#You can track my motivation go down the drain page by page

[stonecoastweather]

An old intro comic that really tanked my motivation in completing it, and doing anything else for this blog 😔

[writethatdown]

the art of goal setting and achieving them™

alternatively, how to NOT be lost in life.

first of all, if you are someone who is treating this period as a season of rest, please go ahead and do it. you can always come back to setting goals and having changes in your life later.

this post is based on my personal experience and the few self improvement books that i have read. and this is from a person who was mentally unhealthy since as long as she can remember (slowly improving), so i get it, setting goals and achieving them are hard.

i understand, you feel like changing the whole life around on jan 1st, i know i know. i know it's always all or nothing mindset, there's lack of patience, there's guilt for the things you promised yourself you'll do but never did, there's grief over lost potential. i know. and i know that a lot of you lot are tired, lose motivation after the first day, have a couple bad days or weeks or months and feel like a failure.

i know it's hard to get out of bed sometimes or most of the times. i am listing everything at the beginning to let you know that it's okay. it's okay, you are not a failure. i promise

you can do this too! this may seem like looking at a void, but i promise you, life can be better and these are some strategies i am applying this year to get ahead of life.

how to set goal(s)?

if you are someone who already has one, i want you break it down to the smallest thing possible. your goal is to be healthy? startby saying: drinking two glasses of water daily is my goal. as simple as that. you want to get that good grade? start by making a moodboard on pinterest with those aesthetic pictures and a playlist of lofi music. something fun and slow.

if you are someone who doesn't have a dream, feeling lost and confused, i want you to look at what makes you happy. stuffed animals makes you happy? how can you take that one step higher? maybe start with learning how to make them, or designing them. your happiness comes from a band? what if you elevate your fashion, seeking inspiration from a band member? find a goal, which will bring you more happiness, write it down, break it down as above.

if nothing seems to make you happy right now (i get it love), look at what makes you comfortable. a vanilla candle, a hot cup of coffee, or a new mattress? make a goal to save up for that candle or that highly priced coffee or that mattress. there. you have a goal/dream/desire now.

how to achieve the goal

okay you are not going to like this but, slowly is the fastest way to achieve your goals.

when the present is unpleasant, we'll often only look forward to the future, yearning. but i want you to cherish the present, be grateful for anything (you are here, breathing, alive, and your life is changing for the better as we say it)

remember, anything on the upside from the present is good. it's better than the misery you are facing rn.

now if you perhaps have a list of goals, pick one from it. prioritise, choose randomly, ask a friend—do anything and fixate on one goal.

you got that? now make the simplest action plan. even for buying that vanilla candle. if you can buy asap, well congrats! you just achieved a goal! but if not, do some math and figure out how much to save each day/week/month to afford one.

reflect on your progress!!! it's really important to keep track of your consistent days. use a habit tracker, daily journal page method, recording/vlogging your journey, anything to make this more fun and indulging.

remember that achieving goals should be like a muscle. you need progressive overload. once you feel like you've mastered the first step in your action plan, move on to the next.

and once you have completed/achieved that goal, move on to the next goal! (or make one)

do NOT try to juggle multiple goals at the same time (it can be highly energy draining)

HAVE REST DAYS, IT'S MANDATORY. as much as the whole action thing is important, rest is important too! treat yourself, take rest. this was a major thing i had to learn the hard way throughout the journey :(

if you can, find friends with similar interests, habits, journey as you. online or offline. and share your stories in that safe space. it's always reassuring to know that you are not alone!

feel free to add more tips if you have!! or omit/modify any of the existing information in the article if you have better alternatives!! i just want to remind you once again that you are a beautiful soul and deserve the best things in life!!

[illyria-12]

AOT Headcanons

I’ve been thinking of posting some of my headcanons and other shit here a bit more. I’m much more active on other platforms, but figured, why not? 

So have something I threw together at... I dunno, maybe 3am Monday morning? :)

Warnings: None that I am aware of.

Includes: Eren Jaeger, Armin Arlert, Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hanji Zoe, Reiner Braun (At present, maybe more added at a later date.) 

AOT Characters as Study Buddies:

Eren Jaeger:·        

Do not expect this boy to remember that he agreed to study with you. He could have agreed to study with you just a few hours ago, and would forget. He needs regular reminders.         

Remind him a couple of days before, the day before, on the day, during lunch and definitely make sure you text him after school.          

Is always late.         

He starts off really focused. Pulls out his books and notes and is eager to help.     

But he also gets very easily distracted. 

Will often check his phone. It’s a really bad habit he can’t seem to control. Whether it’s just checking the time or clearing notifications, expect his phone to be in his hand at least 60% of the time. Clearing notifications often leads to him scrolling through social media, sending snaps or replying to texts too.   

Will always involve you, telling you why he is laughing, showing the funny video or meme he has found or explaining a conversation he is having.

It’s entertaining, but not exactly the reason you are here...        

He doesn’t have a preference of where he studies, he is pretty content anywhere, but if you go to his place, he will frequently bring in snacks or order pizza. Also is much more easily distracted when at home.         

His attention span isn’t great, and although he loves the idea of being helpful and studying with you, he gets bored quickly.         

Can also get confused with his own notes.       

Will often try and get you to call an end to the study session rather than do it himself. It makes him feel accomplished that way; like he has done his job and you are the one who has had enough.Will often groan things like: 

“Are we done yet?”        

“My head/back/wrist/eyes hurt.”         

 Occasionally he will suggest ‘taking a break’, but once that has been agreed to, it is pretty much the end of studying for the rest of the night.

Likes to try and make studying as fun as possible. Bright colours, highlighting, bubble diagrams, sticky notes. You best believe his version of pop quiz is to write random answers on a sticky note and stick it to your forehead and then get you to ask questions until you get the answer right. 

Will definitely reward you with a kiss when you finally get it right.

Sometimes leaves sticky notes in your book of ‘motivational quotes' to make you smile when you eventually come across them.

Armin Arlert:-       

By far, the most committed study buddy you could have hoped for.

You have weekly study sessions at the library every Friday after school. 

Armin is always there before you, fully prepared; books laid out neatly on the table. Sometimes he even starts his homework while waiting for you. 

Is very much a fan of making a little itinerary of things you are going to work through on the day.         

Doesn’t mind odd conversation but is an expert at getting you back on the subject at hand. He can often even relate whatever you’ve said back to the topic... although sometimes it doesn’t make sense. But it’s still funny and endearing. 

“You know who else thought Mrs Bratton was a bitch? William Shakespeare.”         

Is incredibly patient.         

Is a great supporter, always encouraging you and praising you when you get things right.         

Would never admit it but he finds it cute when you just can’t wrap your head around something and then out of nowhere, the penny drops.

The faces you pull entertain him. Either when realization finally dawns on you or if you’re thinking very hard.       

“Hey, don’t worry, you got this... let’s just go through it again.” “That’s it! See? Told you you’d get there.”          

Will always make sure he brings you something to drink and snack on during session. Usually a sandwich, crisps or some chocolate to give you a bit of a boost.          

Doesn’t push you too hard, if you say you have had enough, he will generally leave it there, or try to convince you to do just a bit more, but never in a demanding sort of way.         

“Okay, shall we finish this page first?”     

“One more section? Promise.”         

Armin's biggest downside? He is so soft on you.         

Very often gives you the answers as opposed to forcing you to figure it out. 

Absolutely can not be stern. If you are feeling playful, or really not in the mood and start teasing him,he is quick to admit defeat rather than stand his ground and force you to get through the work.         

Absolutely will do 99% of the work on group projects but share the credit with you.

Levi Ackerman:·         

Will make it seem like he doesn’t want to study with you, but will ultimately agree. 

“Why don’t you ask ...... instead? Tch. Fine.”

At first he will always read what it is you have to do, and then proceed to tell you what you have to do, but not necessarily tell you how to do it.

Eventually he realizes you already know what you’re supposed to do... (you can read, Levi.) And then proceeds to actually help.          

Expect a lot of sarcasm and insults. He doesn’t necessarily mean them, but he will say them anyway.         

"Whining about it isn’t going to magically speed this up. Get to it.” 

Very rarely strays away from what it is you’re meant to be doing.

Complaining gets you nowhere with him.         

“No, we’re not taking a break, you should have eaten before.”         

It’s not that he doesn’t care, he does, but he also knows you will do anything to get out of studying when you’re frustrated, and tend to over-exaggerate. You’re not ‘starving’, he saw you eat at lunch... which was only a couple of hours ago.          

Likes to prioritize your subjects. Will take into account when assignments are due in, how difficult they are going to be and how long it will take to get done.         

Strict. Very strict.          

Prefers to study in a quiet and familiar place. Libraries or either of your houses where there are minimal distractions. 

Absolutely will not let you copy his notes. You’re welcome to read them, but he expects you to refer to your own. That doesn’t mean you don’t steal snippets here and there though, much to his annoyance.   

“Do you pay attention in any of your classes?”          

Very good at breaking things down and explaining things. You actually pick things up pretty quickly when studying with him, probably due to his ‘no nonsense’ approach.          

Will occasionally randomly test you to see if you’re actually paying attention and remembering what you are doing. He always smiles a little when you can answer his questions.          

Is not going to do the work for you, and certainly isn’t going to give you answers, you have to really work for them.          

Is patient until you start misbehaving.     

His occasional praises are a treat.

Erwin Smith:·         

Loves to study with you in different places. This man will plan a whole day for it.          

Will always bring a picnic when you study in a park. Happy to share a cocktail if you go to a bar, or a milkshake and burger if you go to a diner. 

If you do happen to study in a library, he will always take you for food afterwards. 

His notes are detailed and beautifully written and he has no problem with you using them.         

Don’t expect him to give you the answers though. Erwin is the sort of person who will ask you what you think. 

“How do you think we figure that out?”   

“What do you think we need to do?”       

“What do you think this means?”         

It’s not that he doesn’t know. But he wants you to try and figure things out yourself. As long as he can see you’re making an effort though, he is happy to guide you and let answers slip here and there, or word things in such a way that you suddenly have an epiphany and get the answer.

Is a great motivator and supporter.          

Doesn’t mind taking breaks every so often and uses this time to have general conversation with you. Nothing work related in the breaks, it’s meant to be a break.         

Is not above bribing you. Whether it be with food, physical affection, surprises... 

Yes, Erwin has in fact brought you gifts and refused to give them to you until you do the work and get it right.         

And he would do it again.        

Erwin knows a decent amount about a lot of different subjects and sometimes shares random facts regarding topics you’re studying about. Sometimes they are not at all relevant. But they are usually always interesting.         

You have this man’s undivided attention throughout the study session. Erwin is usually very busy , so when he does dedicate time to help you, he likes to be fully committed.          

Will ignore his phone completely. Texts, phone calls... everything, until you both take a break.

Hanji Zoe:·         

When the two of you get together to study, it is very hit and miss as to whether you actually get the work done. She is so intelligent, but also, such a ditz at times.          

Hanji can talk.         

Like, a lot.          

She very often will start off talking about a topic and swerve off into other lanes and get completely side-tracked.          

You once started off writing a biology paper and somehow ended up getting a history lesson about Ramses II, after learning all the details of the Black Death and even touching on Jack the Ripper.   

 But she is highly intelligent under her scatterbrain-iness.        

But can become very easily distracted. Especially if you start talking to her about something she is very excited or passionate about.          

Will sometimes forget to bring textbooks you need to use.         

Will hyper focus at times. Sometimes a bit too extensively. It can be very draining.        

Can be known for getting lost in the details.          

Never comes to a study session without a coffee for the both of you.

Absolutely has no problem sharing her notes with you, will often steal yours too.        

“A fresh set of eyes and all that.”        

“Ah, this is good! Who knew you were a certified genius?!”        

Has no problem pulling her weight on group projects, but also has no problem letting you take the lead... or do all the work.         

Tends to be much more productive closer to the end date of an assignment. 

Fidgets a lot. Always tapping a pen, nibbling on the end or twirling it between her fingers. Knee bouncing... almost constantly.          

Likes to take regular breaks to analyse and go over what the two of you have learned and accomplished so far and decide where to go from here.

Procrastinates.

Reiner Braun:·         

Reiner is always happy to study with you. Even though his calendar is pretty full, he will always make an effort to squeeze you in.          

Definitely the kinda guy to put a game night on hold, telling his friends online he will be back in a couple of hours to help you first.          

Always greets you with a kind smile and asking if you’re ready for the session.       

Doesn’t mind where you study, but does prefer to study at his house so he can give you a snack or something to drink.   

Really likes it when you go and study in the garden. It is probably his favourite place to study with you. Just because it is nice, quiet and peaceful.          

Very chilled out; will often make jokes and try his best to keep the mood light. 

Very patient; has no problem going over things multiple times and trying lots of different ways to try and help you understand.          

Likes to be close to you when you work together. Knees occasionally touching, shoulders brushing. Just give this man a reason to touch you in anyway shape or firm. A reassuring hand on your shoulder, a quick one armed hug in the chair, ruffling your hair, squeezing your hand... he is all about that shit.          

Will celebrate your victories and praise you constantly.        

“Hey, well done! See I knew you would get it.”         

“We’ve done a lot today, I’m proud of you.”         

Always down for a cuddle or a movie afterwards, or maybe even a walk through the park to get some air and unwind.          

Will digress sometimes but it’s very fleeting and he picks up exactly where he left off again easily.          

Has no problem with you taking some of his notes, or searching the Internet for answers.          

Will explain how he got the answer and break things down into manageable chunks for you.         

Chocolate is always on the table.        

If you get too stressed he will let you take a break.         

Will offer to give you neck, back or even hand massages if you get too stiff. 

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

[so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed]

I didn't do writing goals for January, but I did have some general 2022 goals, which you can read in more detail here.

One of my goals was to write consistently, with a goal of 25k per month. What was most important in that goal was to work on fic whenever I can and track my progress. I did manage to get over 25k in January (29459 to be exact, many thanks to the wonderful Lynda for the tracking sheet I use), but I also spent more days not writing (18) than writing (13), so that is one of my goals for February:

Write more consistently. I was putting off starting the editing process for my Big Bang after I finished my SL wip, and I wrote only once in 10 days. I know that I need to make sure that I take time off when I need to, but I also know my motivation goes down the drain quicker than anything if I don't stay involved with the process, so my February goal is to not go more than three days in a row without writing.

I also set myself the 2022 goal of finishing my "Louis sees when people are about to die" fic, which I smashed out in January! So for February, my goal pertaining to that fic is:

Edit SL WIP and post it.

To do that I first need to finish editing my Big Bang fic though, so that is my final writing goal for February:

Edit my Big Bang

Aside from that I also want to continue working on the podfic-pals page! I am loving the feedback we've gotten so far and I'm super excited to post more episodes and do some general behind the scenes stuff.

What are your goals for February @jacaranda-bloom @fallinglikethis @lululawrence @quelsentiment ?

[orangesalamander-but-studying]

Tips on motivation

(from a mostly dysfunctional student with mental illness)

Disclaimer: This may not be applicable for everyone and the only qualification i have is “rando that miraculously did well at school” so here ya go:

(If you’re reading this on a bad day, and you feel like you don’t even want to get out of bed today, let alone study, scroll to the end)

Get a notebook. Write down every detail of the life you want to live- i mean everything. Look at this list as often as necessary. Adjust your life in order to get what you want. Let your dreams motivate you. (Admittedly, this doesn’t work very well for me for too long, but if it works for you that’s fantabulous!)

Romanticize the shit out of the idea of studying. Pretend you’re a scholar at a prestigious university, light candles, dress like an academic, get yourself some iced coffee and put on a dark academia playlist. Make studying poetic! (Personally, i make EVERYTHING poetic coz life can be dull and depressing enough as it is)

Get out of your sweats and into a killer outfit. I love to put on a pair of jeans or a cute dress with high heels and then walk around my room telling myself i’m an intelligent, powerful, badass bitch (or empress, depending on the mood) and that a couple of pages with words on them ain’t got nothing on me! Definitely puts my intrusive thoughts in their place because excuse me, i’m the one in a killer outfit and the voice is just a hater.

Make a game out of it. I use the app Forest to grow trees and its friggin great when you work to collect enough coins to unlock a new species- let the little things motivate you, don’t look at the big picture if it overwhelms you. My anxiety and depression sometimes make it difficult for me to take myself seriously so making it a game helps me forget the stakes and focus on getting through the hour. 

Choose a reward for the end of the week and hype it tf up, imagine the scrumptious feeling of delayed gratification that you’ll experience if you study now and watch that movie/ read that book/ eat that cake/ go on that friend date later, stress free coz you have your life together. I understand this may be difficult when you’re going through a depressive episode, but try to focus on the feel good feelings you’ll have later.

Start a studyblr and let the aesthetic motivate you. You don’t need fancy stationery or perfect handwriting or super neat notes- be imperfectly yourself and use the studyblr to motivate yourself and track your progress.

Sometimes i sit at my desk for hours and get nothing done. That’s okay! Activate caveman brain and take your studying to someplace else, even just to you bedroom floor. This helps my ADHD brain by keeping things exciting and different.

Start a bullet journal and plan everything- structure your life, break down huge intimidating tasks into ridiculously baby steps (eg. take out book, write date etc). Sometimes my anxiety refuses to let me study because it makes monsters out of tasks.

If the very thought of getting out of bed is draining that day, don’t think about studying, don’t let yourself make you feel bad. On the bad days, everything is an act of indescribable strength on your part. Acknowledge that. Acknowledge that its difficult, acknowledge your strength, And then think about the next minute- forget the rest of the day, the rest of the day does not exist. All you need to do today is get out of bed. And then all you have to do is brush your teeth. Then just drinking water is your goal for the day, then just doing something that makes you happy, then just eating something, and if you feel up to it, just do ten minutes of an assignment, then because you’re a warrior, do just another ten. And at the end of the day pat yourself on the back, be unashamedly proud of yourself for whatever task you were able to complete, no matter how seemingly insignificant. Then tell yourself that when you’ll do it again tomorrow, it will get easier. 

Mental illness is really, really hard. And it may not happen immediately, or even in a few weeks, or a few months, and you may not notice it happening but i promise you, one day you’ll smile and you’ll surprise yourself and you’ll realize you’re coping. You’ve made it this far and you’ll continue to do so.

I’m so proud of you all.

