#i am glad i finally managed to draw! i still intend to do the silly drawings of my OCs but life has been conspiring against me lately

[flame-shadow]

first thing i manage to draw in a few days and it's silly :)

i don't use twitter anymore but i did yoink this to join in on a few other folks doing it in a discord server. feel free to do it yourself too! it's good fun. I didn't want to draw my human self lol, no surprise there

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

All right everyone, one more of these! It’s been a hell of a season and I am genuinely very excited for this finale, so I’m jumping straight in. Thoughts on Taskmaster s11e10, written as I watch it (I’ll put this one behind a “keep reading” link, because spoiler alert for the finale):

- Good God. Sarah Kendall in plaid. That is a very good start. Not to be objectifying or anything, she’s a very talented and capable woman who is more than her hair or her clothes. But she does look really good in plaid.

- And Lee is wearing his ridiculous Evil Kinevil outfit in the studio for the finale, and Mike is wearing a silly hat. It’s no everyone showing up in tuxes like season 9, but it’s not bad.

- Oh that’s cute, Alex managed to make Greg laugh a bit for the finale. I had to Google Ross Kemp to get the joke and I still don’t really get it, but I’m glad they’re having fun.

- “Caps are tough. Leather’s even tougher.” – Charlotte Ritchie

Caps and my my leather jacket are actually probably my favourite part of the regular attire that I don on the rare occasion that I leave the house; I am a fan of both of those. But I’m not sure putting them together is a great idea.

- Oh come on, Lee. It’s the season finale. Some of your prizes this season have actually been quite good, and you decide to end on a coat hanger?

- Jamali has brought a bat with a nail in it. This seems like a good time for me to state what my main thoughts are going into this finale: Obviously I want Lee to win. I realize he’s not in with much of a shot at this point, though it’s possible. If he doesn’t win, I’m fine with that. Sarah’s played a great game and she deserves the trophy. If Mike manages to pull ahead of her, he’s been great and he deserves it too. At this point, the main thing I care about with Lee is he stays ahead of Jamali until the end of this episode. I realize Lee’s goal for himself was to not come last, but my main concern is for him to just not lose to fucking Jamali.

So far, in a challenge related to looking tough, Lee has brought in a coat hanger and Jamali has brought in a bat with a nail. Not a great start.

- “If I’m scared, if I’ve run out of milk and I need to go out and get my nighttime milk…” Oh God, no one on the internet is even going to care who wins the seasons, they’re going to be too busy drawing interpretations of that Mike Wozniak quote.

- Holy fuck. Wow. Yeah okay, if Mike pulls ahead of Sarah and wins the season in this episode he’ll fucking deserve it. Good God. The silly hat was there for a reason. That is… the Mike Wozniak mohawk doesn’t beat the Josh Widdicombe tattoo in terms of dedication to Taskmaster, because it’s easier to change a haircut than to remove a tattoo. But damn, it might beat every other moment that’s happened on Taskmaster so far. And in some ways it almost comes close to the tattoo. Even if he takes all the gel out of that hair, I’m pretty sure it’ll still clearly be in a mohawk cut for a while. Josh’s tattoo was at least easy to hide with his socks.

Fucking hell, honestly, hats off (pun genuinely not intended, but now that I’ve accidentally made it I am pleased with that) to Mike for that one. Wow.

- For once, I agree with every point Greg gave out. Also, I don’t really care about that anymore. How do we just get on with the fucking game when Mike Wozniak got a mohawk for this show?

- Sarah Kendall has just shot Alex in the face with a staple gun. Jesus. I think that moment alone is enough to warrant saving this task for the finale. For all the time contestants have spent getting really mad at Alex, no one has actually shot him before. Josh Widdicombe threw a ball at him in season 1, but he clearly deliberately missed because he was trying to express anger and not actually injure a co-worker. Sarah could genuinely have blinded him there. That’s closer than even Rhod came to killing him with that javelin.

- “I was actually at my granddad’s house yesterday and he asked me when am I going to get a real job. And I’m like, ‘I’m shooting a TV show for Channel 4!’ But I understand what he meant now.” – Jamali Maddix, as a staples photocopies of his arm onto a wall

- Mike Wozniak has named his dinosaur the Gregosauros in, as he put it, “A craven bid for points.” Jamali has tried to do a picture of the host of the show, but he forgot who Greg Davies was and accidentally tried to imitate Dara O’Briain instead. Juxtaposing those two moments really makes the contrast in how much those two give a shit striking.

- Jamali’s dinosaur made me laugh really, really hard. It’s the level of not giving a shit that’s required to just put his fucking phone with an image of Greg on it into the picture. Incredible. Doesn’t deserve more than one point or anything, but fucking incredible.

- Mike’s is actually genuinely decent. That is a big scary dinosaur, and it is made out of photocopied things. Good job.

- I haven’t seen the finished pictures yet; I just want to say I hugely enjoyed the montage of Lee, Charlotte, and Sarah photocopying their body parts. That was incredibly entertaining. Also, there were definitely much easier ways Lee could have gotten the pictures he wanted that making Alex hold up his legs. But I fully support the way he decided to do that.

- Charlotte having her dinosaur eat her own head, and actually getting the pictures to work so it looks like that’s happening, is really creative. Excellent job.

- Oh Jesus hell, Lee. That is horrifying. I’m honestly not sure whether I think he’s done a good job of making a big scary dinosaur picture. It’s not important. That is just fucked up. When we saw him making the picture, I wondered why he photocopied both his own face and Alex’s. For some reason, I did not guess “human centipede”.

- Really? Only one point for Mike? I thought he deserved more. But given that he’s still sitting there with his mohawk, I sort of feel like they should have just canceled the rest of the episode and let him have the trophy as soon as he took off that hat.

- Alex, what the fuck?

- Right, so they’re weighing his feet and head, and there’s no reason at all for him to be dressed in that costume. Unless it’ll turn out that clues to his weight are somehow hidden in those clothes.

- Good God, Charlotte is adorable. Somehow watching her explain how to playfully grab someone’s boobs (but only a close friend who fully consents) hits different now that I’ve watched her play a queer girl in Feel Good. Again, you know, not to be objectifying or anything. I’m just saying having a girlfriend who’s exactly like that but not famous would be pretty cool.

- “By this time I was sick of his shit.” – Jamali Maddix, about Alex Horne

- I’m not sure if Lee’s method is scientifically accurate, but I am enjoying watching him work out math problems with a marker on Alex’s body.

I’m trying to think about it now and I actually can’t work out if Lee is right about this working. The thing he said about water weighing the same as a human body is definitely bullshit. I do know 100 mL of water weights 100 grams. Does fact help at all?

- I think Mike’s way is better than Lee’s, but again I’m not sure.

- So Mike’s theoretical idea was good, but I’m pretty sure he’s missing some key elements. For one thing the bathtub should be full enough to completely submerge Alex. Well actually it should completely submerge whatever he’s weighing, which should be just the head and then just the feet, but he’s put all of Alex in there. And that’s another issue. He also needs a way to catch the displaced water. What does he think he’s going to do with this?

- Okay, now that I’m seeing how they’re actually doing this in a practical way, I think Lee’s method isn’t bad and Mike’s makes almost no sense at all.

- Not a bad effort from Lee, now that Alex has told us how close he got to the correct answers. I have to admit that got him closer than I expected, given that water definitely does not weigh the same as the human body.

- Oh, they’re isolating Sarah. Because she did really well or really badly? That’ll matter this close to the end, with Mike on her heels.

- Yeah Jamali is way off. He’s not taking into account the fact that you can’t get the weight of one specific thing if there are other forces on it too (the foot is on the scale, but the foot is bearing some weight of the leg). When you stand on a scale, putting a single finger on a wall or a table will transfer a bit of your weight and change the number. You can’t get an accurate reading without completely isolating whatever you want to weigh.

- I have no idea where Charlotte is going with this. I wonder if she knows.

- Oh I see, she’s operating under the assumption that Alex’s head weighs the same amount as every other part of his body that’s the same number of centimetres (not even cm squared, just up and down). I’m going to predict that that will not work well.

- “Could you go down really slowly for me?” – Charlotte Ritchie, to Alex Horne

In the words of Russell Howard (I’ve been watching a lot of his shows lately so that’s what comes to mind, if you haven’t seen his stuff and don’t get this reference I’m sure you can think of your own joke here, there are a plethora of options), mmrrrr.

- Charlotte did work out that obviously his weight is not evenly distributed, but she was still way off in her guess.

- I genuinely can’t tell if Jamali just thought it would be funny to suggest that Alex’s head weighs 40 kg, or if he actually thought that might be close. Given that it’s Jamali, either could be true.

- He claims he just used a “comically big number”. I suppose I believe him. And I also feel a bit silly for thinking he might have actually believed something as ridiculous as a head weighing 40 kg, but to be fair this is the same guy who actually did refuse to drink tap water because the government puts chemicals in it.

- “I don’t know why I’ve got a watermelon, but it feels like the size of your head, but this doesn’t have the weight on it.” I still can’t tell whether Sarah’s been isolated because she did really well or really badly, but either way I’m enjoying this so far.

- Very well. Of course she did very well. With the meat and watermelon method.

- Okay, I wrote that before I saw the actual numbers she got for his feet. Those were off. But still, she got impressively close given that her method was weighing food and assuming Alex must weight the same.

- All right, final pre-recorded task of the season, let’s go! What did they save for last?

- Nice, we’re ending a team task. Team Woznimack rides again.

- Classic, the old seeing partner directs non-seeing partner. I’m going to point out right now that nowhere on the task does it say the people walking have to leave on their blindfolds. They don’t know that because they haven’t read the task, but the instructor could say “Take off blindfold”, with thirty seconds, and then say “walk into circle”. That’s my immediate idea.

- I was going to make a gif of Mike falling in the sandpit, but this episode finished airing about an hour and a half ago so I’m sure the internet is already full of such gifs by now. Good God, that was funny.

- Oh, I greatly enjoyed that. Solid end to the Woznimack dynasty. Mike walking around confused and obedient, Lee giving increasingly frustrated instructions. We got a comical shot of Mike falling over like a cartoon character. What more could we want from the final task?

- Jamali shook his head at his teammates when Alex revealed that Wonimack did the task in four minutes and ten seconds. I can’t tell if that means “wow, they people were terrible compared to us”, or, “wow, we were terrible compared to them”. But it’s reminding me of the looks Joe Lycett, Noel Fielding, and Lolly Adefope shared with each other before we saw their attempt at completing their three separate bathtub-related tasks, and after we’d seen Mel and Hugh do that same task so nicely. If that comparison is right, then that does not bode well for Jamali & Co.

- I’m sure the internet has already been broken with gifs of Mike falling down, but is there any chance I’m the first person to get in with this one?

Also, I’ve just remembered that this episode is called “Activate Jamali”. When she first heard the instructions on this task, Sarah commented that she could get just one teammate into the red circle while letting the other wander into a tree. She just told Charlotte to run, and that did not go well. I have a guess as to how the words “activate Jamali” get said.

And if I really wanted to be a stickler, which of course I do, I could point out that Sarah said, “Charlotte, run. Just run.” One could make an argument that that was too many words (as Alex called out immediately) and grounds for disqualification.

- I have had to pause the video because I’m laughing too hard and will miss stuff. Yeah, I see why they left this one for last. Holy hell. Charlotte running blindly around the field being guided by Sarah needs to be a new Taskmaster meme.

She’s so excited about it. So eager to figure out what’s happening and get it right. God, she’s like a kitten. Or perhaps an agitated meerkat.

- Excitable kitten Charlotte, excitedly trying to figure out the situation: I think she can only say three words! Jamali, who could not give less of a fuck: All right.

- What has Charlotte started crawling? What did she shout, “I’ve been burned”?

- How’s this for screenshot of the episode?

- Oh God, Jamali and Charlotte have now both walked (well, Charlotte crawled) within a few centimetres of the circle and then right past it. Jamali kicked a camera on his way over. This is amazing. So worth saving for the last pre-recorded task of the season. This is going to go down in Taskmaster history.

- Please enjoy this image of Alex doubling over with laughter as Charlotte crawls past the circle.

- “Is there something I’m looking for?” – excitable kitten detective Charlotte Ritchie

- Please enjoy this screenshot, which absolutely validates all the comparisons I’ve been making between Charlotte and a kitten. It’s better when you can hear her little “Oh!” as she finds the circle, and see the way she just pulls herself up onto it, so pleased about having completed her task.

- “Activate Jamali.” Great quote. I think an interesting argument could be had about whether having two or three people is an advantage or disadvantage in this task. But I think they both have their pros and cons and they even out. Controlling two people at once is hard, but if you do it right there should be some advantage to having two options. Also, even if it is decided that having three people is a disadvantage, they can’t really complain about that because Sarah had the option of just focusing on one and ignoring the other. Then it would have been an even playing field between her and Lee.

- Really? Five points for the winning team and two for the losing team? Surely that should have been a 5-0 task.

- All right, so the final studio is the season 4 “put on a wetsuit while maintaining eye contact with a Swede” on steroids. That looks like fun. How are they going to define what’s a head leaving a frame? What about if it’s halfway out?

