#Very proud of myself for my excellent impression of a human person

[satans-knitwear]

You're one of many things I shouldn't do.

My links

[r11k4]

The Beauty~

caption; Neteyam, a simple Navi native, destined for great things to become a great leader for his clan and follow the reins of his father to make him proud, but above all he was forced to have the same mentality as his mother... especially regarding humans, but for once he wants to break the rules... causing him to fall in love with a fragile human… (Neteyam x Human, female reader) 18+

warnings; (all the characters are adults, Age up) neteyam is crazy about the reader totally in love, almost obsessed, sexual and aggressive (like hate-sex almost rape and size kink… almost breeding kink) scenes and the ending will be a little sad at first but in the end it will be happy!

Info; This story was created taking inspiration from a Disney film "Tarzan" (so if you don't fully remember the film, go and see it because it’s beautiful, specially I use the name Clayton)

Neteyam when he was still a newborn, knew well that he had to be an excellent example for his family, especially for his brothers, so he tried his hardest to be the best just like his father, regarding his mother, he had to try in every way to think like her, to be exactly perfect for them.

every day of his childhood, he had to constantly train to become an excellent archer warrior, because sooner or later he would have to take his father's place and consequently choose a woman for his entire life… by the time he turned 25, he already had enough experience, he was respected and loved by everyone, many women wanted to be with him, all of them wanted to spend at least one night of sex with him… but Neteyam didn't want any of this, he was interested for other things… or at least, for a certain person.

being now responsible and old enough, he was allowed to be on patrol or simply hunt alone, and that's where I meet a beautiful little thing... a little fragile human together with her scientist father and a soldier… name something like Clayton… charged with protecting them… when he saw them for the first time, he didn't understand their language at all, except a few words at most, but he didn't care, for him seeing your adorable face was the only thing that mattered.

• Neteyam's point of view;

I had been trained to be very attentive, just like a warrior and hunter, while I was observing those humans, concentrating moreover on the little human, I noticed that she had stopped to draw a flower, but in the meantime a Thanator was silently approaching, most likely for a meal, you noticed it and ran away as fast as you could and he started chasing you… just as he was about to take you, I pick you up bridal style and before walking away, I growl showing my canines marking the fact that you were my prey… but it seems that by doing this the animal became more enraged and I instinctively use the bow hitting it straight in the head and then not listening to your pleas to make you come down, I position you on top of a large trunk, you, frightened, move away from me and I get even closer making you slam against the bark of the tree.

“oh… please don't get so close to me…” I heard your voice, you seemed embarrassed and uncomfortable, you looked down trying in every way to avoid my gaze, but in response I grabbed your chin… I began to caress your face, admiring your soft skin but above all your adorable facial features.

but you, seeing these unwanted attentions, you push me, you start yelling at me and I couldn't stop grinning, amused to see your impression, you were even prettier… I took advantage of the distance, wanting to introduce myself…

“Neteyam”

“sorry… what?”

“Neteyam!” I said, touching my chest, indicating that that was my name.

“ohh I understand…”

“Ohh I understand… me, Neteyam! you, Ohh I understand…” I say happy, knowing your name, but you start laughing, saying;

“Nono, my name is Y/n… you Neteyam, me Y/n” when I heard my name spoken by your lovely lips, you feel the lips from my stomach… I instinctively say your name softly, as if it were a sacred name

“Y/n…”

“Yes, exactly…”

after this, we hear a shot, I hear your lovely voice calling me again, pointing to something and then saying a name, after which I decide to accompany you towards the noise and leave you there, and then hide, not wanting to be noticed especially because I was thinking of the words of my mother, that humans are despicable beings...

But definitely not my Y/n, she is not evil.

After that day, I always came to see you, to see what you did, what you discovered... what you even loved or liked, I wanted to know everything about you, I had gotten to the point of learning your language, I liked the way you committed yourself. to make me understand things, I felt like I was reliving the same moments as my parents when they first met…

but my feelings increase more and more every day, until I develop desires, harmless at first and then become dark, wild... so exciting and contrasting... full of sex.

you couldn't understand how much frustration I had because of you, every damn day, after being at your place, I had to constantly lower my thong and try to calm my erection, constantly masturbate using some of your stolen panties, imagining it's your little hand , or even better, your sweet pussy, which holds me, forcing me to never let you go... I can’t live like this, not anymore.

• reader's point of view;

I was in my camp, more precisely in my tent, arranging some books and CDs and then putting them aside to show them to Neteyam when he would come, when suddenly I hear footsteps behind me, I discover that it is the protector paid by my father, named Clayton, smiling at me mockingly… what he wants now?

he gets dangerously close to me, pushing me against the table and making me tilt, so as to show my ass on display, he bows towards my figure, mostly towards my ear, whispering;

“listen to me carefully darling, I need that fucking native in custody, and above all he needs to show us where the fuck Jake Sully is... if you don't cooperate I'll have to take strong action by killing your boyfriend... we don't want this... do we?”

I try with all my strength to move away from him, I start to get agitated saying;

“no please, don't hurt them, I will do everything I can, I promise! but please don't kill him...!”

he jerks me to the floor and then says out loud with a huge smile on his face;

“well then hurry up and do something, because time is running out darling and I won't be patient later”

• Neteyam's point of view;

finally the night has arrived, I approach your tent slowly, hesitating at first and then I enter, my tail starts wagging excitedly at seeing you in your maximum splendor... this evening you were more beautiful than usual…

I was about to speak to say hello, but you run towards me, hugging me suddenly, receiving this unexpected emotional contact, my heart starts beating faster thinking about how cute and fragile you were... so small...

I return the hug and to lighten things up I say with a laugh;

“what's up ma sevin did you miss me?”

you pull away from me slightly, to look into my eyes and you slowly come closer to me, and unexpectedly kiss me on the lips softly, but I wanted something deeper, so I try to take control…

the kiss becomes more and more passionate and deep, I guide you towards the mattress making you lie down and I start caressing you, exploring your body, like your breasts, so swollen and hard… I start to taking off your crop-top but you stopped me, saying my name;

“Nete… wait…”

“Yes gorgeous? Tell me…”

"Please don't hate me for what I'm about to tell you... I love you so much, I tried to protect you..."

I was quite confused, I caress your face and smile sweetly at you, saying;

“ma sevin, I could never and I mean never, be angry with you, I love you so madly… tell me what's wrong”

“the rda is back... they want to hurt you Nete! they want to harm your family... your people! Please…"

“It's impossible, the RDA left a while ago... I don't understand…”

“Nete, I collaborate with the RDA and Clayton is Quaritch's right-hand man... I wanted to tell you straight away... believe me but I didn't know how..."

I couldn't believe my ears, the woman I loved collaborated with that monster... that damned bastard who almost killed me and risked hurting my family... I instinctively turn away from you disappointed…

“No Nete… please”

“ma Y/n how could you do that? I trusted you... I can’t believe this…”

“Please don't say this... I never wanted to hurt you... I love you, I will do everything I can to help you... I promise you that"

I close my eyes making an almost resigned and sorry sigh, in response you take my face in your hands trying to make eye contact with me, but I was still too hurt…

“Please Nete… look at me…”

I slowly look at you with my eyes half closed from anger and disappointment because of you, in response seeing your eyes full of tears, I then decide to kiss you forcefully, throwing you back on the mattress and I put myself on top of you, trying not to crush you with my body…

I didn't give a damn anymore about your pleas about not tearing your clothes off, but I do the opposite, forcefully taking off the last shreds of your clothes to throw them somewhere, I start savoring your sweet skin, leaving hickeys all over your body…

“Nete… please…”

“shut up you little bitch, you've done and said enough already, now let me proclaim my prize…”

after saying the last sentence, I lower myself towards your stomach and then towards your sweet pussy, I couldn't wait to taste it... without wasting time, I get closer, giving a light kiss to the clitoris and then I start licking the inside with a ferocious but slow movement, trying to understand your weak points and make you enjoy yourself more…

“N-nete! I can’t…”

in response to your moans, I move away and spit on your pussy and then continue licking it again… just as your moans were starting to get louder, I pull away abruptly, not making you cum…

“n-no… why you stopped… please continue…”

“Oh really? You want more? but you don't deserve it... you acted like a bad girl, I have to teach my woman good manners... don't you think?”

impatiently, I stand up slightly to undo my thong, letting out my cock, already nice and erect and dripping with a bit of pre-cum… in response, seeing me naked, you let out a sigh, making me point out that you too were almost as impatient as me… without even waiting, I position myself between your legs, taking my erection to bring it closer to your wet pussy, I slowly enter, and then start to move deeper…

“N-nete… wait… y-you are big!”

“I don’t fucking care, you can take it”

the thrusts got harder and faster, your voice got louder and hiccups, I loved seeing you in this state, just for me, but I knew I wouldn't last much longer…

“come on baby, your walls tighten around my cock, I know you're about to cum... do it for me"

without you saying anything, you did what I asked with a moan, then after two thrusts, I poured myself inside me, and then whispered to you:

“you will no longer run away from me, indeed, you will now be the mother of my children… right ma sevin?”

[desperatehornet]

Animation Practise Week 1: Character Design (Home)

Our home task for the week was to create 2-3 A4 pages of observational people drawing. I wanted to experiment a bit more and develop my proportion skills, so I decided to make 6 pages. I used graphite pencils, charcoal and alcohol markers for my pages. I started off with graphite, a medium I've become quite used to over the past few months, using it in my personal sketchbook. I wasn't too concerned with creating much tone while using this, as I wanted to put focus on understanding the body and human anatomy first and foremost. I did still use a blending stump to add some dimension, but I now wish I had some time to include deeper tones as I feel like the figures look more flat compared to the other pages. That said, I am very proud of almost every figure I drew, and proud of how quickly I could draw the movement of some people. Granted, some of my references were standing still and allowed me to get a more detailed drawing in, but a good amount were also mid-walking, giving me the opportunity to capture some movement in my studies. One more criticism I have for myself is in the hands, which I really struggled with drawing quickly enough, and ended up making quite stylised, defeating the point of the exercise. Other than that, I'm happy with my pencil observational drawing.

Next, I decided to try and experiment with alcohol markers, a medium I hadn't used in years. I had seen some excellent observational drawings online using alcohol markers, but actually ended up struggling quite a lot while trying to use them myself. Even though they blended well, it was very difficult to make a blended drawing of a moving person. trying to put down shadows first made the art look far too stylized and smeared and bled when lighter colours were added over it. My solution was to make a somewhat 'wash' of my lightest colour as a general shape first, and then quickly refine it with the darker colours on top, making a more layered and dimensional look. I think that, while this technique ended up working well, it is a fine line as I believe some figures looked excellent and dynamic, while others seemed stiff and unrealistic. I do think this was helpful though, as I learned to better control where I place the darkest shadows and defining lines onto a figure.

This lesson was especially helpful in my last experiment, where I worked with charcoal. In all honesty, I was dreading this the most as I generally immensely hate working with charcoal. I think it's hard to work with, and hard to control. However, after learning techniques from my previous exercises (along with some online tutorials) These actually ended up being some of my favourite pages. I started out struggling, as I was trying to use a willow charcoal stick directly and make all of my tones using it, which didn't work out. After restarting, I tried using the willow charcoal stick to lightly sketch out the silhouette and basic shapes of people walking by or sitting near me, and then used a dense, round paintbrush to diffuse the lines, filling in the shapes with the excess charcoal, similar to the 'wash' I made with the alcohol markers. Then, after grinding part of my charcoal into a powder, I was able to use the brush to delicately apply deeper shadows onto my figures, making a much softer, more subtle tone. I built up the shadows with more powder until I was happy with the general shape, and finally went over some areas with a thin piece of charcoal stick to define anything I wanted to stand out. I think that this technique worked better with some figures than others, but I was still extremely impressed by how well this page was turning out. I tried to keep very dark areas and very bright areas to a minimum, instead focusing on having a range of mid-tones in each figure. Now that I've finished this assignment, I can say that I'm happy I experimented and developed my techniques, as I feel I now have a better grasp on some mediums I previously didn't enjoy, and also improved my observational drawing skills, in being able to capture a figure quickly and accurately.

[thedeadhandofseldon]

The Anti-Mercer Effect

On the Accessibility of D&D, Why Unprepared Casters is so Fun, and Why Haley Whipjack is possibly the greatest DM of our generation.

(Apologies to my mutuals who aren’t in this fandom for the length of this, but as you all know I have never in my life shut up about anything so… we’ll call it even for the number of posts about Destiel I see every day.

To fellow UC fans - I haven’t listened to arc 4 yet, I started drafting this in early August, and I promise I will write a nice post about how great Gus the Bard is once I get the chance to listen to more of his DMing).

Structure - Or, “This is not the finale, there will be more podding cast”

So, first of all, let’s just talk about how Unprepared Casters works. Because it’s kind of unusual! Most of the other big-name D&D podcasts favor this long, grand arcs; UC has about 10 hours of podcast per each arc. And that’s a major strength in a lot of ways: it makes it really accessible to new listeners, because you can just start with the current arc and understand what’s going on!

And by starting new arcs every six or seven episodes, they can explore lots of ways to play D&D! Classic dungeon delve arc! Heist arc! Epic heroes save the world arc! Sportsball arc! They can touch on all sorts of things!

And while I’m talking about that: Dragons in Dungeons, the first arc, makes it incredibly accessible as a show - because it lets the unfamiliar listener get a sense of what D&D actually is. (It’s about telling stories and making your friends feel heroic and laugh and cry, for the record). If I had to pick a way to introduce someone to the game without actually playing it with them, that arc would definitely be it.

And I’d be remise not to note one very important thing: Haley Whipjack and Gus the Bard are just very funny, very charismatic people. Look. Episode 0s tend to be about 50%(?) those two just talking to each other about their own podcast. It shouldn’t work. And yet it DOES, its one of my favorite parts, because Haley and Gus are just cool.

And a side note that doesn’t fit anywhere else: I throw my soul at him! I throw a scone at him - that’s it, that’s the vibe. The whole podcast alternates between laughing with your friends and brooding alone in a dark tavern corner - but the laughs never forced and the dark corner is never too dark for too long.

Whipjack the Great - Or, the DM is Also a Player!

I think Haley Whipjack is one of the greatest Dungeon Masters alive. The plots and characters! The mechanical shenanigans! The descriptions!

Actually, let’s start there: with the descriptions. (Both Haley and Gus do this really fucking well). As we know, Episode 0 of each arc sees the DM reading a description - of a small town, or the Up North, or the recent history of a great party. And Haley always strikes this tricky balance - one I think a lot of us who DM struggle with - between giving too much description and  worldbuilding, and not telling us anything at all. She describes people and events in just enough detail to imagine them, but never so much they seem static and unreal - just clear enough to envision, but with enough vagueness left to let your imagination begin to run wild.

While I’m thinking about arc 3’s party, let’s talk about a really bold move she made in that arc: letting the players have ongoing control of their history. Loser Lars! She didn’t try to spell out every detail of this high-level party’s history, or restrict their past to only what she decided to allow - she gave them the broad outlines, and let them embellish it. And that made for a much more alive story than any attempt to create it by herself would have - but I think it takes a lot of courage to let your players have that agency. Most Dungeon Masters (myself included) tend to struggle with being control freaks.

And the plots! Yeah, arc one is built of classic tropes - but she actually uses them, she doesn’t get caught up in subverting everything or laughing at the cliches. And it’s fun! In arc 3, there really isn’t a straight line for the players to follow, either - which makes the game much more interesting and much trickier to run. And her NPCs are fantastic and I will talk about them in the next section.

Above all, though, I think what is really impressive is how Haley balances mechanics, and rules as written, with the narrative and rule of cool - and puts both rules and story in the service of playing a fun game. And the secret to that? She’s the DM, but the DM is a player, and the DM is clearly having fun. Hope Lovejoy mechanically shouldn’t get that spellslot back, but she does, and it’s fun. The changeling merchant in Thymore doesn’t really make some Grand Artistic Narrative better, but wow is it fun. And she never tries to force it one way or the other - the story might be more dramatic if Annie didn’t manage to banish the demon from the vault, but it’s a lot cooler and a lot more fun for the players if Annie gets to be a badass instead - and the rules and the dice say that Annie managed it.