[mulderist]

Wicked Game

Chapter 1  // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3  // Read on A03

Washington, D.C - 1948. Fox Mulder is a detective on the top vice unit; scandal, corruption, and lies come with the territory. He is forced to investigate a fellow officer and finds the lies go much deeper than the truth.

tagging @today-in-fic​

CHAPTER 4

3rd District Precinct Washington, DC

The modest forensics lab was situated in the basement of the precinct building. A fitting location. It was always a strange trip downstairs, almost like walking into a spook house at an amusement park. You’d notice every creak from the antiquated filing cabinets, there were shelves of textbooks, yellowing medical journals, rows of glass jars containing shriveled specimens. The morgue was tucked away in a corner with a series of metal doors on the tiled wall and a surprisingly shiny slab resting comfortably over a drain in the floor. No more room at the inn by the look of it. Autopsy tools hung neatly on the wall like a butcher’s knife set; at least in this corner the boys kept things tidy. I walked a little deeper into the lab and saw Byers flipping through an issue of National Geographic. I cleared my throat as I approached.

“Mulder. What brings you to our neck of the woods?” Byers asked, dropping the magazine in his lap. The 3rd was fortunate enough to have three pillars of forensic science in Melvin Frohike, Richard Langley, and John Byers. They had their finger on the pulse of crime investigation techniques and were eager to share their findings with practically anyone who would listen. A good deal of the jargon went over my head but it enhanced my vocabulary to say the least. 

“Frohike called me regarding Spender’s case,” I replied, “We might have a golden ticket on our hands.” 

“He and Langley have been upstairs for a while but they should return soon. Have a seat.” He motioned to a wooden stool near a cluttered lab counter. I obliged. Byers was not much of a talker when he was by himself so his attention shifted back to busywork. I picked at the rough edge of my thumb watching Byers place a metal canister on the end of the counter. He opened it then took a sample of a dark substance, added it to the boiling water, and adjusted the flame on the Bunsen burner changing the intensity. He looked up at the wall clock and turned back to his experiment. The color change in the beaker shifted to a dark brown. Byers gave it a stir and covered the top. He sensed my curiosity.

“Coffee will be ready in a few minutes if you’d like some.”

I laughed and politely declined.

“Don’t you have a percolator?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Just then Frohike and Langley entered the lab.

“Oh good. You’re here,” said Frohike as he reached for a nearby lab coat, slipped into the sleeves and flipped it up onto his shoulders.

“We had a whale of a meeting upstairs,” Langley added, shoving a worn out briefcase across the counter making an open space, “Looks like Spender’s dirty little secret is out.”

“Krycek, my informant, pegged him as a hop head. I knew Spender could be a little on edge but I thought he was too straight-laced to use heroin.” I folded my arms. “What did Skinner have to say?” 

“The boss was none too pleased to find out that one of their top boys was on the horse.” Langley stated.

“And a thoroughbred at that. He was probably dipping into Vincenti’s supply.” Frohike remarked as he adjusted his glasses.

I sighed and shook my head. Byers poured his scientific brew into a small mug for himself and took a sip before saying, “Well there’s your motive.”

His colleagues shrugged in agreement as they each grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Makes you wonder if he was just starting out and got careless,” Langley said.

“Or he had been knee deep in the shit since making a deal, overconfidence took over, he couldn’t pay up and then blammo,” I said as I stood and leaned against the lab counter. Something about this seemed too easy. We had the gunman, we had a relatively clear motive, and we had the Captain scrambling to stuff this whole matter back under the rug. I needed to track down The Titan and put the squeeze on him for some information. Though with a newly buried partner I would need a second set of eyes on my surveillance job.

“Well boys, it’s been a treat but I have to make some telephone calls.”

“Hey Mulder,” Frohike called, “you should take some time for yourself; slow down for a day maybe.”

“That’s what whiskey is for.” I replied as I left the lab and took the stairs, not knowing what I’d walk into when I hit the bullpen.

Several officers didn’t bat an eye as I passed by their desks and I continued to avoid any eye contact as I glanced at my wristwatch. I reached my desk and pulled the phone closer as I took a seat, picking up the receiver. My index finger hovered over the rotary and just as I started to pull the number I heard the distinct baritone of Captain Skinner calling my name. It wasn’t bellowed so I knew I wasn’t being called in to serve detention for misconduct. I placed both hands on my desk and stood then met him at his office door. He blocked the threshold.

“Have you heard?” he asked.

“Yes. I was just down in forensics. I came up here to get started on what I presume is a surveillance assignment.”

Skinner thought for a moment.

“I want you to get a hold of Krycek. He’s going to accompany you on this detail.”

“Oh he’ll be thrilled.”

“Go on then,” Skinner said as he tensed his jaw, “And get me some goddamn answers.”

------

Georgetown Waterfront 1:05 p.m.

  Rain tapped angrily against the roof of the unmarked cruiser as I sat parked down the block from the Piccola Italia restaurant. It was a hole in the wall but a well known haunt for some of Vincenti’s crew. I hoped Carlo Lodi would be tempted by a lunch special of pasta arrabiata and cheap wine. My deli sandwich and soda I grabbed before the cloudburst paled in comparison, but I needed something in my stomach. I took another bite and watched a series of passersby through the streaks of rain on the window. I was early. I adjusted the radio dial and finished my lunch. With a swipe of the wiper blade I noticed a black coupe pull up in front of the restaurant. The door popped open and a hulking figure exited the passenger side, adjusted his jacket, and stepped under the awning out of the rain. He waited for his driver to join him before opening the front door. Just then there was a knock on my window. Krycek had his collar pulled up and drips of water cascaded off the brim of his hat. I rolled the window down to get a better look.

“You gonna let me in?”

“I don’t know if I can afford it.”

“Damnit Mulder...”

“It’s unlocked, Krycek.” I said as I looked at the empty passenger seat then rolled up the window, catching a splash of rain. He crossed in front of the car and waited for traffic to clear before opening the door. He sighed as he removed his hat and brushed off the rainwater. 

“Alright fill me in,” Krycek said. I turned down the radio and had the last swig of soda. 

“Recognize the car down there?” I began. He leaned forward and caught a glimpse as the wiper blade swiped the windshield.

“That looks like Carlo Lodi’s coupe.”

“He’s not alone. His lunch date is a suit that’s either a driver or a business partner, if you get my meaning. They’ve been in there for maybe ten minutes so if I move I can get what I need before his main course arrives.”

“Okay then,” Krycek said as he put his hat back on. 

“I’m just going to have a nice conversation. I need to get him talking. If I get him back to the precinct I can be more heavy-handed.” I adjusted my fedora and touched my weapon for reassurance. 

“You’re not saying “we” a whole lot. What the hell did you need me for?”

“At first I had you joining me on spoiling Lodi’s lunch but then I thought he might recognize you as a mole so you get to stay put. Keep the car running. If things take a turn I want you to head to the 3rd; with or without me. Ask for Captain Skinner.”

“Aw shucks this feels just like old times,” Krycek replied as he fished out a beat-up pack of Morleys shaking a stick loose. He pulled it out with his teeth then tipped his head down as he flipped his lighter, marrying flame to paper, blessing the squad car with a halo of smoke. Car tires splashed through wet pavement and I took that as my cue to get this show on the road. I opened the door and stepped onto the curb. The rain had slacked up as I walked. I narrowly avoided an umbrella being opened by an old man exiting a taxi. He continued on like I wasn’t even there.

Piccola Italia’s brick facade with its windows dressed in red and white gingham curtains fit the stereotype, as much as I hate to admit. But none of that mattered when I stepped inside and was hit with the aroma of bread, oil, and garlic. If I didn’t have a more pressing obligation I would have claimed a table and ordered a plate. I flashed my badge to the young woman at the cashier’s counter and she quickly nodded then went back to straightening menus. I moved past dark wood tables with diners enjoying an array of pastas and soups. My instinct led me through the dining room and I happened upon a curved booth tucked in a back corner near the kitchen. Lodi was there with his driver, luckily still just the two of them. He was reading the sports page from the newspaper and folded it in half then tapped a finger against it.

“That fuckin’ horse is gonna make me a stack of green, I’m telling ya.” He boasted with a laugh.

“Excuse me, Mr. Lodi?” I asked as I approached his table. He put down the paper and took a sip from his glass of wine and gave me a quizzical look.

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah I believe you can.” I carefully reached for my badge and flipped it open. “Detective Fox Mulder. I just want to chat.”

“And what makes you think I want to listen, detective?”

“I see you got the sports section there. What’s your game? Baseball, football?”

Lodi shot a look at his driver and gestured towards my direction. 

“This guy...if you must know Mr Mulder, I like the races.”

I took a seat across from him and folded my arms. Then I truly realized how much of a mountain this man was. His square jawline met a thick neck that was being held together by a stiff shirt collar and silk tie. I was waiting for it to burst open with each swallow. Broad shoulders and a barrel chest led to limbs that were solid muscle. The ring on his left pinky finger was about the size of a doorknob and had an insignia in the center. His pin-striped suit looked custom given his proportions. I got a little too comfortable and leaned forward in my chair, threading my fingers together.

“About a week ago, did you talk to a Jeffrey Spender about a horse race. Maybe come to collect a bet?” The mention of the name caught Lodi’s attention and he picked up on my code. Before he could respond, a waiter saddled up to the table and delivered a plate of pasta with a fiery red sauce. Lodi took another sip of wine.

“If I had to come collect you know there was a good reason for it,” he said as he twisted pasta on his fork then took a bite. The other man at the table started to undo his cuffs and slowly roll up his shirt sleeves.

“Well on behalf of the 3rd District precinct, I’d like to invite you over for a little heart to heart.,” I maintained a relaxed facade even though I knew what was coming, “We’ve got evidence placing you at a bar in Adams Morgan the same night as Spender.” Lodi ate another bite and closed his eyes savoring the spice. As he took his wine glass he raised his pinky finger which was the signal. I blinked and then I swear to God I saw enough stars to grace the American flag. A meaty Italian right hook slammed into my cheek like a sledgehammer. Glad he wasn’t wearing a ring. I was knocked sideways to the floor and I tried to catch the nearby table but instead let a dining chair unceremoniously break my fall. I never could take a hit. The few patrons in the restaurant barely took notice at the commotion. Carlo dabbed at the corner of his mouth and rose from his seat.

“Thank you, Theo,” he said as he moved over to pat my assailant’s shoulder. The enforcer’s goon cracked his knuckles and stood looking very pleased with himself. I moved my tongue to the inside of my cheek tasting fresh blood. I adjusted myself to sit upright, though not ready to stand just yet. I snatched a neatly folded napkin from one of the empty place settings and tried to dam the small crimson river from my mouth. Carlo crouched down next to me.

“So, you thought you could just walk into this fine establishment, disrupt my meal, and arrest me?”

“Until now it hasn’t stopped me,” I mumbled against the napkin. 

“Unless you got a warrant in hand, I’m not going anywhere. And this business with who was it...Spender? That’s done and so are you.”

“Why don’t you just bump me off like you did him?” I asked as I tossed the bloody napkin aside. Carlo thought for a moment and leaned in closer.

“I like seeing you get knocked around every once in a while, Detective Mulder.  Puts a smile on my face.” He blessed me with two exaggerated slaps on the cheek then got to his feet. “I think we’re finished here. Theo, show this son of a bitch the way out.” Carlo returned to his meal and raised a glass in my direction. I was still on my ass. I reached for my fedora and Theo took the liberty of hoisting me to my feet. The gorilla hands that left a new beauty mark gripped my upper arms and shoved me towards the kitchen.

“Easy there junior, my dance card is full.” I said as we moved through a swinging door. I was briefly distracted by the aroma of simmering marinara, stewing beef, and an array of spices.  The sous chef and line cooks unphased by the disturbance continued prepping as I was hustled towards the back door and pushed out into the alley.  I stumbled into the brick wall across the way and before I could turn around to get the final say, the goon slammed the metal door shut.  My head tilted back and I gingerly rolled it from side to side. I adjusted the brim on my hat and shuffled down the alley towards the street.

The rain had passed and I found Krycek parked where I left him. He had a fresh cigarette in his lips and was reclined against the car seat.  I tapped on the window and he unrolled it letting the rhythm of Count Bassie and his orchestra glide onto the sidewalk. 

“Looks like negotiations went well,” he said with a chuckle.

“Yeah you could say that,” I replied. My cheek felt like someone was inflating a balloon under the surface. I needed a drink. A wisp of smoke swirled out of the window and Krycek flicked the butt into a puddle. 

“Take the car back to the precinct.”

“What?”

“You can leave it running with the doors open if you want.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Take some advice I was given earlier today and get some rest. This case isn’t going cold anytime soon.” I watched as Krycek shifted gears and pulled away from the curb. There was a pang of mistrust thinking that the unmarked squad car would end up somewhere along the Potomac; but I also got the suspicion that Alex liked playing detective. Also long as I kept him on a short leash I could use him to my advantage. I crossed the street and walked the block until I found a phone booth. Before I slid open the door I had to spit out the stale blood that was collecting in my mouth. My cheek burned like fire. I picked up the receiver and dialed the operator.

“Yes I’m looking for a Dana Scully. Georgetown address.”

[frostsinth]

Lost Time - Pt. 3

- Part 1|2 - NjordArt

Nrggarhhh... So I’ve had the majority of this done for a while. it was just the end that took me an extra few days for whatever reason! But here you wonderful people go: some lovely little angst for you.

This chapter is brought to you in part by @exophile3d, who would repeatedly chat “NjordNjordNjordNjord” in my DMs to encourage me to work on it! Lots of love and thank you for your motivation! Thank you to everyone who has expressed their adoration for these two so far!

Check out my MasterList for more of my inane ramblings, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there. I am thinking to have some NSFW exclusive art over on that page if I can figure out how, so be sure to check it out soon if you’re interested.

The leaves and branches seemed to shake around us. The whole forest seemed to be coming alive, breathing and rattling like a singular great beast. I gasped as the first emerged from amid the canopy, a shock for its small size despite the noise, but promising more to follow. My first instinct said ‘cat, but not cat’. It was a deep red, and human-like eyes flashed in a horned, child shaped face as it chittered and lunged for me. It was quickly followed by its brethren, so quickly I didn’t have time to overly assess their strange forms, varying in shades from deep scarlet to fiery orange.

My cry of surprise at the most forward creature dove for my face was dampened by the roar from Njord. With a mighty swat of his huge arm, he sent the strange beast flying. It screeched, falling into its fellows. Giving the half-second my huge green protector needed to scoop me back up into his arms. He tucked me into his elbow, his free hand reaching for the handle of his broadsword. Another of the creatures lunged, sharp teeth biting for his knuckles. But Njord growled, stubbornly grabbing the hilt and sucker punching the beast straight in its tiny humanoid face.

Then the sword was up, and three powerful strokes cleared a notch in the swarm of creatures around us. I clung to him for dear life, ducking my head as yet another of the devilish looking cat-lizards attacked, diving straight for me. There were so many! Two dozen at least! Some flittered on wings, others bolted across the ground. Njord’s swinging sword barely keeping them at bay. A few fell to the side, badly injured or perhaps dead from his blows. But most were too quick.

He snarled, gracefully sweeping his sword out and around his head parallel to his body in a tight circle, dislodging one that had latched onto his shoulder by my head. He shouted something in his deep guttural language, and the wide, human eyes of the creatures considered him warily. Intelligently even. He managed to keep up his strikes enough that they did not dare venture closer. But it left us horribly pinned in the center of the camp, surrounded.

A tingling hum ran suddenly over the back of my neck, tearing my attention from the battle surrounding us. Then a soft whisper brushed past my ear, and I knew without looking there would be no source. Words I couldn’t make out, almost lyrical. I twitched, my eyes shooting wide. The sounds of the battle dampened and became muffled as if heard from under a blanket; Njord’s roar, the chittering of the strange horned creatures. I jerked, looking around but feeling as though I wasn’t moving at all. The colors of the world drained. There it was again. Then again, from the other direction. I wanted to turn my head, to move my eyes to search for what I knew was not there. But I couldn’t. I sensed something in it, something drawing me to it. Something… familiar, though I couldn’t even begin to fathom it. I felt a zapping, tingling energy in my palm. I stiffened, pulling my hand from around Njord’s neck. Looking down at it numbly even as I felt him duck and dodge around me. My center moving as he kept me clasped against him protectively. I felt as though someone else controlled my body, a familiar warmth seeping across my skin, lifting me like a puppet master manipulates strings. 

The sounds of the battle came back in a rush, like a slap to my face. I jerked, turning my head. The beasts had coordinated an attack, and were lunging from multiple sides at once. And beyond them, I could see a dark ash gathering. Slowly beginning to pulse and take form. A deep dread pitted my stomach. I didn’t know what exactly was coming, though a small part of me flickered with a familiarity of fear. Nothing like the comforting warmth from before. I couldn’t remember how I knew. But I did know we didn’t want to be here when whatever was beyond that ash finally stepped through.

In the same breath it took me to come back to the present, I raised my tingling palm. Or more, the strange force did. The whisper seemed to shoot through me, lifting my hair and rushing out like a breathy exhale and suddenly… everything froze.

The wind, the branches and leaves. Flying particles of dirt and debris. And, most importantly, the swirling ash and attacking creatures. Each pinned in place; their eyes unmoving, unseeing, their teeth bared, their claws outstretched. Trapped. Like some sort of terrifying, life-like sculpture. My eyes nearly popped out of my skull. But I wasn’t about to question a blessing.

“Njord!” I cried, spinning.

At first, I thought he was frozen too. But I could feel his hitched breath in his chest and realized he was frozen only from shock. I saw his copper eyes blink, and his big jaw shift. I reached up, touching his face.

“Njord!” I cried again, and he jumped at my touch.

His eyes met mine, and he frowned slightly. Then nodded with a gruff grunt. The unspoken understanding going between us. One fell swoop cleared the frozen creatures to our right, knocking them aside like rocks tumbling from a stone wall. He had the presence of mind to grab a bag resting beside the opening of the spiked gate, perhaps previously readied supplies for the day. and hook it over his shoulder. But his long stride never broke, and the ground thundered with his footsteps.

Branches and leaves wiped at us, snapping at my skin and face. I curled into Njord’s chest, and felt him wrap himself tighter around me as I did. Sheltering me from the battering. I could feel his heart ramming against his ribs, and his arms constricted around me with each deep, huffing breath. On and on he ran. I lost track of how long, and strained my ears to try and hear if there were sounds of pursuit. But I could make nothing out beyond his drumming heart. I squeezed my eyes shut and buried myself against him. My own pulse racing and my thoughts swirling.

