere.”

“Harry,” she giggled. “You’re not a nobody... this isn’t nowhere. You’re... everywhere. And you’ll always be my somebody,” she promised. 

Her lips were touching his. Not quite kissing, but as she nodded, they brushed in a half-kiss that she didn’t have enough words to adequately describe the feeling and how it would put any full kiss written by any other author to shame. “Think I want t’have your body all t’myself,” he pulled her closer, somehow. His body was so warm and when he smiled, his mouth curved upwards made her lips follow his. She couldn’t take it a moment longer. She sank into the kiss, feeling like the oxygen was almost too pure for her. Leaving her breathless but wanting more of it all the same.

He was her first kiss, her first poem, her first love, and her first everything. There wasn’t an inch of skin that hadn’t been touched by him. So really, the poems, the stories, the writing came naturally. Harry was her muse. There was nothing else to do but write.

*

But her own insecurities in her writing abilities and her appearance made her nervous that she would hold Harry back. 

Harry wanted to be a firefighter for their sweet little town; and she wasn’t oblivious, he had the body for it. She joked with him that he was going to sell thousands of dollars’ worth of calendars when the time came. “Are y’going t’be the one buying thousands of dollars’ worth of calendars?” He chuckled.

“Obviously,” she rolled her eyes. He kissed every inch of her face until she giggled more and more.

“Kitten?” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“M’gonna buy thousands of dollars’ worth of y’books.”

“With my calendar money?”

He tickled her until she squealed.

Harry was beautiful. More beautiful than she felt on most days, and it pained her sometimes to look in the mirror. But it always seemed like Harry knew when those days hit her hardest. “Do y’know you are the most beautiful person I know?” He whispered to her, as if it were a secret. But he would have shouted it from the rooftops. He showed all their friends the pictures he had taken of her and put them in their group chat and reminded them to tell her how pretty she looked. It made her giggle and shy from the attention. He would brush his fingers along her cheek, “So, so pretty,” he reminded her. “Should be illegal t’look at you for this long. Hogging all your beauty t’myself.”

But they always reassured one another that this was it. She was his soulmate—even when he didn’t believe in them. He was the love of her life—the one she planned to write about until she couldn’t physically write anymore.

It helped that people like Eleanor, Louis, Niall, Sarah, and Mitch, all assured her too that no one loved anyone as much as Harry loved her. Everyone loved them together. It wasn’t close to the amount they loved each other, but it was a good amount—one that suggested everyone knew they were meant for each other.

Almost everyone.

*

Lauren was the same year as she was. She was popular, smart, insanely beautiful. In another dimension, she was sure Harry was meant to be with Lauren. But they were a good pair. Lauren was kind and almost always worked with her on school projects. Arguably one of her closest friends outside her main group of friends she shared with Harry.

When they were out and about, Harry watched out for the girls in the group nearly as much as he watched out for the girl that made his heart stutter. He kept spare hair ties around his wrist for when drinking at parties got to be too much and he worried their hair would fall into the toilet. “Harry, can you come get Lo and I?” She asked once Harry picked up at the other end. It was Harry’s least favorite kind of call. The kind he knew Lauren had dragged her to a party that was too much. It made his heartbeat faster, worried beyond belief until he saw that sweet smile holding her friend’s hair back as she threw up in the bushes. “Can you help me get her into bed?” Of course he would. He would do anything she asked.

Harry noticed the way Lauren’s grip tightened around his neck as he held her and carefully placed her into bed. Out of the kindness of his heart, he ignored it. For Lauren’s sake, for his sake, and of course the sake of the pretty girl whose concern for her friend grew as she gathered items needed to cure a hangover. 

*

Lauren was in love with Harry. Had been for years. But it couldn’t even come close to her and her love for Harry. Not in any way, shape, or form. Lauren adored her friend, because how could she not? She was too sweet for words. But there was a part of her, a gnawing, growing part of her that wanted her friend out of the picture. She told herself all she needed was a chance, but it didn’t seem doable. They were inseparable. There was no way she could tear them apart. It was impossible.

Or was it?

*

“Harry?” Lauren asked. She was smiling at her phone again. The way she always did when Harry texted her. During the week, it was a little hard to see one another—even though Harry was commuting to the local university just a half hour drive away and they were still in town. So, Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays were meant for dates and kisses and being so obsessed with one another, it would probably make anyone want to throw up.

Especially if they were jealous.

“Yeah, he’s out early. Wanted to know if we needed anything for our study session.”

Lauren felt a crack in her plan. They were really too sweet. Both of them.

“Do you ever… worry about Harry?” Lauren asked. 

She frowned. “Yeah, like every day.”

“No,” Lauren felt a stab of hatred for herself as she pressed. Of course, her friend would say something sickeningly kind like that. Of course, she worried about Harry. “No like… him at university.”

“What do you mean?” She asked innocently. The innocence in her voice was sincere. Genuinely asking her friend what she meant. Worry coated her face. Was there something she missed? Should she have been worrying about Harry more?

“Uh… just… forget it,” Lauren shook her head. “It’s stupid.”

That was going to be the end of it. If it was, maybe Harry would have fared better. Maybe it wouldn’t have led to this horrible moment. Left wondering and aching and wishing.

But she was nothing if not the best and most fantastic friend of all.

“Lo, are you sure? You seem… nervous.”

So, she continued. Planted the tiny seed of doubt. “It’s just… Harry’s been with you his whole life and he’s made it well known he won’t be leaving. So, do you ever feel like you should… let him be free to experience more? I don’t know… I just… I think I would worry if it were me.”

That was all it took.

The self-doubt was so easy. It made so much sense coming from her mouth. Harry did deserve more. She thought that on a regular normal day.

Staying close to home wasn’t going to make Harry’s life any richer. He wasn’t staying in a dorm. He wasn’t going to be studying abroad or anything like that. A degree in psychology to help as much as he humanly could. Training to be a firefighter the moment he finished his degree. He would love his life and living here. 

But what if he deserved more?

*

Harry’s house was like her second home. She rarely knocked—only if she was unsure if anyone was home. If the car was in the driveway, she made her way in.

Except today. Because today, Anne’s porch didn’t feel like home. The steps that made her trip and fall on Halloween when Harry tended to her like he planned on being a doctor. It solidified   the picture that he would be a fireman, an amazing one at that. But he would have been great at anything he set his mind to. The flower garden where she and Harry found a bird’s nest after a bad storm. The study sessions and poems that she scribbled on the porch where Anne would bring them lemonade and cookies.

It was one of her favorite places on earth.

But it wasn’t today.

She knocked.

Harry pulled the door out of the way. “Hey baby,” he pecked her cheek, oblivious to everything she felt and how she sounded. He was in his own happy world. Nothing was wrong. He wasn’t told that she was less when Harry needed more. He didn’t notice she knocked. That she hadn’t toed over the threshold. “How was school and work? Are y’tired?”

“Harry,” she whispered.

“I was thinking we could order in and watch a movie.”

It’s not fair.

“Harry,” she repeated.

“I think pizza—oh we had pizza two days ago. Maybe Chinese?”

It’s. Not. Fair.

“Harry.”

Finally, he noticed she hadn’t moved much beyond the doorway while he was rushing about. He turned to her finally. Noting her crestfallen face, the way her eyes were bloodshot, and she refused to look him in the eye.

“Hey, kitten,” he frowned and moved toward her. “S’matter, love?” He asked. “Did y’have a bad day? See a sad video?”

It pained her to no end that he knew her so well that a sad video could have been the culprit for her sadness on a normal day. But this wasn’t a normal day. This was the day she was going to break her own heart.

“I uh…” she swiped at her eye.

“Kitten, baby,” he cooed and reached for her arm gently, but she pulled away. “Hey, what—”

“I think I’m gonna…” her throat hurt. Like the words were burning her esophagus like they weren’t supposed to come out. “I want to go away,” she whispered. That was at least in part true. She did want to go away. Far, far away so she wouldn’t feel the hurt like she was in that moment. “For school.”

There was a pang of frustration that went through him. Not because he was mad at her. No, he was going to miss her, that was it. But her success, her happiness, all of it was more important than a few hundred miles. Or even thousands. Harry sighed, wiped a hand over his face, and nodded. It would be hard. Long distance would be really hard. “Alright, yeah. Course, baby. Whatever’s best for y’education.”

She shook her head trying to talk herself out of saying it. Or maybe into saying it. It seemed so wrong. So awful. It wasn’t worth it. All this hurt. She hadn’t even started really. She could stop right then. But she looked at him. Looked at his kind, worried face. The way he looked at her when she had a stomachache or a headache. When she smacked her head on the corner of a table she was cleaning under or when she fell off her bike when she was young. “It’s… it’s really far away, Harry,” she reminded him. Maybe she wouldn’t have to say it. Wouldn’t have to do the hard part. He would just know, he would agree.

“Yeah… yeah, it is. But s’okay,” it sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Just a minor hiccup. “I’ll come t’you every weekend. And there will be holidays. M’sure your mum will want y’home and—”

His poor heart. He’s got no idea I’m about to ruin everything.

“Harry,” she swallowed. “It’s… it’s too far,” it wasn’t even a whisper.

Harry frowning was her least favorite thing. It made it all so much harder. “Too far for what, kitten?” He asked almost rhetorically.

Her inhale of breath was shaky. Like it was hurting her to breathe. Everything hurt. Every inch of her body. Like she had been hit by a car or had fallen from a tree. It wasn’t fair. Harry was oxygen. He always had been for as long as she had known him. Now it was hurting her to be in the same room as him. “For us,” she croaked.

It felt like the whole world had shifted. Flipped on its axis. He remembered hearing about it in their astronomy class. She was sitting right beside him. He wanted to ask her if she remembered because it wasn’t supposed to be like that. It was supposed to happen gradually, in hundreds of thousands of years. No one was supposed to notice. But Harry did. He noticed immediately.

He scoffed and looked at her like she was insane. Like it was a mean joke. She wasn’t mean so where had this come from? The tears were a nice touch. Realistic even. It felt terrible to look at her in such a way, but surely it was only the natural reaction when someone he loved just caused the magnetic field to flip the entire globe. “Baby, what are y’saying?” He asked. It didn’t really make sense and so his only option was to question her. She covered her mouth releasing a sob that he hadn’t ever heard come from her mouth. Not when her childhood dog died. Not when her mom got in a scary car accident and started losing her mind just enough to make her anxious and worried. Not when she got a terrible grade on her math test or hurt her ankle in soccer. There wasn’t a moment he could compare it to. There was no grief she had ever felt that elicited such a sound. Harry reached for her again, instinctively, his hand touching her upper arm. She flinched. Like it stung.