Settings feel like places, NPCs feel like people, and the narrative plot feels like a real villainous plot.

Anyway. I could go on about the various ways in which Whipjack is awesome for quite a while - she’s right, first place in D&D is when your friends laugh and super first place is when they cry - but I’m going to stop here and just. Make another post about it some other time. For now, for the record I hold her opinions about the game in higher esteem than I do several official sourcebooks; that is all.

Characters - Or, Bombyx Mori Is Not an Asshole, And That Matters

Okay, I said I would talk about characters! And I will!

Just a general place to start: the party! All of the first three parties are interesting to me, because they all care about each other. Not even necessarily in a Found Family Trope sort of way, though often that too. But they generally aren’t assholes to each other. The players create characters that actually work together, that are interesting; even when there’s internal divisions like SK-73 v. Sir Mr. Person, they aren’t just unpleasant and antagonistic all the time. Listening to the podcast, we’re “with” these people for a couple hours - and it isn’t unpleasant. That matters a lot. (To take a counter-example: I love Critical Role, but the episode when Vox Machina pranked Scanlan after he died and was resurrected wasn’t fun to listen to, it was just uncomfortable and angering and vaguely cruel).

All of the PCs are amazing, and the players in each arc did a great job. If you disagree with me about that, well, you have the right to be incorrect and I am sorry for your loss. Annie Wintersummer, for one example: tragic and sad and I want to give her a hug, but also Fuck Yeah Wintersummer, and also her familiar Charles the Owl is the cutest and funniest and I love him. And we understand what’s going on with Annie, she isn’t some infinite pool of hidden depths because this arc is 7 episodes and we don’t have time for that, but she also has enough complexity to be interesting. Same with Fey Moss: yeah, a lot of her is a silly pun about fame that carries into how she behaves, but a lot of how she behaves is also down to some good classic half-elven angst about parenthood and wanting to be known and seen and important. (Side note: if your half-elf character doesn’t have angst, well, that’s impressive and also I don’t think I believe you).

There are multiple lesbian cat-people in a 4-person party and they both have requited romantic interests who aren’t each other. This is the future liberals want and I am glad for it.

Sir Mister Person, the human fighter! Thavius, the edge lord! Even when a character is “simple,” they’re interesting, because of how they’re played as people and not action-figures. And that matters a lot.

In the same way: the NPCs. There really aren’t a lot of them! And some of them come from Patreon submissions, so uh good work gang, you’re part of the awesomeness and I’m proud of you! The point being, the NPCs work because enough of them are interesting to matter. It’s not just a servant who opens Count Michael’s door, it’s a character with a name (Oleandra!) and a personality and history. They’re interesting. Penny Lovejoy didn’t need to be interesting, the merchant outside the Laughing Mausoleum didn’t need to be interesting, but they ARE! And Haley and Gus EXCEL at making the NPCs matter, not just to the story but to us as viewers. I agree with Sir Mister Person, actually, I would die for the princesses of the kingdom. I actually care about Gem Lovejoy of all people - that wouldn’t happen in an ordinary campaign! That’s the thing that makes Unprepared Casters spectacular - and, frankly, it’s especially impressive because D&D does not tend to be good at making a lot of interesting compared to a lot of other sorts of stories.

And, just as an exemplar of all this: Bombyx Mori. Immortal, reincarnating(?), and described as the incarnation of the player’s ADHD. I expected to hate Bombyx, because as the mom friend both in and out of my friend-group’s campaigns, the chaos-causer is always exhausting to me. And yeah, Bombyx causes problems on purpose! But! She is not an asshole.

And that’s important. Bombyx goes and sits with the queen and comforts her. Bombyx gives Annie emotional support. Bombyx isn’t just a vehicle to jerk around the DM and other players; Bombyx really is a character we can care about. To compare with another case - in the first couple episodes of The Adventure Zone, the PCs are just dicks. Funny, but dicks. Bombyx holds out an arm “covered in larva” to shake with a count, and robs him of magical items, but she also cares about her friends and other people! She uses a powerful magical gem to save her fertilizer guy from death! Yeah, Bombyx is ridiculous, but she’s not just an asshole the party has to keep around for plot reasons; you can see why her party would keep her around. And one layer of meta up, she’s the perfect example of how to make a chaotic character like that while still being fun for everyone you’re playing with, which is often not the case. And I love her.

The Anti-Mercer Effect - Or, “I think we proved it can be fun, you can have a good time with your friends. And it doesn’t have to be scary, you can just work with what you know”

The Mercer Effect basically constitutes this: Matthew Mercer, Dungeon Master of Critical Role, is incredible (as are all of his players). They’re all professional story-tellers in a way, remember, and so Critical Role treats D&D like a narrative art-form, and it’s inspiring. Seeing that on Critical Role sets impossible standards - and people go into their own home games imagining that their campaigns will be like Critical Role, and the burden of that expectation tends to fall disproportionately on the DM. And the end result, I think, of the Mercer Effect is that we get discouraged or intimidated, because our game isn’t “as good as” theirs. (And I should note - Matt certainly doesn’t want that to be our reaction).

So the Anti-Mercer Effect is two things: it’s D&D treated like a game, and it’s inspiring but not intimidating. And Unprepared Casters manages both of those really freaking well. Because they play it like a game! A UC arc looks just like a good campaign in anyone’s home game. They have the vibes of 20-somethings and college students playing D&D for fun because that’s who they are (as a 20-something college student who plays a lot of D&D, watching it felt like watching my friends play an especially good campaign). They’re trying to tell a good story, sure, and they always do. But first and foremost, they’re trying to have fun, and it shows, and I love the UC cast for it.

And that’s the other half of it: it’s inspiring! It’s approachable; you can see that Haley and Gus put plenty of work into preparing the game but it also doesn’t make you feel like you need hundreds of pages of worldbuilding to run a game. Sometimes a cleric makes Haley cry and she gives them back a spell-slot from their deity! That’s fantastic! It’s just inspiring - listening to this over the summer, when my last campaign had fallen apart under the strain of graduation, is why I decided to plan and run my new one!

That quote from Haley Whipjack that I used as the title for this section? That’s the whole core of this idea, and really, I think, the core of the podcast.

The Mercer Effect is when you go “that’s really cool, I could never do that.” But Unprepared Casters makes you look at D&D and go “wow, that looks really fun. I bet I can do that!” And I love the show for it.

And I bet a lot of you do too.

[permian-tropos]

Daniil - Liberosis

Didn’t think this prompt word would become so poignant so soon. The subject matter wound up kind of surreal and taking whatever path I thought might be interesting but sometimes it’s nicer to let other people search for meaning in something. 

IDK yeah I just wanted to publish this. Contains canon-typical misery.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.

-

It rains again, always with that damn rain, and inside of each puddle in the street is the reflection of a man with cold eyes. They’re a little bit sardonic, as if the protective cloth tied over his mouth obscures a world-weary smirk. They track movement deliberately, and never dart or flash.

When did this happen? When did his features freeze in place like this? It’s interesting. The last time Dankovsky saw his own reflection, he was burned out like a candle stub.

This is better. You’d rather see a second wind from the Capital doctor on his rounds, a man who cares less and does more, even if what he does isn’t much use to anyone. It’ll give people less reason to panic.

The plague is spreading on the wings of panic. That’s why the patrolmen show no mercy to the sick, those shambling mummies, when they stray into the streets.

Dankovsky never gave such an order. The man in the puddle wears his intentions well: But I wouldn’t countermand it.

When you think about it, the only way to fight the plague is to resist your natural human desire to seek help, or even the comforting touch of another; instead you must succumb in solitude, to save others.

The nature of epidemics really is to target the most precious aspects of our being…

“What do I do? What do I do? I’m lost…”

Dankovsky first expects that wheedling voice to come from a child, but it’s too knowing, like it’s playing a game.

Sometimes they’re called mimes, but they talk too much. They’re more amused by the circumstances than the name Tragedian suggests. Subconsciously, Dankovsky has gotten into the habit of treating them as if there is not a human under that patchwork black cloth, but paper stuffing, or an animated wire frame. They’re an oddly useless counterpart to the orderlies, and they certainly don’t answer to the Bachelor.

“One of you?” he sighs, backing up a few steps. “What do you want from me this time…? Get it over with.”

The masked man dawdling under the streetlamp tips its head slowly one way, then the other. “His Excellency thinks I spoke to him?”

“I’m the only one on the street. Unless you’re raving, in which case I have no time for lunatics.”

“How cruel. In any case… I’ve lost my mask.” The Tragedian shields its eye-holes from the rain with a hand, and looked far and wide.

“It’s right on your head,” Dankovsky grouses. “Now what’s my reward for finding it, a bag of marbles? Or wait, you’ve lost those too.”

“Oh, no, not this. This is my face. You see how blank and plain it is? It wants a character, a role to play. A mask, a mask.”

Dankovsky folds his arms. “What about playing a man who doesn’t leave his house… wherever he comes from, his burrow, his den, and doesn’t get himself into trouble?”

The Tragedian offers an apologetic shrug and spread palms. “I tried it but alas, it weren’t for me. I didn’t know my lines, and came too late…”

The Bachelor mutters, “You’ll be a dog soon – playing dead.”

“I’ve lost a mask of careless cruelty… I think it would be fun to wear a while. It grins at simple victories and doesn’t shed a tear for those less fortunate. I’d like to be the one who laughs in Hell…”

“Fine, I’ll look for something like that… I suppose.” It wasn’t the first bizarre request he’d taken, and been able to fulfill despite not understanding it at first. Whatever the Tragedian was looking for, it would turn up eventually.

Now the Tragedian was clasping its hands together, pleading. It was remarkably expressive for having, as it said, such a blank face. “But if perhaps you’d let me borrow yours…”

“That’s completely unsanitary.” What kind of idiot request was that?

“I mean the one behind the cloth, the visage that regards the world so icily…”

The Tragedian pokes an impudent, spidery finger right between the Bachelor’s eyebrows, which pinch together in great chagrin.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at… but I get the impression you’re not asking for a real object.” He slaps the finger away. “If you want to wear my face, playact all you like. Just don’t impersonate me to anyone important, or use my name for any stupid ventures. Or you’ll regret it.”

Dankovsky leaves the actor to mime out his gratitude, head fervently bowing, clasped hands pumping up and down. He’d expected to get something out of this exchange, but perhaps it’s a longer-term investment. Or it’ll be quite the farce when the thespian starts wandering around the town pretending to be him. He’s not sure what he’s given away.

Signal fires mark the start of an infected district. He tightens the cloth around his mouth and nose and rushes in. There’s one house in particular he has to visit, so he very much intends to keep his head down all the way there.

His ears are assaulted by wails of the dying, carried far even by stagnant windless air.

At first he doesn’t understand why his skin is prickling. Senseless paranoia.

I gave away my mask…

It doesn’t mean anything!

But something’s changed in him for sure.

Even though it’s illogical, he’s shivering like ice has been poured down his shirt.

His eyes catch movement and he jolts away at first, because he’s learned to flee whenever a human shape stumbles across his path in districts like these. One filthy touch from any of these walking corpses could pass on the infection.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t come near me…”

“Help us…” the mummy gabbles. It’s sobbing under the linen wraps, but those cries might be of relief as well as pain. “Please, please, you’ve got to help us… I’ve been looking all over for a doctor… You’ve got pills, haven’t you? Kind sir… spare us something… even just a sleeping draught…”

Dankovsky should be fleeing, and he’s frozen instead. He should do the compassionate thing and put a bullet through this faceless cloth-wrapped head, and he cannot. He has the unsettling thought he would rather turn the gun on himself.

The supplicant takes his inaction as permission. Its hand has seized him and is crawling up his forearm, creeping as surely as a mold on a wall.

“There must be something…” the infected one pleads. “If only to… I just wanted to… oh, but it’s so… my head’s spinning… I can hardly hear myself, can you hear me? Am I speaking? Are you there?”

More dying souls are shambling out of the alleys and either they can smell healthy skin like sharks smell blood or they’re spotting him through the gauze over their eyes and immediately recognizing him. Two have emerged from behind one building… a third and fourth from a park…

The dead come to drag him down into the earth. Rain pours down his cheeks.

“Hey!”

There’s someone behind him, shouting, but he doesn’t realize it’s directed at him until—  

“What do you think you’re doing, dummy? Dummy Dankovsky!”

“Hah?” He’s unstuck when that strident childish voice pierces his ears through the white noise.

In comes charging none other than the wandering saint girl, shoes pattering and splashing through the sodden pavement. She spreads her palms out like she’s pushing out a great wave of force from them, some kind of heavenly wind, and even though no immediate magic goes off with a theatrical bang and puff of smoke, the sickened townsperson withdraws.

Clara catches Dankovsky’s arm. Her grip is mighty steel.

“You didn’t think you could heal them with your touch, did you?” Her tone is either mocking or heartachingly sincere. She’s too peculiar to ever be one thing or another, so maybe it’s both. “Don’t… don’t get those funny ideas into your head, okay? You’ll make people worry about you…”

Of course he finds her words ironic, but not surprising. It’s the usual way that young people parrot the things they’ve been told by others, as a way of expressing concern.

Especially ironic now that she’s extending her free hand towards the bandaged wretch, with a strained but beatific smile, flashing white teeth. Her fingers unfurl, flexing, preparing for an incredible sleight-of-hand.

“Don’t be scared,” coaxes the Changeling. “I’ll take care of you!”

“Careful—!” the Bachelor croaks, voice stolen by panic. But he still waits with bated breath, wondering if he’s about to witness a miracle.

But as soon as Clara’s palm brushes the gauze-wrapped fingertips, the infected person’s hands turn to claws. They gasp and clutch their chest, rocking on their heels, head bobbing.

It’s almost as if they’re trying to express a profound devotion and love that cannot fit inside them. Then they exhale without a word, collapsing in a heap, like a thread over their head has been snipped.

Clara’s smile shrinks by millimeters. Water droplets slide off it, dropping from the corners of her lips.

“Why…?” Her query is a quiet chime, a small tolling bell.

“Leave it, leave it. It was a myocardial infarction,” Dankovsky mutters. “Plainly, a heart attack. It’s usual for them to die like this in the end… Perhaps they were startled by us… Overwhelmed by a moment of hope.”

“I thought I was the one who healed…” the girl says, eyes fogged with confusion. “I mixed it up… Even we can’t tell us apart anymore…?”

Damn this… The girl’s delusions are only going to worsen now. Whoever’s been letting her roam about without supervision needs to rethink their priorities. She used to irritate Dankovsky with her proud preaching, and he was afraid she’d be able to stir the town’s population into a fervor. They come out of their homes in search of her sometimes.

Still, it’s possible she’s been witnessing frightening things for days — or longer? who knows where she came from or what she’s suffered to be without a family now — and has convinced herself she must have a purpose. Whose mind doesn’t falter like that in the face of an insane world?

The Bachelor doesn’t think he’s nearly as paternal as his rough-and-tumble counterpart, the favorite of the orphan underclass, Burakh. But Burakh’s not here right now.

Dankovsky slings a strict enclosing arm around Clara’s shoulders.

“You didn’t do it, Clara…” he commands her to believe, as his heart keeps minutely panging in that new way that he’s not accustomed to. “Don’t think about it. Pull that ratty scarf over your mouth and nose and keep moving.”

She’s stumbling after him, reluctantly keeping apace. “But can’t you see I’m not her…?”

“Whoever you are, I don’t care,” Dankovsky mutters. He stares only ahead, at the distant waterlogged signal pyre marking the invisible border between poison and safety.

[mo2k]

bam hellloo how r u doin today :D i like askin random questions soo whats ur top fav anime/ fav characters and whyy >:D hope ur having a great day/ night muah !

Hi honey !! Sorry for not replying to your answer for the ask I sent love — Pls forgive me 🙏😓

I’m doing well ! Tysm for asking, and how about you ? ( I hope you’re doing well !! ) And please I really love answering questions ! So if you have anything please don’t ever be afraid to ask me !!