- “Greg. Is there any possibility we could stand here as long as possible?” – Lee Mack, while they all stand there dressed as kangaroos with their arms in the air, and Greg makes various comments to draw out the moment. Of course that’s how this season ends. It was always going to come to this.

- Okay, according to Lee they’re apparently dressed as camels. It does appear that he’s right. I stand corrected.

- Alex and Greg have now called them llamas. I don’t know what to believe.

- “Also, I genuinely can get... dressed... quick.” Thank you, Charlotte. Thank you for sharing.

- Well it wasn’t enough for to take the overall season victory, but we got another episode win for Lee! A good one too, he was solid all the way along this time. Well deserved, Lee. Well deserved.

- “I’m happy.” - Lee Mack, after winning the episode but losing the season, while looking like this:

He said he didn’t care about winning the whole season and all he wanted was to not come last. I don’t think he meant it. Well, at least he has a baseball bat with a nail in it now. Those are always good to own.

- Well, Lee finished a respectable fourteen points ahead of Jamali. And only three points behind Mike, close to second place. Going into this episode I’d hoped Lee might pull back ahead of Mike to finish second (I mean, obviously I hoped he’d win, but I knew pulling ahead of Mike was a more realistic goal), but looking at Mike’s fucking haircut, I cannot begrudge him that second place spot.

- Kudos to Mike for closing Sarah’s once twenty-point lead to only four points. But even more, congratulations to the well deserved winner.

Solid. Pragmatic. Focused. Efficient. Intelligent. Willing to lick whatever the hell she had to lick. Sarah Kendall really did have everything it took to become a fantastic Taskmaster champion.

[bonjour-rainycity]

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 5

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/630063393754284032/odins-ward-chapter-4

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word count: 2240

Warnings: None

Y/n: 18 // Loki: 20 // Thor: 24

Y/n’s POV

Jovial music fills the air, encouraging the plethora of people in attendance to dance. Since I came of age weeks ago, I am eligible to join in the festivities. Today is Thor’s birthday, and Asgard has spared no expense. Food and drink line every available surface, people don lavish dress, and the hall boasts various shades of red and gold. The King and Queen sit at the high table, eyes sparkling in humor.

Thor’s booming voice cuts through the music, and all sound ceases immediately. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for joining me here tonight.” He stumbles a bit, clearly under the influence of alcohol. “I—I….” He purses his lips, trying to gather what he wishes to say. His friends begin to chuckle, but everyone else knows better than to laugh at the Crown Prince. “I am so happy that this party is happening.” He licks his lips and leans on the nearest person for support. “I love you all, and I know you all love me.” A cheer goes up at that, and I can’t help but join in. Thor is behaving utterly ridiculously, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy myself. “Thank you for being here, and enjoy the festivities. Music!” At his command, the music begins once again, filled with a vigor it didn’t quite have before.

“Lady Y/n! What a delight it is to finally have your luminous presence at one of Asgard’s little gatherings.” Fandral saunters up to me with a sultry smile. “Might I be so bold as to beg a dance?” He offers me his hand.

“A dance is fine,” I respond. “But I will not be joining you in your bed this evening.”

His eyebrows shoot up and he freezes. Then, he bursts into laughter. “How charmingly direct. I shall endeavor to change your mind.” He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.

“And I shall endeavor to watch you fail.” I keep a smile on my face so he knows I’m still his friend, then take his arm and allow him to escort me to the center of the floor.

Asgardian dances are more complicated than the ones I saw on Alfheim when I was younger, but I have had nearly a year of practice during my lessons with Queen Frigga and her ladies. Fandral keeps me occupied for the next two dances, twirling me around and stepping on my toes due to his level of intoxication. Still, I laugh along with him, enthused to finally be allowed to attend the festivities.

When the second dance is done, Fandral bows to me and I curtsy in response.

“Lady Y/n, thank you for your company. Perhaps I shall encounter you later this evening?” He waggles his eyebrows in time with his words.

A laugh barks past my lips. “You wish!”

He chortles good-naturedly and takes his leave, already looking for the next person upon whom to bestow his ‘charms’. A man with light blonde hair shyly asks me to dance, and I accept. He’s nice enough, but too quiet to hold my attention.

Three dances in a row is a little tiring, so I curtsy to the man and excuse myself, going off in search of a drink. I find one of the many stations to the side of the room and pour myself a glass of water. Before I can take a sip, a series of hard claps on my back causes me to tumble forward, effectively spilling water all over the table.

“Hey!” I whip around to yell at whatever idiot caused the incident.

I’m met with the chest of a grinning Prince Thor. “Lady Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it. Are you having a good time?”

Knowing now that he didn’t mean to cause me to spill my drink and that he’s just too strong—and drunk—for his own good, I let it go. “I am! Happy birthday, Your Highness.”

A radiant smile lights his face. “Why thank you! Allow me to fix you a drink.”

I’ve never had alcohol before, but now is as good a time as any to try some, so I nod eagerly. Thor grabs a cup about the size of my face and fills it with a mixture of sharp-smelling liquids.

“My creation is complete!” Cheers erupt from the ten or so people around us, and I can’t help but laugh at Thor’s exuberance. “Drink up, Lady Y/n.”

Shrugging, I bring the goblet to my lips and confidently take a gulp.

The sting has me doubles over and coughing before I can even properly swallow. Thor laughs heartily and takes the goblet, patting me on the back until I can stand up straight.

“A valiant effort, Lady Y/n,” he decrees, and the people respond with enthusiastic claps.

A smooth voice comes from behind my left shoulder. “Brother. Do you think it wise to begin Lady Y/n’s evening with one of your more…powerful concoctions?”

“Ah, Loki!” Thor claps him on the back and even Loki sags a bit under the weight. “My well-meaning brother. It would be so sad to let this drink go to waste. Besides, Lady Y/n handled it well, didn’t you, Lady Y/n?”

“Oh, yeah,” I respond with manufactured enthusiasm, my eyes still watering from the sheer force of the drink.

Loki sees through my facade and eyes me warily. “Very well. I shall not let it go to waste.” He deftly plucks the goblet from Thor’s hand, presents it to him with an exaggerated bow, stands up straight, and downs the entire cup without taking a breath. The group surrounding us reacts wildly: jumping up and down, cheering, tripping over each other. Loki maintains his composure and proudly presents the empty cup. He doesn’t so much as grimace. I stare at him in disbelief, and he offers me a smug grin. “All in due time, Lady Y/n, shall you be as strong as I. Now, brother,” Loki turns to Thor, “I wish you the happiest of birthdays. Would you now permit me to steal Lady Y/n from your presence?”

Thor guffaws and begins making himself a drink, nodding absently.

Loki offers me his arm and we walk in tandem to the opposite edge of the room. I frown, realizing something. “I never did get my water.”

With a flourish of his hand, Loki conjures a goblet from thin air and hands it to me.

I drink gratefully. “Thank you. I must say, your ability to down that entire drink was impressive! I could have done it myself with a bit more practice.”

The gleam in his eyes tells me he very much doubts that, but retains enough politeness to refrain from saying so. “I��m sure.”

I take a sip of my drink and lean casually against the stone pillar behind me. “Too bad you didn’t actually drink Thor’s concoction.”

Loki blinks. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

I give him a long look from over the side of my shoulder. “So you’re saying it’s not stored away in whichever secret dimension you favor?”

His lips twitch as he fights a smile. “My dear friend, it is rude to question a prince of Asgard.”

“Is that a threat?”

He’s fully grinning now. “Perhaps.”

“Mm,” I respond, not taking my eyes from his. “I will keep that in mind in the future. Perhaps until then, however, you could humor me with the truth, just this once.”

What follows is quite a lengthy staring competition. Feeling my eyes begin to burn, I make a face that causes him to break with a laugh.

“Alright,” he concedes. “You have me.” With a sigh and a playful roll of his eyes, he procures the drink he pretended to consume earlier.

“Ha! I knew it!” I point a finger at him, solidifying my victory. “You liar.”

He grins. “Trickster god, you mean to say.” He takes my outstretched hand in his. “Since you have found me out, I do believe I must occupy the rest of your evening. I’m afraid I cannot allow you to be left alone to spread word of my deceit.”

“No.” I try to bite back my smile and fail. “I’m sure you can’t.”

“Then may I have this dance?”

I shrug, pretending not to care. “Only because you’re the Prince of Asgard and you’re so important.”

With a roll of his eyes and a noise of playful exasperation, he leads me to the center of the room. The music starts and he draws me only as close as propriety allows. We sway and spin in time with the music. He’s far too graceful for my liking, so I try to trip him about halfway through.

“Why you—” He cuts off with a laugh as I spin away. He chases after me, but each time I deftly avoid his grip. We weave in and out of the other dancers. Some laugh, some grimace, but no one interferes with our game.

With a quick glance back, I see Loki just behind me. Intending to speed up to evade capture, I instead crash into an innocent bystander.

“Oh wow, I am so sorry, I—Loki!”

He laughs with abandon, throwing his head back and circling his arms around my upper body. “Silly girl, thinking you can escape me.” Still laughing, he pulls me once again to the side of the room.

“How-how did you do that?!” My voice is made higher with surprise.

He leans in conspiratorially. “I have learned to create doubles using my magic. There’s still a lot to perfect, but I feel as if I could one day be quite skilled.”

“Yes,” I laugh along. “And then you can continue to catch unsuspecting women who are just trying to enjoy a simple dance.” I do my best to put on an innocent air but can’t quite manage it.

“Mm, that will surely be the case.” He rolls his eyes yet again. I’m certain it is one of his most practiced skills. I tell him so.

“Well,” he responds with a fake huff, “I wouldn’t have to get so much practice if I didn’t have such an exasperating woman in my life.”

I shrug. “Not my fault it worked out like this. You should have better social skills, maybe then you could score better friends.”

He chuckles wryly. “Perhaps. In the meantime, however, I will just have to learn to cope.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Poor you.”

We stand in comfortable silence for a moment, taking in the scenes around us. Out of nowhere, Loki grabs my waist and turns me so that I can see the far right side of the hall. “Y/n, look!” His voice is equivalent to that of a child discovering a wonderful gift has been left for him.

I immediately see why.

Thor, who is quite drunk at this point, is making a fool of himself trying to catch a woman’s attention.

“It seems as though my brother is trying to convince that poor maiden to accompany him to his bed.” It doesn’t escape my notice that Loki’s hands have not left my hips. I swallow and do not mention it.

I don’t intend to be so quiet when I speak, but I can’t force any more volume behind it for fear that my voice will begin to shake. “She won’t refuse him. Most women here tonight are trying to earn his affections. Haven’t you noticed? They’re doing the same to you.”

He scoffs. “No, they’re not.”

“Yes,” I counter, a little too forcefully. I demure. “It would be quite advantageous to gain the attention of one of the princes.”

Loki grins. “How jealous they must be of you.”

“What can I say?” I put on a haughty air, feeling much more comfortable in the realm of humor than intensity. “I’m just that important.”

We chuckle at our shared joke and return our attention to the spectacle.

Thor has now succeeded in getting the woman to take his arm. Two seconds later, however, he trips over his own two feet and takes quite a stumble. Loki laughs so hard he has to lean against the pillar for support. This causes him to take his hands from my hips, and I suddenly feel cold.

The unnamed woman kindly helps Thor from the ground and tries to tug him out of the ballroom. A light that I am quite familiar with enters Loki’s eyes.

“Loki, no—” before I can stop him, Loki conjures up an extra pillar in front of Thor’s face, causing him to smack straight into it and go crashing to the ground. Loki practically explodes in laughter. Thor begins to suspect something is amiss and whips his head wildly around the room in search of his scheming brother.

“Ope!” Loki quickly grabs me and sprints to the dance floor, burying us in the array of couples. Nearly breathless with laughter, we take turns twirling around so we can see Thor’s progress with the woman. Tired of all the antics, she leaves Thor standing by himself with a frustrated look on his face.

“You are bad,” I scold, turning back to my favorite prince. I’m sputtering too hard to put any real reproach behind my voice.

Loki just winks and twirls me once more.

A/n Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list :)

Masterlist

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/631916582484017152/odins-ward-chapter-6

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99

[crimson-snowfall]

Hey, I want to tell you that I really like your blog! And I have a short question: do you write nsfw stuff? If you do, can you write hc for Theo, Vincent and Comte when they first bite the mc?

Thank you anon, I’m glad you like my blog. I do accept NSFW requests (just not sure about how good I can write them since it’s not my forte).  I have not yet read Theo nor Comte’s route, and while I’m currently reading Vincent’s route at the time of writing, I have not yet reached the part where he bites MC. Anyway this is a bit longer than I expected, but I hope you like it ~ 

[Mildly NSFW] Ikevamp HC request: When they first bit MC (Vincent, Theodorus, & Comte de Saint-Germain)

Vincent

Having never drank blood from a human directly before and being his first time to have truly fallen in love, Vincent couldn’t understand why his thirst won’t be quenched no matter how much rouge he consumes.

As soon as he makes sense of his feelings after consulting with Theo, he tries his best to avoid you out of fear that he might end up hurting you or drink too much of your blood.