Like it hurt.

In hindsight, it was the last time he touched her, and she flinched away.

“Baby,” his throat felt tight. Nothing in his brain was connecting—the pattern wasn’t something he had encountered before. She didn’t flinch at his touch. The words didn’t make sense. Not from her mouth. What did any of that mean? “Kitten…”

“I’m sorry Harry. It’s too much. We’re too young and…” she took a heaving breath. One that shook her whole body. The only thing Harry could think about was holding her. It didn’t matter that his heart was splintering into pieces. She was in pain, and he wanted to cure it and he wanted to hold her to do it. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so sorry,” she left the doorway without another word. Not a single touch, nor kiss. When was the last time he kissed her? Oh, he was so lucky his class finished early, and it was the night before. A goodnight kiss when everything was happy and wonderful. He had an early day. So, he told her he loved her and went to bed. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Like the world had tipped and opened a blackhole to this terrible dimension.

“Harry?” Anne asked, coming from the kitchen. He was staring at the door. Where the love of his life had previously stood. Harry was only 19, but he was never surer of how she fit in his life. “Are you alright?”

“No, not at all,” he croaked, and the tears flooded his vision and down his face. There was nothing else to be said.

--

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[bonnibelleangelica]

Writing Things I Learnt the Hard Way #19

~Feedback Addition~

Not to brag, but I have a 90% return rate on my test readers. Almost everyone finishes the excerpt gave them and comes back with helpful feedback asking for more. I’m telling you this so you trust everything I’m about to say.

Here are the rooky mistakes I will never make again:

Sound confident. Stop apologising for forcing people to read your book, you sound like you already think it's not worth reading. Reading your work shouldn’t feel like a sacrifice, it should feel like an opportunity. (But don’t be too cocky. Gush instead.)

Best foot forward. No one wants to read the sloppy first draft that you’ve already admitted is full of mistakes and plotholes and half of it is probably going to get cut. Don’t waste people’s time.

Reading your entire book is a huge commitment, especially if you’re making it sound bad. Give 10 chapters at a time so people can have a taste before they commit to more. They’ll also be able to give more specific feedback and actually remember what happened.

10 Chapters. Not one page, not one chapter. Trust me, the harshest feedback I got was from the person I only gave one chapter to. When people have small sample sizes, they get nitpicky and impatient. They ask why everything didn’t get explained immediately and they’ll assume nothing makes sense. No one who has read my first 10 chapters has ever complained about the things that reader complained about because they got to see why I held back or why that one thing struck out so much.

ASK QUESTIONS. Do not DO NOT say “what did you think?” Normal people don’t analyse things, they dont know what to look out for and they don’t know how harsh to be. A lot of unguided readers will assume you want them to play editor and they’ll find typos and say something vague about pacing. NO! You want audience feedback. So think about what you’d like them to look out for, send them the questions with the 10 Chapters and you’ll get much more helpful replies.

Adding on to that, the questions give the reader direct permission to be harsh. “Was anything confusing?” Well, I wasn’t gonna say anything but...

How to do it properly:

Alpha readers are people that give you feedback before the book is done to see if you’re going in the right direction. This still needs to be edited and polished, but the rest of the book can be in the oven. Though I’d suggest having at least a vague idea of the over all story before you send it out. I sent my first 10 out when I reached chapter 20.

Beta readers are for when everything is done. Remember, you still don't give them the full manuscript–10 chapters at a time only, and make sure they know to be harsh and that they can drop out whenever they’d like. People who drop out are crucial for understanding where your book will fail to hold readers.

Remember, a harsh email is better than 100 bad reviews on Goodreads. This is your chance to cover your ass and patch holes.

Give some questions upfront so they know what to look out for and tailor them to each section. “Please note how often you cry in chapters 10-20.”

Then you give them new questions once they’re done and this pop quiz should be a surprise so they can’t study for it. “What is the Great Uprising? Where does magic come from? How does the class system work?” This isn’t supposed to test them (make that clear). It’s a reflection on you if readers have no idea how anything works. Sometimes, hearing someone’s interpretation of your work will highlight gaps or even give you ideas!

Question Ideas:

What did you like and why?

What didn’t you like and why?

Please note anytime you get bored or lose interest.

What kinds of things did you skip over? Eg, exposition, descriptions, internal ramblings

Was everything clear enough? Are you confused about anything so far?

Is anything unnecessary? What should I consider cutting/trimming?

Was anything unbelievable?

Were you uncomfortable with anything?

What do you think of the main character?

Can you tell the characters apart well enough?

At what point would you decide to buy (or not buy) this book?

Would you like the next section? If not, please let me know why.

Anyway, my new dystopian romance novel goes out to beta readers next month. If you’re interested, let me know!

[therobotmonster]

There's a nuance to the Amazon AI checkout story that gets missed.

Because AI-assisted checkouts on its own isn't a bad thing:

This was a big story in 2022, about a bread-checkout system in Japan that turned out to be applicable in checking for cancer cells in sample slides.

But that bonus anti-cancer discovery isn't the subject here, the actual bread-checkout system is. That checkout system worked, because it wasn't designed with the intent of making the checkout cashier obsolete, rather, it was there to solve a real problem: it's hard to tell pastry apart at a glance, and the customers didn't like their bread with a plastic-wrapping and they didn't like the cashiers handling the bread to count loaves.

So they trained the system intentionally, under controlled circumstances, before testing and launching the tech. The robot does what it's good at, and it doesn't need to be omniscient because it's a tool, not a replacement worker.

Amazon, however, wanted to offload its training not just on an underpaid overseas staff, but on the customers themselves. And they wanted it out NOW so they could brag to shareholders about this new tech before the tech even worked. And they wanted it to replace a person, but not just the cashier. There were dreams of a world where you can't shoplift because you'd get billed anyway dancing in the investor's heads.

Only, it's one thing to make a robot that helps cooperative humans count bread, and it's another to try and make one that can thwart the ingenuity of hungry people.

The foreign workers performing the checkouts are actually supposed to be training the models. A lot of reports gloss over this in an effort to present the efforts as an outsourcing Mechanical Turk but that's really a side-effect. These models all work on datasets, and the only place you get a dataset of "this visual/sensor input=this purchase" is if someone is cataloging a dataset correlating the two...

Which Amazon could have done by simply putting the sensor system in place and correlating the purchase data from the cashiers with the sensor tracking of the customer. Just do that for as long as you need to build the dataset and test it by having it predict and compare in the background until you reach your preferred ratio. If it fails, you have a ton of market research data as a consolation prize.

But that could take months or years and you don't get to pump your stock until it works, and you don't get to outsource your cashiers while pretending you've made Westworld work.

This way, even though Amazon takes a little bit of a PR bloody nose, they still have the benefit of any stock increase this already produced, the shareholders got their dividends.

Which I suppose is a lot of words to say:

[web-messages]

The sound is annoying me a lot, but I play it cool - it's my fault after all. I never remember to wipe off the bottom of the coffee pot with a towel, so when the little hot plate turns on beneath it the moisture pops and crackles in anguish like a pan of turkey bacon.

My shadow, Zeebzint, turns to me in curiosity. I anticipate his tone well before he vocalizes. "Biixiibibibi bi bibishzi?" I shake my head. "-not normally, no." He tilts, confused. "I made a mistake using the machine. It typically just gurgles." I gesture lazily with my hand, pointing to the pot. "It's not supposed to be wet." He doesn't seem satisfied, but his large dark eyes trail off into the distance, I take it as an okay time to stop explaining.

As we walk back to the lab (each with a mug of black coffee) I can tell he's going to be especially inquisitive today. When this started a few months ago I genuinely thought it'd be like an employment thing. This job isn't great but I've at least worked here long enough that I can explain it. Instead - I don't know how else to say it but it's like he never bothered to read about Earth at all. He asks me about every interaction I have, about the speed I drive and the time I spend asleep, and the frequency has yet to slow. Thank god he at least knows not to follow me into the bathroom.

----

As he promised, Professor Hallgrin has decided to grace our little field expedition with his presence this morning. He's not wearing his usual slacks and jacket. Instead, he's in a t-shirt and jeans that look at once both poorly made and expensive. He gravitates eagerly towards Zeebzint, but despite his availability and interest yet again fails to capture the little alien's interest. Maybe Zeebzint can tell when Hallgrin's institutional pride dulls the usefulness of his answers? Could also just be that Hallgrin's cloying gaze is just as annoying to the green man as it is to me.

After burning my tongue on my stupid coffee I rescue him from Hallgrin's outreach. "I pre loaded the truck yesterday, we can head out as soon as you're ready." He perks up. "Well of course! I'm plenty ready. Lead the way." I don't move. "You said you were going to bring a camera, right?" The professor softly palms his tall forehead and steps out of the lab, returning shortly with a beautiful camera dangling perilously from his pale neck.

I grab the keys and the three of us pace out the building and up the slopes of the nearby parking tower. "Biizeeziisizo bibizi?" I manually unlock each of the doors of the old truck before getting seated. "Well yeah, we do have cameras in our phones but they don't take nice pictures. Hallgrin wants high quality pictures for the website." Zeebzint settles between us.

"Borzoizoibs, bizizizobii? ba biiyo?" I tense up slightly. He has a habit of asking this exact kind of thing in front of people where I can't answer honestly. "No they won't take long." He looks at me, unconvinced. "We should still be able to grab soil samples and spray at each of the sites, might just be an hour or so late back to the lab." He looks at his wrist as if there were a watch. I'm not sure what he's feeling.

----

The 40 minute drive to Rockville was not unpleasant per se, it had far fewer questions with Hallgrin around. I begin to wonder if maybe Zeebzint is nearing the end of his studies. It seems like rather than go for a fixed amount of time most of these work study abroad students simply return to their planet once they're satisfied with what they've seen. Can't say for sure though, nobody has ever given me a straight answer about it.

We arrive at one of our many field sites, an upscale home with rose bushes and little cherubic statues throughout the garden. I knock on the front door. This can be the worst part. Some people are pleased to have an "invasive insect team" personally checking in on their roses - others, though, will object pretty violently to the presence of science. Sometimes you just get a look from someone and you can tell they're worried you'll try to vaccinate them. It's better when they see us more like lawn guys.

A woman no younger than 50 answers the door and recognizes me and my shadow. She seems almost giddy. "Hey miss, it's us from the university again. Gardening going ok?" With two dry palms she clasps my hand. "You're here at the perfect time! We found an egg sac!" My eyes widen and I exchange a glance with Hallgrin. Zeebzint is mumbling something to me, but I can't answer him. "Could you show it to us?"