My top fave anime ? Hmmmm tough question... But I’ll say inuyasha, demon slayer... and also haikyuu !

The reasons are very simple bahahaha — For inuyasha it’s my fave bc it’s literally my childhood, the very first anime I’ve watch as well. It’ll always be one of my top no matter how much time’s passed <3

My fave characters in inuyasha is... lil cutie kirara all ! I really love all of ‘em tbh ❤︎

Note. Slight manga spoilers in demon slayer (mugen train arc) and haikyuu (timeskip)

For demon slayer it’s bc this fandom is very amazing and attracting, I really like fantasy things myself so this kinda quite exactly my fave type of genre to watch ! Although there are quite some gore and violence hehe... but I’m okay.

My fave character in demon slayer is... well overall I like all but if I have to be specific — It’d be tomioka giyuu and also rengoku kyojuro ! Giyuu is someone who’s not really good and expressing his feelings (I think that’s cute —). But he has a heart of gold. I’m actually surprised when I saw the scene where he’ll sacrifice himself if Nezuko hurt humans. Makes me feel like he’s very loyal and true to himself, won’t be hesitate to stand up for things that he deems right, not from his heart but from reality. Rengoku is someone who I really look up to and love. Like a big brother. He’s always so kind and honest, he also sees good in everyone and everything. Prob... an ideal bestie ♡︎ I’m still so sad at his death… even when I know well that I shouldn’t be sad. Not at all. I should be proud of him. He’s done very well. 😭👏✨

For haikyuu... this fandom is excellent. It has various characters with different believes, mindset, personalities and so many things ! It has taught me a lot. Plus it’s the first sports anime that I’ve ever watch too ngl bahahaha ! I clearly never expect that I’ll have this much fun watching sports, because I never have fun nor interest in it. And I love the characters development a lot ! One memory that I can never forget about this fandom is at the first ep, yes first ep. When I saw hinata jumped for the first time, the look on my face is not surprised or impressed. But it’s the look that says ‘I knew you can do it.’ Like that. And then other characters came popping up and just make me fall in love with this fandom even more. Oh and another thing, I like how they didn’t restrict that everyone in this fandom have to continue to play volleyball as occupation. It’s more like it’s up to them whether they want to or not, they can go do other things they want to do if they don’t wanna continue with volleyball. I like that ! Very respectful and authentic.

Fave characters for haikyuu… I can’t choose, really. I like Hinata’s enthusiasm & determination (🥺🥺🥺), Kageyama’s development, Tsukki’s sarcastic + salty mouth, Yamaguchi’s endeavor (🥺🥺🥺 as well —), Sugawara’s caring + playful vibes, Daichi’s leader vibes, Atsumu’s way of being Atsumu - fun + chaotic + exciting, I also kin Osamu a lot, Kita’s mindset is… very unique *applaud*, Bokuto’s emo mode just too relatable for me (😂) and — ah omg this became too much — pls forgive me — let’s just stop here before I went too far —

Okay okay okay — enough enough. I’m sorry for the lengthy love… you must not want to read all of these haha — feel free to skip right thru it !! And how about you darling ? What’s your fave anime ? And why ?

I hope you have an amazing day or night as well honey !! Love you <33

- With love, BamBam 🦢🌙

[ladyartemesia]

How does one go about making friends?

That’s an interesting question, anon... I suppose it depends on whether you’re talking about on-line or in-person. I can share my experiences with both and hopefully that will provide insight...

(Though I am not really an expert, by any means, I suppose that having friends does make me at least marginally qualified to give advice about it.)

(Also - please assume that any in-person interaction I mention is carried out with ALL appropriate and applicable safety measures in place with regards to the pandemic.)

In-Person

I suppose this sort of friendship could come from school, or church, or on a team, or in a club, or at a party, or any thing where people habitually gather... I usually wait until I hear someone speak on something I know about and then chime in with thoughts and discussion. People like to be listened to. If you want to make friends, try and listen intently (I mean don’t be fake lol but if you are intent on forming a connection then effort is required obviously) and maybe ask questions that will keep them talking (if they seem interested in the topic).

There are often moments that can be shared, like a professor being too hard or some thing silly happening that can be used as conversation starters. Shared micro-experiences like this (and subsequent discussions of them) are excellent building blocks for friendship.

Honestly... being honest about trying to make connections is really good as well. You may feel uncomfortable with that and worry what people think but ... if someone were to say to you, “I would just like to make more friends,” would you look down on them? And if that person does look down on you for this type of honesty... is that really the type of person you want to be friends with anyways? We are social creatures, we should never be ashamed of our desire for connection.

It is important to recognize boundaries in a growing friendship. Adults have many demands on their time and therefore cannot always be available for each other. Respecting this is vital. Empathy in general is vital. This goes for in-person and on-line.

Inviting these individuals to shared experiences is important as well. Come over to play games, let’s go have dinner, let’s just take a walk... etc. It may feel in the beginning like you are initiating all of this, but that is OK seriously, you are the one trying to make the friend after all. My current best friend of 15 years who I would legit charge into a burning building for... she called me every day for weeks. She always asked me to hang out. I was kind of an aspiring hermit at that tender young age, but she was persistent and one day I realized I couldn’t imagine not having her there. Retrospectively I was not pulling my weight in the beginning of our friendship, but she wanted to be my friend so she put in the work. She was my maid of honor. When she struggled with unprecedented challenges after her first child, I took off days of work to be by her side. We have travelled to England and the Bahamas and a ton of states together. Her friendship is one of the most important relationships in my life. I have pulled her back from the edge and she has done the same for me and you don’t get that if someone isn’t willing to put in the work in the beginning. Not everyone is best friend material - it’s true. But some people are.

There is also, I have found, a pervasive habit among humans to seek out a “desirable” friend group. This means completely different things to every person. For some people, they want stereotypical popular friends, for others they want influential friends, for others they want friends who have idealized lifestyles, for others they want friends who have achieved things... Don’t look for anything like this. Look for commonalities instead. We both love BTS. We both love anime. We both love traveling. We both love... whatever. The desirable traits you may be hoping to collect in a friend group are illusions, constructs, and perceptions... They are nothing in the face of one beautiful connection.

On-Line

My closest friends online became my friends when no one read our work (except for Donna, but she is Donna and is therefore the exception to most rules) - as I was saying - we joined a few network and collab chats here and there and shared each other’s stories... We started to talk about our experiences... We bonded over BTS. We talked about fic writers and fics we loved. Eventually we formed our own little server on Discord.

I would definitely recommend joining network chats or joining general discord chats. There are a bunch of them floating around. Kinktae and Gukyi run one of the best ones out there called the BTSSmutHub and it’s fabulous. I have made many friends there. Everyone in there is always willing to talk. They even host game nights and I have so much fun... Truly a lovely group.

Honestly... with Donna ( @taetaewonderland ) - she messaged me and began to talk to me about my work and what she was working on and it grew from there. She was a much bigger blog, but she liked my edits and I liked her.

Ana ( @xjoonchildx ) and Lindy ( @ppersonna ) and I became friends because we were baby blogs with like 7 notes on each of our stories, but we loved each other’s work and we talked to each other about it. No one really reached out to me or wanted to be my friend back then - I had like 6 followers and I’m pretty sure 4 of them were bots... but the three of us would comment on each other’s stuff and share funny memes in our chat boxes and theorize about the drama big blogs that never spoke to us seemed to always post about. We talked about BTS and the content and how our lives were being affected by the pandemic. Donna became friends with Lindy and we merged our little group together.

Those three are special to me. Truly my friends. We have been through things now. Things I never expected, but they remain a constant. We talk every day. The other three are such social butterflies, they have other group chats that they have friends in as well, but I have always been someone who is a little more reserved in general. I love playing in the Smut Hub server now and then and I am close with a few other blogs who I have small chats or small group chats with and I value them so so much. Because... making friends really ISN’T easy. I mentioned those three ladies because they were my very first friends here and they are incredibly close to me still. (Again - to the other blogs I’m close to - I VALUE YOU SO MUCH I AM JUST TALKING ABOUT THESE THREE CAUSE THEY WERE FIRST AND I FEEL LESS SELF-CONSCIOUS ABOUT NAME DROPPING THEM 🙈🙈)

I would really just try and interact with blogs who like the things you like. Ana, Donna, Lindy and I bonded because we loved the same kind of stories... We sent in asks to each other and shared things on each other’s feed or tagged each other in games. We shared authors we liked and BTS moments we couldn’t get enough of...

Way more people know who Donna, and Lindy, and Ana are now... (though people did know Donna already lolz) They are so talented and it was only a matter of time before more people than myself realized that. I’m so proud of what they have achieved, and watching their blogs grow has been so rewarding to me. I’m so glad they put effort into being my friend. I couldn’t give them influence or share their work with a huge audience, but they never cared about that... I wish everyone in the world could find friends like mine. They are one in a billion.

Find someone who will hype you up. If you’re a creator, find someone who will be honest with you about your work, for better or for worse. If you’re just a blog looking to read and make connections then making lists and recs and reviews of great BTS content like gifs, fics, and whatever BTS puts out for us is a great way to start conversations. Don’t be afraid to interact. It is the universal signal that you want connection of some sort. Not everyone will interact back, but that is fine... I only needed one Ana - one Lindy - one Donna... they were more than enough. If someone is willing to interact with you, then they probably want connection too. I’m so glad that those three didn’t look at me and think “she isn’t really a very impressive blog” and just brush me off.

[yesiamplease]

A Life Never Had

Words: 1,062

Summary: Everyone has nights where they just can't sleep, lying awake daydreaming to pass the time. Essek is no different, as he lays there thinking of a life he could've never had.

A/N: I posted this on ao3 two months ago and wasn't sure about posting it here(I'm on mobile and don't know how to share the link). I went back and forth a lot, but if I'm going to do it then I wanted to do it before Essek shows up again.

Essek laid there, various feelings swimming in his mind. He felt sad, relieved, scared, regretful, self-righteous, angry, both trapped and free. He took a deep breath and turned on his side to face the wall. He was tired, very tired, but not enough in the right way to sleep. He half expected to get a random message from Jester, it should be about 3am by now, but he put that thought out of his mind. He started thinking, thinking about his life, could’s and could not’s. 

What if things had been different? What if you never knew what I had done? Or what if I’d met you three and a half years ago? Would I have still done it? Maybe you would’ve found out and talked me out of it. Maybe I wouldn’t have considered it in the first place if I’d had you. How would that have gone? Heh, I’d probably just embarrass myself, trying to be good. I was never ‘good,’ I don’t think I ever could be. After meeting you and seeing what a good person is, I know I couldn’t. 

But I’d try, I’d try for you. And maybe we’d leave, go somewhere far, where no one has ever even heard of Wynandir. Adventuring is NOT for me, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to join for a small excursion or two. I think I’d like that, I hope you’d like it too. Maybe in our travels we’d find a nice place, a good peaceful place that we’d happily move to. A beautiful house with plenty of room, lots of books on lots of shelves and cat-themed knick-knacks all around. A study we’d share, so we could work together whenever we wanted to. I could teach you new things, and I bet you’d have plenty to teach me too. Late nights, just you and me sitting and reading by each other’s side. A comfortable silence. A blissful silence. I’d get sad when you’d have to go off on some adventure, but you’d always come back and we’d have each other again. Maybe even one day, in the distant far off future, after a long time we might decide to officiate that arrangement, if you came to think of me as good enough. 

It would be small, with no specific seating arrangement. There’d be no point in having one side be mine and one side yours when I’d have no one to invite anyway. We’d have to discuss who would be the officiator. Jester would do a fine job, I’m sure, but I don’t know if she’s technically qualified. Fjord as a ship captain is, though, but Caduceus would be a good option, too. I don’t really care about the decorations that much, but it would be fun to have a theme. Maybe Sun and Moon? Cliche, but classic. You could pick out the cake, I don’t really care for sweets. I’d probably wear something black and purple with dots of different colors to look like stars. I could see you wearing white and gold, and you'd be wearing a wreath of flowers in your hair. I'd probably be wearing one, too. I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t cry while reciting my vows to you. I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t cry while listening to your vows to me. I’d have to use prestidigitation before the reception. And during. And after, too. Speeches, a toast, dinner shifting into a party. I wouldn’t mind dancing if I spent the evening dancing with you.

And after some time, maybe, possibly, we could think about adopting a child or two, or three. Three is a good number. You would probably make an excellent father, and I’d do my best by them, too. We’d have to think of good ways to discipline, ways that don’t involve pain, and to be sure to encourage more than one part of who they are. They’d be more well rounded that way. As for schooling, we could try teaching them, I liked teaching you. Teaching children would be different, of course, but I’d go slow and be kind. I’m sure I could figure out how to make it work. We’d also need to be sure to show them we love them. I would make sure they knew I loved them. I’d hold them to hold them, and I’d kiss them to kiss them, not to get something out of them or as a ‘reward’ or for leverage. I...

Essek felt hot tears well as he forced his eyes tighter shut. His arms wrapped around himself as he curled up, keeping from making any sound.

I would show them that I loved them, and that they wouldn’t have to impress me for me to be proud of them. And when I’d inevitably mess up and hurt them, I’d acknowledge what I did and do anything to make it right. And hopefully, when they’d grow up, they’d feel like they would always have a home and a family. Like if they needed to come back, they could, and they’d always have a place if they needed somewhere to go. Whatever they wanted, whatever they needed, they wouldn’t be ignored. I’d love them. We’d love them. We wouldn’t keep them from the world, but we’d make sure their scars never ran as deep. We’d help them grow, and they’d go out on their own and hopefully make the world a brighter place, maybe bring home some grandchildren, but there’d be no pressure for that. 

We could continue on like that. Maybe...grow old...together...? I don’t have to look like me, I don’t have to be a drow or an elf or whatever else. It would be easier out in the world as a human, right? It would be less painful to see, at least. And then I wouldn’t have to live without you, or at least no where near as long. We could be that elderly couple that sits on their porch every morning with blankets and coffee, silently reading next to each other like we’d always do. We could...

Essek was snapped out of his fantasy, hearing sobs from further down the hall. He was annoyed, at least he had the self control to keep his crying silent. He couldn't judge, though. They're probably here for the long haul, at least he gets to be executed in the morning.

[a-real-ackerman]

Perfect Scenario

Sherlock Fanfic

summary: You, a super human, an excellent actor and a liar with debatable ethics; are having a hard time overcoming feelings  no one new you were capable of. On top of it, you have to deal with your “arch enemy” who has dedicated himself on the way of ruining your chances at your new life.

pairing: Sherlock x superhuman!Reader 

warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of suicide, violence, language and horrible mistakes... I dunno, I will write a current warning in red on every chapter.

A/N: Even tho I think Sherlock as an asexual character or not interested etc, I find working with well-known characters and less OC’s quite useful. Also, I see a lot of me in him so I will be writing about him more. Also, the reader is female. Also, gifs are never mine, all credits for those talented people. By the way, in case you see my mistakes don’t be shy, let me know! I am trying to improve my English.

Chapter One: “Trembling Hands.”

      “You don’t know who you are, unlike me.” was written on the card  you  recently received. Menacing words written in an elegant handwriting, appeared by your window, every morning since last Friday. there you stood by your counter, your e/c eyes wandering over the same simple words again and again, in a hopeless struggle to find any clues. You did not know what they wanted or cared about; what part of you they assumed they knew? Your super powers? Your business? Your therapist? Your past? Your parents’ death? All the lies you have been telling whole the time? 

      What you could analyse from each of these notes were the fact that they actually new about you. The words they choose were written in a friendly manner which told you that even tho you have never met them, they knew enough to consider themselves close to you. 

      You had a few assumptions on who they could be:

A secret admirer, in a sense, stalker

A conspiracy theorist who have witnessed your... condition?

One of the investigator who had researched you in your teens

Jimmy

     No matter which one they were,(more likely to be a he), he was a stalker. You did not like stalkers. But you were interested in this one’s motive. You wanted to beat their game before they could put their filthy obsessive hands on your very new and clean life.