The two of you used to spend a lot of time together, so it made you really sad when you realized he started avoiding you. One evening, you caught him staring longingly at you. Vincent seemed to be in a deep trance for he kept his eyes on you even as you approached him and asked him if there’s anything he needed.

He looked rather pale, and somehow one of your hands found its way to his cheek. As soon as you made contact, Vincent snapped out of whatever trance he had been and looked at you, wide eyed.

Heaving a deep sigh, Vincent took your hand off his cheeks, intending to put it away before he could do anything. He never would’ve imagined his thirst could take over that time, and he found himself kissing and licking your wrist.

His fangs grazing on your pulse, he was about to bite you when you called out his name in confusion. Vincent immediately let go of your hand and stood frozen on the spot for a few seconds, before his gaze met yours once again.

“Sorry about that… I… I must’ve been…” at loss for words, he turned around and headed to the direction of his room, apologizing once again as he fled and muttering something about how he had to go.

You can no longer bear the fact that he’s been avoiding you, so you went after him. You already had a hunch as to why based on the hints an irritated Theo had been dropping lately, and the fact that Vincent was about to bite you was all the confirmation you needed.

Vincent sat on his couch, distress evident on his posture. Once he again, he seemed to be too absorbed in whatever has been running on his mind as he failed to notice you enter the room and sit next to him. Being the kind and gentle person he is, you figured that you had to be the one to initiate somehow, because he would never ask for it and the problem would never be solved.

Vincent jolted a little at the suddenness of your embrace, and you took that opportunity to steal a soft kiss from his lips.

“What are you doing here? I’m… it’s not safe for you to be—” his already hoarse voice was cut off with an almost feral sound reverberating from his throat, and in just a split second you found yourself pinned down on the couch.

You could see the violent storm whirling in Vincent’s usually clear eyes as he fought back the urge to take you then and there, and before you even knew it, you were confessing your love for him.

“…That’s why, there’s no need for you to hold back. Take as much as you need. I’m all yours.”

“Can I, really? Am I really allowed to… have this much and be this happy?” The last part was a mere whisper and it was utterly heart-wrenching hearing him ask something like that.

“You deserve the world, Vincent.” With those words you pulled his head down your neck. His tongue flicked on your skin the same skillful way he handled a paintbrush against a canvas. He slowly buried his fangs into your neck, the pain lasting only for the first few centimeters, after which the waves of pleasure coursed through your body with each fraction of his fangs burying deeper into your neck.

The night quickly escalated into a heated, passionate one, and you had to take the next day off your duties not only because Vincent had accidentally marked you everywhere, but mainly you couldn’t even so much walk on your own after last night’s intense lovemaking.

Theo

That night, you thought Theo just went out drinking with Arthur, but when the flirtatious author came home alone and perfectly sober, anxiety began to consume you. You were there when the myrmidons of the Academie threatened Theo to stop with his activities of giving exposure to new artists, or face the consequences.

Your worst fears came to life when you see your lover staggering to the mansion, clutching a badly injured, bleeding arm. You rushed to his side, tears already streaming down your face as you helped him in and called for help from the other residents of the mansion.

“What are you crying for, hondje? I’m a vampire, you know. This is nothing.” Theo did his best to sound like his usual self, but even as a vampire, getting ambushed and stabbed twice on the same arm still hurt like hell.

Sebastian and Vincent helped you tend to Theo’s wounds. Vincent offered to look after his brother, but Theo insisted that he can handle himself and that both you and Vincent should go back to your rooms and get a good night’s sleep. Vincent readily obliged, leaving you and Theo alone in his room.

“What now, knabbeltje? Didn’t you hear what I just said?” To him, it really seemed like you didn’t, for your eyes were still fixated on the bandaged wound, eyes still puffy from crying earlier.

Using his good arm, he pulled you from were you were seated, putting you on top of him. Theo pat your head then pulled you into the tightest embrace he could without straining his wounded arm.

“Silly hondje. Are you that afraid to lose your master?” Theo kissed your head and proceeded to stroke your hair.

“I can’t help it. How else did you expect me to react seeing you leave a trail of blood behind you? And you’re not really immortal like Comte, so if anything happened to you, I—”

You looked like you were on the verge of tears again, so Theo took the liberty of sealing your lips with his own before you could even say things that would make you cry. That was when his blood loss began to take a toll on his body, and he reluctantly broke the kiss as his fangs enlarged.

“Theo… your fangs…” You touched his fangs like a child in awe, drawing a hiss from him. You have longed to be bitten by him for quite some time now, to feel his fangs lodged in your neck as he fucked you silly. Theo gave you all of himself but he always denied you the bite, the sadist taking pleasure in seeing your frustrated and desperate expression.

“Hands off, hondje. My fangs are not a treat.” It was your turn to wear that smug expression your lover often wore as you pressed a finger against his fang, Theo’s eyes widening as you increased the pressure until it pierced your finger.

The scent of your blood had always been alluring to him, but even more so in his injured state. In a flash, you found yourself pinned down against the mattress, a dark smile on your lover’s handsome features as he eyed you like a predator would his prey.

“Well played, hondje. You’re finally getting what you want tonight.” Theo allowed himself just a single lick on your neck before biting down with full intensity, the pleasure increasing proportionally with the strength of his bite that it left you a moaning mess.

Aside from Theo finally losing in his game and you confirming Arthur’s claims that a vampire’s bite is a pleasurable one, the thing that amazed you the most perhaps is how Theo managed to fuck you to soreness even when’s he injured.

Comte

The promised day where Comte bites you and turns you into a vampire has finally come, and while on the surface he maintains his usual elegance and air of nobility, being the one who knows him the most you can’t help but notice the mild apprehension on his eyes as you straddled on his lap.

Brushing aside his golden locks, you pressed a small kiss on his forehead and asked him if he’s having second thoughts about it.

“I was just a little surprised that you would ask for it so soon, ma chérie.” Comte closed his eyes under your touch, his hands moving to pull you closer to him.

He did not miss the way your eyes wavered for a bit, and you immediately knew because of the deep sigh that followed his statement. Mimicking your actions from earlier, he brushed aside your fringes and looked deeply into your eyes.

“You don’t need to force yourself, ma chérie. Like I said–”

“No, no. I can’t stand it anymore!” You knew he was a bit taken aback by your sudden outburst with the way his grip on your hips mildly tensed, and you couldn’t look him in the eye.

You went on and confessed about the hint of sadness you would see in his eyes every time he made love to you, and you just knew it’s his desire have your blood that’s causing him that unmistakable longing.

“I don’t want there to be sadness in your eyes anymore, Comte. And I want this too. So please…” Those were your words as you slowly took off your blouse, before seductively baring your neck to him, inviting, the look in your eyes full of lust.

Comte has lived through hundreds, or even thousands of years— it doesn’t really matter how long since he has long lost count of the years, but that moment would have to be the first time he has felt so much impulse and desire coursing through his entirety, and it scared him to death at the same time that he might drink you dry if he does not find another outlet for that overwhelming desire.

Soon, both of your clothes and undergarments lay discarded on the floor. You’re no longer straddling him; instead you laid sprawled out on the bed, with Comte leaving fiery kisses on every inch of your skin.

His thick, heated length rubbed against your entrance as he kissed and licked that sweet spot on your neck, and in one fluid motion, he sank his fangs into your neck and buried himself deep inside you.

You felt Comte’s desire flowing into you with every gulp of blood and each thrust of his body, perfectly mingling with your own lust. You lost your self to pleasure the night you lost your humanity– and if your new-found eternity is going to be like anything that night, then you really have no need of death to know what heaven is like.

Eyy is that really an HC I think I might’ve written a full scenario, help

Also in case anyone is wondering, the Academie I mentioned in Theo’s HC is an actual thing in the routes, and basically they’re traditionalists who put down artists exploring a new style, so they’re at odds with Theo who discovers and promotes new talents.

With regards to incoming requests: I’m currently busy with university at the moment (quiz weeks and finals season), so any incoming requests after this might have to wait until the first week of February before I can work on and post them. But if you’re willing to wait, my ask box is always open. I would also appreciate and prioritize Valentine’s-themed requests.

[takingcourage]

Bring to a Simmer

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 2,200

Summary: Arden attempts to make the inaugural batch of ‘Dad and Arden’s Stroganoff,’ but with Jaime around, staying focused is more easily said than done. 

Note: This is just a silly little oneshot inspired by some optional dialogue from the “remembering mom” diamond scene in Chapter 13. I thought it could be a fun premise for a story, especially with a side of Jaime Lewis there to spice things up. Gosh, I’m going to miss this book. 

This also fulfills a request I received for kiss prompt #8 (the playful kiss on the tip of the nose). 

“I’ve got the onion sliced, pumpkin.”

Up to her elbows in flour, Arden looked over her shoulder toward to check her father’s progress at the breakfast table. “Great! I’ll bring the mushrooms over in just a minute.”

Turning her attention back to the recipe card in front of her, she mashed at the sticky dough again. It never looks this way on Bake Off, she considered, worrying her inner cheek against her teeth. But then again, they’re usually making pastry, not pasta. The thought made her feel slightly better, but she still had very little faith that the pasty substance before her was going to end up resembling anything close to her mother’s stroganoff noodles.

She pried one hand away from the clumpy mass, grimacing at the feeling of her very messy fingers sticking to the paper of the flour bag. How had her mom always managed to make cooking look so easy? Even a simple four-ingredient pasta dough was enough to tempt Arden toward a delivery service.

It’s not about the finished product, she reminded herself. This is about remembering mom and making new memories.

Picking at the excess lumps of dough from between her fingers, she wondered how she’d keep her father involved in the process once all of the ingredients had been chopped. His leg had been particularly bad today, which meant that he couldn’t spend much time on his feet without his trusty cane by his side. Unfortunately, canes and cooking didn’t mix particularly well.

“Can you see Jaime working out there?”

She smiled at his inquiry, lifting her eyes momentarily to catch a glimpse of the man at their fence line. “Yep, he’s hard at it. You’ll be really happy with how it looks, dad. I promise.”

“Your mother would have put me in the dog house if she’d seen how bad I let it get. I just…” His voice grew wistful as the sentence trailed, and Arden had to take a deep breath to steady herself.

“It just didn’t seem as important without her around. I think she’d forgive you.” 

The front yard had been a point of contention ever since her mother had fallen ill. Melinda Gale had always taken great pride in her plants, the perfect picket fence, her trailing ivy – all things that Harry only tended to on her behalf. In recent years, the yard had been gradually falling into a state of disrepair. 

Thank goodness for Jaime and his powers of persuasion. He’d been gently nudging for several months, and after coming home from the hospital, her father was finally ready to accept the offer. Arden was just glad that the matter had been resolved without too much nagging on her part.  

That’s not all I’m grateful for, she mused, sneaking another glance out the window. 

She’d known Jaime was attractive for years, but if possible, he’d grown even more gorgeous to her in the past week. Maybe it was because she’d been out of work and had had more time to appreciate him. Maybe it was because she’d seen every inch of him on the night after the gubernatorial debate and knew exactly what was hiding underneath those work clothes. Or maybe it was because she loved him. That word still made her pulse skip every time she thought it. 

Beyond being very nice to look at and prompting irregular heartbeats, he was also incredibly skilled at repairing fences. In a single afternoon, he’d managed to replace the missing and broken pickets, paint the entirety, and purchase new balusters for the front porch. His abilities seemed to go on without end. 

Arden’s own talents felt questionable at the moment, though her hands were becoming less laden with dough the more she rolled and patted the clump into submission. She gave it a final smack, drawing her hand away slowly to determine whether the consistency was ready for rolling.

Although she’d never assisted her mother in the process of making dough, she did have an idea, more or less, of what the final result should look like. The mass on the counter wasn’t an exact replica, but she didn’t think that her attempt was too far off.

At the table, her dad inhaled a sharp breath, but it was several long moments before his words came. “I’m glad you talked me into this, honey. I think your mom would probably get a kick out of watching our struggles in the kitchen.”

“So do I.” Smiling faintly at the thought, she sidestepped to the sink and began the chore of cleaning her hands.

“And she’d be even happier to see how well you and Jaime are getting along these days." 

Arden yanked the kitchen towel a little harder than intended, causing the cabinet door it hung from to squeal in protest. 

Her father clearly needed something else to keep him occupied.

Carrying in the colander of button mushrooms, she set them before the man without a word. As she traded him for the plate of onion slices, she caught the mischievous grin slanting its way up his face. 

"I’m not as blind as you think I am, Arden.”

“I know.”

“And he’s been looking at you like he wants to haul you off and marry you." 

She knew that too. 

Thankfully, her back was turned by in time to hide the blush spreading over her cheeks. "We’re still figuring things out,” she answered evasively. Pulling the largest pot from the oven drawer, she set about filling it in the sink.

“I know I promised not to tell you how to live your life anymore, but he’s the only man I know who’s good enough for my Arden.” She ought to just kiss him sometime. She’s been half in love with him since they were kids. 

Arden pretended not to hear his thought or his comment over the running water. Her father might claim to have seen things, but he’d missed an awful lot of kisses that had passed between them in the last couple of weeks. Beyond that, he didn’t have the faintest idea that she’d spent the night next door after the insanity of the debate. As she waited for the pot to fill, she snuck another look through the glass.