I jerked in a panic as he suddenly skidded to a halt, my hands reaching for better purchase on the straps of his armor. I felt him straighten warily around me, saw his big head turn and look over his shoulder. He was panting, his big chest heaving up and down. I laid my palm flat against it to find it damp with sweat.

Njord looked down at me at my touch. His thick lips worked around his tusks, and he seemed to have something waiting on them. But after a moment, he just shook his big head. Giving a final look over his shoulder, before turning and trudging on. Eyes set ahead of us. His stride was long, but steady, and I tried to pull myself higher to look over his shoulder as well. I knew that if we weren’t running again, he must feel safer. Though obviously not safe enough to stop entirely. Unless he had a new destination in mind. I felt a stab of remorse as I realized he may have just lost his home to those creatures. I looked back up at him, trying to tell if he was saddened or maybe angry by this fact. But his brow and jaw were clenched and unreadable. Another stab washed through me, thinking the appearance of the creatures might be the least surprising thing so far, considering... whatever I had done...

The sun was rising higher in the sky, and I glanced up at it pelting down at us through the canopy. I shook my head, slowly loosening my grip from his armor. Fear rattled me down to my core, and without thought, I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck. Pulling myself closer to him. I felt him stiffen at first, then his own arm curled tighter around me. Stilling my shivering.

“Anha wet, Shikobakin.” He murmured after a breath, his thick voice rumbling through his chest against my body.

My ankle and head both began to scream their protest at their rough handling in our escape. But I ignored them, unable to loosen my hold just yet. I felt myself lulled by his steady step, like the rocking of a boat on the ocean waves. Slowly, my heart rate quieted, and my breathing became less shallow. I felt his do the same, though his dark green skin was still coated in beads of sweat.

Finally, I eased myself back into the crook of his elbow and glanced around. I wondered where we were going, but I found this part of the forest looked no different than the last. I glanced up at Njord’s face, and although he didn’t look at me, I saw him turn slightly. Offering his unscarred side to my gaze.

“What were those things?” I asked him softly, even though I knew he couldn’t understand. I tugged myself up to look over his broad shoulder again. “Where did they come from?” I resisted the urge to shiver. “What did they want?”

Njord didn’t answer, unless I wanted to count the rumble in his chest. I didn’t care that he had no idea what I was saying. There was only one obvious thing that I could be asking about now. I glanced at his face again, but his heavy brow, while knotted with determination, did not seem to hold any answers either. I sensed he had never seen such creatures before. And I hoped I had not… They were horrifying. Creatures of orange and red, with scales and fur and horns. Faces of children with sharp teeth and elongated mouths.

I shivered involuntarily, and felt Njord’s grip tighten slightly. I sensed that we both felt very much the same way about those creatures. Even without the words to say it.

Not much later, the sound of rushing water filtered through the other forest ambiance, and my heart skipped a beat as it steadily grew louder. A river, I thought to myself, and a few minutes later the treeline fell away. Confirming my assumption. He made his way steadily down to the slow moving shallows, and I felt a little of the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

With a final scan, he slowly placed me on a large rock protruding from the water. His large hand lingered, brushing against my shoulder. I looked up at him, and his copper eyes seemed pinched with worry. It pained me, and I felt myself reaching up of its own accord. I saw him jerk, attention snapping to my extended hand. His own came up, wrapping gently around my fingers. He stared at it, then his big thumb pushed apart my fingers, running along my palm. My heart fluttered, and I swallowed hard. Wondering what he was thinking. The whole thing felt like a blur, and remembering what had happened… Was he afraid of me? What had I even done back there?? Or had I done anything? I remembered the strange but familiar force, yet had no name for it... My head throbbed as I tried to reconcile what had occurred. I sensed the answer was there. Somewhere buried in the fog. But it was still impenetrable, so I sighed deeply instead as Njord slowly released my hand.

I glanced down, then patted the rock and looked up at him sheepishly. “... Wutbat.”

He looked surprised, but it quickly faded into timid amusement. He nodded. “Ar’stok, Shikobakin. Wutbat... Rock.”

His big hand came down, and rested on top of mine. Covering the entirety of it as well as a large portion of the rock beneath it. I gasped, my eyes alighting on the back of his hand. I turned mine, catching his and bringing it to cup in both hands on my lap.

“Njord! Your hand!”

The back of his knuckles were covered in blood, and I held them gently. Inspecting the small puncture wounds there. He gave a deep grunt, crouching down properly to be more at my eye level.

“Ksapa, Shikobakin,” He assured me, “Non shet ‘vatna dun.”

I kept his hand in both of mine, even as he tried to pull it away. I scooched to the edge of the rock, sliding my good foot into the water and balancing myself against the stone. My bad one didn’t hurt much… as long as I didn’t touch it. I brought his hand down to gently douse with the cool, clear water. He gave another soft rumble, but didn’t resist my administrations. I looked him over as I carefully washed off the blood. I saw another deep scratch on the meat of his broad shoulder at the edge of his armor, and brought a handful of cupped water up to slowly clean that as well. He had more, smaller ones, zig-zagging up and down his arms. I wasn’t sure if they were from claws or the branches he passed through in our flight. I used both my hands to rinse those, running them up and down the length of his long limbs. My fingers and hands seemed tiny compared to his muscular arms, like pale leaves against a deep green tree trunk. It could take me all day to rinse him off, one small palmful at a time, but I didn’t care. I wanted to make sure he was properly attended to. No matter how small the injury. It was the least I could do. I heat settled in my stomach as I wished I could do more. Could comfort him. Answer his questions. Help him in some way.

He stayed still, his head bowed as I ran my hands over his shoulders and arms. I remembered the dampness of the sweat on his chest, and began to run my hands over his muscular breast next. All the way up to his thick neck. I felt him stiffen slightly beneath my fingertips, and I raised my eyes to meet his.

My pulse skittered, and my breath stopped. The intensity in his eyes… there were no words to describe it. I wondered how I had not noticed before how the sunlight made the color sparkle. We stayed like that, our eyes locked again, for a time so long I couldn’t count it.

He broke my gaze, dropping his and starting to turn his head. To present his untouched skin to me again. A hot poker stabbed at my gut as I recognized the repeating pattern of his behavior.

He flinched as I laid my hand gently against his cheek. On his good side first, then reached up with my other, still dripping from the river water. And cupped the opposite. I saw his hand coming up to pull mine away. I gently turned him back to me first, cradling his big head between my tiny hands. Running my palm tenderly over the knotted scar tissue. Tracing along his cheek with my thumb

“Please,” I told him, “Don’t be ashamed… don’t think you’ll frighten me away if I see this-” I ran my hand from his chin to his hairline, tracing the edge of the scar “-it doesn’t scare me. Or sicken me.” He watched me, his eyes tentative. I smiled, flattening my palm against his broad cheek. “I think you look…” I stopped, and my heart fluttered. But what did it matter? I told myself. He couldn’t understand me, after all. “... I think you look good… just as you are.”

His copper eyes watched my lips move, and his big hand froze halfway up to take mine. I tried to keep his gaze, but the intensity of it made my cheeks flush. A shy smile twisted the corner of my lips, and my eyes darted away. As if maybe he might have understood my confession. But I kept my hand on his cheek, and snuck a peek at him from beneath my pale lashes.

“You’ve been… very kind to me, Njord,” I told him softly, the words spilling out of me, “You’ve been understanding, and patient, and… and…” I felt my frustration welling in the corners of my eyes, the fear, the confusion; all compiling against me in that moment, “And I cannot even thank you… Not properly…”

His hand did come up now, cupping mine on his scarred cheek. My heart-rate spiked, and my breath fluttered in my throat. I looked up at him again, fearful that I had overstepped. Or that perhaps I had infringed on the traditions of his kind, or gravely insulted him. But I saw nothing like that in those copper depths when I finally met them. Instead, I saw warmth. Like the caressing tendrils of a lit fireplace in a familiar home. I was lost in the warmth, felt it spread comfortingly through my veins. Sweeping away the fear and frustration. I hardly noticed the brush of the fingertips of his opposite hand along my own cheek. But I did feel him lean deeper into my palm. Saw his dark lashes dip as his eyes fluttered. He leaned forward, and I found myself stretching up to meet him.

Njord delicately rested his broad forehead against mine. I breathed in his exhale, reveling in the scent of him. Drawing his breath into every inch of my own body, as if I could trace its progress through my veins. I closed my eyes, unable to hold the sight of him and wanting desperately to commit this moment to memory. A new memory, to lay soundly amid the fog of those I had forgotten. A fresh memory, like the first wet brick on a path. Leading out of my old life, whatever that was, paving a path to a new one.

My old life… A cold wash swept down my spine from the base of my skull, shooting a tingling numbness to the rest of my body. All because of a single thought that managed to pierce through the warmth of his touch like a hot arrow through snow. My old life… What if I already had someone? 

What if I had a husband, or was already promised? What if I was in love? If there was someone looking for me? Waiting for me? I opened my eyes, the realization tickling through me almost painfully. If I did… I felt his shift, felt him lean back between my hands still cupped around his face. I met his copper eyes as they slowly opened with uncertainty and hesitation. I saw them study me, considering whatever now rested across my features. I struggled with myself, running my thumb back and forth over his scar. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t allow myself to… I blinked and shifted, wincing as my sore ankle bumped the rock with my movement.

That broke whatever spell we had been under. He dropped his hands, and I let mine fall as well as his gently scooped me up by the waist and settled me properly on the rock. I watch him numbly as he pulled the sack from over his shoulder, slinging it down and digging through its contents. He mumbled things in his own tongue, deep in his throat, nodding along as he did. When he glanced back up at me, I felt my heart skip.

I had to know. I had to know for sure that there was no one else. It pained me to think of denying… whatever this was growing between us. But it pained me even more to think I might hurt him if my old life did come back. If I had a husband, or a lover. Maybe even a family! My hand went unconsciously to my abdomen, my head swirling, my heart aching. Had I ever lain with a man? Had I ever born a child? I would know, I thought silently, trying to reassure myself, I would remember. I would sense it. The truth though? I couldn’t say. I couldn’t say with any certainty and without hesitation… I just didn’t know...

I prodded at the fog in my mind, trying to find the answer. But there was nothing, like I was cupping sand between open fingers. The hint of something there, but it quickly slipped from my grasp before I could analyze the grains. My eyes trailed over to him as he pulled out what he had been searching for, grunting with an unmistakably pleased tint. A rolled up piece of parchment in hand.

“The map.” I said aloud, recognizing it as he spread it over the rock next to me.

Not the same one, I realized as he grunted the affirmative. This one was smaller, more focused on the local region. Most specifically, the villages surrounding the forest. He pointed to one spot, along the river, speaking in his own tongue. His hand briefly gestured to our surroundings, and I nodded my understanding. When his big finger returned to the parchment, he traced it along, still explaining, leading the way to a village. The nearest one, it seemed. He tapped his finger on it.

When I looked up from the map, he was looking at me again. He nodded, then tapped the map again. “Ntol’ma, ya liell.”

I glanced down, and a small frown formed on my lips. I put my smaller finger on our spot by the river. “But why did you go this way?” I asked, tracing along the same path he had followed, or very near to. “This way looks quicker.” I retraced my finger, and then moved through a different part of the forest, then across a short open plane, in a more direct line to the village.

The air felt stiffer, and when I looked up, I found his brow thunderstruck. He swallowed, rubbing at his chin with one hand. His eyes seemed… troubled, and instantly I straightened. Reaching out to him before I had even realized what I was doing.

I quickly dropped my hand, and saw his copper eyes watching the movement. He glanced back down at the map. Then gave a small, curt nod. Speaking in his own thick tongue. His big finger came back to the parchment, and he traced along the route I had drawn. I saw his finger hesitate over the clearing, which seemed to connect to the larger planes of the map beyond. But then he continued on until he reached the village.

“Dun echetu. Ya liell, Shikobakin.” He mumbled, his deep voice oddly thin somehow.

He rolled back up the map and put it into the pack before slinging it over his shoulder once more. The waters splashed about his ankles as he shifted, stepping over and holding out his hands to me. I hesitantly nodded my consent, knowing what his touch would elicit, and he scooped me back up. I tried not to think about the warmth of his arms around me as he trudged through the shallows to the opposite bank. Resisting leaning against his broad chest and inhaling his thick scent.

I swallowed hard, and noticed him glance down at me. Those copper eyes sending my heart into spasms. This was going to be a long, hard road...

....

To be continued ...

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Any tips for horrendous writer’s block? I’ve been rather drained recently from stress and just personal life stuff, and I haven’t been able to get writing done. Even things that normally help like music don’t help or do as much anymore so I’m unsure how to get the motivation/inspiration flowing again. And the ideas I do have just kind of (if this makes any sense) feel wrong to write? Like in the sense that I know I won’t be able to write it as well as I could. Any recommendations?

I will say that the biggest thing that fixes writer’s block for me is to stop trying to force myself to break the brick wall down. Although I am notoriously bad at sticking to my “breaks”, taking the pressure off - making it known that I’m probably not going to do anything, even to myself - often immediately results in inspiration and motivation, or within a few weeks it will. 

Pressuring ourselves to ‘get back on track’ can actually make it even harder to get things moving, so step away! Just let yourself breathe. Read a book. You can’t always create, your brain does need space to inhale and exhale on occasion. 

Also, if you’re working a full-time job or going to school or, god love you, both - you may just not have the energy for intensive writing right now. Try sticking to just a few paragraphs, or even a few sentences. When I have no juice to write a big piece, sometimes I find plenty of inspiration for smaller ones if I just write without pressure to tell a story, just write to get a vibe out there.

Five Sentence Fics are very good for this! Someone gives you a sentence or pick one off a prompt list, and write the next five. Keep it small, no worries about what comes next. No pressure.

Two things have helped me, historically:

Taking the pressure off, and letting myself just have fun with a few sentences instead of feeling forced to write pages.

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, November 16

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Jeffrey Epstein’s madam Ghislaine Maxwell’s nights with Prince Andrew and teen Virginia Roberts Giuffre

Page 2: Brad Pitt kicked married galpal Nicole Poturalski to the curb after getting flak from his ex Angelina Jolie -- Brad’s relationship with Nicole hit the skids after Brad decided he needed to shore up his image during his ongoing custody battle with Angie and his focus right now is to get his dad image back on track and give Angie no more ammo to fling back at him

Page 3: Tiger Woods’ romance with Erica Herman has gone off course over legal troubles and wedding pressure and bickering over where to live and Tiger is so fed up he’s considering ditching his nagging girlfriend in Florida and moving back to his native California -- Erica’s been pressuring him to put a ring on it ever since she moved into his Jupiter Island mansion and that’s something he just won’t do and she’s already taken over his household buying new furniture and remodeling the master bath and building a new closet and hiring a gourmet chef -- California is looking better and better to Tiger who only moved to Florida to play on its tough Bermuda grass which helped improve his swing but now Tiger’s ex Elin lives in Florida with their two kids 

Page 4: Miranda Lambert is scoffing at ex Blake Shelton’s newly announced engagement to Gwen Stefani and she’s convinced Blake’s third walk down the aisle has failure written all over it because she thinks Blake’s bad to the bone and this marriage will wind up being a total disaster and after the hell Blake put her through Miranda can’t imagine his life with Gwen would be any different, lifelong bachelor Simon Cowell has had a change of heart since his horrific August accident and he’s finally ready to tie the knot with baby mama Lauren Silverman -- after spinal surgery to repair his broken back the entertainment mogul feels lucky to be alive and walking and the one constant in his difficult rehab after surgery has been Lauren and he wants to pay her back with a ring 

Page 5: Train-wreck Wendy Williams’ wacky behavior has TV producers scrambling behind the scenes to find her replacement after her unhinged performance on a recent episode of her talk show where she slurred her words and rambled incoherently -- there had been a hope a chatfest helmed by Nick Cannon could be a safety net should the daytime diva who spent a stint in a sober living house last year not be able to continue hosting but plans for that were pushed back after the comic made anti-Semitic rants in a podcast -- they also tried Jerry O’Connell when Wendy was out for three weeks last year but he tanked with viewers -- Wendy’s a mess and it remains to be seen how long producers will be able to put up with her problems before they decide to pull the plug 

Page 6: Grey’s Anatomy star Ellen Pompeo hinted that she may be making her final rounds -- Ellen who has starred on the show since 2005 and makes $20 million a year admitted she’s considering slipping out of her scrubs after the current season 17 but her departure could spell the end of the beloved series and show creator Shonda Rhimes has said it’s unlikely the show could continue without her but Ellen has also expressed her desire to spend more time with her husband and their three children

Page 7: Mariah Carey’s brother Morgan blasted her memoir as filled with lies and distortions and he’s considering legal action -- the book called Morgan and sister Alison her ex-brother and ex-sister and Mariah wrote Morgan had a long history of violence and when she was six he slammed their mother into a wall -- Mariah also wrote her siblings and mother were heartless in terms of dealing with her as a human being and once she got famous they started treating her like an ATM with a wig on but Morgan is fighting back and looking to hire a lawyer

Page 8: Reese Witherspoon’s marriage to Jim Toth is in the muck after the stunning collapse of his new business venture and tensions are mounting in the Hollywood power couple’s already troubled union now that the streaming service Quibi crumbled after less than six months leaving content acquisition president Jim out of work while Reese’s star continues to rise and there’s a real balance of power that’s been building up and that’s put a serious strain on the relationship -- living in quarantine added to the stress between them as Reese has been holed up with her two kids with ex Ryan Phillippe Ava and Deacon and her son Tennessee with Jim at the family’s ranch in Malibu

Page 9: Dementia patient Kenny Rogers cut his three adult children out of his $250 million will and now sources fear the late country legend could have been tricked into signing the document -- Kenny left everything to his 16-year-old twins sons with fifth wife Wanda and the will also stated it was his intent to specifically exclude his daughter Carole with his first wife and son Kenny Jr. with third wife and son Christopher with fourth wife and their issue as beneficiaries of his estate -- Kenny Sr. would never disown his own children according to the source especially since the singer’s son Kenny Jr. is incorrectly referred to Kenny Rogers III throughout the will -- the wording is not like Kenny Sr. and something is not right and his older kids are thinking about contesting the will 

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Kate McKinnon shot a Saturday Night live skit in NYC, Sophia Bush hit the road in L.A. with her co-pilot pup Maggie, pregnant Jinger Duggar Vuolo in Venice with daughter Felicity, Heidi Klum walking the streets in her native Germany, Snoop Dogg saluted young rappers as he accepted BET’s I Am Hip Hop award 