     Hopping off the counter, you rushed into the living room and put the card on the brown coffee stand in the middle of the room, right next to others. Walking trough cold blue walls of you flat, you kept mentally checking the places you usually control, in case there were cameras. You were going to take a shower after all.

          “I have to ask him first,” said the man on the line, Holmes’ face shot a fake kind smile as he was face to face with the doctor. “ tell my brother I said hi.”

         Doctor threw a look at the phone in disbelief as Holmes hang up the phone. Sherlock was not in his mood for a new case. Especially not a case from his brother, which involves scammers, government, some mafia and a class action lawsuit that could bring them a big amount of money. The detective was too busy in his mind palace.

        John entered the flat and found his flatmate already waiting for him, sat on his chair with hands in praying position, eyes boring into him like he’s trying to ask something.

       Uncomfortable under the gaze, “Yes, Sherlock ask away.” sighed John.

       “John,” said Sherlock, “I have a suggestion.”

        John looked at him in suspicion, his eyes narrowing.

        “How about going out to see a play tonight?”

         John exhaled out of surprise to his friend’s suggestion, was he asking him on a date? For a case (of course)? 

          “Don’t worry John, about whatever you thought of-I don’t’ prefer to vocalise it. I think we may have a new case, which includes the leading actor. She seems to play a big part in this case as much as the play. I also want to witness myself if she was as good as they talked about.”

         “It’s okay, Sherlock, just for once.”

         Sherlock baffled,” What do you mean by ‘just once’? This is a case just like the others, you don’t want to solve cases anymore?”

         “No,” insisted John, “All I’m saying is: it’s okay to be a human just for once.It’s okay to take interest in a play, film or a person-”

         “-I AM NOT INTERESTED,JOHN,”

         It was too late to deny, John was already going upstairs, with a smug smirk of a self-proud mother who has just embarrassed their teenager.

         You have once again saluted the audience, holding hands with your teammates. A little stronger than usual maybe, you didn’t want to throw the decors and people off the stage. Your hands were trembling more since you couldn’t stop the seconds passing; and your head got dizzier every movement, with the help of flashing stage lights. Mavis, your co-actor since high school, leaned over your ear; “You always get so excited when it ends!” she whispered without knowing anything.

       You shot your perfect, warmest smile as your eyes wandered around the place in case anyone was suspicious. You locked your eyes with an awfully familiar man around your age, with curly hair falling on his forehead and eyes piercing onto you. He knew, he knew something and made it clear. He knew you.

”There she is,” you saw him whispering to his friend. You could listen to them is you focused enough, thanks to not being so human.

         But you choose to not hear anything.Thanks to your instincts being quite active this afternoon, every word had felt no different than a knife stabbing her ears. All of this pain was because you couldn’t use your power today. You were a bomb waiting to explode, your hands itching to throw people to the walls and your screams desired to ruin every window in the city. 

     The torture soon ends, but always leaves you shaken up. You turned from the left corner of the entrance of the theatre and entered the cafe where you have tea every night after performance. You didn’t die to drink it every night actually, yet the calming mix thing of this cafe could put an angry elephant down. Naturally, you could calm down too. It eased your nerves and relaxed your muscles which helped you overcoming your power. I you didn’t bother to control your powers, let’s say, no one nearby could survive.

    Whatever, you took your usual seat and smiled at the kind young waiter. You knew each other now, so you didn’t have to talk.(dreamy isn’t it? not having to talk?) You looked out of the window, watching the shiny cars passing by and colourful lights dancing. You slowly turned to the man who just sat in front of you, his arms crossed on the table and eyes gazing you in a weird expression between curious and astonished. Admiring and contemptuous. Familiar and hateful. Friendly and strange.

    “I have to say I am totally astonished by your acting,” he started. You were right about astonished. You smiled firmly, just because this one was choosing his words firmly. If he is one of those creeps you would send him off. But you had to be careful these days, anyone could lead you to the stalker.

    “You come here often.”

    “Yes, it’s not new. Everyone who has taken interest in stalking me knows.”

     He let out a chuckle which you didn’t expect to be this natural.”Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Ironic, since I have come to apologise for making you uncomfortable.”

    His gaze took a lovely, apologising, soft form, which could melt your heart if you didn’t realise him checking for your expressions in between seconds. He was trying to impress you, for what?

    “It’s not very comforting of you when you follow me to a cafe.”

    “So it did,” he said, paying too much attention on your hands while you reached out to your tea.

    “Is he bothering you miss?” asked the waiter protectively, his voice a few octave deeper than usual.

    “I am fine, thank you Oscar.” you watched him walking away with a nod.”So what did what?”

    “Me. Looking at you. You noticed me in hundreds of people. You saw us talking about you.”

    “Please don’t start with that ‘love-at-first-sight-soulmate’ shit.” 

    “I was actually going to start with ‘you-somehow-know-you-are-in-danger’ shit.”

     Your mouth dropped with his super sassy mic drop. You had to be clueless, oblivious and self centred now. You were a normal person now.

     “Is this a threat? I am amused.” you smirked, don’t let them him the fear.

     “No,” he rolled his eyes, “This is an offer.”

      “I am Sherlock Holmes.”

      “OH!” you relaxed, “I know you, (y/n)(s/n).” you answered shaking his hand.

"Come on, drink it. You seem to be dying for it."

   You reached to the cuppa, not being able to hide your hands. As soon as this herbal smell filled your nose and followed it's way to your heart, a soft needy smile appeared on your lips. You felt your muscles getting back to normal.You opened your eyes.

"Now look," you threatened suddenly," if you are here to investigate my parents' death and sue me for it..."

He was more focused now, his gaze melted down to a more intense, even a curious one.

"I am tired. I am tired of this. For all my teenage years, my past, people defined me as a liar. So keep going, keep evoking my traumas. You won’t find what you’re looking for."

"There is a huge misunderstanding, "

He comforted you, leaning more onto the table, you almost loved this caring facade, a pair of eyes; signing no danger, no threat but just a simple caring feeling, were more than enough to let your guard down and believing someone. Just this once.

"I don't want to sue you. I offer you my help. Someone has opened your case again."

This was too much for you, with all energy trapped in your body your heart started to ache, your hands trembling in a way no one could stop.

"Trembling hands."

"What?"

"Show them."

You obeyed, held them up in front of him.

"I thought tea would help you."

"It does. When no one triggers me."

"Everything could trigger you. You live alone in the house your very own parents committed suicide. You don't even have pets which is surprising because you love animals, judging by a different cat and dog fur on your pants, coat, jumper, pretty much everywhere. You also have been avoiding your therapist, judging by the notification sound that you didn't answer after seeing the name. And no, it can not be your lover because you are alone live alone and have no attempt on your physical self-care, in addition, the cafe you go nearly every day or your friend group doesn't look for someone else after you arrive on your own. But those are not clear assumptions, knowing what your parents like is enough to assume you prefer to be single. You are alone for a reason. You think you’re dangerous.

So you live alone, have no one, and Scotland Yard is investigating you. You get stalked and for a reason, you always stay sharp and have a very defensive observant personality.

You are interesting enough for me. I will take your case."

"Is this a nerd way of asking for my number? If it is I will say yes."

"No, it's better, it is a smart way to interest you."

" What for? Why will you help me?"

" Because there is a game waiting for me,” he sighed, “and I am bored."

"Fine, this is my number here-"

"I already have it!"

Then he rushed out, putting his collars up, ruffling his hair.

A/N: I want to thank @fanfictionislovefanfictioni-blog​ for the request! 

[deathduty]

Stairway to Deirdre || Nora & Deirdre

TIMING: Set after A Portrait of Morgan Grey LOCATION: Deirdre & Morgan’s house PARTIES: @fearfordinner & @deathduty CONTENT: Head trauma tw SUMMARY: Nora wants to visit a friend.

Nora’s last conversation with Morgan had gone really well, but it had left Nora with a burning question. What did Morgan’s actual house look like? The answer was. Rich. Nora didn’t know why that surprised her. Other people were rich, she knew. It was easy to assume that most people in White Crest were poor. They just didn’t have the same…. affect of the ‘too rich for their own good’ people she’d grown up around. The front door had been unlocked. Just as Nora had requested, that must mean Morgan was expecting her. A cat ran by Nora, hissing at her before skittering to a different room. A new friend. Nora nodded at the receding cat before starting to slink around the large house. It looked like it could have been on TV. Not Nora’s taste, but if she was to believe the media it was the ideal set up for homes. 

In Nora’s hands objects were picked up and placed back down. Examined and discarded. Everything was returned to the exact place she’d found it a little bit to the left. She thought that would be a funny joke for Morgan to discover later. Done with the first floor Nora finally decided to check out what secrets the second story held. Hopefully she’d get a glimpse of that bone room Morgan had promised. Morgan had a very impressive spiral staircase. Nora slid her hands on the railings as she ascended the steps, completely transfixed by the light fixture that hung about it. 

Doors were an utter inconvenience to Deirdre. Why houses didn’t adopt the automatic sliding doors featured at grocery stores, she didn’t know. And while technology was often confusing to her, and though she was fond of her dated family home, she just really hated the inconvenience of a door. Maybe that was why she had forgotten to lock the front door—locks were an even greater inconvenience—or why she had been staring at her bedroom door for minutes, hoping it would magically open. She’d really have to teach the cats how to open doors for her, one of these days. But finally mustering the strength to turn a door knob, she exited into the hall, and had begun her descent to procure some fruits for snacking, when she froze. She adjusted her silk robe, to make sure nothing was exposed, and stared. Then blinked. Then stared some more. “Who the fuck are you?” But there was one easy answer to strangers on a staircase, her staircase. Deirdre reached out, and with practiced ease and great delight, she shoved the stranger down. 

A woman in silk robes emerged from an upstairs room. It wasn’t Morgan. Nora wondered who it was. Nora even considered asking ‘Who are you’, but the woman spoke first and she thought it would be polite to not speak over her. So instead she opened her mouth to answer. The only thing that came out of that open mouth was a soft “Oh.” As she suddenly found herself being shoved down the stairs. First there was bouncing, limbs and head slapping on carpeted steps until finally there was sliding. In an attempt to defend herself Nora did the only thing she could think of. She shifted. Her clothes tore around her, her body quadrupled in size and the bear emerged. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, the only thing she could really think about was the pain coursing through her body. Staggering  up to her four legs Nora looked up the stairs, asking “Why did you do that?” Of course she had a bear’s mouth with a bear’s vocal cords. It came out more of a mournful yodel, something that Babadook would be proud of. 

There was a bear. For all the shoving of people Deirdre had done, none of them had ever turned into a bear. Deirdre’s eyes rose up and she turned back to her bedroom. She closed the door, a horrible unnecessary thing, and then opened it again, emerging as she just had. Again, there was a bear at the bottom of her steps. “I’m sorry,” she blinked, “I think I must be in a dream. Or perhaps I’m the one who suffered a tumble down the stairs. But you appear to be a bear.” And she was the one talking to the bear, which wasn’t any better. But the bear noises were commendable, almost as great as her screams. In honour of them, and in an attempt to communicate, she offered her own yodels, more like Irish lilting. “What do you want from me?” She gave up after a moment, demanding answers from the bear. If this was a dream, it was a terrible one. Where was the naked Morgan? Or the bones? Or Kaden being set on fire? Or all three at once? 

Nora looked down at the bottom of the stairs where she’d fallen, up the stairs to where the lady still stood. She looked familiar, in a ‘might have seen her picture before’ way but Nora couldn’t quite place it. Probably due to the fact that her brain had just been rattled around in her head. Yodeling again, Nora got her front paws on the first step again. “You made me bear myself.” The bear tried to say, the words colliding into meaningless bear noises. With her two front paws on the first step, Nora realized that she had no clue how to walk up stairs when she was this big. The length of her paw was about the width of the stair. She, in her rattled state, instead of thinking it through decided to stand on her two bear hindlegs. She used the railing to hoist her giant upper half up. “Why did you push me down the stairs?” 

Did bears eat fae? Deirdre considered this as the bear appeared to be climbing up to get her. A supernatural deer had ravaged her home, once. And somehow, the bear was still more strange. “I know I look delectable—I am, as the kids say, a snack—but you shouldn’t let looks deceive you.” Well, if the bear ate her, then she supposed she really did deserve that. She’d known a few to snack on pixies, but really, with the way those things zipped around, even she’d thought about chomping on a couple just to shut them up (she loved them as she loved  all fae, she would remind anyone who asked). The bear continued its rumbling and Deirdre thought she might have seen a spark of intelligence in its eyes, or maybe that was just the chandelier’s reflection.  “I can give you fish,” she finally offered. They’re must have been some salmon in the freezer, beside the brains.

A snack? Nora didn’t eat people. Although, she had some questions about what people would taste like. Someone once said chicken, but she doubted the strange on that internet form had actually eaten human. Weren’t there tonnes of creatures in the surrounded forest that ate people? They liked the taste of humans. No no, Nora had decided long ago that normal meat was enough for her. Fish? The offer was on the table, and Nora with her grumbly tummy was always hungry. As she started struggling her way up the stairs, a pain still throbbing in the back of her head she sang in bear “I am short, fat, and proud of that and so with all my might I up, down, up-down to my appetite's delight. While I up, down, touch the ground I think of things to chew, Mmm, like honey, milk, and chocolate, with a hefty-happy appetite. I'm a hefty-happy Pooh.” For reasons surely unknown, Nora had always loved the Disney character Winnie the Pooh. Of course the whole thing just looked like a yodeling bear climbing up the stairs to maybe eat the human, not asking for the proffered fish. 

Weirdly, it was like the bear was singing at Deirdre. Whatever had happened for her to hallucinate this, it must have been potent; singing bears were her least favourite kind of bear. But she noted the song-song quality of the bear’s yodels now; quite beautiful, if only she weren’t so confused. Well, there was just one way to deal with strange hallucinations. Some silly people might have suggested pinching herself to confirm reality, but Deirdre much preferred her own technique. She reached out, prised the bear’s paws up, and shoved it down the stairs. All of this was done swiftly, as she was trained for excellence, not deliberation, but it felt awfully slow in her head. But the bear had felt real, and so, after throwing someone down a flight of stairs twice, she deduced that this was not a dream. 

It was the shock, wasn't it? As Nora once more found herself bouncing then sliding down the stairs, her limbs going everywhere and the carpet sliding against her, she instinctively changed back. Blood trickled down her arm, her left eye pulsed and a searing pain with shooting through her left shoulder. “Ow.” She mumbled. Having landed securely on a pile of her torn clothes, the naked Nora did absolutely nothing to change this situation. She hurt and quite frankly she wasn’t here for it. The second fall had knocked a little bit of sense in her, if climbing up the stairs resulted in pain, then stay at the bottom of the stairs. Nora opened her mouth to try and say something like, why did you push me? Or Who are you. Instead all that came out with a second, less monotoned “Ow.” 

But the only thing worse than a bear at the bottom of her steps, was a naked, injured person. Deirdre finally went down, staring at the stranger. “Are you okay?” She asked, with all the concern of a woman who hadn’t just shoved this intruder down the stairs. Twice. Although, she hadn’t exactly figured out why the stranger had been a bear for some of it. But along with the memory of fur under her fingers, the torn clothes also told her she hadn’t just imagined it. “You’re bleeding,” she stated, though moved not an inch to help. Instead, she shrugged off her silk robe and tossed it upon the stranger, as if discarding it into the trash. Now she was the naked one, which was usually how she liked things. In her shock, she just couldn’t figure out what she was supposed to do. She imagined the silk robe helped, somehow. “Are you okay?” She asked again. 

There was a world of questions Nora expected someone to ask in that situation. The question Nora hadn’t expected was the one she got. ‘Are you okay?’ Are you okay from the woman who pushed her down the stairs. Nora stared up at the lady, brown hair, brown eyes, beautiful facial structure. The light structure above them made a perfect halo around her face, framing her how she imagined an angel was framed standing above Lucifer as he fell. “You…” Nora’s mouth felt dry as she tried to speak through the pain going through her. “You.. never showed up for our wedding.” She finally recognized the woman standing over her. Deirdre. Her poor brain, that had been rattled around alot decided this was more than enough for Nora today. Darkness overwhelmed her as unconsciousness greeted her. 