Jaime was removing his shirt.

Her skin flushed again at the sight of his toned, tanned body. Her hands ached to glide along those perfect abs – to wrap her arms around his neck so she was pressed flush against the heat of his chest. Sleeping with him had been incredible. Waking up in his arms, nothing short of divine. 

They hadn’t discussed their plans for after dinner, but maybe she could talk him into another sleepover…

With a start, she realized that the water was spilling over the side of the pot. She drained the excess quickly, vaguely aware of the sporadic sound of chopping coming from the breakfast table.

Her father didn’t say anything, but there was a distinct twinkle in his eye when she returned to the table with the beef. 

_____

 Thirty minutes later, she’d managed to produce something that vaguely resembled stroganoff. Arden counted it as something of a marvel that she hadn’t given up the whole cooking endeavor in favor of just standing and staring out the window. She knew he wasn’t doing it deliberately, but Jaime had been putting on quite a show.

Wielding a paintbrush, standing back to consider his work, wiping his brow – everything he did set her blood on fire. As the evening had worn on, the pan before her received less and less of her attention. The sight through the window had proven too tempting for her to resist. 

His work on the fence complete, Jaime had switched to trimming the bushes in front of the house. As he skirted around the plant, she caught his eye. Arden sucked a breath at his wink.

"I’ll be right back,” she promised her father, hardly taking the time to make sure that he was still cutting romaine hearts for their salad.

Jaime’s eyes were on her as soon as she passed through the door, the shears falling to his side. “The view from the kitchen wasn’t enough, I see. Did you decide it was time to get up close and personal?” 

She rolled her eyes. When she looked up at him again, she was taken aback by the glisten of sweat all over him. With his chest mere inches from her face, she could discern each perfectly sculpted ab, and her fingers twitched with longing at her side. Arden wondered idly how much it would scandalize the neighbors if she started making out with him in her father’s front yard.

Still not prepared for this view?

She reddened at his thought as their eyes met, his sweaty hair obscuring vision from one side. “I’m still getting used to...” she gestured vaguely at his stomach, much to Jaime’s amusement. “But I actually came out to give you a dinner update. It all just needs to simmer for about twenty more minutes and then we’ll be ready to eat.” 

“I’m looking forward to it. I should reach a pretty good stopping place shortly, so I’ll have time for a quick shower before we eat.”

Arden’s mouth grew very dry at the appealing mental images his suggestion graced her with. Distracted, her gaze wavered from his face for a moment – not long enough to satisfy her desire, but certainly long enough to attract his notice.

"You keep looking at my chest, Arden. Is everything okay?” Not that I mind. I’ve only been hoping for this for years.   

Knowing she’d been caught, Arden dropped all pretense and stared openly. She sighed and lifted her face to his. “I’m just thinking again how much I’d like to kiss you right now.”

Jaime bristled with pleasure. “You wouldn’t get any complaints from me if you did, but I am pretty sweaty at the moment. We should probably wait until after dinner.”

Someday, she’d have to tell him that she didn’t mind him being sweaty. In fact, she’d found sweaty kisses with Jaime to be extremely enjoyable just a few nights before. With that memory in mind, she was inspired. “Can I just have one for now?” 

He ran a hand through his hair, uncovering both eyes. The deep brown pools were gleaming with equal parts humor and desire. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Arden tilted her chin, lips poised and eager for contact. Jaime’s mouth was warm and soft as it descended on hers, the salt of his sweat making her relish the experience even more. Body responding of its own volition, she had to pinch herself to keep from throwing both arms around his neck. Even after he’d pulled away, it took a moment for her to regain full control of her senses.

Just as her head cleared Jaime caught her by surprise, leaning down a second time to brush his lips gently across the tip of her nose. 

She wrinkled the bridge instinctively. “What was that for?”

“I couldn’t help it,” he explained. “You’re just so damn kissable, Arden.” 

“So are you. Please tell me there will be time for more kisses later?”

“I was hoping you’d suggest that.” He stretched out his free hand, skimming the pads of his fingers along her forearm. 

“The mind-blowing, earth-shaking kisses that are full of ten years of pent-up desire?”

He chuckled at her description. “You know those are my favorites. And I don’t have any plans for the rest of the night.” 

“Mmmhmmm.” His little half smile was doing funny things to her stomach. It wasn’t long before she’d lost all track of what he’d been saying. 

Should I put my shirt back on? 

His thought managed to get her attention, and she recoiled. “Don’t even joke about that. I’m enjoying the view way too much.” 

“You can enjoy it as much as you want after dinner.” 

“That feels like too long to wait.” She took another step toward him, forgetting both sweat and propriety in her need to touch him. 

“Arden,” he cautioned, though she knew from the yearning on his face that he wasn’t going to tell her no. 

Was that the door?

His thought corresponded with a click from the porch, followed by the beat of her father’s cane.

Their heads swung toward the doorway where Harry Gale stood, watching them both with an arched brow. Maybe she doesn’t need my encouragement after all... After taking a moment to collect himself, he announced, “Your pan boiled over. I got it off the burner, but I’m not sure what to do next.” 

Arden stared at him dumbly. “I was just….I, um.” She swallowed hard and forced her thoughts away from the man beside her. “I’ll come figure it out.” 

Her father retreated back to the house, leaving her alone with Jaime once more. 

“Go do what you need to do with dinner. I’ll finish up here and be in in a few minutes,” he told her, trailing a finger along her inner palm. Before she could pull away, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“See you then,” she promised, breaking the link between them. As she hurried up the porch stairs, she decided that an addition to her mother’s recipe was in order: 

Step 1 - If Jaime is outside, close curtains on the kitchen window. 

[thetortureartist]

Introduction

About me . . .

I am a Dominant, Male, Feeder. . . . An artist, skilled in the areas of Sculpting, Drawing, Painting, Woodworking, Leatherworking Etc. I enjoy expressing my kinks and interests through my art and writing, as well as making my own BDSM equipment and toys.

I have been involved in the BDSM lifestyle, and BDSM community for over eighteen years. My kinks and interests include. . . . Curvy/Thick Girls, BDSM, Pregnant Girls, Enemas, Fat Girls, Feederism, Really Fat Girls, Inflation of all types, including, Fluids, Air, Cum, Food/Stuffing. Etc. . . . Pretty much anything that involves, or results in a girl having a big, round belly. . . . Extremely Fat Girls, Force Feeding, Teasing & Humiliation, Piggy Play, Corporal Play & Punishment . . . and many other related activities that would fall within the BDSM & Feederism lifestyles. . . . Oh . . . and did I mention that I like . . . FAT GIRLS??? . . . Honestly, I appreciate, and I am attracted to beauty in all shapes & sizes. . . . From "Average" to Extremely Huge.

While my "Real Life" involvement in BDSM goes back some eighteen-plus years. . . . My awareness of, and interest in it, has existed since I was very young . . . as early as eleven as I recall.

But my interest and attraction to Feeding and Fat Girls goes back even further . . . to when I was very, very young. I have had an obsession with Fat Girls, the act of feeding them, and making them fatter, almost as long as I can remember.

Both my interest in BDSM and Feederism existing long before I was aware of a sexual/arousal connection.

I can remember being as young as seven or eight. . . . Drawing cartoons of a very hungry girl going from one fast food restaurant to another. . . . Eating and eating . . . growing progressively fatter. . . . Her belly expanding against the table, and pinning her in the booth. . . . Her clothes gradually splitting at the seams. . . . Until finally, she ended up lying flat on her back, too fat and gorged full to move.

I also drew other cartoons of girls being forcibly fed and fattened . . . by usually unseen antagonists, or sometimes by machines. . . . Fed until they were incredibly huge and often perfectly round.

I kept those cartoons well hidden, and was always scared to death someone would find them. . . . I wish I still had those crude cartoons. . . . But sadly, they are long gone. . . . Having been destroyed at some point for fear of being discovered.

So you could say my perversion has been life long. . . . How or why I initially became exposed to it, or how these kinks and interests became so engrained in me I cannot say.

But I do remember . . . the 1937 Merry Melodies cartoon "Pigs Is Pigs" captivated me from the time I first saw it as a child. And it has stuck with me all my life. . . . It certainly contained themes of BDSM and Feeding. . . . Force Feeding against someones will to be exact.

The 1951 cartoon "Chow Hound" also sticks in my mind. . . . Particularly the end scene with the forced, funnel feeding.

So blame cartoons again if you must. . . . But I for one, am so glad someone decided to make those silly little cartoons all those years ago. . . . Though I am sure their intention was to tell a "moral lesson", rather than creating arousal . . . Ooops!

There is also the 1971 movie "Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory" . . . You know . . . the Blueberry Girl scene! . . . Yet another intended moral lesson gone awry. . . . Turned into a life-long perversion/kink for many out there.

But I am who I am. . . . I make no excuses for it . . . and I know there are many, many others out there . . . both male and female, just like me.

About my art and writing.

I am a perverse, imaginative individual, with a highly creative, extremely fertile mind. . . . I have countless thoughts and ideas, and enjoy expressing my kinks and perversions in the form of drawings, sculptures and written material. etc.

Over the years I have created these works primarily for my own personal enjoyment, and as a means of purging my thoughts and ideas, to make room for new ones. . . . When I come up with a thought or idea, it tends to stick with me until I do something with it. . . . So . . . sketching the idea out, or writing it down allows me to get it out of my head and recorded into some tangible form. . . . Thus leaving my brain free to create other new ideas.

Unfortunately most of this material exists only in the form of sketchy outlines, disconnected scenarios and ideas, rough sketches or doodles. Most of it not developed enough for any kind of  public dissemination.

Often times I may work at something, getting it partially developed . . . then, Real Life issues or some new idea interferes, and draws my attentions elsewhere. Some of these ideas may often sit for months . . . or in some cases, years before I come back to them.

Recently, I have been trying to bring some of these works to the point of completion. And I have decided to finally post some of these publicly for the enjoyment of those who are like minded . . . and share my particular kinks.

However, my Real Life / work situation often leaves me very little time for these indulgences . . . an hour here . . . thirty minutes there.  So postings may be few and far between. . . . But, I do have a few works nearing completion, and will post when I can.

I am posting on Tumblr first. . . . I had set up a Tumblr account some time ago with the intention of starting to post there. . . . But then Tumblr had their morality implosion. . . . Though I do still see such material being posted there . . . having to scroll through their dashboard to look at stuff is a fucking pain in the ass.

So I was going to use Twitter . . . as it seemed to be the place to where most have gravitated. . . . But discovered while it is well suited for the posting of pictures . . . it is not well suited for the posting of longer writings.

I have also had a Deviant Art account for many years . . . but never have posted anything there. . . . Turns out, Deviant Art isn't as “deviant” as they profess to be. . . . I am not fond of their censorship practices.

There are other places to post this sort of material . . . but for now, Tumblr seems to be the place to start. . . . I may also cross post to Deviant Art to see what happens. . . . If I do post material anyplace else, I will post appropriate info and links.

By no means do I consider myself a "writer". . . . My writing is crude at best. But let's face it, I am not attempting to write the next best seller, or block buster film here. This is masturbation material! . . . Fatty Porn . . . Fatty-rotica if you will. . . . If my writing manages to make some cocks hard, and some pussies wet . . . well then . . . mission accomplished!

This material is not for everyone. . . . It is intended for “mature” adults only. . . . If you ARE NOT interested in such subject matter, please go elsewhere! . . . There are countless diversions on the internet to entertain you.

For those who are incapable of understanding or accepting this sort of material. Who seek it out purely for the "Freak Factor", and "Shock Value". . . . Who feel compelled to post comments telling me what a Sick Pervert I am . . . a Twisted Fuck . . . a Perverted Freak . . . that I am Fucked In the Head . . . Etc. Etc.

Thank you! . . . I am well aware of this. . . . I embrace it . . . I promote it . . . I live it . . . and I do my best to indulge it, nurture it and grow it every chance I get. ;)

So please don't waste your time and effort, or the time of those who do enjoy such material. . . . Just go find something that you enjoy, whatever it is, and focus your attentions there. . . . Trust me my friend . . . there will come a point in your life when you realize TIME is far to valuable to waste.

For those of you who ARE interested in such things . . . Please. . . . Enjoy!