Page 11: Unwitting Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler once dabbled in the secret sex cult NXIVM -- the organization masqueraded as a self-help group but in 2017 it was exposed as a pyramid scheme for founder Keith Raniere who forced high-ranking female recruits to become his sex slaves -- in 2010 Jen and Gerry who were dating at the time wound up at one of the introductory seminars but they were turned off by the level of commitment expected and never returned -- they thought it was just a networking opportunity and had no idea what they were getting themselves into, cash-crunched Gwyneth Paltrow is facing hard times like everyone else and is looking to change her free-spending ways -- the belt-tightening caused by the coronavirus pandemic has even hit her lifestyle empire Goop causing her to shut down the London branch and make hard choices for the future -- Gwyneth may be worth $100 million but she and husband Brad Falchuk spend money like it’s going out of style on private jets they use on a whim and they own a fleet of fancy cars and pay steep salaries for staff who are at their beck and call 24/7 and it’s all draining their bank accounts -- they’re looking at making cuts across the board from personal trainers and chefs and drivers to the masseurs and beauticians who come to their house several times a week -- plus the couple believe it’s a bad look for them to be living so high on the hog when the rest of the world is suffering during the pandemic

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Angelina Jolie spent years developing her own version of the Hollywood classic Cleopatra and now she’s livid that Gal Gadot has stolen the Egyptian queen -- Angie’s dream was to play Cleopatra the role that made Elizabeth Taylor an icon and it was to be the part that won Angie an Academy Award for Best Actress and now that’s over thanks to Gal who will be playing the Queen of the Nile instead, after ABC scrapped plans to honor Regis Philbin with a prime-time tribute Jimmy Kimmel insisted on honoring Regis on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, MSNBC talking head Rachel Maddow is fleeing New York for her Massachusetts farm after hanging a $2.3 million price tag on her NYC pad but Rachel didn’t want potential buyers looking through all the personal stuff at her apartment so all the personal pictures and books and clothing and everything else was shipped out and replaced with staged furniture, Ariel Winter and her dog (picture) 

Page 13: Ailing Joni Mitchell opened up about how she’s still struggling to get back to her old self five years after a debilitating brain bleed -- after Joni was found unresponsive in her Bel-Air home in 2015 she said she was forced to relearn everyday tasks because the aneurysm took away her speech and her ability to walk and although she’s showing slow improvement she hasn’t been writing or playing the guitar or the piano, Randy Travis is defying all the odds as he plans the greatest comeback in country music history as he is making amazing progress after suffering a massive 2013 stroke that most believed would end his career forever and he was given just 1% chance of survival and even after he pulled through doctors believed he would be bedridden and unable to speak -- instead his grueling rehab efforts have miraculously put him on the road to realizing his dream of returning to the spotlight -- some of his motivation is financial; last year he sold his Nashville home and released his memoir which was fueled by his need to pay medical expenses after years of not being able to perform

Page 14: Hollywood Hookups -- Channing Tatum and Jessie J have split again, Cole Sprouse and Reina Silva dating, Kate Beckinsale and Goody Grace split 

Page 15: Ariana Grande is raising eyebrows with her raunchy new record Positions -- the former squeaky-clean Nickelodeon star who has been dating real estate agent Dalton Gomez spouted off X-rated odes to an unnamed lover on the LP, six months after sidelining her marriage to former quarterback Jay Cutler Kristin Cavallari admitted there are good days and bad days but insisted it’s been nice to be able to focus on herself and figure out who she is now and what she ultimately wants out of life, hotel heiress Kathy Hilton is joining The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills as a friend of the main cast which includes her half-sister Kyle Richards

Page 16: Crime 

Page 17: On Drew Barrymore’s talk show a psychic guest channeled the spirit of one of the host’s former in-laws but the man in question is very much alive -- medium Anna Raimondi told Drew she sensed the aura of a judge causing Drew to burst into tears and named David a relative of her ex-husband Will Kopelman claiming he’d passed but Judge David Kopelman is alive and still going strong -- Will slammed Anna was a submental hack and said he was surprised that Drew chose to give oxygen to someone like that

Page 18: American Life 

Page 20: Cover Story -- Prince Andrew is desperate to quash explosive testimony by his pedophile pal Jeffrey Epstein’s accused madam Ghislaine Maxwell but the socialite’s second secret deposition is torpedoing his return from royal exile -- after Ghislaine danced around details of her relationship with the disgraced Duke of York in testimony released a few weeks ago Andrew is sweating bullets about her second grilling under oath which contains details of their intimate friendship and nights with Epstein’s teen sex slave Virginia Roberts Giuffre 

Page 22: Don McLean viciously slammed ex-wife Patrisha Shnier as the worst person her ever knew but in their ongoing war of words she maintains he was abusive to her -- Don is still bitter over a 2016 domestic incident at their home in Maine that landed him behind bars and led to divorce after 30 years of marriage

Page 26: Matthew McConaughey confessed he nearly turned his back on Tinseltown to be a wildlife guide like late Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin -- he made a splash in a string of blockbuster rom-coms in the ‘90s and ‘00s but he was eager to move on to meatier movies and even passed on a $14.5 million paycheck in 2010 to seek more substantial roles and the struggle left him considering other careers such as a wildlife guide, Jamie Foxx has been crushed by the death of his beloved sister DeOndra Dixon who was born with Down syndrome

Page 28: Good Catch -- Bachelor stars who are still up for grabs -- Jon Hamm, Owen Wilson, Drew Carey

Page 29: Benicio Del Toro, Ryan Seacrest, Matthew Perry, some stars seem to say I do at the drop of the hat -- Larry King, Jerry Lee Lewis, Billy Bob Thornton 

Page 32: Olivia Munn was caught on camera flashing what looked like engagement bling on her left ring finger as she exited a gym following a morning workout in Los Angeles but she reportedly broke up with boyfriend Tucker Roberts last year leaving fans wondering who bought the stunning sparkler 

Page 36: Health Watch 

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Michelle Pfeiffer 

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- Allison Janney on Mom 

Page 47: Odd List 

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Bluegrass-Chapter Nine

                    A special thank you to @statell​ for all your help and wisdom

Previous Chapters on AO3

Chapter Nine

Claire was on her second day of coaching Runner about his air transport to the upcoming races. So far, all he wanted to do is race her. She was getting nowhere. When the answer came to her it was inspired and she smiled wickedly.

Later, Claire was in Runner's stall as he chowed down on fresh hay. She had 8X10 glossy pictures of some very fine, and fast horses. She taped the pictures to the back wall at Runner’s eye level and waited. She stroked Porcelain. Runner started throwing images at her of him beating these horses.

“Who is that horse? Oh, that’s Sham. He is favored to win the Champagne Stakes.” She threw him an image of Sham beating him.

“This little beauty is Angle Fire and she will beat you too.”

The hay was forgotten as Runner paced, getting more worked up by the minute. He sent an image of him crossing the finish line and the other two horses were way down the track, laying down. Claire laughed at the image and grabbed his face.

“The only way to race them is to ride the airplane. So be a good boy and don’t act up.”

She saw the last image of the sleeping competitors and Runner’s big finish several more times that day. He was stuck on racing them to the exclusion of every other thought. So easy, she thought.

Rupert’s giant king cab waited at the bottom of Claire’s stairs. Jamie stowed her cases and jumped in the front seat listening to Rupert explain what happened to Runner that morning at the airport.

“I’ve never seen a horse more eager to board a plane. He dragged the handler up the ramp and backed into his flight stall in under ten seconds.” They were laughing while Claire looked out the window with a slight smile. I’ve got your number Runner, she thought.

When Nick was picked up, Jamie got in the back seat to pester Claire and slapping his hand made Rupert look at her in the rearview mirror.

“Yer always pretty lass, but with yer hair down like that yer beautiful.”

Claire blushed and thanked him, and Jamie knew Rupert must be under her spell to make such a comment. He kissed her hand and felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Through the flight to New York and for the rest of the afternoon Claire tried to get Nick's attention. She wanted to talk about actually riding Runner as a partner and having input into the way he ran the race. After dinner, she pulled his arm until he stopped and looked down at her.

“Nick, you promised we would talk about techniques I can use on Runner…to help him make decisions, to actually decide for him.” Her voice got smaller as she completed the sentence because Nick was staring at her with irritation.

“Sure Claire, just pick the race you want to lose and go for it. Make him dance like a ballerina if you want, I don’t care because the race was lost as soon as you interfered.”

The blood drained out of Claire’s face and she looked at him like she didn’t know him. She felt humiliated the way he talked down to her and hated his heavy hand in the decisions about how Runner would race. Her anger and hurt feelings made this conversation impossible to continue so she took off toward the hotel.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Nick? Do ye really feel that way, are ye blind to the bond they have?”

Jamie’s face was purple with his rage as he fired off questions to the insufferable trainer. He wanted to rip his skin off for the way he talked to Claire, but found himself looking at a puffed-up self-anointed king of the trainers and his energy to hurt the man blew away.

“I won’t be needin your services anymore Nick, yer fired. I’ll have a ticket delivered to yer room and ye won’t be runnin into Claire on yer way out, by chance or otherwise. Yer done here, now get away from me.”

Nick looked at Jamie like he had lost his mind. He had trained racehorses for twenty years, no one knew this sport better than him.

“It’s a fluke that horse has won what he has. You put a rider with no history of racing on him and bet the farm on a retarded Thoroughbred that got lucky at Iroquise. He’s gonna kill your little girlfriend when he gets twisted up at the gate. Maybe she won't be missed. A guy like you must have a dozen waiting to take her place. That's on you, Jamie. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Jamie drew back and landed his fist in the jaw of one ex-trainer who went down like a sack of potatoes. He was out cold, so Jamie pulled a one hundred dollar bill out of his pocket and asked the Maitra d’ if there was someone to drive him to the airport.

“Tell him to listen for his name so he knows where to pick up his ticket home.”

Jamie’s thighs were burning when he raced back to the elevator and stepped off on their floor. He wanted to cry for Claire and tried to imagine her disappointment. The room was dark, but he could hear her sniffling in the corner. He knelt in front of her and waited, hoping he could fix this.

“I am so sorry mo chridhe. I don’t even know Nick anymore and never expected this. I didn’t know Claire.”

“I knew something was wrong when he never worked with Runner like the others. Nick was never serious about Runner, or me. Just keep him away from me, please.”

“I knocked him out, right there in the lobby, just after I fired him. Paid the Maitra d’ to drop him at the airport.”

Claire touched his cheek, “we have lost someone I felt was a valued member of the team. Runner needs a trainer, so what do we do now?”

“If you had one hundred trainers to choose from, all ages and backgrounds, varied experience with winners, which would you choose?”

“That’s easy,” she whispered through her tears, “I would pick the one that knew the science and didn’t fall back on his excessive, unproductive time on the track. I’d pick the one who used science to win.”

Jamie let Claire rest while he met Air Horse One at the airport and watched his goofy horse almost drag the handler down the ramp. Runner was looking around, nostrils flared, ready to explode until he saw Jamie and whinnied hello. Jamie asked the handler for a few minutes with Runner and felt the big colt pull the stress out of him.

“One more leg of yer journey my friend, and you get dinner and a rest.”

The handler took the rope and Runner resumed dragging him to the trailer where he ran inside and waited for the cross ties to clip to his halter. Jamie looked at Runner and shook his head, wondering why he was in such a hurry.

The alarm seemed ear-splitting at five o’clock in the morning. Claire pulled her riding clothes and boots on while Jamie stood under a hot shower praying for strength. Runner was still percolating high octane energy making Claire laugh at his head twisting in every direction looking for Sham and Angle Light.

Claire looked at the training schedule Nick left behind in his unconscious haste to leave. She read through his scant notes about Runner and compared them to pages of notes on the other horses he worked with. She felt her blood boil and realized she had lost faith in Nick’s training slamming the book closed. She looked at Runner.

“Let’s see how motivated you are today big guy.”

Jamie lifted her foot and held Runner while she adjusted her stirrups before turning into the track to warm up. Thirty minutes later she rode up next to Jamie who was deep in a conversation with a gentleman she didn’t know. She smiled and lowered her goggles. She circled in a canter before she let him go for a one and half mile breeze. Runner stretched into his stride, but Claire could tell his heart wasn’t in it today. She always got this feeling during training. If there was no one to beat, he often asked her why he was running.

When Runner was cooled down, Claire jumped off and secured her stirrups.

“I’ll take care of that Doctor Beauchamp.”

A young man, around twenty she guessed, pulled the reins over his head and smiled at her. “Mister Fraser hired me for your groom while you’re in New York. I will be here before you every day and hopefully, this big guy will grow to like me.”

Claire was stunned. She managed a smile for the pleasant man and offered her hand, pulling her glove off quickly.

“What is your name sir?”

“Ha, it’s weird enough you’re a female jockey, and you’re British too, that’s awesome. Oh, my name is Jason Campbell,” he said shaking her hand.

“Thank you, Jason, very pleased to meet you.”

The boy blushed and walked Runner toward the stalls and wash racks.

Claire walked to Jamie and the man he had been talking to. Both men stood while she sat next to Jamie pulling off her second glove.

“Sassenach, I’ve been talkin to Michael here about needin a trainer for Runner. He watched yer ride and asked me questions I dinna know. Perhaps you can supply the answers.”

Claire looked into the intelligent and questioning eyes of the man named Michael. He was twenty-something with an easy manner about him. Claire surmised this was just a trackside conversation and settled in to answer his questions.

“Do you hand ride him during races, like you did in today’s training?”

“Yes. I carry a regulation whip, but I’ve never needed to use it. Thankfully, because I don’t know how. Runner wants to win, so I let him.”

“Your body position is very different from the norm. I saw that you crouched and ducked your head in the last quarter mile, otherwise your …um…position was different. Why do you ride like that?”

“Let me help you ask the right question. I appreciate your gentlemanly tact sir but what you want to ask is why is my ass so high off the saddle and my hand holding his mane?”

“The Royal Veterinary college studied this position and the monkey crouch finding the open position kept the body weight forward and lessened the burden of the horse moving through space. They used…”

“Forty-five GPS monitors to watch the jockey’s body as the horse moved under him.”

Claire’s eyes went wide knowing this man was familiar with the study. “To be honest, it is my natural position, I mean it happened naturally. No one would show me how to position myself so that’s what I did.”

“No one demonstrated your position in school? How do they keep the doors open?”

“I am a veterinarian. I never went to jockey school, I don’t know any jockeys. I ride hunter-jumpers.”

Michael stared at Claire like she was speaking another language. “I have never heard of something more preposterous, however, I know it’s true, I can feel it from both of you. How utterly remarkable you can compete with world-class jockeys. It’s impressive.”

Yes, well, my wanting to take part in his race suddenly turned our trainer into a jerk and Jamie fired him. I know Runner is ready for the Champagne Stakes. What happens then, when there is no trainer to get him ready for the Hopeful Stakes in three weeks?

“That’s why you don’t use a crop, you don’t know how. The way he ran today I doubt you’ll ever need to.” Michael pushed his chair back so he could see both Jamie and Claire.

“If you don’t mind, may I ask how far you intend to go on the road to the derby?”

“We are going to win the Kentucky Derby sir. It’s Jamie’s dream, then I go back to being a vet.”

Michael sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin thinking. He knew this was a serendipitous moment in time, and he wanted to be a part of this remarkable story, no matter what.

“Can I come too?”

Claire looked at Jamie like she didn’t understand and then smiled at Michael with a questioning face.

“I graduated with a Master’s degree from the University of Michigan last year. I want to train Thoroughbreds and make a name for myself while I change the standard of whipping a horse over the finish line. I have prayed for a miracle and this is it!”

Claire looked at Jamie and laughed.

“I have a proposition for you both, may I explain it please.”

Jamie who had remained quiet for the past twenty minutes looked the man in the eye, “you have our attention, sir.”

“Let me train them, Mister Fraser. Half of my graduate curriculum was preparing me for a horse like Runner. Claire should be an active partner in the race. He seems to run all on his own, but he won’t always. When you start the super six he will be exhausted and whatever means you use to make it fun won’t work anymore. That’s where Claire takes over the race and keeps him going, guides his leads around the turns, holds him back for the first half mile and then lets him go. I want to come with you and train him. If we get to the derby I will write his story, Claire’s story, and mine. It will be a best seller and the world will never forget his name.”

“That’s quite an offer Michael, how do you eat in the interim?”

“Books and magazines.”

Claire recoiled at the thought of eating books and Michael noticed her reaction.

“No, I don’t eat them. My family is in publishing. I am sole heir to Pearson Publishing. I spent some time on the track five years ago and fell in love with Thoroughbreds. I don’t need a paycheck, but I want first rights to publish this amazing story.”

Michael had worked up a sweat in his excitement talking about training Runner. Jamie and Claire were speechless and got carried away with his excitement. Jamie could not untangle all the facts that had just poured out of the man’s mouth but when he looked at Claire, he knew the decision was made.

“Do you have track time this afternoon Claire?”

“Yes, five-thirty. What should I be doing?”

“An hour of breeze, then the short track to work on his leads. Tracks in America are run counterclockwise so he will make the best time on the right lead along the straight track, and change to the left lead around the turns. He isn’t changing leads in the turn and it’s costing him time. “

Claire stood up, “will I see you there?”

“You will see me everywhere Doctor Beauchamp.”

“Well, alright, but enough of the formality. He is Jamie and I am Claire.”

They checked on Runner who was sending Claire images of beating Sham and Angle Light. She laughed and kissed his nose before catching up with Jamie.

Claire lathered under a hot shower and thought about the race tomorrow. She no longer had the fear of death before a race. Her fear now focused on losing the race because Runner was out competed, or God forbid, she made a mistake that cost them the race.

With a big fluffy towel on her head and another wrapped around her body, she sat at the vanity and rubbed lotion into her skin. She could see Jamie behind her on the bed, grabbing some dream time while he could.

He was breathtaking. Easily the most handsome man she ever met. Her eyes swept over his chest and stomach, dipping into the region that brought her intense pleasure and she felt her heart quicken. She pulled the towels off and fluffed her hair as she made her way to him and purposely made little movement on the bed so he wouldn’t wake. She wanted time with his body. To look at every inch of him and touch his secret places.