She leads us into her manicured garage. Large gardening tools hang high up on tool boards. The smooth pavement floor is being loudly stomped as several voices cheer.

Zeebzint tugs on my sleeve but I shrug him off. Dazzling ruby insects dot the floor. From a freshly cut rose branch a clutch of newly hatched Rove Beetles of some kind scramble beneath the eager feet of two children and their father - gleefully stomping out the pests and congratulating one another. The woman watches my reaction carefully, so I keep my eyebrows raised in faux surprise. The children do not stop and attend our arrival, overcome with euphoria as they pop the creatures like pimples.

"Xorzii! Ziibibi? Ziibibi bor?" - Me and Hallgrin make a silent decision. I shake her hand and say "Thank-you for doing your part in science!" and she seems quite proud - wonderful. I sigh as we step outside to begin taking measurements on the bushes. The air was uncharacteristically silent.

----

I have to assume that Zeebzint knew enough about our work to know that the invasive pest we study does not hatch from large clutches, or even from external egg structures of that kind at all. Were it possible to have stepped aside during the event to explain why I didn't tell them - I would have. But he was never patient enough. Always asking questions in the moment, never after. I won't miss the weird urgency with which he interjected into everything.

All that said, I would have liked to get a goodbye. You see all these articles about Martians giving their mentors these heartfelt goodbye gifts, these moments of tenderness where all the education pays off - it's not like I need that but I was curious what it'd look like, what he would have found most informative from his time here.

He was probably upset at me for some weird alien faux pas, I dunno. After that day I didn't see him again. The lab is quiet.

[pressurereunited]

Finally have an idea for lore regarding Eyefestation.

And we'll add some details!

Eyefestation in my story is female... When I was discussing ideas with @crusadingaro, we addressed Eyefestation as female....and I feel that would make sense for the almost motherly manipulation she continuously tries to pull on Damien.

Lore:

Eyefestation was once a normal shark before being taken to UrbanShade... She was noted for being an anomaly with her behaviours, separating other Marine life from their parents, luring them away, and keeping them... This sometimes ended with the adolescent creature dying from lack of nutrients, or the young creature escaping, and EF being in a momentarily irate emotional state, and... Well- if you know a lot about Sharks... That's not normal behaviour! 😰

At first, she seemed irate and aggressive, (upon further examination, it was caused by those eyes budding all over her body) Until she began spouting light green eyes out of her body, then she became calmer... But she became obsessed with people staring at her (because EF affects people that stare for too long. She was also very clingy and grew emotionally attached to things quickly... One instance involved her refusing to let a feeding drone out of the tank, making it stay with her until the battery died and it sank to the bottom of the observation tank. UrbanShade had to remove it, which left EF enraged.)

The scientist made to monitor her was named Stella, a young woman who EF remembers (and was the only human she really saw on a day to day basis- thus she grew attached,), she especially remembers a few details... Long Red hair and green eyes.

EF grew to care immensely about Stella, and always tried to make her look... It never worked, but she always tried. EF referred to Stella as her own, but Stella was indifferent, EF was dangerous... And growing attachment to something that dangerous was never a good idea, but she'd listen to the shark talk... And she'd even allowed the shark to refer to her as 'my child' (EF saw itself as Stella's mother, because Stella was always with her, and always asking for "samples" the same time everyday... EF mistook this for nursing, and mistook Stella for her own... Not the best idea, but it kept EF calm. EF even made up memories of Stella as a kid, as weird as this was... Stella went along with it to keep EF calm.)

Months before the breach, Stella was killed by another monster in an accident, leaving EF irate and desperate to bring her back. She nearly caused a breach herself with how furious she was.

Then, during the breach... EF saw a bucket floating in the water... There was a baby inside... A baby with Red hair and Blue eyes (this was Damien after Sebastian had sent him away for the infants safety.) she followed the bucket... Looking at the red hair and thinking of Stella. Before she could get any closer, a man (Sam) grabbed the bucket and took the infant away.

This began an obsession, EF spent years thinking that the baby must've been Stella reincarnated... But her eyes were all wrong- They were blue... She believed that SHE was supposed to find the infant... It had to be fate, but alas... Perhaps they'd meet again.

She kept her eyes peeled, stalked about in the waters, she would learn more about the infant she saw (she never forgot him.) overheard the tall snake monster (that's what she calls Sebastian) talking about him, and noticed the boy's appearance when a man (Sam) dropped a file, before he picked it up... She spotted the picture, that boy... Looked a lot like that baby she saw...

Could it be he was returning? Maybe this was her second chance... She wouldn't fail Stella again.

A Year later, she saw the young boy running by, he glanced for a second before turning and running... But that confirmed it... Stella had returned! (This was never the case, that was merely Damien running by.)

She would watch him come by, memorize his voice, remember his name... But all along, she would think of Stella... The scientist who she saw as a daughter.

She would then see Damien once again, alongside the snake monster (Sebastian) she watched Damien hug Sebastian, to refer to him as 'father'... And she was furious.

How could Stella do this to her? Didn't all those years mean anything?? Why would she abandon her mother??

Soon Damien would come by alone, and she would try to make him look, to bring him closer... But it never worked. She would follow as much as she could so she could watch Damien... And She would think of Stella. When her stare didn't work, she would use her words... Soothing like a lullaby.

Eyefestation alone is dangerous as she is.... But mixed with her unstable emotions she's even more dangerous... Especially towards those who are younger and ESPECIALLY towards Damien, whom her primary target is as of now.

The Factions of the Blacksite know to avoid eye contact with her, as for younger mutants and Expendables, they're made to avoid her areas entirely OR bring an ADULT due to her manipulative methods.

(Damien doesn't abide by these as he's not of any faction but still, he refuses to go back to those areas alone after what happened last time.)

Did I do well with the creep factor?

[hyperpotamianarch]

So, today I want to talk about Maladar: one of the early books of Israeli Fantasy. Which might make it sound older than it is, since it was written in the 2000s, but I think I can stand behind what I say. If you have an interesting contradictory example - don't hesitate to point it out!

Now, admittedly, I did not reread the book in preparation for this post. My criticism of it is mostly based on memory. I did not hate the book, and neither did I love it - it was a decent book, but not a great one.

I did watch a video by the author (Liat Rotner) about her thought process in writing the book (in Hebrew), though. This post is based off of this video, in which she looks at three thigs in non-Israeli Fantasy literature she seems to consider significant: references to myths, connection to war and inventing a language. And thus, I intend to touch each of those in turn.

To start with mythology references: there barely are any. There's a general build that's supposed to be based on Kabbalah - how human deeds and thoughts affect other dimensions or worlds, tilting the scales for good or bad - but that's mostly an oversimplification. There are a couple of things that are taken directly from the Tanach, but they're distorted and don't create a coherent image. There are a couple of Midrashim I think Rotner could've incorporated, but she didn't. And the most major offense is how the book seems to imply Israel doesn't have folktales - ignoring centuries of culture in exile, without showing any reaction to it from the folkloric representation of countries Jews lived in. It seems to detach the history of diaspora from the history and existence of Israel, which may not have been intentional but is the implication I see. I have tried to articulate this point a couple of times already and failed, so pardon me if it seems a little dense.

As to the war connection, well, it is an interesting angle. LotR really was inspired by Tolkien's experience from WWI, to a degree, and with the current situation in Israel - a hostage crisis with an ongoing war - this could probably resonate very well with people. Except for the relative smaller scale, but I really can't blame Rotner for not predicting that in 15 years, Gil'ad Shalit will seem like a small problem. She did got criticized for presenting a political opinion in a middle grade book, but I don't think that should be that much of a problem. If anything, I think she overestimated the significance of that detail, as many Fantasy books weren't written under the shadow of war. However, of everything in the book... she very likely presented it pretty well, all things considered. Though it might be that I'm too close to her political opinion to notice the problem.

And now, we get to languages. Which... [deep sigh] Look. Lots of people think that they have to invent a cool new language for their Fantasy novel because that's what Tolkien did. But Tolkien was a freaking linguist. He was, very specifically, and expert on that topic. There's a common claim that he invented the language before he made up the story that went with it. I'm pretty sure Rotner's BA is in literature, not linguistics.

The concept of Maladan, as she presents it, is interesting: she says she mixed some Yiddish she learned with some Aramaic she knew from home (she grew in a religious family) and with ancient Hebrew to create it. But... how shall I put it...

We have exactly one sample of Maladan in the text of the book, and it's when our main protagonist sees the ancient prophecy that's related to the magic amulet he has. And I remember quite clearly that this prophecy was written pretty much wholesale in Aramaic, outside of one weird word that I'm going to have to assume was taken from Yiddish. Now, to be fair, it's no better or worse than the Ancient Language of the Inheritance Cycle, which is a pack of random Latin and Germanic words (to my understanding). In that case, the only criticism I have that is particularly on Maladan and not the Ancient Language is that it's either under-developed or under-presented.

To conclude, I would like to note that all those point, on paper, are good ones: the outside references, lived experience and invented languages of Tolkien did contribute to the overall experience of reading his book. I simply think that Rotner didn't do that all that good. Perhaps the mere fact she attempted to copy a success destoyed her chances, or perhaps she didn't do enough research. I don't know. If you enjoy the book - great! All the more power to you! I simply think there needs to be a book that does this better. (Please don't point me towards Charashta, I've already read it.)

[bloghyperfixes]

Taliesin is now holding his newborn baby between his arms and Mohito is next to him, Kampari and Rick totally succeeded this time but Eyre is having a few toughs on the baby suddenly dying after few seconds, minutes, hours or days.. Nobody knows

So, I overdid it. I was only supposed to answer about the hug, but it was like a fanfic.

English is not my first language!

Warning: lots of character OOC, crossovers, "crack relationships", discussion of genetic material and the presence of embryos, mention of death, attempts to kill a hybrid embryo for a scene or two, space angels and their effect on the environment

——— This evening ceases to be fun.

Moments earlier, Talsien was having fun and joking around with his angelic husband, but some short minutes later, the scientists of universe 3 appear in front of them and drag them to their lab, hastily showing them upon arrival....small creature? Talsien, blinking from the colored spots after teleporting, takes a better look, but he doesn't understand what it is. The creature, apparently not fully formed, is floating in some sort of transparent solution in a special huge equipped fixture with multicolored cables flashing around it.

- "It's a baby!" - Bulma chirped happily, looking extremely pleased with herself for the successful experiment, and looking at Mojito and Talsien for praise.

- "It's your baby” - Rick said with clinical indifference, belching loudly to the side without getting into a detailed explanation of what was going on.  He looked like genetic engineering and clone creation was nothing to him.