[swanqueeneverafter]

What Dreams May Come, Pt.9

Storybrooke. Rollin' Bayou. (Alice stands with a tray of beignets handing out free samples to passers-by.) Alice: (As someone takes a bite:) “Good huh?” Woman: (Nods appreciatively:) “Mmm.” (Alice turns and spots Robin waiting for her on a nearby bench.) Alice: (Walking over:) “Ah. Well, it's your lucky day because this is our last free sample, and I always save the best for last.” Robin: “Hm, well let’s see about that shall we?” Alice: (Taking a seat beside her:) “So, any news from the hospital?” Robin: (Picking up the last beignet:) “Mmhmm. My aunts dropped by the apartment earlier, the guy’s gonna be fine.” Alice: (Sighs with relief:) “Good.” Robin: “And, it wasn’t our fault. Well, not all our fault at least. He was texting and driving.” Alice: “Really? Well that’s a silly thing to do.” Robin: “Tell me about it, my Mom does the same thing. Although now she has her magic back, she’s not technically driving while she does it.” Alice: (Nods:) “I know, her enchanted car. She just gets in, tells it where to go and it takes her there. I still say it’d be handy for us sometimes.” Robin: “Yeah, but Mom won’t let me borrow it until I learn to drive the proper way. She’s such a hypocrite. Aunt Regina told me Mom’s hit more trashcans, mailboxes and street lights than everyone combined in Storybrooke.” Alice: (Chuckles:) “How is your mum, anyway? Bet she was glad to see you after our time away.” Robin: (Breaking off a piece of the beignet:) “I don’t know, I haven’t seen her. Apparently she’s gone to try out some new thing Henry’s into.” Alice: “What king of thing?” Robin: “Something to do with dreamscapes? (Holds up the beignet:) This rocks, by the way.” Alice: “Best one we made all day. It's heart-shaped.” Robin: (Turns it in her hand:) “Oh, yeah! Like a real heart. That's cool. You did this?” Alice: “Yeah. It was an accident, but I think maybe it was a happy accident.” Robin: “Yeah. I think that it was.” Jefferson: (Suddenly sitting on the bench behind them:) “But what your family is dabbling in is no accident.” (Both women turn around to look at the eavesdropper when Alice recognises him.) Alice: “Mr. Hatter? Is it really you?” Jefferson: (Stands:) “Yes, Alice, it’s me.” Alice: (Jumping to her feet, excitedly:) “Robin, this is one of my oldest friends, Mr. Hatter!” Robin: (As Jefferson nods to Robin:) “Mr. Hatter? (Thinks:) You mean the Mad Hatter?” Jefferson: (Stands:) “Some call me that. Others know me simply as Jefferson.” Robin: “Pleased to meet you. Although, what were you saying about my family?” Jefferson: “What they’re doing is dangerous. Dreamscapes are treacherous places best left alone. (To Alice:) You remember our tea parties?” Alice: (Smiles:) “They were wonderful.” Jefferson: “Yes, they were. But they came at a terrible price. (To Robin:) You have to tell your aunts to stay away from the dream world before it’s too late. (To Alice:) I’d hate to see your family ripped apart like mine was.” (Without another word, Jefferson walks away, leaving Robin and Alice to stare after him.)

Zelena’s Dreamscape. (With the same determined look on her face, Zelena replaces the hat upon her head and strides toward the Gingerbread house. The Witch is sweeping the doorstep when she hears Zelena approach. Dropping her broom, the Witch turns to meet her.) Zelena: “I am tired of playing candy crush with you.” Witch: (Using her powers, hurls a large peppermint swirl at Zelena, knocking her down:) “For the Wicked Witch, you're not so tough. (Picks up a giant candy cane and threatens the fallen woman with it:) Are you quite finished?” Zelena: “I'm about to be.” (Suddenly, Zelena holds up a container and robs the witch of her sight.) Witch: “Aah! Aah! Aah! You… You took my sight?” Zelena: “I know someone who needs it more than you. It's like I said, there's only room for one witch around here. Me. (Walking past the Blind Witch into the house:) And wicked always wins.” Gingerbread House. Interior. Zelena: (Entering:) “Hansel?! Hansel! Gretel! (Sees the empty cages:) Oh. (Notices Hansel’s discarded hat on the floor:) Oh, no, no, no. (Turns toward the roaring fireplace, clutching the hat in her hands:) I'm too late.”

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Emma and Regina return home from the baby shower.) Emma: “Don’t you think that was a little harsh?” Regina: (Innocently:) “I don’t know what you mean.” Emma: “Regina...” Regina: “I saw that baby shower coming a mile away.” Emma: “Seriously?” Regina: “There’s only so many times you can walk into an ambush without recognising the signs.” Emma: “So you set her up?” Regina: “No, I merely invited one of my friends to my baby shower. You’re telling me you have a problem with Maleficent now?” Emma: “No, but Aurora does, and Mom is always anxious around her.” Regina: (Relenting:) “Fine. I decided to have a little fun, but it was my party too. Besides, you had way more friends there than I did.” Emma: “That’s not true. Snow loves you and everyone else has forgiven you a long time ago for whatever you did to them.” Regina: “And what did I really do to them? Other than bring them indoor plumbing and electricity.” Emma: “Well, you cursed Ashley to be pregnant for twenty eight years, helped Maleficent put Aurora under a sleeping curse and had Ruby dress in some of the tiniest outfits I have ever seen.” Regina: “Ah-ah. You can’t blame me for the last one. Although I did enjoy those outfits.” Emma: “Uh huh. Anyway, the point is that everyone was there for both of us and our baby.” Regina: “Its not like I ruined things, we all managed to have a good time. I just evened things up a little.” Emma: “I’m just saying Mom looked a little upset.” Regina: “Oh please, Snow will be fine once she’s got a new baby to play with. Grandma Snow will get her revenge in many different ways.” Emma: “You know, it is still my duty to defend my family’s honour.” Regina: (Raises her eyebrows:) “Is that so? (Emma nods:) Well, I shall certainly look forward to that.” Emma: (Smirks:) “I thought you might.” Regina: “Mm, let’s go to bed, shall we?” Emma: (Takes Regina’s hand:) “Lead the way.” Kingdom of Valencia. (Several courtiers are gathered in the throne room as Chef guides Queen Madelena to her chair.) Chef: “Excuse me, excuse me. Chef coming through. Thank you. This way, my lady. Here's your table, My Queen.” Queen Madelena: “What fresh idiocy does King Richard have in store for me now?” Chef: “Um, I'm...” Queen Madelena: “That was rhetorical. Shoo.” Chef: “Chef out.” (He leaves.) (As Madelena takes her seat, Gareth takes to the dais.) Gareth: “Welcome to the show! I introduce to you, without further ado, the king of comedy!” King Richard: (Jogs onto the dais:) “Hello! Thank you very, very, very much. Now, I understand you've all come here under threat of death, and I appreciate it. In fact... I ordered it.” (Silence from the crowd.) Gareth: “Everybody laugh!” (The courtiers laugh, half-heartedly.) Queen Madelena: “What on God's flat earth is going on?” King Richard: “Well, they say the way to a woman's heart is through her funny bone, so...” Queen Madelena: (Rolling her eyes:) “Oh, God. Let's not do this.” King Richard: “Why did the king go to the dentist?” Queen Madelena: (Flatly:) “To get his teeth crowned.” King Richard: “To get his teeth crowned. Uh, you've heard that one. (Rallies:) Mm! ‘You might be a peasant’ jokes. If you have more children than teeth, you might be a peasant.” (Silence from the crowd once more.) Jester: (Stood watching beside the Chef:) “Ugh. He's dying out there. Give him the pie.” Chef: “Now?! That's the big finale.” Jester: “Damn it, man, look at the poor bastard. Give. Him. The pie.” (The Chef uncovers the cloche and runs onstage.) King Richard: “If your toilet is a tree, then you might be... (The Chef hands him the pie. Richard looks down at it for a moment before turning and throwing the pie in Gareth’s face. Everyone in the room finally laughs at this, including Madelena. Happily:) She laughed! It worked! She laughed! Quick, give me more pies so I can keep hitting Gareth in the face. (Gareth draws his sword menacingly:) Or someone else. I-I can pie someone else.”

Enchanted Forest. Past. Regina’s Dreamscape. (Marian is questioned by the Queen.) Marian: “Your majesty, no!” Regina: “Where is Snow White? (To her guards:) She thinks silence is bravery, not stupidity. She dies tomorrow. Hurry her along. The stench of peasant is overwhelming.” (The Evil Queen turns and walks away.) Marian: (Calling after her:) “I feel sorry for you.” Regina: (Stops, turns to face her:) “Do you?” Marian: “If you had a family of your own, if you had love, you'd know you shouldn't do this. (Regina walks back towards her:) You wouldn't have to be so cruel.” Regina: “Don't you tell me what I do or don't understand. I know who I am and what I want. And right now... (Grabbing Marian’s face:) It's your head on a spike.” (Regina turns away again, laughing.) Marian: “You're a monster! You're a monster!” (As Regina passes her men, she immediately finds herself alone in the forest. Turning in a circle, the Queen looks around confused until a lone figure steps out from behind a tree.) Regina: (Smirks:) “And who are you supposed to be? Robin Hood?” Emma: (Approaching, hooded and her face partially covered:) “That guy’s a hack who couldn’t lace my boots. I am the Nightwatchman.” Regina: “The what?” Emma: “Just… go with it. I’ve come to make you pay for your crimes.” Regina: “I see, and just how do you intend on doing that?” Emma: “Like this.” (Unexpectedly, Emma throws two daggers in quick succession at the Queen, pinning her wrists at her sides against a tree.) Regina: (Outraged:) “Emma what in the f-“ Emma: (Drawing nearer:) “Shh, this is a dream, there’s no way I would’ve actually hurt you.” Regina: (Pursing her lips:) “Hmm.” Emma: (Pulling the daggers out and freeing Regina from the tree:) “At least not like that.” Regina: (When Emma places shackles on her wrists:) “What the-“ Emma: “Now, your majesty, you are my prisoner. If you intend to resist, things will be much worse for you.” Regina: “Of course I intend to resist – I’m the queen!” Emma: (Smiles:) “Excellent. Walk. (Regina turns and walks a few paces while Emma follows behind. However, the Queen doesn’t get very far before Emma speaks again:) You know what? I think I prefer my captives naked.” Regina: (Looking down in horror to see her clothes disappear:) “Are you insane?!” Emma: (Smirking:) “Oh, you wouldn’t be saying that if you had my view.” Regina: “Emma!” Emma: “Relax. No one’s out here, no one’s gonna find us… unless you want them to? (Regina growls:) Besides, you can free yourself anytime you want. (Catches up with Regina, breathes softly into her ear:) I think you’re enjoying this. I think you can’t wait for the Queen to get what she deserves. (Regina trembles at this and Emma revels at the unmistakable signs of desire coursing through her wife. Speaks again into her captive’s ear:) Not much further now. See that big tree up ahead? (Regina nods:) Walk to it, then stand facing the tree and wait for me.” (With a shuddering breath, Regina complies. Emma smiles as she admires the view and congratulates herself for allowing Regina to keep her boots on. Upon reaching the tree, the Queen does as she was ordered and stands facing it, taking care to protect her protruding stomach by placing a hand in front of her. The rough bark pressing against her palm is soon tempered by the feel of smooth, naked skin pressing against her back.) Emma: (Whispering into her ear once again:) “Miss me?” Regina: (Her voice thick with arousal:) “Very much.” Emma: “Mm, I can tell. (Unshackles Regina:) Now for what comes next, you’re gonna need your hands to hold on to the tree.” Regina: “What are you going to- (Emma places her hands on Regina’s hips and gently pulls them back toward her. At the touch of the unmistakable stiffness pressing against her:) Ohh.” Emma: (Adjusting the straps:) “Mmhmm. Are you ready, your majesty? (Regina brings her shaking hands up to grip the tree in front of her and nods:) I’m sorry, but I will need you to say the words.” Regina: (Growling:) “Take me, Emma. Now.” Emma: (Smiling, placing her hands around the Queen’s waist:) “As you wish.”

Zelena’s Dreamscape. (Zelena returns to Ivo’s home.) Ivo: “Zelena, is that you?” Zelena: “Yes. (Walks toward him, removing her hat:) There's something I need to tell you. It's about your children.” Ivo: “Don't worry. I already know. They told me themselves.” (Hansel and Gretel enter the room.) Gretel: “We escaped.” Zelena: “Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were child stew.” Hansel: “No, we're alive. No thanks to you.” Ivo: “No more lies, Zelena. How could you accept my hospitality when you knew my children were being held captive and tormented?” Zelena: “No, it's not like that. I was weak. But as soon as I was strong, I went back for them.” Ivo: “You could have told me.” Zelena: “If I had told you, you would have gone to that house and the witch would have killed you.” Ivo: “You watched me search for them every night!” Zelena: “Yes. I'm wicked. But I'm trying to be good.” Hansel: “There's no such thing as a good witch.” Zelena: “There could be. Please, Ivo, all my life, people have treated me rotten. You were the first person to see through the green. To see the real me. Here. (Holds up a vial:) I took the witch's sight for you. Just sprinkle this dust into your eyes, and your vision will be restored. You'll have a second chance. Please give me one, too.” Ivo: “No. (Shaking his head:) No, no. I don't need my sight to see who you truly are. You're a monster! Now go! Get out of my house!” Zelena: “Fine. You don't want to see me? You won't see anything.” (Zelena walks to the fireplace and throws the vial into the flames.) Hansel: (Grabbing a knife:) “You witch! You don't deserve to walk away from this!” Zelena: “Stupid child. I’m not walking away from anything. (Summons her broom:) Witches know how to make an exit.” (With a flick of her wrist, Zelena disappears in a cloud of green smoke.)

[crystallized-shadow]

Day 25 Pairing: Madara/Senju Brothers Word count: 1332 Prompt:  “You’re in trouble now.”