She kissed his balls before sucking one into her mouth, lightly holding his penis up to watch it get hard. She had no will power to tease. She needed to come and ran her tongue up his shaft and circled the head. She heard him moan and slowly pulled him into her mouth pushing him as deep as she could before she choked. She felt a strong hand grab her hair and force her down on him and then back up until he reached for her and dragged her up on his chest. She could feel his cock pushing against her core, threatening her sanity as he bit her nipple and then feasted on the whole breast.

Jamie was energized and hungry for her. Pulling her to his chest before he rolled off the bed. He kissed her away from the bed and spun her back to his chest as he bent to place his hands behind her knees and lift her, spreading her legs so she was wide open, her pussy hovering above his dick. She reached her hands above her and locked them together behind his neck.

“Look mo chridhe, look at what I’m doin to ye.”

They were in front of the vanity and mirror and she could clearly see her body, wide open and descending on him.

“Jesus Christ, that is hot.”

She was completely dependent on Jamie to move her, set her pace, and open her legs. Claire was breathing hard, staring at the coupling reflected in the mirror. It was something she could never see without his assistance and the erotic view made her pant and moan. She was begging him to make her come when he walked back to the bed and lifted her off of him setting her down on her knees and pushing her head to the bed.

Jamie watched his cock slide into her body and shuttered at the site. When he pushed harder his hips slammed into her ass making it quiver until he was ready to lose it. He loved the erotic image, but he needed to feel the connection by looking into her eyes. He dropped his mouth to her until she exploded in her release. He flipped her over and locked into her energy, her eyes, and what felt like her soul. Jamie took his time as they spoke volumes about love, commitment, and desire without saying a single word. Jamie pumped his hopes and desires into her and clutched her to him. Claire dropped her head into his panting chest and cried.

Michael had lost none of his enthusiasm by the afternoon and stayed close to Claire to coach her through the crucial lead changes that Runner wasn’t used to doing. Claire knew the instant Runner understood what to do. After that, there were two quick reminders and he instantly corrected his lead.

Claire wore her new silks for race day and when Jamie lifted her foot into the saddle, she was the very definition of calm determination. Runner knew it was time to race and shot blinking pictures of him winning as they were ponied to the gate.

Michael stayed up in the stands, high enough to get the whole race on his video recorder. Jamie admired his equipment, all very high tech, and his confidence in this man grew a bit. He had tried to vet Michael, but the weekend made it impossible to reach the registrar’s office at the University of Michigan. He was able to bring up photos of Michael on the internet which proved he was the only son and heir to Pearson enterprises.

Claire stayed quiet in the saddle as the horses were loaded into the gate. Runner would be coming out of gate 3 in a nine-horse race and would face all the old habits of breaking late and hanging back. She wondered if Jamie thought to mention that to Michael.

When the gate slammed open, Claire was off Runner’s back, ready to move. The pack of horses was well away before Runner bolted into his race lane, running a methodical slow race to the first turn. Claire could feel the easier gate as he changed to his left lead in the turn and then engaged his power. It felt like she was flying as he chased up the outside and caught up to the pack. Even with the deafening sound of hooves pounding the dirt she could hear the roar of the crowd as Runner past one horse after another. He told her he would run very fast to catch up to Sham and Angle Light. Claire tucked close to him, no time to hope, no time to pray, Runner became a bullet, coming out of the second turn with Sham and Angle Light twenty lengths ahead, he lengthened his body as his front feet pounded the ground at the same time making each stride a leap to cover ground. Claire felt her heart sinking as the finish line came into view but suddenly Angle Light was fading behind her and she was neck and neck with Sham’s jockey who whipped the horse mercilessly.

She realized that Runner was keeping pace with Sham so he could torture him and she let him know, in no uncertain terms, it was time to win. He did. Claire was screaming at him with her joy and disbelief he had done it again.

“Runner! You big beautiful horse! You won the Champagne Stakes! You won, you won, you won. Thank God, thank you, God!” Runner was still in a gallop as Claire tried to pull him back, slow him down, but he wasn’t listening. When she saw Angle Light ahead, she knew he just had to race by her and flaunt his win. She let him, after which he obediently started to slow down. She looked for Jamie in the stands, and on her second loop, she saw him and Michael at the rail waving. Claire was crying with joy and pulling back on the bit. When a track handler rode in front of them, Runner finally slowed down.

In the winner’s circle, Claire smiled with her tear-streaked face and Jamie and Michael proudly smiled with her. Claire jumped off and let Michael take Runner so she could get lost in Jamie’s kiss and cling to him like he was the most important man in the world to her. Because he was.

In Kentucky, Nick logged into the track at Belmont Park and snorted with disgust. He felt a small flair of pride and happiness at Runner’s win and then logged off. He was moving his training horses out of Highland Brother’s and had little time to waste.

Michael’s enthusiasm never seemed to lessen and Jason the groom was not far behind. Claire saw Jason jumping and waving at her from Runner’s bath and she smiled at him and his happiness. She passed several jockeys as they moved through the facility, each having a curt nod for her as they passed.

Claire was too exhausted to find a restaurant for dinner, so they ordered a pizza, watched a movie, and slept like the dead.

Jamie checked in with Rupert or Angus daily, happy the construction was going so well. He had ordered new locks on all the doors in the compound and had them monitored by a local security agency. When they returned, each of the borders would get their own password and Jamie could print a report of who entered and exited at any time. If the doors were tampered with it would trip a silent alarm and the video surveillance would wake up Jamie’s phone and beep. Each improvement he made brought him that much closer to a peaceful existence.

Having Jamie to herself was like heaven to Claire. They went sightseeing during mid-day, walked for miles and talked about their early lives. It was a struggle for Jamie to hear about Claire’s life as an orphan and he stopped several times to pull her into his arms and just hold her. This time together deepened their bond and devotion to each other.

Michael had changed Runner’s training schedule and Claire was spending more time breezing and working on lead changes. When he discussed new ideas with Jamie and Claire, he always had the latest research to support his changes. He and Claire were in their element and Jamie was excited for them both.

When he held her close and ran his hands down her body, the changes were obvious and worrisome. Her hip bones and shoulders were bony protrusions where she once had soft round curves and she had constant bruising on the insides of her knees. When she kept losing weight Jamie made an appointment with a nutritionist who gave her a list of supplements to take every day, keeping her energy up and stabilizing her weight.

On race day, Claire was feeling so good, and she teased Runner about beating Sham again because he would be racing too.

To Jamie and Michael, it was a smooth transition to the Saratoga racetrack as Runner was getting very accustomed to traveling. Runner looked calm and ready to race during his workout and Claire’s rosy cheeks were a blessing to Jamie’s worried heart.

When Runner bolted onto the track, the other horses were well ahead, as usual, and he came out of the first turn like a bullet, as usual. He took the lead before the second turn and was never caught. An easy win for this horse who was gaining notoriety because he was unbeatable. The day and the race were so perfect and Claire lavished him with praise during his post-race flaunting to Sham. When she came around the turn and saw Jamie it felt like the air evacuated from her lungs. Something was terribly wrong, and she felt confused and scared until she heard the announcement.

“Midnight Runner has been disqualified from the Hopeful Stakes."

[winetae]

:: modern loneliness

⇨ prompt : android!hoseok x reader. 2205 words. drabble with a possible follow-up. it’s been 38 days since you’ve last seen and interacted with a living, breathing person and you’re slowly going insane.

.

[Week 1 of lock down.]

At first, you’re optimistic. 

Working from home comes with its own set of non-negligeable perks. Notably, no more commute time! No more squeezing in between sweaty men on the subway during rush hour just to get home. The new arrangement means that you’re no longer obliged to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to blow-dry your hair or meticulously put on makeup while stuffing a bagel into your mouth because you’re short on time. 

On Day 1 of quarantine, you roll out of bed and don’t even bother to change out of your pajamas. It’s quite the sight. Not that you care whether or not your hair looks like a bird’s nest or if there’s a small hole in your shirt. You’d gladly take your flannel pants and old university sweatshirt with the coffee stain by the collar over the rigid pencil skirt and stupid obligatory heels they force you to wear to the office. Ironing? You don’t know her. 

That’s not to say there aren't any inconveniences but as of now, the pros outweigh the cons. For one, you’re now allowed to add as much sugar into your coffee without susciting your coworkers’ judgement. You can blast angry rap songs while finishing your reports and no one will stop you. The list goes on. 

With all this newfound time on your hands, you have no more valid reasons to procrastinate. You start off by cleaning out the kitchen cabinets you’d been meaning to re-organize for months. Then you rearrange your wardrobe, dust off the top shelves of your bookcase that you usually skip over because no one can see them, and water the potted plants you’d been neglecting. 

It feels great to be so productive. Your friends tell you via FaceConnect that your productivity streak won’t last long, but you’re quick to shake off their doubts. 

“I’m a new me!” You insist when Mia’s laughter echoes around your empty apartment. “My life is back on track. I feel like a proper adult now that I’m not struggling so much to get everything done.”

“Sure,” she humors you. “Just don’t get upset when I tell you I told you so.”

.

[Day 8 of lockdown.]

Now that your apartment is cleaner than it’s ever been, you need to find other means of entertainment. According to the internet, now is the ideal time to learn a new language or acquire a new hobby, like crocheting or playing the guitar. But while it might be technically possible to learn a language, you’re definitely not an overachiever. You’re aware of your own limits. 

Today you try your hand at baking. To some it might not seem like a big deal. But for someone like you who solely uses the kitchen to boil ramyeon packets and chop the occasional vegetable, today’s venture into the world of cooking is the equivalent of a quantum leap. 

The molten lava cakes that come out of the oven 15 minutes later don’t look like the picture advertised in the online recipe. They don’t taste like how you’d expected, either. 

You try not to be too disappointed with your failed attempt. After all, it’s only your first try. Dry cakes aren’t that bad in comparison to the horrors that could have occurred. At least nothing is burnt and your oven is still intact. You’ll try again tomorrow with hopefully a little more success.

.

[Day 16 of lockdown.]

It turns out that baking is not for you. After numerous trials and errors you learn a few days later that you have no vacation to be a baker. You end up abandoning all attempts to acquire a new hobby and instead look for new ways to pass the time. 

Thankfully, your home server is offering free VOD for a limited amount of time, so you’re not short on distractions. You consume around half a dozen cult movies, the kind people always reference and quote without actually watching, before you finally begin crossing TV series off your to-watch list. 

You yawn. It’s 9 PM on a Saturday night and you’ve just finished binging the entire season of Tiger King. It’s the third show you’ve watched from start to finish since quarantine began and now you’re wondering whether you should start a fourth. 

“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do,” you say before a grimace crosses your face. “Oh great... Now I’m talking to myself.” 

That can’t be a good sign, you think to yourself. How long has it been since you’ve last talked to someone? You used to call your parents every day but when there’s nothing new to report, the conversations become repetitive and dull. 

You should call Mia. Just to see how she’s doing.

.

[Day 24 of lockdown.] 

YOUR WEEKLY BASKET FROM FOODCONNECT HAS ARRIVED. ALL PURCHASES WILL BE ADDED TO YOUR MONTHLY EXPENSES CARD. REMINDER THAT DUE TO THE EXCEPTIONAL CIRCUMSTANCES, CONNECT CARDS ARE ALLOWED A 5000 EXCESS OVER FIXED LIMIT. TOTAL EXCESS HAS NOT YET BEEN REACHED.

.

[Day 38 of lockdown.] 

You’re browsing BH, hoping to restock your vitamins. Lately you’ve been feeling tired and mentally drained, despite your workload not being what it used to be. Why you’re so exhausted is a mystery you’ve yet to solve. In all logic, your energy level should be at an all time high now that you’re working less and spending all your free time lounging on the couch surfing the internet. 

According to the national health guideline, you’re supposed to be exercising an hour a day minimum in order for your body to remain in good condition. Your BODYCONNECT watch monitor beeps every hour to remind you that you haven’t completed the suggested activity. 

Ugh. 

You press the button on the side of the watch to turn the reminder off. It’s the fifth time you’ve had to silence it today but you can’t bring yourself to work up a sweat right this minute. You keep telling yourself that you’ll exercise later but like all things lately, later ends up being never. 

Come to think of it, this isn’t the first time you’ve caught yourself slacking off. Where did all your motivation during week 1 of lockdown go? You don’t even have the strength to do ten jumping jacks anymore; it’s like your bones belong to a person three times your age - feeble and brittle and threatening to break at a moment’s notice. 

LOW ON SEROTONIN? WE’VE GOT YOU COVERED. Flash promo over in 00:32:43! Limited offer while supplies last.

A bright yellow advertisement flashes on the top right corner of your screen. Intrigued, you follow the link without expecting much. The last thing you expect is to be brought directly to BH LAB’s homepage. 

“Um… I don’t think I have the budget for this…” You mutter under your breath and prepare to exit out of the page. 

Androids are usually employed by the government but the ones for sale to the general public are known to be exorbitantly expensive. 

A message reads: EXCLUSIVE 1 HOUR PROMO, 40% OFF YOUR FIRST PURCHASE. Click here for more details. Offer valid for new customers only. 

You pause and decide to click on the link. Looking around won’t hurt anyone, right? It’s not like you’ve decided to buy anything yet. 

The seven Dwellers available for sale are just as good looking as you expected them to be. Their unnaturally good looks and vibrant green eyes are what makes them easy to pick out from the crowd. 

You skim through each Dweller’s description. It seems that apart from the physical differences like their facial features and build, they each have their own specialty and characteristics. One of the best-selling models boasts the cooking ability of a 5-star chef, which you admit sounds very tempting since your skills with a knife are pathetic enough to make Gordon Ramsey cry. 

Another best-selling model specializes in...sex. You blink, your cheeks warming as you read over the model’s description (the “thick, vibrating cock that guarantees an orgasm every time!” comment makes you choke on your saliva). You can understand straight away why this particular model would be so popular. All of the models are pretty, but this one’s face doesn’t look like it’s from this world. Confinement would make anyone horny, and when promised a godly sex bot equipped with a vibrating dick, well…

Too bad you’re too tired these days to even think about having “mind-blowing sex for 5 hours straight.” Having such intense intercourse would probably make you pass out on the Dweller’s artificial cock, and there’s no way in hell you would want someone from CONNECT to intervene after receiving distressed signals from your body monitor. That would just be embarrassing. 

You’re about to exit out of the page, curiosity sated, when the last model catches your eye.

SEROTONIN BOOSTER. Low on energy? Feeling sad or depressed? Need a companion? 

This model is perfect for you! Model JHS is equipped with emotion sensors. They will fulfill your every need even when you’re not able to vocalize them. Stressed? They specialize in massages and are proficient in: Swedish massages, Aromatherapy, Shiatsu massages, Reflexology, among others. 

Personality : This model is energetic. They are very active and therefore requires a minimum 6 hours to recharge. They are extremely tactile and will easily engage in skinship such as hugs or holding hands. They are talkative and will hold passionate conversations with you about almost any subject.��

Likes : cleaning, working out

Dislikes : horror movies, strong smells

When reading the description, it feels they’re talking about a person rather than an android. You’re surprised to see that the Dwellers are programmed to have a certain personality that caters to specific needs because the only androids you’ve ever come across before are the government ones, and they’ve always been stoic and devoid of any distinguishing characteristic. 

It would be nice, you think, to have a companion. Someone you could talk to for real instead of through a pixelated hologram. As much as you enjoy your time alone, each passing day locked in your apartment makes you realize how much you long for a hug. You miss holding someone in your arms, feeling their heartbeat against your cheek and the rise and fall of their chest as they squeeze you back. 

Model JHS looks like he could fill that vacancy. Their smile is blinding, like they’re physically radiating sunshine through their expression alone. You don’t doubt their capacity to bring positive energy into your life. 

Before you can think twice about it you’re adding the model to your shopping cart. The site asks you if you want to pay more in order to customize them. For an additional fee, you’re able to tweak the Dweller’s personality or modify their physical attributes to your liking. You skip over the option. For one, you don’t have the funds to afford a vibrating dick enhancement and two, you’re more than satisfied with your Dweller as they are.

It’s not until you finish supplying all your information including your Connect Card details and shipping address that you realize what a monumental purchase you’re about to make and how empty your account will be by the end of it.

You stare at the price listed at the bottom of the screen and weigh your options. Even with the 40% reduction, it’s not a negligible sum. You could buy several models of the new Birkin bag you’d been saving up for with this money. 

Why purchase designer bags when you can’t even go out and use them? a voice argues. And - uh. Fair point. 

In any case, you’d have to stop shopping, eating out all the time and going on frivolous trips overseas. Not that you really have a choice, given the circumstances. 

You look at the laptop screen again. Are you seriously so touch-deprived that you’re willing to fork over that much money for a live-at-home android? Really? 

Fuck it. 

You click on [VALIDATE PAYMENT] before rationality has time to kick in and you change your mind again. Just as the screen changes and the new page loads, you feel your heart leap to your throat but it’s too late to back out now. 

PROCESSING ORDER …

...

CONGRATULATIONS! 

YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY ORDERED (1) DWELLER - JHS MODEL. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE. 

(!) Your order is eligible for Instant Shipping (delivered to your door in 24 hours or less). 

(!!) Due to exception circumstances, your order might encounter delays. We are taking multiple steps to ensure the safety and hygiene of all products and shipments. For more information click here.

(!) All BH products are covered by a limited two-year warranty. Please refer to warranty details regarding your product in the Dweller E-HandBook, free for download here. Please register your product after purchase in order to qualify for future claims, returns, and support.

You expel the breath you’d been holding. Your father will throw a fit once he finds out you’ve blown all your money on a bot. The criticism is warranted.

What are you even supposed to say to defend yourself? You’ve bought a  Dweller on a whim while browsing for Vitamin C supplements.

Quarantine is really making you lose your goddamn mind, huh.

[doctor243]

The Girl Who Cried Wolf Chapter 9

Firstly, I'm so sorry it took me so long to update, the world has been kinda out of whack. But seriously, thank you to everyone who has been messaging me and commenting and checking in on me. It means the world to me and it motivates me to get off my ass and write. So, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

Summary: 5 times MJ says ‘I love you’ and 1 time Peter says it back.

Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, May Parker, Ned Leeds

AO3

Fuck. “No.”

“Oh come on, this is gonna be awesome!” Ned laughed, holding up a pamphlet. “Queesnborough Community College Art Show,” he read, but MJ already knew what was written. “Listed artists: Michelle Jones. Yeah, we’re totally going.” Fuck.

“No,” she repeated, threatening his cunning smile with her cold stare. “You’re not.”