“Oh,” Deirdre said. “Nora.” She wasn’t sure what she expected Nora to look like, but a bear and naked were not among the considerations. Lydia did say Nora wasn’t human, so there was that. What were those things that turned into bears? Boob-bears? That explained the nudity. “Well, this is just funny, isn’t it, Nora?” She paused. “Nora?” Deirdre nudged the slumped body with ehr foot. “Noooooraaaaaaaa?” She waited. Oh well. Deirdre stepped over the body with a whistle, off to get her fruits. She picked the salmon out of the freezer and a pillow from the couch on her way back to the staircase. She wiggled the pillow under Nora’s head, noticing the dark coloring forming around her left eye. She put the frozen fish there. Nora wasn’t dead, which according to Deirdre, meant there was no cause for concern. Not that she had much concern to begin with. She noticed the bleeding arm and shifted the silk robe to lay on top as a sort of expensive, ineffective bandage. She shrugged, good enough. And then she went about the rest of her day, Nora forgotten and salmon left to defrost on her purple eye--which was also promptly forgotten. Vaguely, she thought she might invest in some home security, but she didn’t know why the thought came to her. Oh well, must not have been important.

[friendly-neighborhood-study-pal]

Term Reflection ✨☁️

At the end of each term, I answer a few questions in my journal to reflect on the term: how I did, how I can improve, and what steps I should take. I’m going to share the questions and my answers for the last term under the cut!

1. What did you do well? 💡

I balanced five very difficult classes that had deadlines on top of each other at the end of the term, as well as worked a part-time job and participated in extracurricular activities. I really did an excellent job managing my time this term.

2. What did you do poorly? ❌

I was overly stressed about school. Once I submit something, I really have to commit to knowing that there is nothing more that I can do. I’ve already submitted my work, so there’s no point in worrying so much.

3. Why do you think those things went poorly? 💬

I'm just hard on myself.

4. What is your priority for next term? 🤓

Be more kind to myself. I would extend kindness and understanding to anyone in my situation, so I should treat myself with the same grace.

5. What will you try to work on next term? 📝

I’m going to be kinder to myself. I’ll also be submitting a grant and will submit my research abstract to be considered for a conference. Also, let’s maintain that 4.0. GPA baby!

6. How will you try to achieve these new goals and break bad habits? 😌

Be kinder to myself - I’m going to schedule in breaks and let myself relax if I need to, even if the class load seems overwhelming. I will continue to stay on top of my classes but I will take mental health days when I need to and will commit to getting 7-8 hours of sleep a night. This is my most important goal: life is so difficult right now, so I ought to be kinder to everyone, and that includes myself.

Grant submission - I want to submit it by the end of January, so I will spend the next week finalizing the budget and the following two weeks editing and refining it so I have the best chance of being awarded the grant.

Research abstract - This is a long-term goal, but I’m going to meet with my advisor next week to outline what I need to do to get this done. So, more on this later!

Maintain a 4.0. - I need to stay organized, continue to ask questions and ask for help when I need it, and not procrastinate. That’s all very doable and I expect myself to be able to achieve this goal with the right amount of work.

7. What was a high of this term? 🥳

On the same night I found out that I had been accepted into an independent research program starting in March AND that I had received funding for my project from the university. It was a very exciting night!

8. What was a low of this term? 😔

The end of the term is, as always, rough. However, I feel like I felt particularly burnt out at the end of this term. It was hard for me to even get out of bed. This is why being kind to myself throughout next term is a priority. I want to avoid this.

9. How did you grow this term? 🧠

I've become a more involved person. Even though I’m away from campus, I’ve become involved in two extracurriculars I was not previously involved in, and these extracurriculars have improved the quality of my life. It’s been so nice to have (remote) social events to look forward to!

Academically, I took multiple upper-division courses and did well. I'm excited about my curriculum for the rest of the academic year. I'm excited to continue learning.

10. What's one thing you're proud of that you did this term? 💕

I've maintained my 4.0. I've finished my STEM GE's. I’ve taken on leadership positions in my extracurricular activities. Those are admirable to me, and I’m proud of myself for achieving these things.

As an arts and humanities student, I’m so glad to be done with STEM. I’m so impressed with those of you who pursue it! But I am personally so excited to be done.

☁️✨ I hope this was helpful for you to read! Happy 2021 - may it treat us all with the kindness and gentleness we need - and good luck with your upcoming term! ✨☁️

[lu-undy]

Chapter 33 - SBT

Here it is!

"You still want to drive or shall I?" 

"You keep your filthy spooky hands off of her!" 

"Filthy hands? Me?" Lucien exclaimed as they got closer to the van. "Bushman, my hands are in excellent hygienic and cosmetic condition, unlike yours!" 

Lucien and Mundy hopped in the van. They fastened their seatbelts but, to Lucien's surprise, nothing happened. Mundy did not start the engine. He just had his hands on the steering wheel and he was staring at nothing in front of him. 

"Bushman?" 

"Hm." Mundy woke up from his daydream. 

"Something is the matter?" Lucien asked as Mundy started the van and started driving off. 

"N-no, it's just… I'm surprised you know Lulu, is all."

Lucien smiled. 

"Head for the old centre of town… He is an interesting character, Lulu. Like any artist I believe, he has been cursed."

"What d'you mean?" 

"The man is way too romantic for his own good. He sees beauty in everything, even in the most tragic disaster." Lucien said smiling, albeit sadly. Of course he was talking about himself, but for Mundy, it was Lulu that it was all about. "When he sings, he gets possessed by the words that come out of his lips, as if they had control over him and not the other way around."

"You seem to know him so well… How did you meet and become friends?" 

"It was… It was decades ago now, in Paris, even before I became a sp-... Uh…"

"You wanted to say before you became a spook, eh?" Mundy joked. 

"Oui, you are contaminating me with your jargon, Bushman. But oui, it was before I got my current position." Mon Dieu, what would have happened if he had slipped and said he was a spy?

"You said Lulu was singing in the poshest place in Paris, right?" 

"Oui, he was. And what a sight…! His shows were phenomenal, people came from all around the world to see him. Some were even lucky enough to share a chat, or a meal with him. Oh that man led the happiest of lives, and he loved it there."

"What happened? Why did he leave Paris?" 

"I am not sure entirely, but he stopped singing. Maybe he wanted to take a break, retire for a while."

"And then he decided to sing again?" Mundy asked. 

"Apparently, oui. I guess retirement did not suit him, or the other way around, God only knows."

"Why come to Australia? That seems awfully far from home." 

"He is well travelled. Well, I guess he has travelled to such an extent that nowhere is really home anymore." 

Mundy heard the distress in Lucien's voice. It struck him. Why was the man in the mask distraught about that? 

"You almost sound… sad. Were you that close friends with Lulu?" He asked. 

"Oh, oui, the best of friends." Lucien answered. "I think I got to know him at the most innocent point of my life. I was a young adult, carefree, not a clue about the cruelty of life, or so little. Each time I think of Lulu, his personality, it brings me back decades ago that feel like another life altogether." 

"I guess it makes sense if all that happened before… y'know." Mundy didn't dare say that it had happened before Lucien lost his fiancée and son. 

"Oui, it did." 

"Hm, I get it…" 

"As much as the man is cursed, he is extremely lucky." Lucien said. 

"What d'you mean?" 

"Don't you sometimes wish you could feel something else than just this brutal lust for revenge?" Lucien asked. 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped at the unexpected burst of truth. 

"Yeah actually. I uh… Sometimes I even wonder how it all was when I had my parents, how happy I was without feeling happy. I didn't know I was happy. If I could go back in time, I'd tell myself to feel privileged."

"But would your younger self understand that privilege?" Lucien asked and Mundy's eyes shot to him. 

"I can see you were very close to Lulu, you talk like him." 

"Have you talked to him? Oh, by the way take it right here and we should park nearby."

"Alright." Mundy flicked his blinking light and took the turn. "And yeah, I went to have a chat with him." 

"Lucky you! The man is arrogant and doesn't just let anyone talk to him." Lucien answered, still playing Mundy like a damn fiddle.

"Really?" Mundy's heart jumped. He felt special… 

"Oui, I assure you. And given the long queue of ladies and admirers of all sorts, Lulu has no choice but to live like that, pushing people who look at him with fondness away from his life "

"Oh, wow… I had no idea…" Mundy parked and stopped the van. He looked down and fell deep in thought, his hands still on the steering wheel.

"But I guess that if he accepted a chat with you, he must have found something worth his while under that brown hat of yours, hm?" 

Mundy looked at Lucien. The French bastard was smirking and exited the van. L sure did have quite the smirk, a bit like Lulu, Mundy thought. But that mask made him look so… non-human.

"Let us go." Lucien opened the door for his colleague to get in.

"Oh…" Mundy looked at the tailor's shop. He recognised it. It was the one he had come to when he had asked about that blue and golden button! 

"Come on, Bushman. I know you have rarely seen suits of that standard, but don't be too impressed." Lucien mocked him. 

"Spook…" 

They both slipped in. 

"Ah! L!" Richard and his impeccably trimmed moustache welcomed the Frenchman warmly. "Bonjour mon ami!"

[Hello, my friend!]

The two Frenchmen shook hands while Mundy hoped the tailor wouldn't recognise him...

"Please, Richard, meet my friend, M." Lucien turned to face Mundy and frowned. "Bushman, your manners!" Lucien pushed himself to the tip of his toes and snatched Mundy's hat off his head. 

"Oi! My hat!" Mundy tried to take it back but Lucien turned away from him.

"You are inside, you don't need it, you impolite!" Lucien answered. "Richard, please pardon my friend's manners."

"No problem at all." Mundy and Richard shook hands. "How may I help today? I hope you liked the few suits I made for you, L?" 

"They were divine, Richard, as usual. And I think I am getting used to wearing a bit more colour now." 

"Ah, you see? I told you!" Richard exclaimed happily. 

"Shall we take a seat, please? Our request might take a bit of explaining." Lucien asked. 

"Of course, please." 

Lucien and Mundy sat on a sofa while Richard was on an armchair in front of them. 

"So, what will you need?" 

"We are attending a masquerade ball and we need disguises, costumes." 

"Ah, I see. M, do you mind standing up and removing your jacket, please?" 

Mundy looked at Lucien who nodded, and the Aussie removed his sleeveless jacket as he stood up. 

"Here." 

"Oh, a tall man indeed…" Richard stood up and started taking measurements. "Hm… Paul, tu peux venir prendre les mesures du Monsieur s'il te plaît?"

[Paul, can you please come and take the measurements of the man here?]

Paul and his brother emerged from the workshop and got busy around Mundy. The Aussie felt awkward standing up between Lucien and Richard, with both Richard's sons turning around him with tape measures. He kept looking at what they were doing, turning his head left and right nervously. 

"What costumes do you want?" 

"I would like to go for a costume of Le Roi Soleil." 

"Didn't you want to go Louis-the-whatever?" Mundy asked. 

Lucien rolled his eyes.

"Le Roi Soleil is the Sun King, which is the nickname that Louis the Fourteenth got, because he radiated such strong power, it was as if France was ruled by the sun itself."

"Crikey… You never stop, do you…?" 

Lucien smirked and tilted his head on the side. 

"I see you are starting to know me."

"And for you M, what would you like?" Richard asked.

"To be honest, I have no idea, mate."

"Give him something that suits him and he can keep it even outside of the party. A new suit won't hurt him."

"Ah, I see. Shall I also make masks?" Richard gestured to his sons who took notes.

"Naturally. M, I would recommend one for you too." Lucien said. 

"Why?" 

"First, to hide your unpleasant face."

"Spook…" 

Even Richard cracked a smile under his moustache. 

"And second, it is better to hide your identity. The longer they don't know who you are, the better."

"Is it why you wear your mask?" 

Richard's eyes went to Lucien. 

"Amongst other things, oui." Lucien looked at Richard. "How long do you think it will take before we can get the costumes?" 

The tailor was looking at his son's notepad and Mundy's measurements. His eyes went up to the hunter. 

"A well-built man you are, sturdy shoulders, tall…" Richard sprang off his armchair. He put his hands on Mundy's shoulders and opened them. "Don't stand slouched, straighten your spine, here, that is a nice posture, I will spare you the chin…"

"What about my chin?" Mundy asked, as he had just been re-arranged by the tailor as if he had been made of clay.

"Ah, watch this." Richard said and raised his index finger. "L, would you mind standing up, please?"

"But of course." Lucien stood up next to the hunter and pulled the panes of his jacket to close the button again.

"Look here, M, this is how to stand tall and proud. Look at the way L holds his head, the chin slightly up, the chest proud, without overdoing it, that posture!" Richard was pointing as he was turning around the Frenchman. "The curves on his spine, the fabric of the vest just follows it almost poetically, and that is not talking about his proportions!" 

Lucien himself started to blush and looked at his feet. 

"This man's body has been designed for modelling!" 

Mundy squinted and as he stared more, he started to see Lulu's graceful silhouette on L.

"In more than thirty years in the business, I haven't met a single man, not a single person, with a body like his." 

"Richard…" Lucien looked at the floor, slightly embarrassed. He brushed his eyebrow with a finger and licked his lips.

"That, and an exquisite taste in clothing!" Richard went on, as if Lucien hadn't interrupted him. And he turned to Mundy. "But you…" 

He got closer to the tall Aussie and pointed an accusative index finger at the man.

"You have no understanding of fashion. You do not honour the fabrics that you wear and vice versa. You dress up because you have been raised to and that is one of the very few things that still separates you from the animal."

Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy who lowered his, and faced the other way. 

"But look at you…! Such potential! If you just saw the numbers! Paul, the notepad!" 

Paul handed his father the notepad on which he had written Mundy's measurements. 

"It's all here! The numbers! Now, words might lie, faces might lie, anything can lie, but numbers…? Numbers cannot lie! And do you know what these mean?" 

Mundy didn't dare move. Lucien was watching the whole scene unravel in the centre of the room, surrounded by rolls of fabric on wooden shelves, under yellow lights. 

"The numbers that I see here do not mean what I see! I see a man whose clothes are older than my sons' careers but the numbers on the paper here, they scream! Such injustice! You could be so much more! Why do you treat your clothes this way…? Why do you choose to present yourself this way?"

"I didn't choose."

"Of course you did! And of course you do, everyday!" Richard answered. "Now, I will take it as my responsibility to show you the potential that these numbers show. I will make a suit that you will keep for your entire life, and it shall reveal what you could be. Do I have your agreement?" 

Richard extended his hand and looked Mundy dead in the eyes. The Aussie raised his eyes from the floor up to Richard. 

"A-alright." He shyly raised his hand and Richard shook it firmly. 

"Right, now L, should I give him the same pockets as you?" 

"Non, the classic ones and just two extras."

"Dimensions?"

"Same as my jacket ones." 

"Understood. Fine, now, was that all?"

"I do believe so." Lucien said. "Thank you a thousand times, Richard." 

"My pleasure." 

A few moments later, Lucien and Mundy were back in the van. 

"Gosh, your friend is… Intense." Mundy said. 

"To be honest with you, I never saw him getting so emotional." Lucien answered. "You, Bushman, you have your effect on people. First, it was Lulu, now Richard, who next? Me?" 

"Yeah, well, I don't know. I never asked to have people shout at me about my clothes, eh." 

"And yet…" Lucien looked at his friend. He stared at him with a smile. 

"And yet what?" 

"Can you drive me back to Maurice's? I need my motorcycle." Lucien answered. 

Mundy looked at him for a second. What the hell did he mean, that Spook? 

"Yeah." He started the van and off they went. The ride was mostly silent if one doesn't count the rumble of the engine. 

"You could bring your sheila to see Lulu. If she likes you, she likes posh stuff and she'll no doubt love Lulu."

"My sheila?" Lucien repeated. 

"Yeah, your sheila, the one that waitress at the diner talked about… what was the name again… Payrlee or something? She French too I guess?" 

Lucien was about to burst out laughing. Mundy thought that Perle was a woman… 

"Her name is Perle, or for you in English, Pearl."