The elf blinks in confusion, a second later belatedly shifting his gaze to an equally lost Mojito. They both don't understand what's going on or WHERE this child came from, because mating them with a pregnancy was not an option.

- "We collected your genetic materials, and attempted to create your shared child”, -Camparri obligingly prompts, as if amused by the scene unfolding before his. - "Unfortunately, there were several failed attempts...."

- "Wait!", -Talsien is the first to come to his senses, shaking his hands as if trying to remove the tension from them. - "Are you saying that this creature, floating in a strange liquid, is a small homunculus, a future child?"

The scientists nod, Talsien sighs fearfully, and looks at Mojito again for support. But Mojito doesn't answer, staring blankly dumbfounded at this little experiment. Normally, Angels have to think fast to make a decision favorable to their god, but right now there's no Hakaishin around for Mojito to explain anything to. It's Mojito himself who needs clues to what's going on right now

Talsien touches Mojito's hand and the angel finally reacts, looking up at the elf. Mojito licks his lips, trying to hold them in place and not raise them up, baring his teeth.

- "What is the meaning of all this, Camparri? Creating offspring is only available to the Grand Priest"

- "So your father isn't the coolest at it. We wanted to create a hybrid, and we were able to do it!", - Rick laughs, sipping from his silver flask. - "We're waiting for this thing to fully form, do some more research, and when we're sure it won't die like past embryos, we'll give it to yous"

Talsien swallowed nervously, glancing at the incubator again. For some reason, the very existence of this thing has begun to freak him out, triggering a strange sense of unease before it, as if he's seen the cosmic form of Mojito so deeply lodged in his brain again, planting images of something creepy. Because, Talsien thinks, there's a difference between having a "kink to reproduce", and actually having offspring. And he's not sure he's even considered procreation at all. And even though these are genetic samples found and collected by someone else after sex, Talsien feels embarrassed and like he's being used for some dumb joke. There's a thought hovering on the edge of his mind that this is exactly how his former little toys feel, but he only brushes it off.

He hears a quiet " Mojito seems to like it!", looks at the source of the voice and back at the angel. Mojito has turned away from the scientists, looking at the incubator flask, lips parted in a smile, tail wagging behind his back and his head tilted in a studying gesture. Bulma takes it as an expression of happiness, Talsien knowing these micro expressions well, realizes that Mojito is on the verge of panic. And now, to top it all off, Angel's wolf ears are pressed against his head, his fingers on the staff beginning to tap on its surface. Mojito looks like a frightened wild animal.

Bulma shrieks as the test tubes next to her crack ringingly, she steps back fearfully. The space near Mojito shimmers, his humanoid sheath distorting for a second, almost disintegrating into mist before a smiling Camparri appears in front of him, blocking his view on of the homunculus, diverting attention to himself. Mojito growls indignantly but his brother doesn't back down; Talsien and the others crinkling their eyes away as the head in his temples begins to throb unpleasantly.

- "Oh, dear brother, calm down"

- "You allow your little friends too much, Kamparri. What will Father say about this?"

- "We won't tell, he won't know. Wouldn't you be interested to see what happens?"

- "You think you're a kaioshin?" - Mojito growls, his gaze falling to Eyre, who hides behind Rick fearfully, and back to Camparri. His brother only snorts.

- "No, just a little scientist wanting to do various shit. But you'd like to procreate if you could reproduce?"

Rick interrupts their conversation with a foul grunt: - "I'm pretty sure that if angels were free to reproduce, they'd be freely spreading their gene remnants everywhere. Or, well..."

- "Oh, if my main job was to come and bless mortals to procreate and leave puppies in them, rather than being an angelic conduit for the god of destruction, I might well be doing that," the words oozed with sarcasm and irony, interrupting a drunken Rick. - "But no, I don't think I've ever been interested in having children. Training chosen children to replace the old god of destruction, if there is no other choice in recruits for that role is not on this list."

- "Why didn't you...try it on your genetic materials?" - Talsien asks, inspecting the equipment.

Bulma and and Eyre hysterical laughter erupts in response, this dilutes the already tense atmosphere, causing Mojito to relax considerably as he watches them in surprise, his form gradually ceasing to club and reverting back to its normal state.

- "These two," Bulma points to Camparri and Rick, "were the first test subjects. You think you're the only ones they collected garbage from? They were so happy to collect their genetic materials!"

- "We tried many times, but the experiment died at different stages of planning, at the beginning, in the middle, even at the end. We tried to get to the point where we could form cells and a nucleus, but we could never get it to come together. Your materials have proven to be the most resilient so far," explains Camparri. Confident that his brother is not attacking the small creature, he steps back, but stays in the moment to defend himself.

- "Mojito",-Talsien, who has been pondering this topic for a long time, calls out to her husband. - "What if...What if we actually tried it? Would we have a family?"

- "You know kids are a responsibility? I know babies are loud and smelly. Plus we were shown a little creature, told it was our baby, and then hoped it could survive long enough? What were you all counting on?" - Mojito mooed unhappily.

Talsien sighs and snuggles up to the angel, his gaze occasionally dropping to the running equipment, Mojito leaning in when the man asks for it: "We could imagine you really did give me a puppy."

The way Mojito rolled his eyes and wrinkled his nose showed it was an unfortunate choice of words, but it seems the angel loves the elf too much, so he didn't dare deny his request to leave the little creature and see the result of the experiment.

- "Could I dream of it being the world's coolest boy?", - Talsien smiled flirtatiously.

- "We're not a toy store, asshole," - Eyre sighs.

--

When Mojito and Talsien arrive at the lab again, an already formed baby's body lies in the incubator. Their scientist friends are moving around the location, checking data, notes, electronics connections, and most importantly the baby's life status

They both slowly approach this little unusual thing lying quietly on a diaper under of dome

Eyre: I"'d advise you not to even breathe in his direction, but I'm too tired to fear that he could die at any moment. Readings indicate that the body is stable, and there's nothing wrong with his system. You can gently take him in your arms".

Talsien emits a sigh of surprised relief, looking over to her husband. As Rick opens the box, carefully pulling out the infant, Mojito sniffs, snorting at the smell of various medicines, Talsien extends her arms to take the little creature.

It is a baby. He holds a creature created from their genetic material, it is small, strange, warm and has weight in his hands. So...it.... it has bone and muscle structure, and internal body structure, because it's probably initially very difficult to take something from a blob of cosmic space…

Amidst the hum of the instruments working, the all too familiar sound of a teleportation vortex was heard and all noises fell silent. The first figure to emerge from the portal was Celestia, and she could have served as a shield between the lab and Daishinkan, but there was no smile of joy on her face, only displeasure. Daishinkan appears next to her, and a multitude of eyes open in the space around him, and a few on his face, as if he was partially controlling himself to keep his physical shell from shifting into the form of a space creature.

Eyes surveying the location, Bulma, oblivious, shakes her head from the pressure in the air, backs away, the angel's pupils catching her movement, stop on her, stop on the other members of the lab, and then all eyes are on the small child. The halo behind his head glows brighter, Daishinkan lets out a guttural growl and Mojito stands in front of Talsien and the child, literally challenging her father. Talsien cradles the child in his arms

As it begins to get colder and several test tubes are covered in frost, Ayr whimpers fearfully, exhaling a cloud of vapor, "Sir, please! Your anger is only making things worse, I wouldn't want anything to happen to the baby!", and huddles fearfully against the wall as Daishinkan glares at him

- "What made you think that was a good idea in the first place?" - Celestia hums, placing a hand on Daishinkan's shoulder reassuringly, and walking around the tables, approaching the reason for her appearance. The Grand Priest looks at her, grumbling quietly, but the temperature slowly drops and he walks, but on the other side. They are like two predators on the hunt, the others belatedly realizing that they are almost-then locked in the same room with the ancient gods.

- "Because we can do this" - Rick shouts.

Rick was itching to rub Daishinkhan's nose in it, to mess with him and start creating more angelic mutants, to show that he could be cooler than a god, but when he saw the tense look in the eyes of the silent Camparri, his fervor and adrenaline began to subside, realizing that he had read his drunken thoughts. It looked like he'd overdone it, but the idea was still tempting.

- "And it's definitely not up to you to be above divine and do weird experiments" - Answered Celestia, ignoring the protective Mojito, stepping closer and studying the child.

To Daishinkan, the existence of this creature is nothing more than a great anomaly. He is the one who controls the population of angels, creating them «when the time is right». At this point it is not known what this flesh child represents, it could cause trouble in the future, and...

- "Ah, perhaps I've jumped to conclusions? I don't like the way this baby appeared, but it looks cute enough", - Celestia purrs, catching Daishinkan's attention. - "And besides, from what I've heard, this baby could die at any moment due to its unstable components. Could we observe him? What do you think of that, Grand Priest?"

The many eyes surrounding Daishinkan blink stupidly, he makes a chirping sound at this moment of surprise: -"...what made you change your mind? Did your maternal instincts kick in?"

Celestia shrugs uncertainly:-"As I said, I am disgusted by this experiment, but I am not forbidden to be curious. Aren't you curious? To try and watch it once?"

- "If I give them a leniency, they'll keep using angels and breeding anomalies because they've learned how to do it" - Daishinkan pondered.

Celestia didn't hold Daishinkan's brain cells in her hands, but she realizes that if he had come here alone, he would have gotten rid of the problem without further conversation

And now she waited for the Grand Priest's decision, watching as the brightness of his halo gradually diminished, the eyes hovering around him fading away, and a few  remaining on his face.

- "Hmm. This child will remain the only artificially bred hybrid, I'm not going to let humans experiment with angelic materials" - Daishinkan gives a wave, allowing this experiment. The scientists exhale in relief, Bulma, who has survived the wrath of the divine beings, clings to the kaioshin's shoulder.

- "His life is still unstable, I'm afraid he could die at any moment. We've put so many resources into this, I've even shared my Ki with all the embryos" - The kaioshin speaks softly.

- "Yeah, I wonder why a child, that has a space angel, Which shouldn't have even a hint of DNA or anything like that in it,  in it as a second parent is so unstable that the experiment dies while still in the embryogenesis stage" - Celestia chuckles, Daishinkan mooing something.

He raises his hand, which has CI and angelic energy sparking on it, and touches the infant, transferring that bit of energy to it - "I'm not sure if my energy will help and strengthen the experiment's body, but let's see how this goes.

Daishinkan ignored the tense Mojito and Talsien, who froze as the angel performed strange manipulations on the child. They breathed a sigh of relief when he allowed them to keep the genetically engineered miracle, and smiled weakly as they gazed at the little face, wondering what the child would be like.