“How’d you even get a spot at the art show anyways?” Peter asked through a mouthful of sandwich, and she desperately wanted to pin his lips shut. “I thought they were only showcasing their own students.” Double fuck.

“I am one of their students,” she sighed reluctantly, pointedly staring at her book and avoiding all eye contact. Why couldn’t they just leave it alone? Showing her art to random strangers was one thing – she’d never have to see them again. But her friends? She wasn’t ready for that. “I’ve been taking classes with them part time.” She popped another French fry into her mouth before turning the page on Goodnight Mister Tom. Art was a revelation of the soul, and she didn’t know if she wanted her two friends to see that yet.

“WHAT?” she heard Ned cry out, oblivious to her inner turmoil.

“Oh we’re so going to this show,” Peter piped up.

The conversation immediately descended into chaos as her best (only) friends started yelling about injustices at the same time. It was difficult to keep track of what both of them were saying, so MJ just shut her book with a thud and looked up, effectively silencing them. “No,” she spoke.

“Okay, okay,” Ned laughed. “We won’t go.” She believed him.

“Oh, we’re totally going,” Peter argued, and unfortunately, she believed him too. Triple fuck.

“In fact,” he continued, as only he would dare. “We have to get the flashiest brightest suits we can find to pretend like we’re important art buyers-”

“Art collectors,” MJ interrupted in frustration.

“-you know what I meant-”

“And art collectors don’t necessarily wear flashy loud suits to art shows.” Please just shut up and don’t come.

“Still gonna do it,” he grinned deviously. Fuck.

“The art pieces aren’t even for sale,” she made a final attempt at resistance. “It’s just an exhibition to showcase the school’s students!”

“Still. Gonna. Do. It.” Damn you, Peter Parker, and that goddamn grin that makes my heart do funny things.

She sighed and pinched her eyebrows. “I’m gonna be so embarrassed,” she grit out. She ignored the flop that her heart did at the sound of Peter’s triumphant whoop. Fuck.

 ::::::

MJ plastered a smile on her face at the polite visitors who spared her work a glance. Behind her back, her fingers were nervously finding new ways to imitate spaghetti, and she held her breath in hopes that one would just stop and look carefully. Artists were, after all, contradictory in that manner. They desperately wanted someone to look at their soul on the canvas and understand them, but the chance was so small that they often dared not reveal the art. Please look at my art, they often cried out inwardly. Even though I’m afraid to show it to you.

Where the hell is Peter? She thought furiously, glaring at her watch that read 9 o’clock. Again, another contradiction. She had dreaded his presence at the expo, but now that it seemed he wouldn’t show, MJ felt the disappointment pooling in her gut.

She watched University recruiters and photographers talking to a few of her classmates, and others with their families, smiling and taking selfies with their works. Taking a deep breath, she looked at her watch again, albeit almost in vain. 9:10. There was 20 minutes left, so he probably wasn’t coming after all.

Her neighbours started taking down their canvases, and she saw Professor Latham helping some students clear up. Well, this was an absolute waste of everyone’s time. An evening down the drain. MJ sniffed softly as she felt her eyes sting from the warning of tears. Don’t cry. Not now.

“Aha! There she is! MJ!”

Her breath hitched and she dared herself to hope again. She turned around.

“Peter?” She whispered, almost in disbelief.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he finally stopped, looking up to catch his breath. “There was a huge thing with the police and a baby and-” she could barely hear him over the thumping of her heart, but she assumed it was Spider-Man business. “Ah I’ll explain it to you another time.” You’d better.

“You came,” she tried to hold back her smile, but it turned into a sort of grimace.

“Of course we came!” He replied excitedly. “We came to see amazing art!”

Wait. Hold up a minute. “We?” MJ wondered out loud. Did Ned come too?

“Hey MJ.”

She spun around again to see the epitome of motherly love beaming at her with pride. “Aunt May,” She breathed. “You came too.”

“Of course, sweetie!” May laughed. “This is important to you right?”

“Well…I mean…Um…” she struggled out a stutter.

“Oh hush,” the older woman pulled her into a hug, and MJ would never admit it, but she always yearned for an Aunt May Hug. “We’re all really proud of you. Now why don’t you start showing off to us?”

“Ok,” she mumbled, eyes stinging even more than before, but her heart infinitely warmer.

She turned to explain a few of her paintings, but Peter was already staring intently at them.

“Holy crap you did oil paintings?!” He whistled. “This cannot be cheap.”

“Yeah I-” How do you know that?

“Dang, these are pretty amazing! Aunt May! Look, it’s Queens! You could see our apartment from here!”

“It’s not-” It is. That’s exactly what I was trying to get.

“How did you get such detail with oils? I just make a messy blur and call it interpretive art.”

“You-” You are overwhelming me with these compliments.

“And this one’s Midtown! You even painted the school?? I thought you hated school!”

“I-” I did, but now I love it because I get to see my favourite people every day. And my favourite person.

May placed a gentle hand over Peter’s mouth. “Let the poor girl talk, you’re overwhelming her.”

MJ just stared at the corner of the Midtown portrait and struggled to regulate her breathing. Be still, my heart, she scolded herself. One, two, three, four…

“Excuse me, sir, ma’am.” Oh good, Professor Chang.

Peter and May turned to regard her teacher. “The exhibition will be closing in 5 minutes. Can I help you with anything before we close?”

“Yeah!” Peter chirped up, the wonderful idiot that he was. “Is purchase of these art pieces allowed?”

Professor Chang smiled again, and was that a wink? “Purchase of the art pieces are between you and the artist,” she replied. Oh no, Professor Chang. “The purpose of this exhibition isn’t for the sale of art, but if the artist agrees, who are we to hinder their budding career?” MJ wished that the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Now she had to go over to the Parker’s residence and see her own work permanently? Talk about being mortified.

“Now, wait just a minut-” she tried to protest weakly, but for the second time that day, to no avail.

“Aunt May! Can we buy one please?” Peter interrupted, eyes shining.

“Okay, Peter,” she smiled. “Just one though, ok?” She warned. Was she allowing Peter to buy candy?

“Peter, you can’t,” MJ protested weakly. “These aren’t any good.”

“What’re you talking about?” He laughed. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the best artist in this entire gallery!”

“I’m just a high school kid in a college exhibition,” she mumbled.

“And that’s what makes you amazing,” he replied, and she could tell that he meant every word. He turned around to choose while Michelle quietly struggled to process the sudden influx of emotions.

“This one. I want this one. How much d’ya want for it, Ms Jones?” He teased. She looked up and smiled weakly. Of course he’d choose that one. The New York skyline that she’d painted from her rooftop. From there, she could see Peter’s apartment building, and sometimes, she’d wonder if he could see hers too. The sun was setting, and she’d tried her best to incorporate every colour that had been present, but her oil paints were limited, and the sky was just too beautiful to be captured. Too free and wild to be held still in the four walls of a canvas frame. Too beautiful for one to do it justice. Just like the little spider in front of her.

“Nothing.”

The word popped out of her mouth before she could shut it, and she hugged him before her mind could deny her body. Here goes nothing. “Because I love you,” she whispered. She felt his body stiffen and she and immediately regretted her words. He didn’t speak for five seconds, and that was five seconds too many. Her throat seized up and her heart dropped. The buzzing in her gut turned into a scream and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Abort mission. She pulled away and flicked him on the forehead.

“I’m kidding, loser,” she smirked, even as her chest ached and the colours on the canvas looked sadder than they had before. “It’ll be 50 bucks. Do you have any idea how expensive oil paints are?”

“Yeah, I do,” Peter replied, clearly a little nervous. “Good thing I asked Mr Stark for some cash before coming here.”

“In that case, it’ll be 70.”

“Hey!” he gasped in mock offence, but she’d already hopped forward and given May a big hug.

“I love you, Aunt May,” she said, distinctively more audibly. And she meant it. Peter didn’t love her that way, so it was better if she didn’t give him any ideas that she did. The truth didn’t matter, as long as he was happy.

“Aww honey!” cooed May. “I love you too!” and while the words comforted her, she’d have preferred to hear them in a different voice.

Previous Chapter: Here

Next Chapter: Coming Soon!!!

Masterlist: Here

Tags: @jmsjssc​ @you-guys--are-losers​ @spideychelleforever​ @spideychelleee​ @spidermaninlove​ @tonystarkissist​ @spideychellefics​ @spiderxboy @spideychelle-4-ever @spideyxchelle @thespideychellelibrary @here-be-spideychelle​

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[ghostmartyr]

But will 6 chapters be enough to aside from stopping Eren and finding a solution that doesn't involve genocide, also show us what's Historia thinking, that 104th's Ymir is alive and my YumiHisu ending ? Isayama better not disappoint me or else I'll cry

I think I have too many ranty promises about what I’ll do if I’m disappointed, so in the scheme of really not wanting to do things, here’s hoping for a satisfying ending that makes literally only me happy.

Storyboard time.

By which I mean fanfic, but really really lazy fanfic where I put zero effort into any real plot. There is some stuff that could arguably be taken seriously, but no. Effort not found.

130 ends volume 32, which means things are allowed to happen. Not necessarily that they will. We arrive at Odiha, and our heroic motley crew gets to discussing where Eren could possibly go.

(If the manga thinks finding the giant stegosaurus is a problem it gets to be a problem okay.)

Odiha conversation progresses to the point of someone threatening to break Yelena’s arm, and Yelena finally admits that even without Eren sharing this specific part of the plan, he had shown some interest in one of Zeke’s contingencies.

Interspersed with this is shots of the torched Marley coastline, and maybe some of the screaming people, including the refugees everyone partied with. Stego-Eren is off in the distance, and we pan even further out to a freckled figure watching the new horizon from a cell. Insert dialogue here about more nightmares.

131, start of volume 33. Let’s open on Shiganshina, with casual soldiers talking about what went down at the port, and telling off random civilians from getting too close to Eren’s ground zero. NPC Farmer Guy, aka a suspiciously tall blond man, is walking around through most of the shots of the soldiers continuing to talk current events. If you look closely, sometimes the blond guy is accompanied by a short woman.

Odiha side plot is still ongoing, with top tier Mikasa moments because my city now. They get the airship prepped by the end of the chapter, but have solved no problems. Connie has punched Yelena, and Falco is wondering next to Armin what it must be like, to be able to undo being a Shifter.

A few pages cover freckled Ymir reading Marley’s propaganda history books in some prison. Lingering shots on the relevant imagery while the sound effects reach peak rumble.

Back in Shiganshina, the weird blond guy is wandering around still, but is missing his iconic hat. The soldiers decide to finally tell him to get lost. Insert ominous comment about how his work here is done, anyway.

We hit the last few pages with Ymir’s prison being War Hammered, the face of Stego-Eren specifically lowering to glower at her.

At the same time, a different blond guy, now in possession of NPC Farmer Guy’s hat, is being dragged through the streets of Shiganshina by shorty.

Last page is a spread with both scenes, with one dialogue bubble telling the unmoved Ymir and unconscious Zeke that they don’t get to quit just yet.

132. The airship is probably up in the air at some point somewhere around here, but we’re not here to be overly particular. This installment mostly belongs to Zeke and Ymir. Ymir has no idea what Eren’s deal is, except that he’s the guy who announced the quality idea of killing everyone, but he’s made a point of retrieving her and killing none of the people in the prison except by falling rocks. He’s not putting on a good show of knowing how to do any of this. She’s not going to turn down being left alone, but following him along on his journey to wherever with nothing to do is proving very boring. Talking at him is as well. Eren is distinctly not in the mood for talking.

On the other side, Historia’s having the same problem with Zeke. He’s basically trapped himself in the same mode Reiner falls into after his Liberio talk with Eren. It’s not obvious unless you look closely, and with the state of Paradis, no one is looking that closely. Though some people do offer to give the poor young pregnant lady some supplies. Historia politely takes every advantage, and makes sure to hide Zeke’s face whenever someone in uniform walks by.

It’s a traveling chapter, and all the travelers look pretty drained. Toss the dice over the specifics, but near the end of the chapter, Zeke finally starts to come back to something resembling consciousness. Enough to ask why Historia’s even bothering, when everything’s ruined.

“But you’re still standing. Someone with a will like that shouldn’t be giving up.”

Zeke asks if that’s what she plans on telling her condemned child. She gave up the second she agreed with Zeke’s plan, and motives don’t excuse what she has already done to it.

By this point all pretense of putting up with Zeke is gone, and Historia takes out a knife.

Instead of slashing his throat, she drives it into her stomach, and pulls out nothing but fluff through the hole in her shirt.

She announces that Zeke’s plan hasn’t been running this show for a while, now, so he might as well get up and start walking instead of making her carry him the rest of the way.

133. Flashbacks. Not all of them, but enough to cover Historia’s end. Years ago, she thought she saw a dead future. Every year that's gone by without the vision coming true has felt like a gift she can’t accept. Killing Eren would have stopped all of it, and she’s still the one who chose to save him. Because regardless of the future, the person saying he never should have happened was someone she needed to protect. This is what she does. She rescues anyone who thinks they’re beyond hope.

That includes her, it turns out.

Through her perspective, we see her and Eren both starting to spiral, just a little. They can’t see a way out. It finally comes to a head once Eren’s approached by Yelena, and indirect details about Ymir makes Eren feel compelled to have an information sharing/apology session with Historia.

Enter the memory shard. Historia admits that she’s seen Eren’s role in her family’s deaths. She’s known for a while, along with what he’ll do, and, well. Sorry for not saying anything. Eren is visibly fracturing, and being the enemy of humanity is starting to sound pretty good. He wonders out loud if this is fate.

That’s the turning point.

If it is, they’ll change it.

Back in the present, Historia is still with Zeke. Who’s awake, even though he’s looking at her like she’s a monster. Historia makes the point that he’s always searched for a way to end this world. His method’s out, but they’re still here. If she has to drag him along, she will, but him going along with everything would be easier on both of them.

134. This is where everything has to explode, because it would be the end of volume 33. We still don’t have much of Eren’s perspective. Team Airship knows very little except that he’s been overly curious about Ymir, who’s alive for some reason, and also in where the original Eldia began.

Team Airship is avidly chasing after Eren, who is Stego-Eren and easy to track. Shocking. Eren’s perspective begins to have flashbacks.

Ymir still has no idea why she’s here.

Falco has her memories, and the closer the airship gets, the more Ymir is like... wait... do I know this genocidal bastard? Things be trippy.

Airship gets to Eren as Eren finds the spot with the primordial ooze. Directed to it by both Ymirs; one who’s been there before, and one whose only memories include a cult who wished they’d gotten to go there.

World goes back to black and the giant tree, and Mikasa has one last look at Eren before things go really weird.

135.

EREN RUNS UP A HILL AND MAKES A DEAL WITH GOD.

More Eren flashbacks establishing sense.

Historia and Zeke are hanging in the Reiss cavern, as the other point on the planet with the most concentrated Plot Magic. They’re the last two links to OG Ymir, and OG Ymir’s deal with whatever is what’s led them here. She started this story, and with Eren as a vehicle, she’s the one who gets to end it.

Via some complicated ritual, you have Historia and Zeke, who are the OG Ymir’s truest flesh; you have Eren, bearing the OG Titan as well as the Attack and War Hammer; you have freckled Ymir, who is a Titan returned to her humanity; you have the uncaring ooze, who looks at all this and is like, why did you disturb my slumber wtf have you all been doing to this child I made a demigod.

Primordial ooze hears a request, and remakes the world.

136: WOW THAT SURE ALL HAPPENED.

Whatever happens in 135 is addressed, and we all get to spend a few final, treasured moments with the cast. The end.

This is a cop-out.

Because I do not actually know what mechanics are going to be at play.

I’m going with the Madoka option of the world being changed, but with the added bonus of Historia and Zeke acting as a conduit for the memories of the original world, so they don’t fade out. The curse is lifted, and Eldians can no longer be forcibly transformed. Throw in a little, “everyone in the world is now patched into Paths, and Historia and Zeke are absolutely going to use that to convince folks that war ain’t it, chief.”

Eren went into the ooze chamber, and OG Ymir is what walked out. Mikasa puts Eren’s scarf around her.

And obviously, as part of the memory resorting, freckled Ymir gets her memories back from Falco, and has a promise to keep.

Give me an extra two chapters and I could even it out a little better.

Really, I do not know what is going to happen, and that throws a wrench in any and all speculation. There is a singular, “what is it all leading up to?” X marks the spot eureka moment that I do not have where the main plot is concerned. As far as I can tell, Eren’s made such a mess that I don’t think there is any good way to repair it. Mass Madoka powers feel like cheating, considering all everyone’s been through, but without a magical rework of the world, Eren has had a net negative effect on Paradis’ everything, deepening the cycle of hatred, and that’s where the curtain closes.

So I might joke about no effort going into this, but more honestly it’s that I feel like the important parts have to be deliberately vague, because I have yet to come up with something that works well as an ending.

In any case, you can do a lot in six chapters. Especially if you go pure id on it.

[skyechaser]

Bumbleby: The Musical 4/?

"So, what did the doctor say?" Blake asked, her eyes wide in excitement as Yang closed the door behind her. There was a small curve on her lips. After their study session, the blonde had talked to her parents about her struggles with reading. She had never felt brave enough to speak to her family about them until now. She didn’t want to be a disappointment. She didn’t want to cause any more problems. She didn’t want anyone else to leave. But now there was a possible answer to her plight. There was hope she could improve and somehow she didn’t feel stupid anymore. 

"You were right" she smiled "I'm dyslexic. I have rapid automatic naming dyslexia to be precise"  the blonde further explained. Her parents had felt horrible that she hadn’t trusted them before with her situation. So, in an attempt to make up for lost time, they had solicited Beacon High to have a specialist evaluate Yang as soon as possible. Two days later, Yang met with the expert after school hours. 

"That's great!" the black haired girl celebrated, carelessly choosing her words. When she heard them outloud she realized how they could easily be misinterpreted "Oh… I don't mean like good that you have it I mean like… now that you know…" her rambling was cut short. A certain blonde had suddenly embraced her. Blake did her best not to melt as the blonde’s strong arms held her waist and her hands rested over her shoulder blades. 

"Thank you so much" Yang whispered in Blake's ear. It was clear she was doing her best not to cry: her voice was weak and slowly breaking.The yellow eyed girl wanted her friend to let go, she wanted her to know that she didn’t have to hold everything in anymore. 