Warnings: Blood and blood drinking

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Madara was never trusting Izuna with assigning targets again, provided this colossal cluster fuck didn’t get him killed first. It was supposed to be a simple hunt, Izuna wouldn’t have given it to him except that he was still getting over a nearly fatal injury and needed to ease his way back into hunting. Now, instead of taking out some weak little creature he’s pushing his body as hard as he can to escape 4 of the oldest fucking vampires in the country.

A sharp, burning pain in his chest tells Madara it’s time to rest, but he does his best to ignore it. Between one breath and the next, his lungs are seizing up and he’s on the ground, coughing up blood. Shit! This was not where he wanted to be right now! He knows the vampires can smell the blood, probably can hear him struggling to get air back into his lungs, but Madara doesn’t focus on that. Instead, he forces his body to keep moving, dragging himself toward the remaining sunlight, knowing he’s safe if he can just make it there. Everything is going numb, which Madara knows is a bad sign, even worse than the fact that his shirt is suddenly sticking to chest where the wound lays. Madara doesn’t even see the blow that sends him crashing into the alley wall. He crumples to the ground, struggling not to choke on his own blood, when he spots 4 pairs of red eyes through the haze of unconsciousness licking at the edges of his vision. “Fuck.”

“You’re in trouble now,” one vampire chuckles as another kneels in front of Madara.

“Try and keep the blood inside you Hunter,” the vampire before him chides as he wipes some blood off Madara’s chin. Madara wants to recoil from the icy touch, especially when the vampire licks his finger clean, but the numbness has almost spread through his entire body and Madara knows he’s about to die. “Oh, he’s a tasty one.”

“Fuck off,” Madara spits, smirking when blood hits the bloodsucker’s cheek.

“Spunky,” the first one chuckles, “maybe we should keep him for a bit.”

“He’s going to bleed out soon,” a bored tone states, “let’s just drain him and go.”

“He looks familiar,” the last vampire mutters, a hand suddenly fisting the long part of Madara’s hair and yanking his head up enough for the vampire to see his face. “Wasn’t he the one that killed the Hagoromo scum targeting Kawarama?”

“That hunter died,” the vampire that had called Madara spunky says, “no human could survive a gapping hole in their chest!”

Madara wants to laugh at the vampire’s lack of faith in him, but all he manages to do is hack up more blood before he passes out.

When Madara comes to sometime later, several things war for his attention at once; the fact that’s he’s alive, the lack of pain when he breathes, and the handcuffs keeping him attached to the bed he’s laying on. After a moment he realizes that the vampires must have decided to keep him alive, he’s torn between being grateful and pissed off that he was now at the mercy of blood-sucking scum, but that didn’t explain the lack of pain from his wound. Madara knew he reopened it and even if they had treated him, which clearly they had or he’d be dead, it should still be burning every time he tried to breath.

“Finally awake?” The sudden voice to his right should startle Madara, but all he does is blink and look over at the pale vampire. “Confused?”

“Yes,” Madara says before he can stop himself, which has his brows furrowing in further confusion. He hadn’t intended to admit that, he was going to tell the bloodsucker to fuck off.

“You didn’t intend to say that, did you?” The vampire asks with a knowing smirk and Madara frowns even as he shakes his head. “Interesting…”

Before Madara can demand an explanation, the vampire disappears in a burst of inhuman speed, leaving the hunter alone with his thoughts. The fact that he couldn’t lie to the vampire tugged at a distant memory he couldn’t quite recall no matter how hard he tried. Taking a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts accidentally confirms that his wound is gone and that has Madara’s blood freezing in his veins. His inability to lie to the vampire, coupled with his wound healing, could only mean one thing; those fucking vampire scum had forced him to ingest their blood. It was well known that drinking a vampire’s blood could heal even a normally fatal wound and that if it came from a live vampire, subjected the drinker to the monster’s will. Well that was just fucking dandy, now Madara was going to have to figure out how to off himself before he could be used against the Organization. Lovely.

“Tobirama says you can’t lie to him.” Madara glances over at the door and finds all 4 Senju vampires there, much to his displeasure. When the hunter doesn’t immediately respond, the vampire frowns and takes a threatening step forward. “Is that true Hunter?”

“Yes.” The sudden, honest response must shock the bloodsucker because Madara sees his deep red, almost brown, eyes widen slightly. “Can you lie to me?”

Madara is silent for a long moment before he shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Could he possibly be bound to all of our wills?” The vampire that asks looks like his genes couldn’t decide on his appearance and instead left him looking like Tobirama on one half and the eldest Senju brother on the other half.

“Only one way to find out,” the brown-haired vampire with a scar on his right cheeks says with a smirk. “Are you the hunter who saved me that Hagoromo prick?”

“I am,” Madara says with a frown, realizing he’s likely bound to all four vampires because clearly some god out there fucking hates him.

“Do you know who we are?” The mismatched vampire asks and Madara just nods. “Who are we?”

“You’re the Senju bastards,” Madara grumbles, somewhat glad he can still be an asshole, “the oldest bloodsuckers in the country; Hashbrown, Snowflake, Chimera, and Scar-face.”

“Those aren’t our names!” Tobirama exclaims, clearly pissed and it’s only his brother’s hand on his shoulder that stops him from lunging at the hunter.

“I’m Hashirama, these are my younger brothers Tobirama, Itama, and Kawarama.”

“I know,” Madara smirks, hoping he can antagonize Tobirama into killing him, “my names fit better.”

“Can we kill him now?” Tobirama mutters angrily and Itama nods in agreement, clearly unhappy with his nickname too.

“He’s the first human to be bound to 4 vampires,” Kawarama grins, finding the nicknames funny, “we can’t kill him yet. I’m surprised you’re not trying to run a million different tests on him yet Tobi-nii.”

“He’s too mouthy to be a good subject,” Itama and Tobirama state at the same time and Madara can’t help but laugh.

“I think we all know I’ll die before I tell you anything about the Organization,” Madara states, drawing the vampire’s attention back to him, “so just let them kill me and get it over with.”

“We don’t intend to ask for any information on your silly little organization,” Hashirama says with a dark grin, “you’ve never posed a threat to us, so why waste such a unique opportunity on something so trivial?”

“Hashi-nii is right,” Itama grins after a moment, “it would be a shame not to have some fun with our tasty new toy.”

“I suppose we can always gag him,” Tobirama practically purrs and Madara groans, letting his head fall back against the bed with a muffled thump.

“Let’s see how he reacts to our venom,” Kawarama suggests and Madara decides that the gods really fucking hate him because the first set of fangs in his neck cause a spark of pleasure to race down his spine instead of the burning pain he was hoping for.

[letterfromtrenwith]

House & Home

A George/Elizabeth fic for the prompt “In an abandoned/empty place.” for anon

Elizabeth goes back in time. 

This prompt sort of went in an unexpected direction, but I hope you like it!

~

The hinges of the heavy oak door groaned painfully as George pushed it open, and Elizabeth covered Ursula's little ears against the sound. Valentine was very keen to get inside, and Elizabeth hurried after him into the reception hall, hearing the creak of George closing the door behind them.

Valentine disappeared through another open door ahead, ignoring Elizabeth's calls for him to stop. She heard George's heavier strides following her, his boots loud on the stone floor. Blessedly, Valentine had come to a halt in the next room, staring around him in fascination. Cusgarne's great hall was indeed quite a sight - barely changed since the fifteenth century, its stone walls painted white, a stark contrast to the dark wood beams criss-crossing the ceiling in an intricate pattern, just as decorative as they were supportive.

There were few windows, high up in the walls, the white making the most of what light they let in. The great stone fireplace stood cold and empty, as did the whole room. While it was still striking, it had none of the warmth and life it had when Elizabeth was a child. When her father was alive, and the wrought iron candelabras would always be lit when it was dark enough, and the ceiling would be strung with garlands of flowers and greenery every Christmas and Easter and Harvest.

"Well, my dear, is it just as you remember it?" George placed his hand gently on the small of her back and they shared a soft smile.

"It is...colder." She had not visited her old family home since her mother's apoplexy, not even after she died, although Joan had been buried in the family churchyard. The rather sadly small wake had been held at Trenwith, where Mrs Chynoweth had spent the last months of her life.

On her mother's death, Elizabeth had inherited the whole estate, being as she was the last of that branch of the Chynoweths. Her feelings about her childhood home being somewhat complicated, she'd been quite happy to let George deal with the administration, despite feeling a touch guilty about adding to his already heavy responsibilities for Trenwith, Cardew, the Bank and everything else he dealt with. Her only request had been that the long-serving housekeeper, Mrs Barron, be allowed to remain. The old woman had worked for the family for decades, and had remained even while other staff had to be let go due to lack of funds.

With the house empty, Mrs Barron eventually ended up as the only servant on the property. Now, she was retiring to live with her niece in Penzance - not before time - and George had rather hesitantly raised the subject of leasing the house to cover the gradually increasing costs of maintaining it. Elizabeth had agreed, and decided to finally visit the place.

Now that she was here, she was still not sure how she felt. After her father's death, her once-beloved home had gradually began to seem less warm and comforting, her mother's presence more overbearing, both in the look of the house and its atmosphere. On the other side of the hall, they came to the grand staircase, Valentine slipping his hand out of George's to go scrambling up the stairs, stopping to make faces at his parents through the balustrade on the landing. His loud giggles almost took Elizabeth's breath away, the sudden realisation that she could not remember the last time she had heard laughter in this house - when Morwenna and Rowella visited as little girls perhaps, and that was many years ago.

"Come here, you." George followed, taking the steps two at time. "Do what you must, my dear, I will find you when I've caught this little imp!"

When George got to the landing, Valentine took off along the corridor, shrieking with laughter, disappearing in the direction of the bedrooms; George strode after him with a mock long-suffering sigh. Elizabeth smiled after them affectionately. While she waited for her husband to return with his mischievous quarry, she wandered through some of the other rooms. The furniture swathed in sheets would probably be ghostly at night, but on this bright summer day it made the old mediaeval chambers seem so much lighter and brighter. Odd that the most obvious sign of the house's emptiness could give it that touch of life.

She paused in a drawing room, beneath a large portrait. From within a gilt frame, a woman of about thirty looked gently down upon Elizabeth and her daughter. Her dress, in a style fashionable sixty years earlier, was a dark amber colour, flattering her chestnut hair and eyes, and she wore an emerald necklace. She resembled Elizabeth's father most strongly, but now Elizabeth looked again she could see a deal of her cousin, Morwenna, in the kind face, and soft, intelligent eyes.

"Look, Ursula, here is my dear great aunt. You were named for her." Ursula's baby blue eyes followed where Elizabeth pointed, peering curiously up at the painting. "She gave me that necklace on my sixteenth birthday, and one day you shall have it, too. She was so very kind to me when I was a girl - she would have loved you very much."

Elizabeth tenderly kissed Ursula's downy curls and the baby cooed softly. After a little more wandering, they eventually made it to their intended destination - the housekeeper's sitting room by the kitchens.

"Oh, Miss Elizabeth! You should 'ave told me you were coming today! Oh - I should say, Mrs Warleggan."

"Please, do not get up, Mrs Barron. We did not want to trouble you."

"Let me at least pour you some tea - and who is this little angel?!" Elizabeth felt a sudden rush of affection for the old woman, and felt dreadful for having not visited her for so long. The housekeeper had been a loving presence in her young life, and to see her rattling around this empty house, struggling to get out of her chair, filled Elizabeth with sadness.

"I will pour the tea, Mrs Barron, if you will hold Ursula for me."

"Your old aunt would be made up, she would." Mrs Barron settled Ursula on her knee, chucking the baby under the chin, making her giggle. "Now, then, young Sarah told me you were a bonny babe, but she did sell you short, I reckon!"

"Sarah? Sarah Roswarne?" Elizabeth frowned as set the teapot on the table, adjusting her skirts to sit. Sarah had come to Trenwith with George, having previously served at Cardew. An intelligent, practical young woman, she had proven herself a dozen times over to be an invaluable servant, and when Mrs Tabb retired from her post, had been appointed housekeeper, despite her relative youth.

"Aye, she - " Mrs Barron glanced down, a touch embarrassed. "She comes over when she can, to help out a bit, y'see. I know most of the house is shut up, but being here on my own...."

"Oh, Mrs Barron! Why did you not tell us you could not manage?"

"I were worried Mr Warleggan would give me notice before I could go off to Sally's. You've both been very kind letting me stay here as it is."

"Oh, nonsense! It is only right. You have served my family for longer than I have been alive. Since my father was young. It is the least we could do."

Just then, the door opened, startling both women slightly. George entered, carrying a beaming Valentine and looking a touch flustered.

"Well, what a merry dance I've been led! And I must admit that I rather forgot my way. I have not been here often, and only once upstairs." He paused, seeming to notice Mrs Barron for the first time. He bowed slightly, as best he could holding a wriggling toddler. "Madam."

"Sir. Let me pour you some tea. And perhaps some plum cake for the young master?"

"Yes!" Valentine cried.

"Yes, please." Elizabeth corrected, smiling.

~

"Well, my dear, what do you say? Shall we lease it?" It was well into the afternoon by the time they trundled home in the carriage, the top folded back in the sunshine. Valentine slept on George's knee, exhausted by his explorations. Ursula was still wide awake, however, which likely meant she would sleep all night, blessedly.