"Ah, right. Poetic." 

"Indeed, and again I am surprised in a good way that you of all people appreciate the poetry. But non, I found her here in Australia, not in France." 

"Ah, so it's fairly recent, eh?" 

"Oui."

"Guess it makes sense." 

"What?" Lucien asked. 

"You're a classy bloke, you've got the manners goin' and all. No doubt the sheilas queue for miles for you, eh?"

"I cannot complain in that regard." Lucien smirked. 

"Must be a French thing."

"What?" 

"It's a bit like with Lulu. The other day he received heaps of letters from sheilas."

"Quite the interest you have with that singer, M." 

"What?!" Mundy blushed and his grip on the steering wheel hardened.

"In French we say 'Tous les chemins mènent à Rome.', 'All the roads lead to Rome', but with you, all the discussions lead to Lulu it seems."

Mundy didn't know what to answer as he started to realise that yes, he was quite interested in the singer.

"Quite the admirer, you are." Lucien said. 

Mundy decided to just be honest about it. 

"It's the way he sings, not the bloke himself, although he isn't unpleasant to watch."

"What do you mean?" 

"Well, he has a way of… Mh… No, I can't tell you." 

"Why not?" Lucien asked. 

"Because you'd tell him and also, you'd bully me for it and I don't need that." 

Mundy got startled when he felt L's hand on his shoulder and it reminded him of Lulu's exact same gesture.

"M, I do like to laugh but if matters are serious, I am also able to lend an ear, as you already know."

"Do I?"

"At the Doctor's, weren't you the one who accepted to speak openly as if I wasn't there?" Lucien asked and Mundy sighed. 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"So you know I can listen. Go ahead if you want to speak."

"Hm… It's just… Lulu just speaks about his feelings so freely, it's insane…!"

"Do you envy that? Do you wish you too could do that?" Lucien asked and Mundy briefly looked at him before his eyes snapped back on the road. But in that furtive gaze, Lucien had read the distress that Mundy failed to hide. "I can understand." He added, to try and help.

"I'm sure you could understand the nightmare it is to live without your loved ones for so long, but I'm not sure you can anymore."

"Why?" Lucien asked. 

"Because you have someone again now." 

Mundy arrived in Maurice's district and parked the van where they had started their journey. He pulled the handbrake and cut the engine. Silence fell in the van. 

"Having someone now does not erase the decade of my life that I have wasted." Lucien said. 

"No, but it helps to forget it." 

"M, I will tell you something." Mundy raised his eyes to the man in the mask. He looked focused. "I found someone who helps immensely, but if they could speak here, they would tell you that they very much feel the weight of those years on me and on us. She helps, yes, but I know that she will never heal me." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Why? How d'you know that?" 

Lucien's lips pursed up in a smile. 

"If you knew Perle, you would understand. She isn't the sort of company that you would expect to help me beat La Solitude completely and even worse…"

"What d'you mean worse?"

"Paradoxically enough, sometimes she makes me feel worse."

"How?"

"Because she makes me remember those easier, sweeter times. She makes me remember those times and the fact that those times ended. She is a constant reminder that whatever I have with her, or with you, or with anyone is bound to end. Nothing is ever-lasting, nothing truly means anything." Lucien answered. 

"So she never goes away, the Solitude, eh? That's it, we just have to deal with it till we get Duchemin, kill him and then get killed for it, hm?" Mundy concluded.

"Non, M. What I am only saying is very specific to my case. What I am saying is that Perle helps, but she will never heal me completely."

"Can we even heal completely?" Mundy let his hands rise and fall on the steering wheel. "Can we even get out of that… that…"

"That constant, dark grey cloud around our heads?" Lucien finished his sentence for him. "I believe we can, M. I am older than you and I have seen my fair share of things in life. I have seen things your mind would not comprehend and so have you, only you don't see it that way."

Mundy raised an eyebrow, confused. 

"Like what?" 

"Look there." Lucien pointed through the window, at the children playing in the dirty street. "What do you see?"

"It's a bunch of kids playin'. What about it?"

"You are only seeing that?" Lucien asked. "There is so much that you are seeing but choosing to dismiss…"

"Really? Like what? What do you see then?"

"M, those children who are playing, look at their old clothes, look at their messy hair, look at the dirty street they are playing in, with no adult supervision. This is in fact a horrible sight. These children, our future, those who tomorrow will decide of the rules of our world, they are playing in the dirtiest street of their town, with an old, half-deflated ball, with no adult to make sure they are safe, and they do not care about it. And that is the worst part."

"Why?" 

"Because it means that not only do they not have parents to care for them, they also now are completely familiar with the idea of them not being worth any adult's attention. That is why each time they come to deliver a message to me, I…" Lucien took a deep breath. "They remind me of my Jérémy. Little blond heads, blue eyes, an innocent outlook on life, not a care in the world, why would he?" 

Mundy felt the distress in his friend's voice. He put a hand on his shoulder and tapped it gently. 

"But these children, M, they do not see all this like I do. Non, they are having fun! They are enjoying their game that they are playing with the best ball they have ever had. They are growing up together, playing and enjoying their time, a time that they are not counting at all!"

Lucien turned his face away from his window to look at Mundy. 

"This is what I find incredible and this is what makes me think that we can heal from whatever Duchemin did to us. The children in their non-existent wisdom show it to us everyday. Tant qu'il y a de la vie, il y a de l'espoir."

Lucien looked at the lagoon blue eyes. They reminded him of Perle's. 

"As long as we live, there is hope." He translated himself. 

"You think so?" Mundy asked. 

"I am sure of it. If I could cut my hair, shave my unkempt beard, put on the suit and tie again, the mask, all that after ten years off; if I now manage to wear any other colours than black and grey, if I accept to work with you, then surely there is hope and I am pulling myself out of La Solitude's grip. But look at yourself, Bushman, I am sure you could see the same progression."

Mundy frowned. 

"Here you are, with someone on your passenger's seat in your van, talking to this mysterious man in a mask that you don't even know the face or the name of, you even go to the Queen Victoria and watch concerts while enjoying fine food, all that while wearing a suit and tie! Would the M from five years ago ever think of doing that? Non, of course not. Yet here you are." Lucien said and Mundy's jaw dropped as he started to realise it all. 

"You are not even realising it, but you are healing already."

Mundy blushed. His blood was boiling with energy as he practically buzzed on his seat. He was healing!

"I'm… Am I?" He asked. 

"Oui, you are." 

"Jesus, I never saw things this way before…"

"Because you have always been scared." Lucien answered.

"Of what?"

"Looking inside you."

"Why?" Mundy asked.

"Because of the risk. Think, Bushman. If you let yourself look inside here," Lucien poked Mundy's polo shirt on his chest. "Then, you take the risk of finding things that you don't want to find."

Mundy blushed. 

"Guess you're right." He sighed. "But you… You're really like Lulu."

"How so?"

"You manage to put words on stuff I knew was somewhere in me, but never managed to really say."

Lucien gave him a grin that was almost sweet.

"Contrary to you, I asked myself all those questions before you. I knew the risks and I took them."

"What did you find then, in there?" Mundy poked the Frenchman's jacket on his chest like he had done a few seconds before.

"Does it matter?"

Mundy sighed. He now knew that whenever L didn't want to talk about something, he would just say "Does it matter?".

"A bit. But if you don't wanna talk about it, it's fine." He sent a sweet smile back at L. "Although, uh… Thanks."

"What for?" Lucien raised a curious eyebrows. 

"I like chatting about those things. And I never really had anyone to do that with before. To be honest, that's also a reason why I quite like Lulu, he accepted to talk with me about that." 

"Whenever you want, Bushman." 

Their eyes met with a smile on both parts. 

"But right now, let us wait for Richard to make the suits." Lucien exited the van. 

"When is the party?" 

Lucien looked through the van's open window.

"In a week so we have time, enjoy your holidays." 

"You too, Spook."

They nodded to each other and Lucien turned to get to his motorcycle. 

"L?"

Lucien turned. 

"Uh, enjoy your time with Pearl, eh?" 

The Frenchman smiled. 

"That's all I hope for." He answered.

[ronnytherandom]

Media n Stuff

2/1/2021: American Psycho

Excellent, truly. Has a lot to say about those on the top of our social hierarchy, the wealthy and influential and how our modern system facilitates them at the expense of everyone else. A very stylish film, well edited and directed. Rests upon a truly magnificent performance in the case of Christian Bale’s Patrick Bateman, who does a fantastic job of playing something pretending to be human. Soundtrack is a bop.

3/1/2021: Se7en

All right, not my kind of thing ultimately. There are some thoughts about legacy and what doing good means here but I feel its slightly obscure and could be more clearly stated; perhaps I wasn’t paying close enough attention. Directing is top notch. The acting also is good but nothing truly incredible. The suspense is very effective but on occasion can be defeated by pacing, excess time creating boredom. Further it was partially predictable, which harmed the effectiveness of the piece. Though the point of the state of the victims is to inspire disgust this especially did not fit the remit of entertainment for me.

4/1/2021: The Martian

Highly Enjoyable. As usual, weaker than the novel but not to a Golden Compass level. Any work that bends heaven and earth to save a single life is good in my books. Retains the wit and the scientific backbone to good effect to offset the bleakness. Likewise, the back-and-forth structure between Mars and other locations helps to make the survival scenario less overbearing. Star-studded cast, and I think rightfully so here as the performances are generally very good. Matt Damon as Mark Watney has many moments of excellence. Mars is beautiful and I’m glad Ridley Scott captured that well, on top of doing a job that lives up to his reputation.

5/1/2021: Dredd

Good. Though I worry about the implications of a “Not All Cops Bad” message, it could be interpreted elsewise and is decidedly sympathetic to civilians which works in its favour. There is the aspect of portraying Police and Criminals as two sides of the same coin, with Dredd and Anderson existing outside of said dichotomy to some degree, but ultimately implying that the existing system just needs the right people in it without severe reform, though again that’s up for debate. Otherwise, good spectacle and very nice presentation; the film can be beautiful at times and when it isn’t it has excellent action. Something I appreciate is a clear view of the action, rather than the choppy action of modern superhero films, and an unflinching approach to the depiction of gore even if I was flinching at times. Though I’m unfamiliar with the original work I find this an interesting dystopia, even if Dredd himself can be a little cliché. Performances haven’t left much of an impression though.

6/1/2021: The Wolf of Wall Street

Meh? It’s well made don’t get me wrong, everything looks and feels high quality. Of course, Scorsese is a good director. Of course, DiCaprio’s acting is fantastic, as is the rest of the acting to be frank, but it just doesn’t come together for me. I don’t feel like there was a compelling reason to sit through that for three whole hours. I can see meaning in the depiction of excess; of Belfort’s alienation, losing everything that should be dear to him; of the animal nature of people who just want to make money. I can appreciate the powerful performances and the craftwork on display. I just didn’t enjoy it.

7/1/2021: Enola Holmes

Enjoyable. Has a more juvenile tone than I like, that’s to be expected from a coming-of-age story, but it certainly does a far better job with the gifted sister idea than the BBC Sherlock series did. At times this film was truly joyous and inspiring and I would attribute that to a cast of endearing characters and a strong thematic core which is carried throughout the story. However, from a more radical perspective I cannot endorse a seeming admonishment of direct action, as much as I appreciate the idea that getting new blood in politics is a progressive step forward. Performances are good, Millie Bobby Brown does well in the lead, though I am not so keen on her 4th wall asides, and I always appreciate the sight of Henry Cavill. Also, proud to see Burn Gorman portray the most accurate Normal Englishman I’ve ever seen. I also wanted to make note of what id consider good editing, felt very snappy and effective.

8/1/2021: Shaun of the Dead

Very good, but maybe doesn’t quite live up to its reputation. Very put off by the use of F and N slurs even if the prior is in context with English slang at the time. Id say this is the lesser of the Cornetto trilogy films but with such competition it’d be hard to come out on top. Quite dry humour, I don’t think all the jokes land, but there are a few true laugh out loud moments. Similarly, it works emotionally only some of the time but at moments, especially in Philips last words, there’s some genuine power. I do feel like the pace lulls slightly too much at moments but is generally very good and saves itself for a fun final sprint. The Zombies themselves are true to Romero’s style of zombie and though the satire is light in comparison to character-zombie parallels it is still effective. Performances are good, and serve well in demonstrating the range of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost in comparison with the later Cornetto films and Bill Nighy is always a treat. I only ever have praise for Edgar Wright as a fan of all his later works, so I’m glad to see even his first feature demonstrates his ability well, stylish young man is our Edgar.

8/1/2021: Avatar: Legend of Korra: Series 1

Not by any stretch a worthy successor but good by its own merit. Has powerful emotional moments and excellent action, I cannot get enough of any kind of bending in this universe. Some characters are likeable; Korra is a good lead, Tenzin is my personal favourite and I want to hug Naga. Bolin, however, can get shafted. his particular brand of comic relief inspires in me an absolute hatred I cannot fully fathom. I have many little gripes though. I find the love “square” (?) plot annoying and do not understand what purpose it serves. Just be honest with each other goddamn! In universe I wonder at the limits of metal bending, but the police are content simply to launch cables with it. Why are the Chi Fighters such an obstacle in the first half and yet become cannon fodder by the end? I also feel like a lot of the “powerful moments” I feel are dependent on nostalgia for The Last Airbender, such as any moment where the original theme is played, or when General Iroh appears etc. This is particularly egregious with the feature of cabbage corp. Really? It is frustrating to me that Korra spends the entire series past the second episode tell-not-showing us she can’t airbend before having it essentially gifted to her, similarly with the avatar state. As much as she does endure hardship, I feel like the series would be improved even slightly if Korra’s bending is taken away completely and she uses the avatar state to rescue Mako from Amon, when she is actually at her definitive low point. I find with most episodes there are moments which I’m absolutely invested in and really enjoying but then a gripe or two will pop up and marginally ruin the experience for me. But again, these are minor and as much as I fuss over these details the ultimate product is enjoyable and watchable. The setting is certainly interesting but (probably by design) New Republic City clashes too harshly with the magic system, and I think it harms the series. The animators and artists however should be lauded, as the spectacle here is magnificent.

9/1/2021: Ex Machina

Magnificent piece of work. This is what I imagine is actual good cinematography, rather than the usual “pretty stills equals good cinematography” take. Every frame a painting indeed, aided in that way by fantastically beautiful set work. Each actor deserves applause but I feel especially Alicia Vikander. As Ava she does brilliant work and at times uses an alien affectation which is an impressive highlight of attention to detail here. The director knows exactly what they’re doing, the whole thing has a kind of spotless professionalism. Special Effects are minimalist but used so very well, especially the work of making Ava and the other AI look so real. I love that this is a film which doesn’t stoop to explaining every little thing and treats the audience as an equal, and how the tension is reflected in all aspects of the piece and builds to such a mighty crescendo, though I was quite put off by the self-harm scene and would rather that were not a thing. Not only all of that but its deeply meaningful with a lot to say about our own minds (I don’t think Nathan passes Turing test) with a decidedly feminist angle too. It really is a treat.

10/1/2021: Sourcery (unfinished)

Even as a fan of early Pratchett, this ain’t it chief. I don’t like it. The jokes don’t land, the only character I like is The Librarian and the whole thing just kind of bores me, so I’ve stopped somewhere just past halfway as I can’t be fussed for the rest. I don’t care about Coin, or the wizards, or Rincewind, even the Luggage has lost that pariah charisma it usually has. Conina feels weird? I feel like there this constant unnecessary sexualisation of her and Rincewind’s affections seem more than mildly inappropriate. I’ve been reading it a week and I’ve barely been able to drag myself to it these past couple of days so I feel its time for something a little fresher.

10/1/2021: The Two Popes

Very good. There is excellence in all aspects of this films craft. Johnathan Pryce gives an endearing performance; Anthony Hopkins is likewise very good as you’d expect. I think this is a film to listen to through a good sound system, the sound work struck me as exceptional in its attention to detail while the soundtrack is good fun. Direction is dynamic and effective most evidently in the camera work which tends to feel Just Right. Dialogue is very well written and feels very organic. I enjoy the themes of change and reconciliation and feel contrasting the character of the two popes expresses this very effectively, however I would much rather see evidence of genuine change that surely must’ve occurred rather than a simple implication of change as we see. There is the argument to be made that fully reconciling the old and the new without altering material reality, beyond giving speeches encouraging others to do so, represents the will to change being co-opted and perverted by the conservative establishment. But its still a nice sentiment and a well made film regardless.