"It's okay" she said as she hugged her back “Its over”. That was all it took. Yang had spent most of her life thinking she was stupid and doing her best to hide it. She couldn't believe it had taken so long for someone to realize her condition. The doctor had told her it was actually outstanding that she had made it that far in school with undiagnosed dyslexia. She cried out of relief. She cried because, at last, she had an answer.

…………..

“What? Really?” Nora asked, her voice extremely high pitched. 

“Yeah” Yang replied “I’m taking extra classes after schools starting today” she said, smiling into her words. She was eager to start. It didn’t matter that she had to stay late three more days a week. With her lacrosse practices, she was going to leave school at six every day of the week. She didn’t care. She wanted to improve. It didn’t hurt that Blake had promised to walk her home after her dyslexia classes. Not at all.  

“I’m sorry we never realized you were struggling” Pyrrha said, her eyes looking down.

“It’s okay, you guys” the blonde replied “I did my best to hide it”

“And how did you find out?” the question lingered in the air before she decided to answer, Nora’s light blue eyes fixed on her face. Should she tell them? A part of her wanted to keep her friendship with Blake as secret as possible. She knew how she felt about the black haired girl and it scared her that someone that saw them together could get any ideas. What happened to Coco could happen to her or worse to Blake. She couldn’t risk it. Besides, she had worked so hard to be respected and admired in school. It was all she had. 

“I always felt something was off” Yang replied finally “I investigated a bit and told my parents” the lie came so easily it scared her. She didn’t like the idea of hiding things from Nora and Pyrrha but she didn’t know what else to do. Being honest seemed like an actual impossibility. Maybe this was just her own mind trying to justify her actions. She was scared of her own feelings. 

“So, you want to meet later? I’d like to know if we could be of help” Pyrrha asked. She was such a good friend. The three of them had met in elementary school and had been inseparable ever since. They had sleepovers when guys broke their hearts and they stayed up late watching horror films at Nora’s house until her foster brother, Ren, lost his patience. The man was a rock but the trio was as noisy as it was tight. They’d been there for each other through thick and thin and, even if they didn’t know it, both redheaded girls had actually helped Yang with school work several times just by talking about the subject. Pyrrha was quite the teacher. The offer, however, froze Yang on her tracks. Blake had promised to meet her after her classes and she wanted to see her so badly. How could she get rid of…

“Pyrrha we can’t today! You have a date with destiny!” 

“Is that today?” the girl replied blushing. Her best friends had full knowledge of her massive crush on one of their classmates: Jaune D’arc. He, however, had been oblivious to all her signs for years. Luckily, senior year seemed to have knocked some sense into him and he asked the girl to the movies. 

“Wait, today is your date with vomit boy?” the blonde asked, using the nickname she knew got on her friend’s nerves. A couple of years back, Jaune had gotten extremely sick during a class trip and threw up for an hour straight. The rest was history. 

“That is not his name and yes I do!” 

“We have so many things to do!” Nora exclaimed as she grabbed her friend’s arm “We have to choose your outfit! We have to decide what to do with your hair…” 

Her friend was still talking but her words lost all sense as Yang took a deep breath and cleared her mind. At least for today she was covered. She’d have to see what to tell them later.

Thanks, vomit boy. 

---

All she wanted was for the day to end. Ever since she left her bed that morning something told her it wasn’t going to be an easy one. The fact that she had just gotten her period the day before was more than likely a contributing factor. She was walking to her last class of the day. The thought of meeting Yang after her sessions with Doctor Yu was the only thing giving her some sort of motivation. That was when she saw them. They were standing against the lockers, locking her way and mumbling something. Deep breath. Go to class. See Yang. 

“Hello, new girl” the largest of the group said as Blake walked past them. She didn’t look at him. The way he talked could only mean trouble. His name was Cardin and he was the official school bully. He had pushed her against the lockers several times and had even stolen her money. Blake could very well fight back but she couldn’t risk making a scene. She couldn’t have anyone asking any questions about her. So she endured it. She lowered her head and walked away. “Are you deaf, freak?” he added, this time louder. The black haired girl sped up. Please not today. 

Pain. 

Her head hit the wall as Cardin pushed her to the side. She didn’t see it coming. The boy was part of the wrestling team and he had been very fast in attacking her. Blake could hear the engines in his mind moving as a cruel grin took over his mouth. He got in her face, his two sidekicks laughing behind him and her body froze. This was too familiar. The flashbacks began playing. 

“You think you can just ignore me, faunus?” he whispered in her ear. The word burnt. For a very long time, the people of Menagerie were slaves in the mainland, and the word faunus, as in related to animals, had been used to label and insult them. It was the single most hurtful thing you could call someone from the island. Even if it was an idiot like Cardin the one saying it  “I said hello, faunus, what do you say back?” 

“Hello” Blake replied, her mind in autopilot. She needed the boy to get out of her face before she lost control. She could feel the panic attack coming. 

“I can’t hear you” he growled, his face inches from hers. 

“Hello” she repeated, louder. He didn’t move. She needed him to go away. She needed the flashbacks to stop. She needed to stop thinking about Adam. Her body reacted by itself, pushing Cardin with all the strength it could muster. He was barely able to stay on his feet. Blake froze, unable to handle what she had just done. 

“Get her” the boy ordered. His lackeys grabbed Blake by the arms and started pulling her to the boy’s bathroom under Cardin’s command. Her body was limp. The same thing happened when she tried to fight Adam. A total shutdown. Was it instinct? Why couldn’t she fight back? 

“Let’s see if you learn your lesson this time” one of the sidekicks snickered. 

The worst part wasn’t that she couldn’t breathe. The worst part was the humiliation. She had been bullied since the very first day she walked into Beacon High. She was shy. She was from Menagerie. She was a nerd. Blake had been pushed around, mugged, insulted and ignored but it was the first time she had gotten her head pushed into a toilet. Once they got bored, one of her attackers pinned her against the floor. She could hear how the other two ripped her bag open, shredded her books and flushed the pages down the drain. 

“Next time be a good pet and say hello back” Cardin said as he and his friends left the bathroom, the three of them having the time of their lives. Blake stood up as soon as they left. She didn’t want anyone to see her. Her bag was ripped to shreds and her books were wet and broken. The book Yang had gotten her was destroyed. Absolutely destroyed. She picked up whatever she could and ran out the bathroom towards the infirmary’s bathroom. She could clean up there. She’d have to miss her last class but, at least, she was going to see the blonde. Somehow a small smile appeared in her lips. 

---------

“See you on wednesday, miss Xiao Long” the therapist smiled as he opened the door. Yang liked him. His name was Yu and he had a kind face. He didn’t make her feel stupid when she couldn’t read and congratulated her every single time she got something right. With a single session she could feel her spirits being lifted. There were techniques she could use to improve. Nothing could stop her from getting a good scholarship now. 

“Thanks so much, Doctor Yu” she replied. “Do you think I’ll be able to read better soon? I want to ace the next term” Yang grinned. 

Dyslexia and I (adaptation of "The Wizard and I" from Wicked)

[Yu]

Oh, Miss Xiao Long

Many years I’ve been working

helping kids like you to excel. 

Why, I predict with practice you could indeed

Improve! Fast and well!

My dear, my dear

I’ll write at once to your parents

Tell them how they can help too. 

With a talent like yours dear there is

A definite chance

If you work as you should

You'll be reading soon. 

[YANG]

Did that really just happen?

Have I actually understood?

This weird quirk I've tried

To suppress or hide

Can be treated and could

Help me ace my essays

And tests as well

If I work well

When I beat dyslexia

Once I study and learn

And then my own dyslexia

Won't be getting in my, my way!

And with all of this new wisdom

Books and test, they won’t be frightening

Goodwitch thinks the Dragon is dumb?

I will show her I can do this! Yeah!

She'll say to me, "I see who you truly are

A girl on whom I can rely!"

And that's how it'll begin

My new life and I

Once I beat dyslexia

My fears will be numb

Cause once I beat dyslexia

I’ll prove I'm not dumb!

No mother runs aways from you

No sister's jokes that hurt

And all the school has to love you

When by the teachers, you're acclaimed

And this gift or this curse I have inside

Maybe at last, I'll know why

When we work hand in hand

Dyslexia and I

And one day, they'll say to me

"Xiao Long, a girl who is so superior

All of your medals and your good grades

Have made your dreams achievable

Whatever college that you want to attend 

No matter how far away it may be

A full scholarship is 

at last within my grasp

And though of course, that's not important to me

"All right, why not?" I'll reply

I feel my dreams so near, my new life and I

I feel them all so near my new life and...

Unlimited

My future is unlimited

And I've just had a vision

Almost like a prophecy, I know

It sounds truly crazy

And true, the vision's hazy

But I swear, someday I’ll be

The very best there ever was

And I’ll feel loved at last!

And I'll stand there cloak and cap on

Feeling things I've never felt

And though I'd never show it

I'd be so happy, I could melt!

And so it will be for the rest of my life

Nothing keeping me away from my prime

Held in such high esteem

When people see me, they will scream

For half of Patch's favorite team

Dyslexia and I

Yang looked around, trying to find a certain yellowed eyed girl. She was there, just like she had promised. The blonde wanted to embrace her and walked towards her friend happily. However, when she was close enough, she noticed something was wrong. Her face was puffy and red, the beginnings of a bruise appearing over her eyebrow. Her clothes were disheveled and messy. 

“Blake, what happened?” she asked, gently grabbing the other girl by the shoulders. 

“What do you mean?” the alluded one replied with with a broken grin.

“You’re hurt”

“Oh…Yeah…” Blake replied looking down “I had a very bad fall in the bathroom. I ended up in the infirmary…”

“WHAT?” the blonde exclaimed “That is so dangerous! How did you fall? Are you sure you are ok?” 

Her face hurt and she really wanted to take a shower but, somehow, Yang had made her laugh. Having someone worry about her like that was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. It felt good. It made her feel worthy of love. Be careful, Blake told herself, knowing pretty well she wasn’t going to be. 

[cyberkevvideo]

My Changes to “Way of the Wicked“, Extras 3: Extraplanar Hunters

I kind of had the first one in the back of my mind for a while, but always forgot to put it down on paper, but thanks to vlogger Dungeon Dad converting a bunch of old 3.5 and Pathfinder 1e monsters to 5e, I was reminded that these creatures were very different in 3.5 compared to Pathfinder, and why I had originally considering at least the inevitable for this adventure path.

As always, for space reasons, I’ll be cropping the encounter build.

I do not have a Patreon or a Kickstarter, but I do have a Ko-Fi page (linked) for those who would like to support my work. There is no pressure or obligation to do so, however, but a like and a share would definitely be appreciated. Of this and my older work.

Just before get to it, I hope everyone’s staying safe right now.

There are three sets of stats this time around, and two of them are actually one NPC; a hound archon and his dragon mount. More on that later, including a description regarding how the concept exists. This is what I was talking in the last entry regarding this being something that was skipped over in the Pathfinder bestiary from its 3.5 version.

I’ll say for starters, I didn’t give the NPCs any traits. Those are for PCs, more often than not, but admittedly that was a staple of Gary’s builds to try make the NPCs able to stand up to the villains more. It also felt like an in-joke that the NPCs were the heroic PCs all along. If you want to give them one trait, that’s fine, but for these ones, I didn’t feel it was overly necessary to do so. The only one I even considered was the hound archon, and only to give him armor expert to negate the final armor check penalty to skills.

For starters, inevitables are the very definition of law. Each one has a specific mandate for how things should or shouldn’t be, and how everything interacts with the multiverse.

For starters, we have a zelekhuts are defined as “ bounty hunters and executioners all rolled into one.” The PCs were supposed to die or at least be judged and sent to the salt mines. They escaped. That needs to be rectified. By all means, you can use the standard CR 9 version and have it appear during Book 2, but mine is slightly different. More so because in Book 2, unless you’re doing this incredibly early, the villains may have already amassed a literal army, if only undead. A CR 9 inevitable isn’t going to cut it. My version would appear much later, and it’s also a little different from your regular zelekhut.

I’ll say now, that the reason Judiceye is a variant is because most zelekhuts would just arrive and rain down lawful smiting on their chosen to die. But this one is more crafty. Mitra has seen what the villains can do, and how devious they are, not to mention how large their ever growing army has become. This particular zelekhut’s duty is to show up at the end of Book 3, during the winter months, free any and all prisoners as best as it can, and cause in-fighting among the bugbears and other riffraff that have joined the 9th Knot. If it can take out some unwanted undead, all the better. The PCs are supposed to lose a portion of their troops at the end of winter anyhow due to them running away and leaving their minions high and dry, so this just furthers that plot line all the while putting the PCs on edge. There’s either a traitor among them or maybe the villains just can’t control their people, showing just how unfit they are. And if they start executing their own men for not listening when it’s really just the zelekhut? All the better to use as kindling to create riots and arguments, and really give the villains a run for their money. It’d make for a long winter indeed. And right before the king shows up, or whenever the time is right in the GM’s mind, and the Knot is near their breaking point (possibly when there’s the most confusion), the zelekhut can start a major brawl and try its luck in taking out the PCs. Even better, with its greater hat of disguise, it can change itself to look like whomever it needs to. Just needs Intel first. It can be a PC, a bugbear, a vampire, the medusa half-fiend, or whoever. Doesn’t matter. Because it start a fight, then leave, and turn into someone else. Whatever needs to be done to take down the PCs.

I will not that the DD for the elemental combat style is from  the Pathfinder Disciple's Doctrine. Normally I would go OGL and Core, but this time I need some extra damage, and this was about the only way to pull it off. Also, the reason the hat’s trapped is because these things aren’t supposed to normally have treasure. This will destroy the treasure and maybe do some damage to the PCs at the same time.

JUDICEYE (CR 16; XP 76,800) Variant advanced zelekhut ranger (guildbreakerUI) 7 LN Large outsider (extraplanar, inevitable, lawful) Init +11; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, true seeing; Perception +25 DEFENSE AC 31, touch 17, flat-footed 23 (+1 armor, +7 Dex, +1 dodge, +13 natural, –1 size) hp 236 (21d10+121); regeneration 5 (chaotic) Fort +18, Ref +16, Will +15 Defensive Abilities constructed; DR 10/chaotic, DR 3/— (small ranged piercing weapons); SR 27 OFFENSE Speed 50 ft., fly 60 ft. (average) Melee 2 chains +31 (3d6+10/19–20 plus 1d6 electricity and trip) Space 10 ft.; Reach 10 ft. Special Attacks favored enemy (goblinoids +2), favored organization (Knots of Asmodeus +4) Spell-Like Abilities (CL 14th; concentration +18)   Constant—true seeing   At will—clairaudience/clairvoyance, dimensional anchor, dispel magic, fear (W-DC 18), hold person (W-DC 17), locate creature   3/day—hold monster (W-DC 19), mark of justice   1/week—lesser geas (W-DC 17) Ranger Spells Prepared (CL 4th; concentration +8)   2nd—chameleon stride   1st—lead blades, resist energy STATISTICS Str 30, Dex 24, Con 18, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 18 Base Atk +21; CMB +32; CMD 50 (54 vs. trip) Feats Combat Reflexes, Dodge, EnduranceB, Improved Critical (chains), Improved Initiative, Improved Natural Attack (chains), Improved Vital Strike, Inner FlameARG, Mobility, Power Attack, Scorching WeaponsARG, Step Up, Weapon Focus (chain), Vital Strike Skills Acrobatics +25 (+33 jump), Bluff +15, Disguise +15, Diplomacy +17, Fly +19, Knowledge (local) +10, Knowledge (planes) +13, Perception +25, Sense Motive +21, Spellcraft +11, Stealth +21, Survival +17; Racial Modifiers +4 Perception, +4 Sense Motive Languages truespeech SQ chains, combat style (elementalDD), crowd stride, deep cover, favored terrain (urban +2), read the cityUI, track +3 Gear quilted clothUE, greater hat of disguise (trapped: maximized fireball; 60 fire damage, R-DC 19) SPECIAL ABILITIES Chains (Ex) A zelekhut’s arms end in long lengths of barbed metal. These chains deal slashing damage and 1d6 points of electricity damage with each hit. Constructed (Ex) Although inevitables are living outsiders, their bodies are constructed of physical components, and in many ways they function as constructs. For the purposes of effects targeting creatures by type (such as a ranger’s favored enemy and bane weapons), inevitables count as both outsiders and constructs. They are immune to death effects, disease, mind-affecting effects, necromancy effects, paralysis, poison, sleep, stun, and any effect that requires a Fortitude save (unless the effect also works on objects, or is harmless). Inevitables are not subject to nonlethal damage, ability damage, ability drain, fatigue, exhaustion, or energy drain. They are not at risk of death from massive damage. They have bonus hit points as constructs of their size.

Catching up on a few posts from GMs and players who are going through “Way of the Wicked”, most groups are having no issue whatsoever with the AP because they have a necromancer and a cleric who are creating epic armies of undead. That said, there have been one or two groups that have found themselves struggling, if only because they never rescued Grumblejack, or he died on them back during Branderscar because they all bailed and abandoned the ogre. As such, they’re finding that as the game is progressing, they’re having issues. I’ve got something to help potentially counteract that, if only for one part of the book.

It’s a Book 5 add-on that I thought of. Marut inevitables go after those who artificially extend their life. Namely, lichdom. Now, depending on the PCs, this could be yet another encounter for them too. If they’re using the feat tree that turns them into a vampire or lich, or they all became vampires in the alternate version of the story where Thorn’s a vampire, this thing’s coming after them. There’s just no way around that. However, my initial thought for this, so as to help parties that are having troubles, is the marut came to take down the now ex-Cardinal Thorn, but was dominated and sent after the party. This encounter would take place on the main floor, probably as soon as the PCs entered the cathedral. If the PCs have the means, they could break the control and have it join them in the final battle against Thorn. But you’re asking, “how can Thorn use that spell? It’s not a cleric spell and it’s 9th level.” It’s also a 6th level summoner spell, so miracle would work to cast it. This would reduce Thorn’s 9th level spells by 1, and hopefully that’s enough for the PCs who are struggling. After that though, the marut would leave, its mission completed.

Finally, my last inevitable add-on, and this would be for whenever someone in the party broke a contract (or someone attached to the party, etc). It can even be someone the party is dealing with, who broke a contract, and they summon one to go after that person/creature. The kolyarut is all about negotiating bargains, and they don’t like it when contracts and negotiations break down. They punish all oath-breakers. As stated: “They care little for the terms of the agreements in question, only that promises are fulfilled, debts are paid, and balance is maintained.“ They are definitely someone that the PCs want on their side. Pit fiends and contract devils are great, but they don’t necessarily like to get their hands dirty. They just want souls and payment. Kolyaruts, on the other hand, will always make the time.