"Yes. We should have done so already, really. I know you have only refrained for my sake. You have had interest, have you not?"

"Some. But you must approve the tenant, of course." She smiled gratefully at him, wrapping her shawl a little more around Ursula. A cool breeze was beginning to blow in. "And if there is anything you want from the house before we allow anyone to move in..."

"Nothing much. I took most everything of mine when I married Francis. We have no need of the furniture. I should like my great aunt's portrait."

"Of course, we will find a proper place for her."

"And - it is a silly thing, really - a little statue of a milkmaid. I don't know where my father got it, but I remember Morwenna was always fascinated with it as a girl. I thought she might like it - or perhaps as a present for her baby, when it arrives. Something for when it is older." Her young cousin was very shortly expecting her first child, and she and her husband, Drake, had taken one of the houses on the estate, a pleasant little two storey cottage near the woods.

"I'm sure she would like that very much." They say in comfortable silence for a while before George continued. "Are you pleased that you came back?"

"Yes. It was nice to see Mrs Barron again. I should have visited her more often."

"And the house?" Trust George to cut to the heart of the matter. Elizabeth sighed softly.

"It is sad to see it so empty now, but I have been gone for a long time. In truth, I could not feel the same way about it after my father died. I do not think I ever yearned for it after I left, not even when things were....difficult at Trenwith." She, held her daughter closer, looked at her sleeping son, then met George's gaze and smiled. "But I am very glad I went back, but it proved to me that while it may be my house now, it is longer my home."

[gracevilliers]

Heart2Heart || Grace & Alia

Grace was finally able to breathe. Tuah and Iann had gone. The shapeshifter had gone. It was just the two of them. Grace had even sent the staff home early for the evening just so they could have their space. She stepped up to the sink. Alia, her tall and slender form was standing before it doing some cleaning up. The light of the setting sun bathed and surrounded her like an angel from a dream. Grace leaned forwards, resting her forehead between Alia's shoulder blades, her movements soft, gentle, somewhat hesitant. She wrapped her arms around her waist loosely, taking a breath. "Leave it," she whispered. "We'll get the rest of it tomorrow."

Alia was washing the last of the dishes, humming and swaying to the music that played in the background as Grace busied herself with the rest of the cleanup. “Hmm,” she sighed, a smile tugging at her lips at the feel of familiar arms around her waist and a forehead between her shoulder blades. Grace’s suggestion was a welcome one: she was tired after the evening’s shenanigans, and wouldn’t mind picking up on dishwashing tomorrow. Drying her hands with the towel next to the sink, she turned in Grace’s arms, damp hands coming to rest on Grace’s shoulders. “Tired?”

Grace nodded. "In a sense." It had been a long day. Having company wasn't foreign, but this hadn't exactly been what Grace had in mind when she had thought their dinner would be awkward. "I suppose we should think carefully before our next lunch party," she snickered tiredly. Although her body was tense, she noticably relaxed with Alia's arms around her shoulders. "Are you alright?"

Alia laughed. “We will just have to tell our guests they are not allowed to leave the room under any circumstances. I am sure once we explain about doppelgängers, they will be more than amenable to our terms.” She absently played with the hairs at the nape of Grace’s neck, enjoying the way her girlfriend relaxed into her touch. “Yes, I am all right. I suppose it is good to know that as much as I care for Iann and he cares for me, he does not actually want to kiss me. And I am glad that was not you who was saying all those presumptuous things.” She looked at Grace carefully. “Are you all right?”

Grace melted into Alia's touch. She felt silly for her reactions earlier, and yet who could blame her under the circumstances? She tugged on Alia's waist to draw her closer to her, leaning into Alia's shoulder. "I'm glad Iann and you don't want to kiss each other," she sighed. "I was angry that he kissed you the way he did, but even before that... I was jealous."

Alia followed Grace’s movements, allowing the vampire to draw her in. She liked the way they fit together so easily, the way Grace’s head came to rest naturally on her shoulder, and she ran a hand up and down her spine soothingly. “I do not share well,” she informed Grace, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple. “And I only want to kiss you.” Being kissed so suddenly by someone so unexpected was… odd, to say the least. “You were jealous? Why?” She pulled back so she could look at Grace, frowning slightly. “Is this about the ‘babe’ thing? That was a joke. A poor joke, perhaps, but…” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Iann and I tend to egg each other on with silly things like that.”

Grace was doing her best to be more honest these days. She had been too isolated for too long, and continuing to keep her feelings and emotions to herself had almost cost her Alia once before. She exhaled, frowning slightly at the thought of such things happening again. It turned out they were both mushy idiots with one another. "I don't have much experience with having someone worth losing," she finally admitted. "I suppose it frightens me sometimes."

Alia blinked. Grace had this way of saying these simple things that somehow managed to completely disarm her, and this was one of those times. “Do you think you will lose me?” she asked quietly. Her words weren’t intended as a judgment, but rather came from trying to understand where Grace was coming from. “Because I hate to tell you this, but I think you are stuck with me for the foreseeable future.” She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Grace’s. “I like you, Grace. I like you a lot.”

Grace didn't know how to answer. The logical answer was no, she didn't think Alia was going to leave her, but some irritating voice at the back of her mind wouldn't stop pestering her at the worst possible times. "I have known many women, and men, and people who are somewhere in between, and none of them are here any more." And yet Alia's words were so sincere. Just like her heart. "But I believe you, my darling. I want you. I like you."

“If they left you of their own free will,” Alia started, brow furrowing in a slight frown, “then it is their loss and my gain.” Alia had had her fair share of relationships that had gone south after the initial honeymoon period, and others that had lasted a little longer but had ended up fizzling out. She supposed that was unavoidable, but she wanted to think it was different with Grace. Certainly, Grace was different. “It is difficult to talk about the future, because who can say what will happen? But you have nothing to be jealous about, not when it comes to me.”

Grace knit her brows together, reaching up to kiss Alia's lips gently. "Often I left them." Her fingers snaked through Alia's hair, brushing it behind her ear. "But this is the first time in a long time I haven't wanted to leave."

Alia raised an eyebrow. “Then it sounds like I am the one who should be worried,” she told Grace, though she was smiling. She closed her eyes at gentle fingers running through her hair, humming contentedly. “I am glad you do not want to leave. I would be quite upset with you if you did.”

Grace gave a soft chuckle, threating her fingers through Alia's and bringing them to her lips to kiss her knuckles softly. "You have nothing to worry about. It's different with us. It's something new that I can't explain. It has been a long time since I've loved someone."

The words didn’t register at first - tacked on as they were to the end of that sentence - but when they did, Alia paused. “Oh,” she said. And then, with more emphasis: “Oh.” Yet another pause. “Okay.” She leaned forward to press a kiss to Grace’s lips, and when she pulled back, she added, “I have been told I am very lovable.” She grinned, kissing Grace again. “I love you too, by the way. But I am still keeping my apartment in Vinegar Tom.”

Grace had stated her feelings simply and plainly. She knew if she got too caught up in it then she would never say anything. She sighed, nestling against Alia as she kissed her, shaking her head. "You're ridiculous," she murmured affectionately against her girlfriend's lips, furrowing her brow. "You know I don't like it over there. Vinegar Tom smells like salt water and oil."

Alia grinned. “But you love me anyway,” she repeated, and then laughed. How was she not supposed to feel light and cheery when her girlfriend had just told her she loved her for the first time? “You do not have to come over. I am sure my apartment does not like you either,” she assured Grace.

Grace smirked. "Shockingly, with all your terrible taste. But yes." She kissed her softly, hugging her a little closer before straightening up again. "Come on. Let's take a hot bath and curl up on the sofa."

[carmineclock]

> Once upon like a lifetime ago

Scratch 11/11/2018

And so a hush descends upon the city. A shared humbling sending all the dogs - and cats, back home to lick their wounds. You should feel glad for the quiet, it might mean you can finally get some sleep. But despite the wave of temporary peace, you feel unsettled. Theres something in the air. The smell of change, and you dont like it. Its partially your fault, of course. You should have crushed this particular seed of hate a long time ago. At first it seemed like the playings at a relationship, so you'd written it off. But things have progressed far beyond what you expected. How petty do you have to be to hold a grudge for so long. Ahem. Anyway, you have been preparing for the night with your favorite bow tie. The whole Nepeta, Fin, Trace 'thing' has been so volatile you'd really not wanted to go near it with a ten foot pole. As long as they did as their job. But now. You're pissed. A message was sent out to the three regarding Nepeta, inviting them into your office for a discussion. Despite your earlier invitations, this was more like a summons. So you set about preparing the tea, a glass for each of them, three chairs set meticulously in front of your desk for a nice friendly conversation. As an afterthought, you leave the door ajar, a little test to set the mood. That done, you wait.

Trace 11/11/2018

The summon was to be expected. Yet, you really hoped it would be long in coming. But no such luck. Well, fortunately a wheelchair seems to exist. That makes things much easier, even if the stairs are still... a challenge. But you all manage somehow and eventually you get Nepeta down to Scratch's office, where you just quietly push her inside.

Nepeta 11/11/2018

You had been expecting it too, yes. Or to put it more accurately: dreading it. Of course Scratch would eventually talk to you personally about this, you are not stupid. You are aware you only got off the hook so easily last time because of Snowman. Seems that you luck is running out. You are visibly nervous and uncomfortable on the way to his office, seeking out the hand of one your sharks at all times. But eventually you do reach the office and you are not foolish enough to face Scratch while holding hands like a silly little girls. You gulp and try to steel yourself for what's to come. Not like you have much of a choice.

Fin 11/11/2018

The first thing in your head is “i shouldn’t be here” and you really shouldn’t , for once you did nothing wrong but you are sort of worried about Nepeta and Trace because of course he will be worried about her so it’s a chain of people being worried for each other. ”It’s going to be fine, he will probably bark to you for the Droog shit, demand you to stop and be done with it” you shrug trying to diminish the importance of whatever will happen behind those doors. “I already got a bottle of wine waiting for us in the room after this if shit goes bad” You sigh loudly before stepping into the office.

Scratch 11/11/2018

You are sitting at your desk as they walk in, doing your best to look as calm and welcoming as possible. Tonight isnt just about punishment, its about improvement. Kicking someone while they're down rarely motivates, its about reshaping. Its what you'd hoped would happen under Snowman's tutelage. Not to say she did poorly, of course. She did her best. This is solely in the hands of the young troll, the potential she has that hopefully hasnt been thrown away. "Please, sit. You may move aside the chairs." For Nepetas wheelchair. As amusing a spectacle it would be to see Trace lift her and put her into the chair, or for Fin to try, better to just leave well enough alone. "I'm sure you know why you're here. Lets try not to draw this out with unnecessary drama, if it can be helped.  Who would like to start."

Trace 11/11/2018

As soon as he gives permission, you go to work and move some of the chairs aside so you can push Nepeta inbetween them. "Start with what exactly?" you ask as you take a seat yourself.  "How Droog can't leave his dirty fingers off her? First he kidnaps her for petty reasons, which - mind you - are mostly me, then back at the festival he can't help provoke her until someone finally makes him shut up, and not this." You gesture vaguely at Nepeta and the wheelchair. "A vicious backstabbing in a moment of mutual hardship and asssistance. He had a chance to end this and very much refused." Yeah, Nepeta can definitely speak for herself, but you know she's just as anxious about this as you, if not more. Plus, if Doc gets mad at anyone for talking back, you'd rather that one be yourself. "I know you're trying to tell us this needs to stop, but the thing is she never started any of this. So the question should rather be how you intend to keep this sadistic bastard away from us." Despite your words, your voice is fairly calm. Not much need to fake there, either, since the events have left you fairly tired and exhausted.

Nepeta 11/11/2018

It's a good thing that Trace is talking. You are not sure if you could, words were never your biggest talent. Where he has his way with them you usually prefer action... Which is exactly why you are here isn't it? You almost want to stop him, you raise your hand and open your mouth even, but nothing comes out. What do you even have to say? You just want this meeting to be over. "I'm...I'm sorry for all the trouble I have caused, Sir." It's not much. Your voice is far too quiet to really belong to you. You feel like a kid facing their mad parent, and in a way you are. Trace might be able to talk to Scratch like this but you? You are terrified of him.  And you know did wrong.

Fin 11/11/2018

You take a seat and cross your arms over your chest, your entire body is in a position of bitch i will fight everything you say so you rather leave the talk to Trace, he is the one with the big words in this relationship. “Yeah because knowing that leech he won’t stop sucking until she’s dead” you add. “and it’s not fair we have to stand here and watch.”

Scratch 11/11/2018

You listen quietly as each takes their turn to speak, studying them as you sip your tea. Always so defensive right away. You havent accused them of anything yet. "To start off with, check your tone, Three." You shoot him an icy look. " I havent told you anything yet. In fact I would say I've been almost lenient in regards to this quarrel you have. All three of you. I've stayed well and truly out of the way because it was absolutely going to end up a mess. And here we are. Let me ask. Is there a good reason to kidnap? You cant justify amoral things based on your own code of ethics and expect others to adhere to them. So thats how it started. Nepeta was made his victim and you blamed yourself so you got involved. I assume Five was made to be involved just for being connected to her. The question isnt, actually, how am I going to keep him away. Because the answer to it is too simple. I cant. I may be  a man of many talents, but Diamonds is outside my realm of influence. The question, similarly, is not what do I now do with a troublemakers and their grudges. The question that needs to be asked is actually, why did it ever get this far. Ah, see, now theres a far more interesting answer, dont you think?"