[yourdailystevie]

Required Writing

Challenge Accepted

I am an outspoken and charismatic thirty nine year old female. I am intensely passionate about everything I do but more specifically; conservation, ethical and social responsibility, mental and physical health, personal wellness and my hair styles. Admittedly, required writing about who I actually am is a very daunting task even if I do enjoy writing about my life’s random occurrences for online blogs. For the past four years, I have transitioned from being an animal eater to a plant-based lifestyle community member for two ethical reasons; to reduce my negative environmental impact that animal agriculture has towards the planet and preventative illnesses to the human body. The year I was diagnosed with cervical cancer, December 6 2011, I changed my hairstyle thirteen different times, attesting to my magnetic personality. Prior to my diagnosis, I was heavily focused on doing better for the planet and my personal health by demonstrating environmental consciousness and eating healthy foods along with running half-marathon events to help me pursue my personal wellness goals. Being a cancer survivor amplifies all of my reasons to continue striving for excellence with my mental and physical health but more importantly I do not worry about the little things in life and spend more time focusing on my collective responsibility. I prefer to travel the world because it is the best way to see other cultures firsthand, understand these lifestyles, and confirm we really do share this plant with a diverse global society. When I started my 15 year career up in Canada’s lower arctic, beginning in 2006, I learned a boundless amount about the culture of my Inuit colleagues. I am confident because of my outgoing nature I learned how to build rapport with other individuals. It has given me the opportunity to discover a deeper way of listening, respecting and relating with people from different backgrounds other than my own. Albeit, by being very chatty along with my sunny disposition and sharing my experiences more generously than some, I have gained insight into other people's lives and believe it’s imperative to share my wisdom, including mistakes, with others as I saunter along in life, one new hair style at a time.

Connecting with Nunavummiut

My connection with Nunavut’s Inuit, one of the Indigenous Peoples in Canada, is not all about speaking the same language. My invaluable cultural learning experience in Canada’s Arctic came over a span of fifteen years when I worked in the Kitikmeot and Kivalliq regions of Nunavut. By simply observing the difference in how I clothed myself with an obsessive amount of layers versus their t-shirt and pant combinations showed me how they could withstand the frigid temperatures which sometimes reached colder than minus 50 degrees Celsius. We differed in regards to causes for alarm, mine being blizzard conditions resulting in zero visibility and 100 kilometer winds in the blacked out winter months and theirs being hotter weather in the summer bug season with black flies and mosquitoes. Trevor and Moses, two young men from Rankin Inlet, impressed me when teaching about a traditional Arctic Games’ sport called the High Kick. It is performed by standing on either one foot or two and extending the foot as high as possible when jumping vertically to touch an object hanging upwards to 8 feet tall. There are many dialects within Inuktitut, Language of the Inuit, used throughout the communities, for example the phrase “Thank you” was either “Mat’na” from the people around Baker Lake and “Qujannamiik” from the people around Rankin Inlet. Inuit use many ways of communicating like stacking stones on top of one another, forming Inukshuks for travel markers on the land and non-verbal ways of responding to questions like raising eyebrows while opening the eyes wide meaning ‘Yes’ and dropping eyebrows while squinting the eyes almost closed meaning ‘No’. Highly respected Elders share stories in their dialect of Inuktitut to new generations of Nunavummiut. They teach about traditional practices, cultural history and traditions. Hunting on the land is prioritized over modernized work and sustains not only personal family freezers but is shared throughout the communities to ensure everyone’s nourishment. The people of Nunavut gave me irreplaceable experiences many of my family and friends envy and despite being unilingual when I first started working in Nunavut, I am proud to display all the words they taught me, especially my Inuk name, Uqaqti, which means Talker.

[tidustargaryen]

The Last of Us Part II - A unique experience you can never get rid of (My interpretation of the story - Full of spoilers!!!)

I made some screens of the game, but I messed up while forgetting to remove the black frame of options from photo mode. I was so proud of the screens! ^^ Sorry. 🙇

Wow...Wow...Wow... 🤩🤩

 I couldn't not talk about this game, and what it felt like to play it.I went through all the emotions, I smiled, I cried, I screamed, I laughed, I was scared, I was anxious, I sang, I felt anger, even hatred, but also compassion, pity, empathy and the desire to forgive and forget. They broke my heart, and then filled it with rainbows. It was really the roller coaster of emotions. That's what I wanted when I bought this game. I wanted to feel things, a whole lot of things. I wanted to smile, I wanted to laugh, but I also wanted to cry. Because crying is not necessarily negative. It's a human emotion that also does good things.

I love Red Dead Redemption 2, I played it a lot, but I didn’t have the need to put words on my feelings. And especially not to give it such praise, that is to say how much The Last of Us Part II affected me. I also find it hard to describe my thoughts, my feelings in another language, and the review took me time and effort. There will surely be plenty of mistakes, but I love this game too much not to grant it the honor it deserves.

The job is successful, it's more than successful, this game has affected me deeply, in a positive way. When I put the controller down at the end of the game, wow... Just wow... That's all i could think of. And I must confess, I don't understand the negative feedback. I understand of course, that you can dislike a scenario, I myself dislike some movies, we like, we dislike, for different reasons, it's our most legitimate right. But hatred for a game? Putting a zero grade on it? It's not objective. The gameplay is excellent, much better than the first one, the immersion is incredible, the visual and sound atmosphere... damn! The motion capture is unmatched. More weapons, more actions, more everything.The graphics, the dialogues, the music! Even if the scenario is not good for you, you have to admit that the rest is almost perfect... So it's impossible to put 0 to this game. It may not please you, it's legitimate, but when I don't like something, I leave it, I don't spend days talking about it, in a bad way. I would also add that reading the leaks is one thing, playing the game, living the story with the controller in hand is something else. Maybe you're missing out on something huge, it's your choice.

If I say that, it's above all because I would really like a third opus, I want other stories with Ellie. I liked her in the first one, but I got so attached to her in the second part. And I like the world of the Last of Us, I got attached to the Ellie/Dina relationship as well, and I'll come back to that in the development I'm going to do on the characters right after.

All that to say, for anyone who didn't like The Last of Us Part II, your life is not going to change whether or not there's a part III, but I, and other players, would really like a sequel. But I'm not sure there's going to be one after this outpouring of hatred. So good for you, so bad for us, I guess. But I'm not selfish.

I've also seen some very positive comments, a lot of “masterpieces” and objective opinions, full of very good reviews from players who have had the same experience as me. I've played a lot of games that I liked, very few of them made an impression on me like The Last of Us Part II, none of them made an impression on me like The Last of Us Part II in fact, thank you Naughty Dog. Really, thank you, because, and this is my personal opinion, this sequel is much better than the first opus. Yes, that's what I think, and I had heard and seen a lot of press reviews that said it was better, I couldn't believe it. And yet, since I finished the game, I can't stop thinking about it, I can't stop rewriting the story, imagining a sequel, and that's what I wanted this game to do, to touch me emotionally, quite simply. This game haunts me since I press “start”. Well done, I admit.

Spoilers, ahead.

They didn't lie on this, I knew what game I was buying. A violent game, which deals with difficult subject, revenge, hate, the worst human emotions. It's hard for the players to understand the choices they made in the script, but it's also because it's hard to imagine living in a world like The Last of Us.  Anyone can die at any time. And the survival instinct brings out the worst in humans. In their world, we too would become violent, hateful, we would do anything to survive. We will do the same things as Abby, Ellie, Joel and everyone else. Yes, it would be so much simpler, and more productive, to cooperate, to be united, this is the solution, the only one. Unfortunately, humans do the contrary, because the fear of the other, of the unknown, makes one strike before being struck. Already, in our current world, people find it very difficult to show solidarity, there is solidarity, but how many there are out of billions ?? They said it would take an open mind to enjoy the game, and understand the choices of characters. And they were right.

The game could have dealt with the story of a father and his adopted daughter, wanting to survive in a cruel world full of infected people who want to devour you, but who are not the worst enemies. It would have shown these characters succeeding and living a happy life in the town of Jackson... and it could have been believable, why not, with a big stroke of luck... Because honestly, in a world like this, where anybody can die at any time, realism is very important. The worst thing that could have happened to this game is not hate, it's indifference, and the game does not leave indifferent, far from it. People still haven't understood that to show disappointment in a game, a movie, a series, or whatever, hatred is not the solution, but indifference. Hatred proves that you are interested enough in the subject to talk about it a lot. This is indifference, the opposite of love.

Because, yes, in this world, you can die very cruelly, horribly, just like Joel... It's hard, it hurts, but it's realistic. When I first played the first opus, at the end I said to myself "If there's a sequel to this game, Joel will pay harshly for the consequences of his decision..." Because Joel's choice was selfish, it was very human, but it was very selfish. I love Ellie so much that I'm thrilled, but he saved a little girl that he cared so much about, a love that he didn't think he'd feel since he lost his little girl. But tell me, how many other little girls has he sacrificed in the process? How many people has he forced to live in such a terrible world? This vaccine could have saved them all. It’s unthinkable to me that the surviving Fireflies wouldn't want revenge. And it's even more natural to want revenge on the murderer of your father.

Yeah, I wish Joel would've survived, or not died so cruelly, especially not in front of Ellie. But Joel is paying the consequences for his choice. It's hard to put yourself in that position, but I don't think I would have made the same choice Joel did. And maybe, when you think about it, was it better for Ellie to die saving the world, rather than go through all that she had to go through next ?

The Last of Us part II, it's clearly not a game where everything is white or black, the development studio took a big risk, making us play inside the head of the person we're supposed to hate, the one who took Ellie's dearest love. Most games make us play nice people, who fight against the bad guys, but here, the bad guys aren't always bad, they can do good deeds, and bad ones, just like Ellie. These shades of grey in each character are very interesting to study, the story becomes more complex, more captivating. Joel wasn't a "good guy" either, he did a lot of bad things before he crossed Ellie's path, he ambushed people to kill them and steal from them... That doesn't stop us from loving him, it's also true for Abby and her companions.

That's what I love about this game, the nuances. The questioning of the character choices, and the morality that's built into it. And for me, this game is clearly an essay about what makes us feel and what drives us to hatred and revenge, and what we get out of it... Nothing, as we can see with my poor girl Ellie. She brutally loses Joel and in her quest for revenge, loses everything else.

 There's clearly no way in hell she's going back to Jackson, she's leaving, for good, and alone.Besides, we saw her head toward the door at the back, not the one on the side, which leads to Jackson. And when she walks with JJ, towards this door, she tells him that only bad things are behind this door. No, unfortunately, Ellie does not return to Jackson, and that is understandable. This quest for revenge has affected her deeply. For me, it's like a stain on her soul. Is it legitimate for her to want revenge? I think it is. Should she give in to hatred and revenge? Of course, in this story, for Ellie, the answer is no. "I'm gonna find, and I'm gonna kill every last one of them," I think she could've added, "No matter what it costs me." Her future happiness. Neil Druckmann brought up a possible part III, and perhaps this part could imply a redemption from Ellie. She tells JJ that behind this door there are only bad things, maybe in the end, she goes to these bad things, to try to destroy as much as possible.  And to finally be able to do what Joel stealed from her, and finally answer this question of why she is immunizing, why her ? To save people.

Ellie can't move on. She has a lot of nightmares, she's been through a trauma and can't get over it. Despite the peaceful life she has with Dina and JJ, she is not happy, at least not entirely. Part of her has stayed in that house near Jackson, on the ground where Joel died cruelly. And that part she'll never get back, and she doesn't know it, but even killing Abby wouldn't change anything. Ellie lost too many people, and Joel was the one person she couldn't lose. But even if she doesn't give in to the last siren of vengeance, the damage is already done. After Nora, whom she tortures for information, Owen's death and his pregnant girlfriend, it's too late. Not to mention all the other people she had to kill to get there. It's not without consequences,the guilt is too big,for what she did to those people and also for Joel,who she feels she has to avenge,rightly or wrongly,out of love,out of loyalty, or both.

And it's very clear when she kills Owen and then Mel. Of course, she's just defending herself, she didn't want to kill them, she just wanted to know where Abby was. And most of all, she didn't know Mel was pregnant, and in that moment, she knows she's gone too far, that her revenge cost her too much. But it's really when she sees Jesse die, when she thinks Tommy's dead, too, and she almost lost Dina, that she gives up on revenge, for now. She chooses a quiet life with Dina, but Tommy won't give it up, and Ellie is still very affected by Joel's death.

She must avenge Joel, even if it means losing everything, she will find Abby. She'll finally give up on killing her, and I completely agree with that choice. All this was for nothing? Well, yes, because Ellie realized too late that revenge would never heal Joel's death, would never make up for her great loss, and that Abby's death wouldn't bring Joel back. The problem is, she realizes that too late, she already lost everything else, including herself.

As far as I'm concerned, she knows the farm will be empty, she just needs to go back, as if the last bit of happiness she has left is in this house. And maybe, with a spark of hope, that the person she loves the most after Joel, hasn't abandoned her. I think she also thinks that Dina and JJ deserve better than her, someone who got lost on the path to revenge, a ghost of the Ellie that Dina fell in love with.

Yeah, it's not a happy story, but that was never the point. I think it's hard to imagine the world they live in compared to ours. This is not a world where happiness exists, and if it does exist, it is hard to find, let alone keep.

The game did something very daring, making us play Joel's killer. It's ballsy, isn't it! And yes, bad guys have a life, a story, and a reason to do what they do. They're just as human. I hated Abby, that's a strong word, but I wish Ellie had killed her right then and there, and then I was forced into her head. Abby lost her father, and so did Ellie. Joel killed Abby's father, and she killed Ellie's father. An eye for an eye? A lot of people hate Abby, so I'm going to put it another way. Would you have let your father's killer live? Abby couldn't. It's very legitimate, I wish she'd killed him quickly, his death was cruel. But as much as Joel's choice... All the loss, all the hardship, all of it could have been stopped with the vaccine. All because of Joel. Maybe you wish she would've kissed him and thanked him?

And yet, she spares Ellie and Tommy and Dina, something she's gonna regret, by the way. Because, later, Tommy kills Manny, her best friend. And Ellie kills Owen, the man she loves. And once again, in spite of that, she spares Ellie again. This time, her mercy will save her life, when Ellie delivers her from this new group of slavers she meets. (Ellie the breaker of chains xD) Abby doesn't want to fight anymore, doesn't want revenge. She gives up punishing Owen and Mel's murderer, and their babies, and also the others. (If Abby knows about Nora, etc.)

She knows what it cost her to take revenge, it didn't bring her father back, it didn't ease her grief, and that caused the death of her closest friends, when Ellie, in turn, wanted get revenge. The price is too high. I had no particular affinity with Abby, but I understand her character. In her quest for revenge, Abby only kills the man responsible for her father's death, when Ellie wanted to kill them all, and kills many. Abby also has her bad choices, she condones Isaac's torture methods which are just horrible, but her revenge has not controlled her like she did to control Ellie. Punishing the one responsible was enough, but not for Ellie.Yes, at the beginning, I wanted Abby to die, and kudos to the developers, because at the time when Ellie had her hands around her neck, I had only one thought, let her live, please… Well done to make us pass from a desire for revenge to an act of pity.Yes, Ellie made the wrong choice, but could she make another one? In a world like that, I don't know, it's very difficult to imagine the impact of such a harsh universe on our psychology. But it shows that revenge brings nothing, it takes everything. And hatred also does nothing good, especially if it is your main driver.