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

And now, the ultimate combo that’s just bonkers. I even did a small feat sink on this one despite it actually being something in the original edition that happens for free, and just adds to the CR.

As for where you would encounter this one, there’s any number of ways. 1) Could be a fight not long after they finish Book 3. Mitra might send the archon as an avenger for what happened. 2) Could right after Spring arrives and the villains are fleeing from the king and his army. This could either be an air battle or the very second they land, but before Tiadora arrives. 3) They could arrive with any other encounter, boosting the over all combat and aiding whomever else decides to attack the villains. You could even hold out until Book 6 with this one, if you really wanted to.

The monster info on this variant hound archon reads as thus:

Hound Archon Hero Mounts

In the course of their adventures, many hound archon heroes befriend bronze dragons, which may come to serve as their mounts. The relationship between these mounts and their celestial riders goes beyond even the special bond between paladin and mount. The dragon and the archon are naturally allies and friends, as can be expected of two powerful servants of cosmic justice. The juvenile bronze dragon mount gains 2 additional HD, 4 points of Strength, an additional 4 points of natural armor, improved evasion, and +10 feet to speed in all its movement forms. The dragon cannot, however, command other creatures of its type as other kinds of paladin mounts can.

Note: Under normal circumstances the Draconic Companion from the Dragon Companion Handbook would give you a dragon and have it go up as an animal companion, with the Dragon Companion Mastery feat giving you their full power. Hound Archon Heroes already get an equivalent ability for free so I’m revising the feat to instead give: frightful presence 1/day, +2 Dex instead of +2 Str (which is a swap option you can choose), SR 5 + paladin level, share spells, empathic link, and two of the four bonus dragon feats. However, I’m ignoring the other two bonus feats the dragon would normally gain, additional bonuses to Str/Con/natural armor, and standard ability score increases every 4 Hit Die. The trade off being that a standard bronze dragon has higher mental stats and spells, so it easily balances out.

Overall, this not all that different from the 3.5 Monster Manual version, and should be considered a difficult CR 16 encounter. Also, their wealth is for a CR 16 NPC. Bartel shares it with his dragon mount.

BARTEL, THE HOUND ARCHON HERO (CR 16; XP 76,800) Male Advanced variant hound archon paladin 11 LG Medium outsider (archon, extraplanar, good, lawful) Init +6; Senses darkvision 60 ft., detect evil, low-light vision, scent; Perception +18 Aura courage (10 ft.), justice (10 ft.), menace (20 ft.; W-DC 21), magic circle against evil, resolve (10 ft.) DEFENSE AC 33, touch 12, flat-footed 31 (+9 armor, +2 Dex, +12 natural); +2 deflection vs. evil hp 229 (19 HD; 19d10+125) Fort +24, Ref +16, Will +21; +4 vs. poison, +2 resistance vs. evil DR 10/evil; Immune charm, disease, electricity, fear, petrification; SR 27 OFFENSE Speed 40 ft. Melee +2 cold iron greatsword +29/+24/+19/+14 (2d6+12/17–20), bite +22 (1d8+4) or   bite +27 (1d8+8), slam +27 (1d4+4) Special Attacks channel energy (W-DC 20, 6d6), smite evil 4/day (+5 atk & AC, +11 dmg) Spell-Like Abilities (CL 6th; concentration +11)   Constant—detect evil, magic circle against evil   At will—aid, continual flame, greater teleport (self plus 50 lbs. of objects only), message Paladin Spell-Like Abilities (CL 11th; concentration +16)   At will—detect evil Paladin Spells Prepared (CL 8th; concentration +13)   3rd—heal mount   2nd—bull’s strength, eagle’s splendor, resist energy   1st—divine favor, hero’s defianceAPG, protection from evil, shield of fortificationACG STATISTICS Str 24, Dex 14, Con 22, Int 12, Wis 20, Cha 20 Base Atk +19; CMB +26; CMD 38; +2 vs. evil Feats Blind-Fight, Draconic CompanionDCH, Improved Critical (greatsword), Improved Initiative, Iron Will, Mounted Combat, Power Attack, Ride-by Attack, Weapon Focus (greatsword), Word of HealingUM Skills Acrobatics +14, Diplomacy +19, Knowledge (arcana) +12, Intimidate +15, Perception +18, Ride +18, Sense Motive +19, Spellcraft +10, Stealth +14, Survival +18; Racial Modifiers +4 Stealth, +4 Survival; ACP –1 Languages Celestial, Draconic, Infernal; truespeech SQ aura (overwhelming good), code of conduct, change shape (beast shape II), divine bond (dragon mount; Arlakaida), lay on hands (5d6, 7/day), mercies (cursed, dazed, fatigued) Combat Gear wand of cure light wounds (15 charges), holy water (2); Other Gear +3 mithral breastplate, +2 cold iron greatsword, amulet of mighty fists +1, belt of mighty constitution +2 SPECIAL ABILITIES Aura of Menace (Su) A righteous aura surrounds archons that fight or get angry. Any hostile creature within a 20-foot radius of an archon must succeed on a Will save to resist its effects. The save DC varies with the type of archon, is Charisma-based, and includes a +2 racial bonus. Those who fail take a –2 penalty on attacks, AC, and saves for 24 hours or until they successfully hit the archon that generated the aura. A creature that has resisted or broken the effect cannot be affected again by the same archon’s aura for 24 hours. Change Shape (Su) A hound archon can assume any canine form of Small to Large size, as if using beast shape II. While in canine form, the hound archon loses its bite, slam, and greatsword attacks, but gains the bite attack of the form it chooses. For the purposes of this ability, canines include any dog-like or wolf-like creature of the animal type.

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ARLAKAIDA THE BRONZE (CR —; XP —) Female juvenile bronze dragon LG Large dragon (water) Init +6; Senses dragon senses; Perception +25 Aura frightful presence 1/day (90 ft.; targets are shaken for 14 rounds; W-DC 21) DEFENSE AC 36, touch 13, flat-footed 33 (+5 armor, +2 Dex, +2 deflection, +18 natural, –1 size) hp 161 (14d12+70) Fort +16, Ref +13, Will +15 Defensive Abilities improved evasion; Immune electricity, paralysis, sleep; SR 16 OFFENSE Speed 50 ft., fly 130 ft. (poor), swim 60 ft. Melee bite +25 (2d6+15), 2 claws +24 (1d8+11), tail slap +22 (1d8+15), 2 wings +22 (1d6+6) Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. with bite) Special Attacks breath weapon (80-ft. line, R-DC 24, 12d6 electricity), repulsion breath Spell-Like Abilities (CL 14th; concentration +18)   At will—create food and water, speak with animals Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 4th; concentration +8)   2nd (4/day)—mirror image   1st (7/day)—alarm, obscuring mist, true strike   0 (at will)—detect magic, light, mage hand, message, prestidigitation, resistance STATISTICS Str 29, Dex 14, Con 21, Int 18, Wis 19, Cha 18 Base Atk +14; CMB +26; CMD 40 (44 vs. trip) Feats Ability Focus (breath weapon), Alertness, Flyby Attack, Improved Initiative, Multiattack, Powerful BreathB, Quick Breath WeaponB, Vital Strike, Weapon Focus (bite) Skills Diplomacy +19, Fly +12, Handle Animal +16, Heal +16, Intimidate +19, Knowledge (arcana) +19, Perception +25, Sense Motive +25, Spellcraft +20, Stealth +14, Swim +29; Racial Modifiers +8 Swim Languages Aquan, Common, Draconic, Elven, Gnome SQ empathic link, change shape (animal or humanoid, polymorph), share spells, water breathing, wave mastery (40 mins) Gear +2 studded leather barding, amulet of mighty fists +2, belt of physical perfection +2, cloak of resistance +2, ring of protection +2 SPECIAL ABILITIES Dragon Senses (Ex) Dragons have darkvision 120 ft. and blindsense 60 ft. They see four times as well as a human in dim light and twice as well in normal light. Frightful Presence (Ex) This special quality makes a dragon’s very presence unsettling to foes. Activating this ability is a free action that is usually part of an attack or charge. This ability affects only opponents with fewer Hit Dice than the dragon’s. An opponent that succeeds on its saving throw is immune to the dragon’s frightful presence for 24 hours. Multiple uses of a dragon’s presence don’t stack. This ability is a mind-affecting aura. Paladin Mount (Ex) Arlakaida cannot command other creatures of its type (bronze dragons) as other kinds of paladin mounts can. Quick Breath Weapon (Ex) Arlakaida is able to unleash her breath weapon and deliver an attack before her opponent is the wiser. On her turn, Arlakaida can choose to use her breath weapon in place of her bite or one of her claw attacks. Repulsion Breath (Su) Instead of a line of electricity, a bronze dragon can breathe a cone of repulsion gas. Targets must make a Will save or be compelled to do nothing but move away from the dragon for 1d6 rounds plus 1 round per age category. This is a mind-affecting compulsion effect. Water Breathing (Ex) A bronze dragon breathes water and can use its breath weapon, spells, and abilities underwater. Wave Mastery (Su) For up to 10 minutes per age category per day, a juvenile bronze dragon, along with creatures or vessels within 50 feet, can move at twice its normal speed in water. ------------------------------------------------------------

And that’s everything. I don’t know that I’ll ever have more to add to this particular adventure path, but maybe I will. Just depends on how inspired I get.

In the meantime, I hope everyone who is running or playing “Way of the Wicked” is having a fantastic time.

[elisaphoenix13]

First, I love your Supreme Family Chaos series, a lot. Thank you for that. Second, I have a prompt: Pepper taking Peter with her for 'taking your child to work day' or school or smth because she's the only responsible adult and knows that Peter will inherent SI eventually. And it hits Peter halfway that HE may well do Pepper's job one day. And Tony combusts cause he realises he never told Peter because he thought it was obvious.

Stark Heir

Pepper walks off the elevator and over to the penthouse's kitchen to find Peter sitting at the island, half asleep and lazily spooning cereal into his mouth. Tony was nowhere to be seen, likely down in the lab already, but Stephen was standing at the counter across from the teen making himself some tea and occupying himself with something on a Starkpad. The woman frowns when she notices Peter still in his pajamas, and walks over to him to brush away a few strands of hair from the teens forehead. Peter looks up at her sleepily before returning his attention to his breakfast, and Stephen raises an eyebrow at their visitor.

"Tony's down in the lab." His low baritone reverberates through the kitchen and Pepper smiles.

"Actually, I'm here for Peter."

The teen drops his spoon into his empty bowl and looks back up at the CEO as Stephen takes his dishes. "What for?"

"I'm assuming Tony didn't tell you I'm taking you to work with me today?" She asks.

Both Peter and Stephen furrow their brows. "No."

Stephen sighs. "Victor, get all of Tony's appointments and reminders on his schedule from FRIDAY from now on."

"Yes doctor." The AI responds.

"I should have had you do that as soon as Tony put Victor in the tower." Pepper says with an exasperated sigh and looks at Peter. "Go get dressed sweetie. Your regular clothes will be fine."

Peter nods and slides off the stool to go up to his room and change, and Stephen calls out to him. "Collared shirt and slacks." He smirks into his tea when a loud groan reaches them. "Coffee?" He asks the woman across the way.

"No, thank you. I just had some." She places a manila envelope on the counter. "Can you have that scatterbrained husband of yours look over and sign these?"

The sorcerer chuckles. "I'll see what I can do."

Peter returns in the proper attire, with a scowl on his face, and Pepper leads him toward the elevator after they say goodbye to the doctor. The teen still had no idea why he was following Pepper today, but he assumed Tony made up some sort of 'Bring Your Kid To Work' day just to torture Peter. They went through the tower first, and the teen kind of zoned out for that time because he knew how things were done and he had done walkthroughs with Tony on multiple occasions (and by himself). Pepper either didn't notice or she did and didn't say anything because she knew that Peter was aware of how things worked in the tower.

When they left the tower and took a car to another building though, Peter snapped out of his daze. Only to want to slip back into it. Pepper had taken him to a meeting and he wanted to die. He had to fight against all urges to twitch or fiddle with a pen and it was torture. He couldn't really tell anyone what the meeting was about, and when it was finally over and he and Pepper were out of earshot, did he finally ask the question that had been plaguing him for the past couple of hours.

"Uh...Pepper?"

The woman looks up from her desk. "Yes?"

"Why exactly am I here with you?"

Pepper regards him for a few silent moments, making the teen squirm under her gaze, and then cowers when it turns hostile and angry. Maybe that wasn't a good thing to ask? He didn't think she'd get angry if he asked a question, but he was obviously wrong. Was there something said during the meeting that was important for him to know? He doubted it. For all he knew, the people that had attended the meeting just thought Pepper was babysitting for Tony.

"He didn't tell you?!" Pepper huffs with annoyance. "It figures. Peter...if something were to happen to Tony, Stark Industries goes to you. I'm just preparing--"

Peter didn't hear anything after that. His train of thought had skid to a halt and he had frozen in place. The company went to him? That seemed like a terrible idea. It should go to Stephen or Pepper. Not only did he feel undeserving of the responsibility, he was also afraid that he would destroy everything Tony had built up. He was just an orphan from Queens that Tony Stark wouldn't have even given a second glance if he hadn't been bitten by the spider.

That thought had the blood draining from his face and his train of thought starting back up, just to derail from the main subject.

What if he hadn't been bitten? Where would he be when Aunt May died? In the system? He would have never known how much Tony actually cared. About everything. Peter would have never known whay family vacations were like, how protective Stephen was...oh god. He would have never known what it was like to have a Mama Bear. No soothing scents from his parents that made him think of home, no semblance of what a mom should be like (foster homes would probably never live up to what he experienced now) after Peter had practically forced the role onto Stephen, no pure and unquestionable amount of love.

He was starting to feel light headed. He felt like he had ten trains on three tracks going full speed in his head and it was making him shake.

"Oh my god." Peter feels himself being directed to and sat in a chair. "Peter...you need to breathe."

Breathe? He couldn't. His chest was tight, and whenever he did try to breathe it just felt shallow. It didn't fill his lungs, it just made black spots dance across his vision. Then he heard Pepper trying to coach him through long deep breaths, and it helped once his brain focused on her words. He was able to breathe through the tightness in his chest and that as well as the black spots in his vision went away.

"There you go. Keep doing that." Peter obeys silently and vaguely notices her stand from her crouch in front of him, and she disappears from his sight briefly before coming back with a bottle of water. She unscrews the cap, hands it to the teen, and he takes a few gulps as he allows himself to adjust back into reality. "Are you okay now?" Pepper asks carefully.

"Y-Yeah...sorry Aunt Pepper." The teen stammers out.

"It's okay. That was all I wanted to drag you through today anyway. If I had known that Tony didn't say anything, I would have waited."

Peter drinks the rest of the water and Pepper returns to her desk to straighten it up. "How about we got out to lunch before I take you home?"

"Really? You're not too busy?" Peter asks.

"Nope! I'm also pumping you full of sugar as punishment to your father." Pepper says with a smirk but the teen just rolls his eyes.

"Dad would just pawn me off on Mom or something."

"I won't let that happen, and neither will Stephen." She turns back to Peter. "So where to?"

Peter smiles. His previous thoughts forgotten.

___________________________

Tony had just finished going through the paperwork that Pepper had left for him, no thanks to Stephen sitting with him in the living room to make sure he actually did it, when she and Peter came back. It took all of a millisecond for the engineer to realize the teen was on a sugar high and he immediately glared at Pepper, which she returned tenfold much to his surprise. He finished the paperwork so he had no idea what he did to garner her fury.

"Don't look at me like that Pep. I just finished--"

"You didn't tell Peter that he's your heir?!" The female interrupts, almost shouting.

Tony and Stephen look at each other, then back to the raging woman. "I thought that went without saying." The engineer defends. It was a very poor attempt.

"Obviously not or he wouldn't have had a panic attack when I told him!" Stephen frowns, worry evident on his face as he moves to stand, but Pepper points at him. "No. Sit down. Peter is fine now but I purposely fed him sugar so Tony can deal with him."

The moment Tony stood up to hand over the paperwork was all the motivation Peter needed to jump into his back and draw a startled grunt out of the man. The engineer knew better than to try and dump the hyperactive teen on Stephen at this point, because Pepper was one person the sorcerer almost always listened to. If she told Mama Bear to step back and relax and make Tony handle Peter alone, he would do it. Unless Peter was in immediate danger, then Stephen would ignore her and go to Peter's aid, but she would never tell him not to help if that was the case.

"This is cruel and unusual punishment." Tony grumps.

"Hey, Dad...Dad...Dad..."

A heavy sigh. "What Underoos?"

"I think I know a way to make my web fluid stronger! Can we go down to the lab?"

"I guess...even though it goes against my better judgement. Now thank Pepper for your sugar overload." Tony says as he hands over the paperwork while simultaneously trying not to fall over with Peter on his back.

The teen grins at the woman. "Thanks Pepper!" She smiles in response and Peter points toward the elevator. "To the secret lab!"

Tony makes his way to the elevator. "I'm cutting you off from Disney movies."

Peter gasps as the elevator doors close. "Don't you dare!"

Once the elevator doors open on the lab floor, Tony walks over to the teen's personal workbench and pries the boy off. Luckily, Tony didn't have to do much watching after that because Peter was hyper-focused on making stronger web fluid, and he only glanced over from his own workbench every once in a while to make sure Peter didn't blow anything up. This was something else he and Stephen would have to use in the future whether it would be for a sleep deprived teen or a sugar high one. Especially since the crash came an hour later. Tony looked up from rewiring his suit to find that the teen had passed out on top of his work table, completely sprawled across it and drooling on a page of formulas.

"You know, I'm pretty sure this is what it's like to have a toddler." Tony grabs the blanket off the couch on the other side of the lab and throws it over Peter. "Sleep tight kiddo."

"That looks extremely uncomfortable."

Tony looks toward the door to the lab and finds his husband standing with his arms crossed. "He's young. He'll be out patrolling the moment he wakes up."

"He probably takes naps on rooftops." Stephen walks over to the couch and stretches out on it.

The billionaire grins. "I have picture proof that he takes naps hanging upside down. As Spiderman."

The sorcerer closes his eyes with a smile as Tony returns his attention to his armor. "Tony?"

"Yeah babe?"

"We have a weird kid."

"Normal is overrated anyway." The engineer snorts.