[therealdisneyfan2319]

The Spider and The Witch Chapter 4: The Mission and The Mistake

Summary: As Y/N's time with the Avengers comes to a close, Tony wants him to get some firsthand experience by joining the team on a mission.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Mild language

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: Sorry for the sporadic posting. I've been dealing with a lot of personal stuff that hasn't given me the mental capacity to write or do anything really. The urge to write has been extremely low and I don't really want to anymore. I'm hoping it's just a phase and that I'll be able to power through and keep writing. In the meantime, enjoy chapter 4 :)

“No.  Absolutely not.  He’s not ready, Tony.  He’s not coming.”

“He’ll be fine.  We’ll make him our water boy.”

“Who’s going to watch him?  Are we supposed to get a babysitter?”

“He’s got Karen, she’ll keep him out of trouble.”

The back and forth between Steve and Tony drolled on as you zoned out.  You were due back in Manhattan at the end of the week and you were more than excited to get back to late night study sessions and chemical equations.  The past month at the Compound was a transformative experience in so many ways, but you didn’t particularly enjoy it all too much.  It was difficult making friends with the rest of the team.  Bucky was the closest thing you could consider a friend seeing as you spent every morning in the weight room with him, Natasha coming in at a close yet still distant second.  Most evenings you spent alone in your room, frozen vegetables strategically spread over your battered body and the faintest image of your corpse being magically driven by the Scarlet Witch in the corners of your mind. 

Being an Avenger wasn’t what you wanted.  If anything this experience further solidified your decision to pursue medicine.  But Tony didn’t want you to leave without getting some real-life experience.  There was a mission planned for the end of the week.  Rogue A.I.M. agents had been tracked to a secure facility in Washington, D.C. where they were planning on stealing the last remaining samples of the Extremis virus.  The mission was simple: get in, get out, ensure the sample’s safety.  It was going to require all hands on deck.  A month of training had given you rudimentary Spider-Man skills.  You didn’t think that you would be useful, but Tony obviously thought otherwise.

“Tony, Steve’s got a point.  He’s only been here a month,” Natasha added.  “What if he gets caught up in a mess?  We can’t have eyes everywhere all at once.”

“There’s going to be more than enough of us to make sure that he’s got backup if he needs it,” Tony explained, rubbing his temples.  

“Look, I don’t have to go.  That’s more than okay with me,” you interrupted.  A dozen heads abruptly turned in your direction.  It felt like everyone forgot you were actually in the room.

“You’re going and that’s final, young man,” Tony snapped.  “I’ll keep him under my watch.  He won’t cause any problems.”

“And what if someone gets hurt?  Then what, Tony?” Steve asked. 

“He won’t get anyone hurt.  Well, except maybe some bad guys, but that’s okay.  You won’t hurt anyone, Y/N.  Right?”  You quickly nodded.  “See, look, he just promised he won’t.  Case closed, he’s coming, see you all tomorrow.”

Great.

******

Spandex clung to you a little too tight as you sat in the very back of the Quinjet.  Maybe it was the anticipation of your first mission, but everything felt a little too tight, a little too warm, and a little too loud as you flew towards D.C.  You nestled up into the back corner, cool metal radiating through your suit and feebly working at cooling your skin.  The apprehension about your first mission was one you’d never felt before: it was like the anticipation of a final exam dialed up to an eleven.  While you could always retake a course if you failed, there were no do-overs if you messed up on the mission.  A sense of dread looming over you, you failed miserably at relaxing into your seat.

“So,” You looked up as Tony plopped down next to you, “how are you feeling?”  You shrugged.  “Nervous?”  You shrugged again. “Everyone’s first time is a little nerve wracking.  Performance anxiety’s a killer.  Hey, did you know that one out of every-”

“Where exactly are you going with this, Mr. Stark?”

“Here’s the deal: we’ll drop in, you hang back.  We’ll call you when we need you.  Water cooler’s over there.” He motioned to the orange cooler resting in the opposite corner.  

“So that’s it?  Just swing in with the water and swing out?”  

“Pretty much,” Tony nodded.  “I just want you to get a smidge of experience before you get out of here.  Nothing too crazy, maybe have you shoot a web at a building or a tied-up bad guy.”  He clapped you on the shoulder rather awkwardly.

“Thanks,” you replied.

“Look alive, kid.  We’ll be heading in soon.”

While Tony turned to address the group, you found yourself deep in your own world.  Logically you understood that the likelihood of being in danger was extremely low.  Even so, images of Peter’s final fight flashed through your mind.  The last thing you wanted was to end up like him.  You also felt incredibly unprepared.  These were literal superheroes fighting literal bad guys.  It wasn’t your wrestling room, faux-city training sessions with Tony’s drones: this was the real deal.  Things could go very wrong and people could get hurt.  While Tony asserted his confidence in you, you doubted your own instincts.  Your “spidey sense” was still faulty in the sense that it was difficult to tell what was a true threat and what was a false alarm.  If you couldn’t trust your own superpowers, how could anyone rely on you to get the job done?

“You get all that, kid?” Tony’s voice snapped you back to reality.

“Huh?” you answered, jerking your head towards him.  “Uhh, yeah.  Yeah.  Let’s do this.”

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head as she tossed Clint some more trick arrows.  “This is gonna go well,” she muttered.  

******

“Rogers to base, we are over the drop zone,” Steve called over the radio.

“This is base.  Area secured, you are all clear,” the agent’s voice crackled over the other end of the radio.  “I repeat, you are a go.”

Steve stood up, placing his headset on the dashboard before turning to address the group.  “You all know your parts, let’s get the job done.”  Bucky snapped off an exaggerated salute as Steve rolled his eyes.  

“Once we land, you’ll-”

“Stay on the ship, I got it,” you interrupted as Tony tried to remind you yet again of your inaction on the mission.

“Call if something catches fire,” he instructed, his nanosuit deftly encapsulating his body.  

As the ship landed, you hugged the back wall as everyone departed.  Steve, Bucky, Natasha, and Clint took off toward the main bunker where the virus was being held.  Wanda and Pietro would secure the perimeter while Tony, Sam, and Rhodey took to the sky to keep an overhead watch.  Sighing, you slumped down, clutching the silky mask in your hands and watched the mission unfold in real-time over the holographic display.  Steve’s crew expertly navigated the maze of buildings and security measures as they trekked toward the holding facility.  Wanda hovered overhead, observing Pietro dash wildly around the entire complex.  He was a mere blur against the grainy screen, barely visible to the naked eye.  Even higher were the three flyers: stationary yet constantly scanning for threats.  

So far, so good, you thought.  No enemy agents had been spotted, making this retrieval of Extremis easy.  Standing up and stretching your arms overhead, something caught your attention on the bottom of the screen.  A small shadow flickered near one of the other buildings.  It was difficult to make out what it was at first.  As you studied it further, your eyes straining against the low video quality, your heart started to race: a group of A.I.M. agents had somehow made it through all of the Avengers’ defenses.  Regardless, they were slinking their way towards Steve and his crew were retrieving the virus.

“Karen, I need to talk to Mr. Stark,” you shouted as you pulled the mask down over your face.

“Hold on, I’ll connect you,” Karen’s quasi-robotic voice politely responded. 

“Fire extinguisher’s right under the-”

“There’s a bunch of bad guys heading toward the south entrance of the building where Cap is, Mr. Stark!” you exclaimed somewhat aggressively.

“What?  You sure?”

“I just saw them on the video feed.  There’s, I don’t know, maybe half a dozen of them?”

“Armed?”

“Yeah-?  At least I think so.”

“Well, you spotted them.  Finders, keepers, so why don’t you swing on in?”  Your heart lurched, as did your stomach.  You were being called into action.  

“Karen, I guess we’re going in,” you sighed, tugging at your mask.

“Would you like to activate instant kill?” she asked.

“No.  No, I’m good.  Let’s…let’s just see what happens, I guess-?”  Taking a deep breath, you jogged off the ship toward the commotion.  Your jog quickly morphed into a sprint as you eyed the nearest tall object.  An oversized gate post became your target as you flicked your wrist, a silky white web launching out and attaching itself to the concrete structure while you used your momentum to propel yourself into the air.  

The weightless feeling of web-slinging wasn’t one you particularly cared for.  You hated roller coasters and anything of the like.  The inevitable lurch and stomach drop were two sensations that were extremely unnerving.  At least while swinging you could control whenever the weightless sensation occurred.  

As you crested in mid-air, no webs to tether you to solid ground, you shot another web to the side of a building, pulling yourself closer and closer to your foe.  The rhythmic thwip and release of your webs and the wind whooshing past your ears was unusually calming: it calmed your overactive senses and focused you on your objective.  

“Karen, can we get a location on the bad guys?” you asked as you landed somewhat awkwardly on the side of one of the robust brick buildings.  

“Targets are in the building directly to the southeast.  They’re heading north toward the building where Captain Rogers is.”

“How many are there?”

“Eight, but there could be more.  I’m not able to scan inside the buildings.  That building’s walls are lead-lined.”

“Okay, umm, guess I’ll just follow them-?”

“Would you like to activate instant kill before you start moving?”

“What is it with you and that goddamn instant kill, Karen?” you gritted.  As you stuck to the wall, postulating what your next move was, you felt something whoosh by you: it was the flyers.  Rhodey and Sam were nosediving directly toward the agents, Redwing following closely behind them.  Tony fell back and drifted over toward you.

“Nice job,” he complimented as his helmet flipped up. “We can take care of it from here, but if you wanna hop down and shoot a web at them just to kick a little extra sand in their face, be my guest.”

“Sounds good,” you responded.

“Great!  I’ll let you know when we’re ready for you.”  He flipped his helmet back down, his hand propulsers firing him toward the fight on the ground.  Steve and his team had joined in, fighting and easily overpowering the A.I.M agents.  You smirked underneath your mask.  As much as you didn’t like being part of the Avengers, it was pretty cool to see them kicking butt.  Clint was shooting off trick arrows that were exploding and dropping nets.  Steve had one of them cornered, using his shield to keep another one at bay while Natasha roundhouse kicked him.  Bucky was shooting in every which way.  It was reminiscent of a Fourth of July celebration.  The colorful fireworks and booming explosions were replaced with the hazy smoke and echoing pops of gunfire.  The sulfuric scent of the powder overpowered your scent even though you were stories in the air.  Yet as the scene wore on, your spidey sense told you something was off.  

“Hey Karen, can you scan the area again?”  The eyes of your mask narrowed as you slowly circled your head around the perimeter.  “Wait, hold on, what’s that?” you asked, the hair on the back of your neck standing up as something spooked your senses.

“Three more agents, heading up the southwest corridor.”