This is a great lesson that the developers are giving us, it pushes us to question certain morality, and that was their goal. Our world is also filled with hatred, and some people give in to it so easily. I don’t understand how you can feel all this hatred for people who just created a video game ... Isn’t there a bigger fight in the world? Racism, homophobia, slavery (yes, yes it still exists), pedophilia, rapists, misogynists, the people who govern us, the powerful who buy everything with money, animal and family mistreatment … Why waste time on developers whose only fault is wanting to create a game to entertain people? Were they not successful for you? Go on to something else. And I'm not even talking about everyone who hates the game without ever even playing it. It's just a game. There are more serious things that deserve your anger, don't you think?

This is my opinion and I give it with all the objectivity I can. If the game was bad, I would not have wasted time writing all of this in another language, I would have moved on but that is not the case. Yes this game is huge! And even more because it highlights things that some people want to hide. Personally, I loved that the two characters we play are female! Especially on such dark themes !! It's always for men... two women, who want revenge, who gives in to the darkest and most human emotions. Not men, finally. Thank you Naughty Dog. A gay heroine! I love, and I don't understand all the controversy around LGBTQ propaganda ... So, according to this reasoning, do other games make heterosexual propaganda ?? And gay people have to go through this ?! It's a shame !

No, I'm not gay, I have no personal interest in defending it, just the freedom of everyone to be able to live. It is out of the question that people live unhappy all their life, just so as not to shock people who are too closed to understand that the sexual life of others does not concern them ... More games like that please, and with men too… because homosexuality in the media is often represented by women.

I also didn't understand that we can take offense for the visit to a synagogue ... Should we blame Assassin's Creed for all the cathedrals in which we did stunts and break a lot of things ??

Again, everyone has the right to like or not like the game, but I don’t think you should be so disrespectful of all those people who worked hard on this game. Especially when it’s unwarranted. And I know something about it, I watched GoT season 8, I know what it's like to betray the soul of a story Clearly, this is not the case, here. I’ve seen some very constructive reviews explaining how amazing this game is, but it couldn’t please everyone, and I’m sorry for all those who didn’t like it (those who played well sure, the others are not legitimate for me) but don’t prevent us from enjoying this game, especially if we can have a sequel.

I needed to put all my thoughts on my keyboard, and on my blog, because as I said at the very beginning, this game affected me deeply and it is, for me, the best game I ever played. (sorry RDR 2, sorry Arthur, but Ellie gave you a nice slap there 😋 ) I highly recommend it! However, I know that it cannot please everyone, like all works of art, it’s subjective.

I would like to end with my favorite scenes, no matter they made me smile or cry, because there are really magic and unforgettable moments. Not necessarily rank in order of preference.

- The guitar scene with Dina. The cover of "Take on me" which is just beautiful, I still listen to it often, and it's a moment of peace (like the giraffes in the first one) in this terrible world.

- The scene where Joel takes Ellie to the science museum. Same, wonderful moment in this world of brute. And a wonderful gift from Joel to his daughter. I'm still crying. And that is to bring it perfectly, they could have put this scene to us before his death, it would not have had the same impact. After Joel's death, it hits where it should.

- Of course, the scene where Ellie and Joel talks about his choice to save her. This moment, or Ellie tells him that she can't forgive him yet, that she may never be able to, but that she wants to try, I think that is also one of the reasons why Ellie doesn't want to give up on revenge. Joel died when she still resented him, and they were both on cold terms. She can't forgive herself.

- The scene where Dina offers her her bracelet, I love this bracelet.

- All the null jokes of Ellie !!!! xD

- I cry when Ellie thinks that Dina could leave her for Jesse. And then after, when she comforted her.

- The scene at the farm, when Ellie is walking with JJ, I loved it, she seems happy, but shortly after, we realize that this is not the case, or rather, that something is missing, or someone… The scene of the return to the farm, for me has made it harder, already because it's the end, because Dina is no longer there, even if it was easy to imagine. And the scene where it seems to me that she plays the song that Joel sang to her. She lost him, And then she lost herself. The song he sang to her at the beginning sums it all up. This is the saddest scene for me. In the first game, Ellie told Joel that all the people she has ever loved are dead or have abandoned her. She finds herself alone, and it's partly her fault.

Various :

I hate having to hit Ellie while playing Abby, especially with her arms so big, she must hurt very much!! I'm not a fan of tattoos but Ellie's is just beautiful! I would like to visit a little more Santa Barbara, it changes from Seattle ^^But Seattle is really beautiful. The lifespan of the game is enormous and the difficulty much bigger than the first one. In normal mode I sometimes suffered a lot ^^ Naughty Dog has dared to model the penises of the infected !!! (Yes, I took photos, no I would not show them xD)

The first game had given us a tragic death from the start, Sarah. She is the first playable character for a very short time, and we are just walking with her. And witness helplessly at her death. The second game does the same, but it’s her father who dies this time just after we play a little with him, just for a horse riding with Tommy. Poetic ?

Yes, the game has faults, some bugs, some passages are long, but given the quality it offers us, personally, I forget these faults, nothing is perfect, nothing needs to be.

And the only criticism I have of this game is that I wanted to play with Ellie a bit more (it's relative, the game still has a long life, but I'm greedy, I wanted more of Ellie). I really want to play with her again and I hope that where she goes, she will be fine. I liked her in the first opus, I love her now. She enters the top of my favorite fictional characters, with Daenerys Targaryen, Ellie in second place, and Arthur Morgan (sorry for your second place big boy 😋 ) And I now understand the Youtubers who said that they envied us for still having to discover the game and the scenario. Now, I wish I could forget it and find out again. What is certain is that I will not be able to say goodbye to Ellie, impossible. She deserves a very, very big hug after everything they've done to her.

I haven't read the leaks, I haven't been spoiled at all, and I hate that. I trusted a Youtuber when the fans started to hate the game, without ever playing it, and I was right. For those who compare The Last of Us with GoT: I read the leaks of GoT, I was happy to have done it given the parody they did of the show, I would have really regretted having read the The Last of Us part II leaks. Reading and living the game are two different things.

I probably forgot some things, I will do a second part, I may add things later.

This game is simply and deeply human. In these most beautiful qualities, and especially in these worst flaws.

Best game ever. My opinion.

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

The Salted Coffee Hit List

Summary: When it’s your turn to go undercover, some technical difficulties subject you to Neal’s mounting anxieties.

Word Count: 2,107

           “Can we move this to your office?” You asked, tilting your head, baring your neck and subtly trying to get Ryan, an embezzling broker, to notice the faux diamonds plated in your earrings. He wasn’t versed enough in jewelry to tell they weren’t real.

           Ten stories down and fifteen yards away, Neal and Peter were in collapsible chairs in the back of a van marked as an electrical service. Neal listened intently, his heart beating harder than it did when he was the one working an op. You didn’t have the experience he did, and this dirtbag owned two guns – and those were just the ones that were registered.

           “Don’t push him too fast,” Neal warned, leaning in as if the surveillance equipment could somehow bring him closer to you. Maybe if he felt it hard enough, you would telepathically hear, the thief reasoned. He didn’t see the steady green light on the hardware. “You don’t want him to spook.” He wished he were inside with you.

           “I think she’s got it handled,” Peter intervened, tone mild. You kept your face even but were grateful that the agent was stepping in. If Neal was fretting in your ear this entire time, it would be a challenge to stay patient.

           Ryan looked behind you, put his hands in the pockets of his crisp black trousers, and looked back at you with a small smirk. His eyes didn’t linger on your jewelry – not the not-diamond earrings, nor the shining glimmer of pearls around your neck.

           “Maybe we should wait. I’d hate to make a poor deal because you were hasty.”

           Neal could barely keep his feet still, and he saw no point in holding his tongue. You didn’t respond well when someone talked to you with that tone of voice. He couldn’t blame you, but he also couldn’t bear it if your temper let this end badly. “Just let it go,” he said. Neal Caffrey had too much pride to beg… but he didn’t mind emphatically suggesting with his hands steepled. The brunet turned to Peter. “You should have gone in,” he said again, repeating himself from earlier. “You have the accounting background, she doesn’t.”

           It took all of your willpower not to twitch. Between this rich, pompous jerk looking down at you like your pretty gems meant you had a slow brain, and Neal questioning your ability to do your job, you were losing patience rapidly. Man, that boy was going to get a talking-to after this was over.

           “I know what I’m doing,” you said clearly and firmly, to both of the men on your nerves. Ryan’s eyebrows raised, a little surprised by the stubbornness in your voice. You couldn’t see Neal’s face, but you hoped he was cowed.

           Two seconds later, you realized he wasn’t. “She’s pushing him,” Neal groaned quietly, putting his head down.

           “I see.” Ryan was measured but civil. You were glad that this meeting had been arranged at a time when there happened to be another person in the company’s lounge. The broker nodded and you caught a glimpse at the top of his head – he wore so much gel that the overhead lights were reflecting off his hair. “Well, let’s take it to the office, then. We can talk in privacy.”

           You nodded archly, letting him know that you weren’t taking no for an answer. He gestured to the hall and you went first, letting him direct you verbally towards his office. In the van, Peter gave a small, proud smile. He knew you could do it. You were well-trained and very resourceful, and no one spent as much time around Neal as you did without picking up on a few things.

           Ryan’s office was pristine – almost sterile, even. It felt impersonal and uncomfortable, as if it were pulled from an IKEA brochure and was only there for show. It corroborated with your knowledge of the man himself as a control freak. The desk was a bright, reddish-color of a polished, expensive wood and the high-backed office chair was upholstered with suede. Ryan pulled out a less impressive chair (but still padded with suede) for you before making his way around and sitting at his desk. He leaned back and put his arms up over him, locking his hands behind his head.

           “Let’s talk shop,” he said, putting his eyes on you. His body was relaxed, his face was amused, and his eyes were hawkish. You inclined your chin just slightly. You saw through that friendly demeanor… but you weren’t going to call him on it. It was better to let it play out.

           Neal tensed, shaking his head. Talking shop was the last thing you should be doing – you didn’t have enough knowledge of accounting or investing. “No, no, no.”

           “Let’s,” you agreed, ignoring Neal’s muttering voice.

           “The entire meet is gonna be blown,” Neal told Peter, increasingly frustrated. The minute Ryan realized you weren’t really who you said you were, he was going to shut you down and kick you out and clean up after himself, this time with a lot more caution. And hell, it wouldn’t do to forget about those two registered guns. What did he need two guns for, anyway?!

           The look that Peter gave him was less amused than it had been before. “Stop that,” he said, delivering a sound smack to Neal’s shoulder. “Calm down. Unless you want me to tell her how many times you insisted she was going to fail?”

           You appreciated the threat, but you were already keeping score. And unless Peter shut up, too, he was going to be added to your little hit list of whose coffee to dump salt in.

           Neal quieted and considered. He trusted you, but he was very worried. He liked being on your good side and didn’t want to make you think he didn’t believe in your ability to do the job – and do it well, at that – but he also didn’t want to stay calm when you were up there, on your first undercover mission in months, in a room alone with a guy who had two guns. Maybe in that very room. He listened so he could be on his toes and run in as soon as things seemed even a little bit off.

           “My portfolio has risen by three percent this quarter and by eleven since this time last year,” Ryan announced. If you were feeling more generous, you might have called him prideful – but tense as you already were, you just thought he was being egotistic. You leaned into your chair, mirroring his posture. “And in this economy, that means something. I can’t afford to partner up with someone who’ll slow this firm down. My clients deserve better.”

           Yeah, because you’re so worried about what they deserve. You held your tongue. He would get his dues for stealing from his clients soon enough, but only if you held your tongue.

           “I agree,” you said, matching his tone closely. Becoming a behavioral reflection of your mark was a trick Neal had taught you, and in the few times you’d had the chance to employ the technique, it had worked surprisingly well. “Which is why I came to you instead of the dozens of other firms a taxi ride away. I only go for the best. What I need to know is if you can give your best to me.”

           “I don’t give anything. It comes at a price.” Ryan unlocked his hands and leaned over the table. You crossed your legs, left over right, and sat up with your back straight. “And it’s not cheap.”

           It was the crux of the conversation – if you said the right thing, then it was all going to be coasting for the rest of the meeting. You thought quickly, ignoring the voices that were literally in your ear.

           Neal relaxed a little. You were doing well, you were mimicking the bravado, and it sounded like you were making a subtle play on the suspect’s ego. “It’s not that I think she’ll fail,” he told Peter, shifting in his chair and turning his body towards the agent.

           In the office, you wanted to scream. It was impossible to craft your lines and manipulate the script with Neal being such a distraction every other minute! You bought time with your facial expression, looking at him and analyzing his face, proving that you were thinking it through before making a commitment.

           “I know she’s good at this. It’s just that I worry. I worry about myself, too,” he offered, just to prove to Peter that he didn’t need to report to you about how poorly you were expected to do. “I worry about myself all the time. Especially when you send me into offices that might have guns in them.”

           That made four ruined coffees for Neal Caffrey.

           “I’m sure you do,” Peter grumbled.

           “This is an investment firm,” you stressed pointedly. “People like us don’t go for cheap. We go for payoff. That’s what I’m in for, and I’m in for the long haul.”

           Ryan studied you with an excellent poker face. You wondered if he hustled people that way, too, and focused on how you were a federal agent, he had no idea, and he was going to pay for all the bad things he’d done. Even Neal had the human decency not to take from the poor. Ryan was a snake who had put people on the streets.

           “He’s not saying anything,” Neal observed, looking at Peter again.

           Tiredly, Peter responded, “Yes, Neal, I can hear everything you can.”

           “I’m mostly concerned with what we’re not hearing.”

           Salt in the coffee had seemed like a good plan when you were making it, but now you were starting to think that Neal didn’t deserve any coffee, even the disgustingly salted kind. Hm. What was worse than salted coffee?

           There wasn’t much time for you to think about it before Ryan’s poker face broke. “Payoff’s the name of the game,” he agreed, grinning broadly. He reminded you of the toothy, wide-mouthed grins of sharks. “Let’s look at this a little harder and see where we can fit you in, Ms. Y/L/N.”

~~~ The Salted Coffee Hit List ~~~

           You deserved an award. You had even decided exactly where you would put this award: in your kitchen, on the windowsill, just behind your coffeemaker. The two things that made you happiest would be sitting near each other. It was a good arrangement.

           As you were trying to decide what the plaque of the award would say, Ryan stood up from behind his shiny desk and reached across. You gave him your hand to shake as you followed his cue and rose, smoothing down the softness of your wool skirt.

           “I think this has gone very well,” Ryan said, giving you a crooked but handsome smile, except for his smug eyes. You pretended not to notice, because if you paid too much attention, your mask might slip. “I’ll contact you.”

           “When can I expect a call?” You asked, letting the man pull you by your hand out from behind your chair.

           “By the end of the week,” he promised. He dropped your hand and put his near your back, not quite touching you but herding you out of his office. Your welcome had expired.

           You let the grifter see you out the doors of the office suite. You gave him a wave over your shoulder, just a little bit flirty, before turning to walk towards the elevators down to the ground level. After you heard the heavy glass door close, you risked another look behind you. Ryan was out of sight, and you were free to talk.

           “You know your microphones have been on this whole time, right?” You hissed lowly, furious.

           In the van, Peter and Neal both looked at the recording equipment. The light indicating their line was open was indeed still on. Neal hopped up from his chair.

           “I was just really worried,” he said, grabbing at his coat and making pleading eyes at Peter. If he didn’t leave the van before you got back, he wasn’t sure he’d be leaving in one piece. He knew firsthand how annoying it was to have someone constantly talking in his ear when he was undercover.

           “Yeah, you should be,” you said darkly, “Because I’m going to kick your-“

           Your voice stopped abruptly and Neal looked up while hurriedly buttoning his jacket. Peter pulled his fingers away from the buttons, took off his headset, and set it down on top of the machine. The microphone was off on both sides.

           “Better late than never,” Peter remarked.

~~~

~~~

A/N: This was supposed to be an imagine... but it didn’t end up as one.

This was requested by an anon who said I could choose whether Neal x Reader were already together or not. I just decided to leave it vague, so it can be read as an either-or.

Requests are closed, but if you like this story and would be interested in commissioning another, my standard oneshot length is a little bit longer than this and pricing begins at $4. If you’re interested, please drop me a message/ask, or go straight to my Ko-Fi page!