“Shit!”  The rest of the team was directing all their attention to the primary group of agents.  There was no way they’d be able to see these other three.  But there were only three.  The odds were in your favor and you could probably deal with them long enough for Tony to fly over and give you a hand.  “Karen, if they get into that building they’re gonna take the samples…shit.”  Time you spent contemplating what to do was time wasted in the grand scheme of stopping anything bad from happening.  Taking a deep breath, you lept from the building, aiming your webs as close to the targeted building as possible: it stuck.  You swung forward with all your might.  

Your field of view narrowed and sharpened as the three assailants drew closer to you.  Hoping they didn’t sense your incoming presence behind them, you shot a web at the one furthest from you.  It snared his legs and he hit the ground with a loud yelp.  The other two whipped around, their guns pointed straight at you.

“You know, I’d like to get home in one piece,” you quipped as you trapped the next one to the wall of the building just as you landed on it yourself.  He stuck to the wall just as you landed against it.  The man yelled in protest, so you webbed his mouth shut.  The third assailant sprinted on, firing sporadically at you as he ran past the building.  The bullets pinged off the building, chunks of brick popping off in every which way.  Somehow you could tell where the bullets would land before they did: chalk one up for Spidey sense.  

“Nope,” you shouted.  The assailant dodged and weaved as you shot burst after burst at him.  His luck quickly ran out.  You awkwardly trapped him on the yellow bollard set alongside the sidewalk.  The angle of your webs caught him on the butt.  It left him wriggling like a worm.  

The sight of three rogue agents caught in your trap unexpectedly filled you with a sense of smug satisfaction.  Maybe you weren’t as helpless as you and everyone else thought.

“Hey Karen, can you let Mr. Stark know about these guys?” you asked.  Just then a wild dust cloud tore towards you: it was Pietro.  The dust settled around him as he stopped, his hair whipping wildly in the remnants of his self-contained cyclone.  His blue shirt, drenched with sweat and dirt, clung to his heaving chest as he caught his breath.

“Did you do…this?” Pietro asked, motioning to the three captives with his finger.

“Yeah,” you yelled, jumping down from the wall.  “Karen’s gonna let Mr. Stark know about them.”

“Nice,” Pietro grinned as he pushed a strand of hair from his face.  “I’ll go back in and double check on everything.  Make sure it’s all safe, you know?”  He turned on the spot and jogged toward the door.  You were a fair distance back from the building watching Pietro head inside when you saw it: the thug you strapped to the wall managed to wiggle his hand to his utility belt, get his hands on a grenade, and, much to your horror, pull the pin as Pietro opened the door to the pressurized building.

[phoebus-cluster]

A sample/oneshot of some Astarion headcanon re: his release after the year in a tomb

Finally gaining some steam on my Astarion fic. Fleshed out a little flashback scene. Hope you think it's cool, I love my angst and exposition. --- “How I’ve missed you, little one!”

There was a sudden, loud crack against the coffin door, the rustle of chain mail. A single, impossible ray of light sprung forth into the coffin, somewhere at his waist’s height. Out of the corner of his eye, he detected the glint of an axehead in the fresh opening, wedged and wriggling now to pry the lid open. He tried to peer downwards to better watch, but couldn't–his eyes were too dry to swivel in their sockets. 

He blinked a few times to remove the film of dust from his eyeballs. It did nothing.

He could hardly hold a coherent thought, but felt that this must have been a dream. 

The coffin lid ripped open and he keeled forward, the door no longer propping him upright. He crumpled in a heap, reality dawning on him as his face smacked into the ground. He lay there and watched the shadows of crackling firelight dance across the stone tiles for a while.

He was free. 

He supposed he should have been happy. He gasped for fresh air weakly, as fresh as those musty catacombs could be.

A heavy boot dug into his gut and turned him onto his back. He now looked at a grinning skull looming over him, yellowed, shining and ugly, two black voids regarding him like eyes.

Death. Sweet release. Could it be? 

“Tsk, tsk, boy. Is this how you greet your gallant savior? Your dear, old friend Godey?”

But of course. 

Of course it wasn’t death. What had he expected?

Godey’s detestable laugh rang through the chamber around them.

“What a state, little one. Not so pretty now, are we? Not to worry. I think this look quite suits you.”

Godey seized him by his rags and hoisted him up with ease. He carried him now, up the stone steps of the catacombs and back into the palace.

Astarion's head hung limply, mouth agape, no energy, his muscles all but wasted away. The skeleton cackled again, adjusting and jostling the half-corpse in its arms–playing with him.

“Much easier than I recall,” he jested. “Why, you must be half the weight you were goin’ in.”

They clanked through the halls past velvet drapery, gaudy paintings, lacquered paneling, the luxe prison he remembered, same as ever.

“By the gods, Godey,” sneered a distant voice. “What is that smell? Fouler than any rat you’ve conjured for us before.”

“Shut it, Violet,” growled Godey. “Be a dear and call in your siblings, won’t you?”

She scoffed and whisked away.

They made their way to the spawn’s quarters as the other vamplings trickled in curiously, peering over Godey’s armor to better see the dust-blackened wretch he carried.

The skeleton unceremoniously flung him onto a bunk, the fellow spawn frozen in terror as they beheld a pathetically emaciated mummy with sunken eyes, taut skin, and dehydrated ligaments clinging to bone, grotesque as it pulsed and gasped for breath, struggling to writhe and smearing filth on the sheets.

A hush fell upon them all.

“...Brother?” whispered Aurelia.

“He lives!” cried a male voice, one Astarion did not recognize. “Gods above, it can not be. This is the lost brother you spoke of? I-I thought Master was perhaps bluffing!”

“Leave it to you, Petras, to fancy yourself more clever than Master,” chided Godey. “That’s right. Gather round, you lot, and gaze upon him. Yes, it is your beloved and terribly naughty big brother. Though he strikes a more uncanny resemblance to old Godey these days, don’t you think?”

He cackled and wrenched Astarion’s chin violently, turning his face for the others to see.

Dalyria stifled a revolted shriek, teary-eyed as she clapped her palm over her mouth.

"Let it be a reminder, then," continued Godey. "See what happens when you fail Master's orders? And still, it is Master's mercy that reunites him with us today."

Astarion finally found the will to speak.

He struggled, his lips shriveled back, his tongue desiccated and stuck to the roof of his mouth. Dust coated the insides of his throat. 

His teeth finally found the edge of his lower lip, shrunken and tough.

“Fff…” he trembled.

He drew in more air, his breath ragged and hoarse. It sounded like a death rattle.

“Fuck you,” he puffed at Godey.

There was an upsetting crack as the pommel of Godey's sword collided with the side of his head. A few of the vamplings gasped.

“Dalyria, tend to this ingrate. Godey doesn’t need a nose to tell he’s more fetid than carrion.” He turned on his heel and clanked away.

“Ilmater, help us all,” uttered Dal. “For the love of gods, draw a bath. Water, some blood, this instant!”

---

Hoping to get chapter 1 out in the next week or so.

[22ayla21]

Hi! In case you accept requests for Eleceed, I would like to request Kartein recruiting a new awakened apprentice that has been through a lot (either being experimented on or his family being involved in sketchy stuff for most his life) Maybe the apprentice has trouble accepting their powers because they seem to suck the life of the one's they love (like reversed healing, it's a wild idea I suppose) and Kartein is invested in teaching them how to accept their powers and train them to heal.

I'd be really happy if you could write something on it since I really enjoy the way you write and the creative ideas you write about :D

Kartein x Child! Reader

You didn’t know who you were before you met the man in front of you. You're just an orphan abandoned by your parents, that's what they told you. Over time, you began to think that your parents were completely killed, but to be honest, their absence in your life was not as scary as what you had to go through.

Creepy experiments where they tried to create an awakened one artificially. The nightmare that you had to endure under the pretext that you were being treated for a fatal disease. You didn’t have any illness and you were sure of it. It's just entertainment for mentally ill scientists to see how you suffer.

But even so, in the heat of all this suffering, you were able to find friends for yourself and even make friends with a woman scientist who took care of you. In truth, you considered her to be your mother and she, apparently, did not mind you considering her as such, and yet, even such small pleasant moments were destroyed the moment this woman died in your arms.

Over time, you began to notice that the scientist’s health began to deteriorate and you worried about her, but she assured that it was nothing so bad, but you saw how the life was literally leaving her. And the next day, when she came to you, she fell to the floor and, unfortunately, to death. After all, when other scientists came, they stated her death.

And the reason for her death was your ability. The experiments that were carried out on you were crowned with only partial success, because the whole point of the experiment was that, with the help of feelings of hatred, you would suck the life out of people. Unfortunately, the experiment failed because you sucked out your vitality not out of hatred, but out of love for a certain person.

It was decided to kill you in order to get rid of the unsuccessful sample. Unfortunately, even here there were some problems, because the person who was assigned to kill you had a lot of fun playing cat and mouse before killing the unsuccessful specimen.

So you ended up in the forest, not far from the center where you were kept. You tried to save your life from the fate of a death sentence, hiding in the most unremarkable places. The desire to live saved you; you were able to escape from the mentally ill and anxious scientist.

You didn’t know how long you wandered, but eventually you fainted from exhaustion. You haven’t eaten or drunk for several days, the forces of the awakened one supported your body, but it wasn’t for long.

You woke up in a different place, not in the forest or even in the laboratory. The place was luxurious with warm and light colors.

- Have you woken up? How are you feeling? - Hearing an unfamiliar voice, you jumped in fright.

The man, clearly not expecting such a reaction from you, was surprised. Although the next words took him even more by surprise.

- Uncle, why did you bring me to this place? Do you want to kill me like that other uncle?..

Hearing something like this from a child, even for a man, was surprising. What did they do to you if you say such words?

- Apparently you wandered for a long time and fainted from exhaustion. I found you near my house.

-You really won't hurt me?

- I won’t, don’t worry. I'll bring you something to eat, you need strength.

The man left leaving you with your thoughts. You could take it and run away again, but exhaustion makes itself felt, it’s hard for you to stand on your feet and you want to sleep all the time, so it’s better now to accept this man’s offer.

A couple of minutes later, that man came with a tray of warm soup and tea. Smelling the scent, your stomach growled, causing you to blush in shame and turn your head away. The man was only amused by this and, placing the tray in front of you, wished you a bon appetit. You didn’t think that something might be wrong with the food, because hunger was greater than fear.

After you ate, you felt sleepy, but the man wanted to ask you a couple of questions before you fell asleep.

- What is your name and how old are you, girl?

- I turned 11 a month ago, but I don’t know my name. In the hospital where I was they called me R-023... Maybe I had a name, but no one told me it...

Anger boiled in the man’s blood. Besides the fact that you were tortured there, you were also a guinea pig for passing scientists.

- Uncle, what is your name?

- My name is Kartein. And I'm a doctor, don't worry, I won't hurt you.

- Do you promise?..

- I promise.

Since then you have stayed with Kartein. As he promised, he didn’t hurt you, and his conscience wouldn’t allow him. It took. It took a long time, but he was able to gain your trust and became an educator and teacher for you. Since you were a guinea pig in the lab, you weren't taught how to read or write, so Kartein took it upon himself to teach you. He was lucky that you caught everything on the fly and were a very diligent girl. You had a thirst for knowledge and surprisingly were even interested in medicine, which Kartein did not expect, because you suffered physically and mentally partly because of medicine.

No matter how much Kartein wanted to become attached to you, he failed. And this is not even out of pity for you, you have such an aura that you attract people to you.

- (Y/N)

- Sorry, what?

- This is your new name.

- (Y/N)... Beautiful name... Thank you.

Everything had been too good and calm lately that even Kartein did not immediately notice how tired he often began to feel. And when I noticed, I almost choked on my tea, realizing what caused this fatigue. The life force was literally pumped out of him, fortunately, with the help of his healing abilities, he cured himself, but it was not immediately clear to him what the reason was.

Kartein didn't ask you about what they did to you in the laboratory. He didn’t want to stir up old memories and wounds, so he didn’t even think that it was your ability that was taking away his vitality. The moment of insight came only when he felt sick in your presence.

- (Y/N), do you happen to have an awakened ability?

Kartein expected anything, from questions about what it was to denial, but certainly not your crying and apologies.

- *whining* Sorry! I didn't want you *whine* to get hurt by my ability! *whine* I don't know how to control her! Sorry!

Questions can wait, Kartein thought and began to calm you down. It was painful to see how you see yourself in everything, although the monsters who made you the awakened one are to blame for all this.

After you calmed down, you told Kartein everything you knew about your ability, or rather what you heard, and that the woman who took care of you and the other children died because of your fault.

- That is, your ability takes away the lives of those people whom you love very much... It is problematic, however, but there is a way to get rid of it.

- Is there really a way to get rid of this ability?

- Not really. You see, every awakened person has a core, or rather, a source of power from which the strength of your ability is drawn. You can destroy the core to get rid of the ability forever, but this is an extremely painful process and I, as a doctor, do not recommend such a procedure. But there is another alternative: changing the target of the ability. For example, your ability is activated not to the person you love and appreciate, but to the one you hate. With good control of your emotions, an ability like yours should not cause problems.

- But how can I make it so that it is activated only on those that I hate? I don't even know how to hate...

- Strength of will. When you really want to, your own will will help you change your ability.

[rjkilroy]

Responding to a few times Elsie tagged me for tag games because I haven't responded to them at all before

(also guess who's back into posting)

Whoops, sorry @elsie-writes, it appears I've accidentally ignored every tag game you've tagged me for. All of them over several months ago. Better late than never though!

Below are responses for a Character Voice Tag, OC in 15, and Find the Word:

Character Voice Tag

My line: "Is it supposed to be green?"

Lia: "Hey, is that thing supposed to be green? Lioko: "Uhh... guys? There's this, uh– green thing, and I'm not sure if it's supposed to be green or not!" Maiolo*: "That's supposed to be green, right? This'd be a bad time for me to start going colorblind..." Hydrogen: "Hang on..." Adjusts their eyes... then adjusts them again.... "Is that thing supposed to appear green like that?

*Originally named Miilo and then Maiilo before I settled on Maiolo.

For this one, I'll tag @eccaiia, @melpomene-grey, @vesyl, @elmachetecriollo, and leave it open! Your line is "We have to get the power back on." or, if your setting doesn't have electricity, "We have to get it working again.""

OC in 15: Hydrogen

A lot of people seem to love Hydrogen, so I'll sample 15 of their lines for you all:

The wisp slowed down in mid-air and floated towards the re- emerging twins, but stopped briefly to glance at the massive hole in the wall. “Oh,” they said, only mildly taken at all. “I told the novices to keep their sparring outside…. Anyway!"

“So! Am I to assume the age of the Cadrian Empire is long gone? –Actually, I’m taking your near total confusion as a ‘yes’–”

“[Crafting] the stars?” Lioko repeated, incomprehension in his voice. “How’s that not godlike?” “Oh, they were going to form anyway,” Hydrogen dismissed, with a several little waves of their hand. “I just made the first few. It took me a million years for each one, several failed attempts, and I can’t even do anything larger than those boring red ones that just…” they rippled their fingers in the air. “–fizzle out.”

“Okay, this is great and all,” Lioko interposed. “But… how can we trust you?” “It’s simple!” Hydrogen giggled. “You can’t!”

“Oh, I’ve got thirteen billion years on both of you. I know full well how suspicious my whole… deal– might sound,”

“This world is not mine to hold dominion over. I'm an Elemental! Not a supreme being!” said Hydrogen. “…So, anyways: May I accompany you home? Or shall I be relegated to waiting outside?”

“You know, Hydrogen…” said Lia, cracking an appreciative smile. “I like the way you think.” “Well, now you’d just be making me blush if I was able,” they quipped.

“Sleep really is the most… unnecessary necessity, isn’t it?” said Hydrogen, not looking away from the sky. “Yeah, I guess it is,” Lia answered, hoisting herself all the way up onto the roof. “Hmm… sorry about that,” they quipped, holding their hand outstretched and shutting one eye. “Blame… the laws of physics, or something.”

“Why even get so close to us humans in the first place?” asked Lia. “You’re so… far above us, on a basic level.” “On a basic level, maybe,” Hydrogen answered, pushing off the roof to float cross-legged in the air. “But I don’t consider myself to be above you. I’ve got feelings, too; I’m far from perfect; and I have opinions and tastes. Sure, I might be– well– me, but really; that’s where our differences end. And, you could still learn to mimic a sizable fraction of our power. Not so far above you now, hmm?”

“Well, of course I’m willing to guard you against threats to your lives,” Hydrogen clarified. “Just… don’t personally ask me to kill anyone.”

“Might I remind you that atomancy can give you parity with regular weapons,” Hydrogen imparted, floating down from the driver’s bench. “Yes, even these fancy new ones.... I talked with the village toolsmith, they’re not that impressive.”

When dawn broke the next day, Hydrogen was right there on the kitchen windowsill, casually lying back in waiting. They had a pleasant little smile on their face, a look of satisfaction or contentment. “You’re finally awake!” they greeted, flitting up into the air. “I’ve been wanting to tell you the good news since midnight.”

“Well, let me just say, I’m delighted there’s some Elemental already doing this!” Hydrogen responded, bouncing up to float at eye level.

A titanic golden eagle– whose feathers appeared to be made of real gold– landed on the steps. Hydrogen was like a mouse to him. “Well!” said Hydrogen, recovering back to a standing float. “You’re certainly new!"

“Ah. Hydrogen, you’re back,” said Bromine. “What did you find?” “A lot,” Hydrogen answered, frankly. “But that’s all I’m going to say!” they tried to lighten up once more.

For this one, I'll tag @lanawritesalittle, @late-to-the-fandom, @oh-no-another-idea, @njnetails, and leave it open

Find the Word Tag

My words: Blonde, Hall, Know, Drug, Girl Blonde:

And– the early hour had almost made [Sandrine] forget– regulation dictated that long hair belonged in a single bun. She quickly consolidated her platinum blonde locks at the back of her head into a swirling sort of shape, and with that, headed off towards the Joint Command building.

Hall:

Molau’s seat of government was quite meager in comparison to the Visselan House of Congress, but the Assembly Hall made do with what it had.

Know:

“Atomic fusion!” Hydrogen proclaimed, sheathing their sword with a little spinning trick. “Only a few Elementals’ atoms are light enough for it. And… want to know the best part?” Lioko went “Wait, uh–” but not before Lia could jump in with “–Ooh, tell us!”

Drug:

No instances

Girl:

“Police!” the irate Visselan shouted over to the J. Miller building, catching the attention of a couple loitering officers. “That Native girl and her brother stole my dyes three months ago!”

Sending this one out to @mk-writes-stuff, @eddie-roo, @marlowiswriting, @moonsbetween, and leaving it open; Your words are Head, Hunt, Silence, Steal, and Witness.

This was fun, and hopefully I'll keep my word and get back into posting! And please remember that all tags are no pressure!

[bylerbigbang]

Through A Dark Glass, Wanting

Fic by @freetobeyouandme | Art by @katimanki

Mature | 90k words

When a dark corruption spreads from the Deep Woods north of the kingdom of Roane, it falls to Will and his friends to investigate the cause. But as they close in on what seems to be the inevitable final confrontation with the Mad Wizard they have been fighting for years, Will finds his magic failing him as the darkness that scarred him during his first encounter with that very man finally overtakes him. Will stands no chance at stopping the demons that have been haunting him – after all how can he fight for a happy ending when he doesn’t believe he deserves one? - Or, Will learns to accept that his friends love him a whole lot more than he thinks they should.

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Canon Typical Horror, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Suicidal Ideation, Aged-Up Characters

Read on Ao3 | View Art (1) (2)

Read a sample below:

Will waves awkwardly and steps into the yard.

“Can’t sleep?” Mike asks.

The last thing Will wants to do is dwell on the nightmare that had brought him here, so he simply nods towards the gloomy woods just visible on the horizon. He doesn’t doubt they are what brought Mike out here the in the middle of the night as well. Just because they all should try and get a good nights sleep before heading out tomorrow didn’t mean that the anticipation of the danger to come couldn’t rob them of sleep anyway. There was a reason his friends had drunken so heavily tonight.

Mike twirls his sword, loosening his wrist, and sighs. “I hate that we’re still running after him. It feels like a bad dream. Like we’re stuck in his laboratory again, and this time we can’t save you. We can’t even save ourselves, can't-”

“You did, though. I’m safe, and he’s dead.”

Mike's smile is tight. “Doesn’t feel like it, considering how much damage he did before we took him down. How bad was your episode earlier?”

Will looks away. He briefly considers lying. But Mike had been there for most of the ones before. Mike was the only one of his friends who knew how bad they could get. Still, he doesn't want Mike to worry more than he does already.

“I managed to not hit my head this time.”

“But it was still bad enough that you fell?”

Mike's jaw clenches, and Will wishes he had any encouragement to offer. But how is he supposed convince Mike of a bright side that doesn’t exist? He had fallen again. The episodes kept getting worse, and Will had no idea how to make them stop. So what hope did Mike have of helping him?

Mike hands him the sword, then bends to retrieve a dagger from his boot. As he gets up, he is grinning. “Hit me.”

Will looks from his blade to Mike’s. “That's not an even match.”

“Cut me with that thing and I'll reconsider what I call an even match.” Mike hefts his dagger in a challenge.

Will tightens his grip on the hilt. There is a reason why he is a mage and not a knight. It wasn't that he'd never had any weapon’s training – the Conclave's school had seen to remedy any deficiencies he had had in that department. But casting fireball in the face of noble-born children who went pale when they realized why his magical aptitude had landed him among them was much easier than killing himself in the training yard to prove something to them. He'd left that one to Mike and Lucas.

So, he wasn’t as good a sword fighter as their paladin. But it wasn’t like he knew nothing, either.

And Will's not above playing dirty.

Read more on Ao3 >

[tavyliasin]

The second chapter went live at nearly 4am my time, which is why I didn't share it here yet, but it's here for you all now! I have some very entertaining responses to share with you all (2 are publicly visible on AO3, and the Discord ones are shared with enthusiastic permission~) Whilst the first part was a lot of tension, talking, and the making of the deal, it gets straight to the spice in the second chapter as the contract is made.

As a reminder, The Scent of Cinnamon is a prequel, set before the events of Baldur's Gate 3, and starting when Raphael and Haarlep meet for the very first time! It includes how Haarlep got their name, and what they looked like before taking Raphael's form. They do hope you will mark their true existence in your memory as surely as Raphael will after their deal is made...

Here are the reviews so far~ (Graphic design is not my passion, sorry!)

SAMPLES OF THE CHAPTERS FOLLOW! ~ Smut below the cut ~

--- --- 1 - The Cambion, The Gift, and The Contract --- ---

They sighed, hand dropping back to their side from where it had been hovering above the thinner and more sensitive skin of the cambion’s wings. “ Fine , if you insist we shall have it all in writing. You are to ensure I do not go hungry. Either provide me with partners to satisfy my hunger, or satisfy me with your own body.” “Agreed.” Lines appeared upon the page in infernal script, glowing on the parchment with the power they contained. “And you shall not lay so much as a finger upon a client without my permission.” “Then make it simple. This room will be mine as much as it is yours. Those you allow to cross the threshold are by rights my own to take, should they agree to it.” They smirked, adding to the letters upon the page. “The house is your domain, but in this room I am the only Master .” Raphael’s ego failed to pick up on the edge of their tone as he easily agreed to the term, and moved on to the next. “Then the illusion must be maintained. Once you have my form, you are to wear it until or unless I specify otherwise.” This time the incubus wavered. “You are asking me to give up the last shred of my personhood, to become you ?” “No. You will retain your personality as you see fit. You are to be my mirror in appearance, I cannot have a stray client or debtor seeing through that. They must believe, at least to a degree, that it is me they are laying with, and not some brothel-hired -” He paused. His finger traced a few letters in the air, moving them around, reforming his own name into something new. “That’s it. Haarlep . A perfect anagram, the version of Raphael that is closer to the Harlot that you are.” “You scorn me even as you wish to use me to your own ends?” The incubus frowned, though the name…was not entirely objectionable.

“The name should be a fitting match for the wearer, should it not? Or do you have a better idea?” He raised an eyebrow, staring directly into the incubus’ eyes. “I suppose I can become accustomed to it, with time.” They looked at the page, filling with more rules as they talked. --- ---

2 - The Contract, The Kiss, and The Cambion's Pride

“Marking me already~” their voice purred close to his ear as they pulled him closer, “do go on, I shall return every mark in kind. I will ensure your body knows nothing but me .” “You are very sure of yourself, Harlot. ” He growled deeply, pushing back against their control again, even as the heat in him built further. “My my, Archduke , you gave me a name and yet you do not use it? Very well…” Their lips pressed to his ear, quickly replaced by sharp teeth that bit down and made him hiss from the moment of pain. They smirked as they licked the droplet of blood from his heated crimson skin. “When you lose control, when you give yourself over to me, when you are ready to turn over your pride to the pleasure that only I can give you, when the only word left upon your breathless tongue is me - that is when you shall call me by my proper name.” “If you believe yourself capable of such a thing, you are welcome to-” Raphael’s voice was cut short. He had forgotten about their wicked tail, but now the almost sharp arrowpoint tip was at his throat. “It is adorable how you fight me even as you want me. How your lips speak of rebellion but your hips are pressing you to my body to seek your greedy release already.” They kissed more softly now, each touch of their lips a heated lie of affection, another spark to his overheated libido. They began to alternate little bites with their soothing tongue when they reached his neck, nudging his frilled collar out of the way even as the tip of their tail still pressed into the vulnerable flesh beneath his chin. “Go ahead, Archduke , let yourself go. We have all night, or longer if I have to - I shall not let you have a moment’s rest until our deal is complete. Do not think you shall get away with finishing swiftly and considering our business finished.” “Haa-” Their tail pressed down now on his tongue, stopping the word even as his body quivered against them with his release. “Too easy, and not even honest. There is more to your pride than preventing the stain spreading through your smallclothes.” They smirked, aware of the damp spreading through the layered finery. All Raphael could do was groan against the invasion in his mouth. The Harlot pressed against him did not seem to care one bit for how easily he had been overtaken by a swift climax, driven over the edge by the stimulation of their voice in his ear, their body possessively gripping him, the scent of cinnamon hot on their skin…  --- ---

The chapter titles are active links to the full works on AO3 for those who wish to read the full story so far~ I do hope you enjoy! There's plenty more to come yet, too, though it may take a little longer as I have other works on the agenda and some event pieces for Xmas that need finishing off~ Feedback, loves, is always welcomed~ If I can do better, I should like to know so I can improve and grow. If I'm already doing well? My ego does enjoy being soothed, too~

[possessionisamyth]

It's Claire Hours Baby!

Genuinely wondering what condition she was in after Raccoon City and Code Veronica considering she experienced being an absolute badass for about four months, but we cannot forget she was a (supposedly) university student at the time.

She missed way too much class time and class work to make up for that semester. What few friends she made were either concerned with her absence or angry at being ghosted/ignored. Yes she has her brother back, but how did she adjust with having to start over the next semester? She has a lot of baggage that people will either:

1) Not believe her experiences.

OR

2) Have no idea how to relate to her/offer comfort.

There will be a strong sense of isolation from the trauma she's dealing with on top of the isolation which normally comes with being completely and freshly independent as a young adult. She can't solve this problem with fighting. She can't find a support group when Raccoon City survivors can only be counted on one hand and are not going to be easy to get in contact with. To her knowledge Leon is M.I.A. Sherry is a child, and Claire is too self aware to confide her woes to a literal child when she knows she needs to play the role of listener and support to said freshly orphaned 10 year old. Jill is busy working with Chris on hunting down Umbrella. She wouldn't even know Carlos. So Claire just has to swallow this and hope she doesn't choke.

At 19 she's a super hero. At 20 is when I believe she starts getting her bad habits of putting everyone else's issues before her own. Who can she really talk to about this? Who has more than an hour to spare for her frustration and tears? What gorey nightmare where things went differently in a bad way could she share with a friend who wouldn't ask her to stop her descriptions out of discomfort or say "that's a great movie idea" like it wasn't a part of her life she can never let go? No. It's probably best not to bother. Other people's problems like relationship issues due to miscommunication, or a surface level disgustingly liberal understanding of how the government isn't their friend, or even just why an artist is a sellout? Those were easy topics. Normal topics. Because she has to be normal to make connections with people and get her foot in the door. And suddenly Raccoon City gets further away in her day to day until it doesn't.

And suddenly Rockfort gets further away in her day to day until it doesn't. Until she figures Chris is too busy to look for where Steve was taken because he's so busy trying to find Wesker at all. Until she blames herself at every dead end in her search when she's normally so good at this. She's supposed to be good at this. She used to be good at this. What was wrong with her? Maybe he's dead. Maybe he really died in Antarctica, and that's why she can't find him. Maybe Wesker took whatever samples he wanted and destroyed the body. Would it be so farfetched? She hates herself for thinking it. She doesn't know what else to think. She can focus on the problem her roommate is having with her communications homework. That's easy. That's normal. That won't lead to failure. That's her life. This is her life. Helping people, and then the longer it goes on the more it bleeds into saving people. Claire's good at that. She wants to believe she's good at that. Until she fails. Until people get hurt because she didn't account for every possible outcome.

Is it her fault she can't get a boyfriend because sometimes she gets this distant, haunted look in her eyes that can be unnerving to others? Is it her fault she can't make so many plans with friends because she's working overtime to make up for a lost semester? Is it her fault a loud banging in the cafeteria makes her jump or grip her tray a little too tightly causing the plastic to crack? How else could she manage herself other than taping those fears and bad habits down further to bury them under the issues of the people she wants to fit in with. Like helping a friend who's complaining about a professor being too difficult. Or another friend calling her at 4AM to be picked up from a frat party. Or another friend asking to borrow money for laundry because they ran short when it came time to use the dryer. Or another friend, or another friend, or another friend. Because those are normal people problems as she adjusts herself back into what's supposed to be the normal life she set out for post high school. Right?

[wickermayne]

What is the School of hard knocks about?

Oh that's the one non-smut fic in my drafts haha. I think I had been rewatching some of the Naruto vs Neji fight from the chunin exams and Naruto was talking a lot of shit during the fight especially after his Kurama amp. Especially when he said "You're supposed to be good at taijutsu, right?" After getting his ass beat by Neji for half the episode 😂

So the idea came of a sort of canon rewrite where Naruto just talks a lot more smack (even though he does quite a bit already in canon). It's mostly crack and plays into Naruto being judgmental and a hypocrite, and it's supposed to be an action comedy of sorts, but I never really got far with it.

Sample:

Naruto stared out the window, enjoying the flight of some birds when he heard the pretty boy sigh from the other side of the room.

Annoying fucker.

“Got something to say?” Naruto turned his head just enough to see the loser with an F grade in cooperation (did Naruto also have an F grade in cooperation? Well, that was none of your business. And how did Naruto know the grades of his classmates? Stop asking questions bro).

 Sasuke looked at him with his beady little black eyes, face behind his hands like he was some sort of corporate goon, “Why are you here? We all saw you fail yesterday.”

Naruto pushed off the wall he was leaning against, glancing at Sakura for a second, he needed the babe’s attention before he gloated.

Chicks dug epic stories after all.

“You know Mizuki?”

Sasuke gave him a constipated look, “Do I know the guy who has been teaching us for the past three years?”

“Yeah, ugly fucker, right?”

“He was a bit handsome!” Sakura protested.

Fucking hell, you couldn’t account for taste, even for a pretty gal like Sakura.