Trace 11/11/2018

"Why don't we invite him over so he can tell you? I thought I already explained as much. He's not letting off despite several warnings, and unfortunately the Crew's second-in-command isn't killed that easily, so here we are." You give Fin. Such. A look. What happened of acting like we're not out for blood. You sigh. "Fin is right. This isn't fair."

November 12, 2018

Nepeta 11/12/2018

It's funny, you aren't usually timid by any stretch of the imagination. But right now? Facing Scratch? You are not the fierce predator you want to be. You are reduced to nothing but a scared kitten under his cold stare. The fact that you are vulnerable physically and mentally right doesn't help one bit of course. Fin and Trace are so much louder than you but you do mumble an answer. "I..I lost my temper last time, sir. It won't happen again." The fact that you are apologizing despite the fact that you were already harshly punished by the loss of your legs doesn't even occur to you. You are just scared to get kicked out or worse.

Fin 11/12/2018

Trace’s look reminds of you the plan yourself set for the two. Damn. Well you can’t take those words back now, at least try to act like it’s not a big deal that you really think ain’t fair but you won’t do anything about it, so you look back at him and shrug then lean back on your table and nod at Nepeta's words. You really don't have much to add.

Scratch 11/12/2018

"I forget when the world was ever fair. I didnt realize we dealt in justice and fairness. Is it fair that a perfectly good warrior wastes her formative years on hate when she is brimming with potential? Is it fair that Diamonds started it and now  wont finish it, preferring to play with the shattered pieces of what remains?" The sentence ends sharply,with more heat than you wanted. You sense yourself getting worked up and ease it back a bit. "No, its not. And as much as it hurts, life goes on." You're speaking more directly to Nepeta now, though you're still facing Trace. "You've made your cases. I want a word alone with Ms. Leijon."

Trace 11/12/2018

You grimace some at his response. While it is nice and somewhat rare to hear a compliment like that from him, especially for your beloved girlfriend, it's.. kinda bittersweet, considering the situation. There's more things you want to say, more questions you got for him, especially about what options there are for her now. What plans he got, if any. But you realize these are things you may be able to ask either of them afterwards, so you nod quietly and raise from your seat. You give Nepeta a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder in passing, then leave the room, where you will wait right next to the door.

Nepeta 11/12/2018

Was that...A compliment? You certainly did not expect that at all. Scolding, a punishment, getting thrown on the streets, sure, but a compliment? You don't exactly know what to make of it. You gulp when he asks Fin and Trace to leave. You really don't want to be alone with Scratch, but it's not like you have a choices. Trace's gestures is appreciated but can't exactly ease the anxiety you are dealing with now.

Fin 11/12/2018

Really was that all?. This makes you even more worried for whatever he gotta tell her in private, was he just trying not to make it look like a big deal and will lash out to her when you two are gone or are you just being dramatic as always. You sigh and get up  but before you go you give a quick smooch to Nepeta’s cheek and a pat in the head then leave the room to join Trace outside. Time for the bouncy leg show as you wait.

Scratch 11/13/2018

The prey have gone, leaving only the preditors remaining. So you'd like to think, anyway. Once youre alone, the door closing sharply behind them, you stand. A slow movement, non aggresssive. Despite your distaste for cats, you know their behaviors. You move around your desk and take a seat in a vacated chair across from her. Eye level, face to face. "May I be frank, Ms. Leijon. I dont want this to come off as just another scolding. You've exceeded all expectations, and with the right guidence you could become something fierce. Thats what I wanted for you when Madam Snowman took you under her wing. And it makes me wonder why someone like you would want to waste so much energy on a grudge. Its clear you realize what you're doing is wrong, so why cant you move on. How much more are you going to let this revenge war take from you?" Its a genuine question. You hope your words come across as somewhat genuine. How you must look in her eyes to make her cower so.

Nepeta 11/13/2018

You don't think you've ever gotten this close to Scratch. It's a weird feeling, to have his attention all on you. Despite being a cat you feel more like a mouse. Trapped. At the mercy of a far bigger predator. It's funny, physically there's no question that you are stronger than him, perhaps even in your current state. Mentally though? And that's the kind of game you are playing here. With Scratch it always is, isn't it? You don't quite trust his words. You are used to far harsher words, not just from him. But to be told you have potential? That you are useful? You want to believe that's sincere. In a way you have to. It's hard to look him in the eyes though. "I know... I know this can't go on. I know this can't keep on escalating or it will destroy us..Me and Fin and Trace. I know that." You do. You had plenty of time to think about it in the past days. "But he wronged me. He hurt me, he used me to hurt them. And the he mocked me for my anger. Tried to play it off as some cute little game we play, tried to push me into some weird black situation." It's hard to hide your anger when you talk about him. Your face twists into and ugly scowl and your anxiety is almost forgotten. "I know it was wrong. I just wanted.. No I needed to show him that I'm not just his toy. I'm not going to play his shitty games anymore. I'm not going to just let him get away with it. I can't do that. I can't let him."

Scratch 11/13/2018

You listen in silence until she finishes. So much pain in her voice for someone so young. Diamonds is as much to blame as Nepeta is, of course. Such a waste of time and effort on a silly game. "I know. He wronged you, and the humiliation you felt being helpless at his hands was something you never want to feel again. And you tried to show him, and maybe sometimes you did, but he eggs you on. And you eat up his every words because your hate is blinding you. Of course you hate him. But let that push you to be better. Smarter. Look at your enemy and study their weaknesses. Look at your own limitations and strengths openly. Are you as strong as Diamonds now? No. But one day could you be?" You sit back in your chair, relaxed posture. Let her have a think on that. "As far as Droog is concerned, you are his toy. Because every little provokation gets a response. Something to stir the pot with. Is it fair that your honest emotion is used against you? No. But we learn. We grow. Every time you let that anger get the better of you,you give Droog everything he wants."

Nepeta 11/13/2018

That...all actually makes perfect sense. It's something to think about indeed. It's obvious you are doing just that by the way you  knit your brows and chew on your lips. "You are right Sir. And I've been trying. I've been trying so damn hard to ignore him. Even when I met him at the festival, I tried to keep it low but then...He just had to show off his damn trophies.  And I just lost it. I just..." You make a frustrated sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. "I want him dead. I want to be the one who ends him. That's my end goal, not...Not what has been happening lately. I know it's not the time to kill him yet. That's why I didn't, even when I could have. " You sigh. "I know I have to work on this. Channel my anger into something more useful. For myself, for them.  It's been... It's been hard."

Scratch 11/13/2018

You're getting there. Slowly, you're unraveling this complicated web of emotion and hate, and laying it before you in neat, workable strands. Its been a while since you deigned to work one on one with someone, after the whole Itchy thing you'd been working on for years went up in smoke. It was always going to be volatile at best. "I do understand, you know. How hard it is. Learning to adapt in any environment can be difficult, but trying to adjust yourself in the midst of those two acting like you're infallable and that nothing is wrong. Getting contrasting validation  for emotions you think you have no control over. And you're right. Nepeta, you cant control your emotions." Its a lesson you try to teach all your children. Not that she has suddenly joined those ranks, of course, but its worth her knowing. "You cant control your emotions, that is why they are emotions. They happen naturally, without warning or apology. You cant ignore Droog because to do so is to tell yourself that your emotions arent there, and we must never do that. We have to take agency over what we can control, which is our reaction to our emotions. Be honest with yourself. Accept that these emotions are there, and that you know theyre strong, and that they hurt, but that you can move forward even with the pain. Tell your heart that your brain hears and understands whats its going through."

You put a hand to your chest, where your heart would be, and sigh quietly. You cant bear to see youth wasted, thats the whole reason for this in the first place. Its why you take in kids and reshape them. They end up lost, otherwise. Like Nepeta. Hopefully its not too late for her. "Learn to control your reactions to your emotions, while still accepting theyre there and so powerful. Its okay to get angry, but if you let the anger consume you, you lose yourself. It becomes all you are, all you ever will be,  and I speak personally when I say that is not something I want to happen. More importantly, though, nothing will stick it to Droog more than seeing his 'little toy' stay cool under his pressures for an explosion."

Nepeta 11/13/2018

He just has to keep making sense doesn't he? You listen to everything he says, the feeling of guilt clearly written on your face. He's right and you know it. You feel ashamed that you have to be told all of this but he is right. It takes a you a moment to reply. "I will... I will work on it, sir. " You don't quite want to admit out loud to Scratch that you think he is right abut Fin and Trace's role in this too. It's true, you have been fueling each others rage instead of calming each other down. That's not what Moirails are supposed to do and it just now starts to dawn on you. "I can't let Droog ruin us like that, I know that. He doesn't deserve that privilege. And in time... We will get our revenge. Good things come those who wait yes? " You hope that is what he wants to hear. Both because you suddenly feel like you care much more about his opinion and because you want to avoid possible punishment. You won't ever not want Droog dead but you know the Felt are going to be the winning team in this war. You have to believe that after all. The alternative isn't something you even want to spend a thought on.

Scratch 11/13/2018

She has the right idea, anyway. All of this emotional nonsense only matters if the person involved is willing to put in the effort to change. Its not enough to just know what you have to do, its having the strength and willpower go through with it. No matter how difficult. Now if you were her teacher...well, it depends on the pupil as well. Some just refuse to be taught. "And while we're waiting, we can plan. I know what you must think of me, Ms. Leijon. I dont make myself very easy to like, and I apologize if my men gave you the wrong idea about me. I am here to support the Felt, which you are very much a part of. I want you to be the best you can be, and I know how to help you become that. If you'll allow me, I can start you down the path that will lead to your future. And if you decide that future holds a Diamonds-based revenge, then so be it." You put up a hand at the end of your sentence, a little sharply, but mostly for effect. You want her to take her time with this one. "Don't give me your answer now. Consider everything I've said. Consider how you are right now, and what you want to be in the future. If you cant picture it, ask yourself why. Take the next few days to really think about my proposition. I may not be able to offer you everything you want, but I can give you anything you need. If you dont want my help, you have to find a way to show me you're serious about becoming a better version of yourself."

This is the turning point. You've set the line out after successfully detangling the scenario. At this point you're almost more mad at Trace and Fin for their roles in this. A girl is traumatized by a kidnapping to the point she has to spend her life on payback to cope with the pain and fear she felt, and these two idiots are sitting there encouraging her instead of trying to calm her rage. "Until you have an answer, you're temporarily shelved. You may continue to live in the mansion because my philosophy is to generally take pity on the differently abled,plus you match the carpets, but I wont have you going out into the field where your actions represent and threaten my entire business. I will not continue waste any more medical equipment or personnel, or time on this. No flashy punishments, just a cut off. I'd say your own actions have punished you far more than I ever could. And if you do manage to find a way to fix whats been done, consider it a gift not to be wasted."

Nepeta 11/13/2018

You open your mouth to protest the whole shelving thing but...You can't really protest that at all can you? He's right about everything. You are useless right now in any event, so it's not even a big difference. But your need to be useful is just so damn high it barely slips anyways. You swallow the protests down and answer. "Yes, sir. I have...I have a lot to think about." Mostly about what you think of Scratch and your relationship with Fin and Trace. You never expected to get out of this talk with some sort of? Respect? For Scratch budding in your mind. Or that you would begin to question how stable your pale relationship is. It really is quite a lot to process.

Scratch 11/13/2018

Good. You hope she will think about it, and not let the opinions of those around her sway her choices. This all could have gone far worse, so you're glad for that. Maybe she'll listen. Maybe she wont. But the offer has been handed across the table, nothing left to do but wait. "Yes, you do. Now, as far as those two are concerned, you may tell them as little or as much as you wish to. Just make sure whatever you bring to me as your answer is because of your choices, not theirs." That said, you pat her twice on the head, smile, and stand. Back around the desk you go, taking your seat for the continuation of the trial. "Alright, gentleman, you can come back in." You call to your door, knowing full well that theyve been standing outside the entire time. With ears pressed to the wall, no doubt.

Trace 11/13/2018

You didn't listen in, at least not on purpose, and they've talked fairly quiet most of the time (which is as much unsettling as it is relieving). But you trust Nepeta to tell you all that is important. (Though, you also know well Scratch can play with someone's mind and you worry about all the subtle things he may try put into her head.) Anyway, you give Fin a nod and open the door again and walk up to right behind Nepeta, eyes on Doc. "Anything else?"

November 14, 2018

Fin 11/14/2018

You would usually be the kind to even bring the glass to not miss a word but not right now. You figured that Nepeta would bitch all about it later and the sound of your bouncy leg on the floor was enough to keep you entertained for the time beings. You go in and stand next to Nepeta hand on her shoulder.  Somehow it feels strange that the air is not filled with either fear or anger or any of the sort. Makes you regret not to have listened with more attention.

Scratch 11/14/2018

"Nepeta has been shelved. Until such a time as previously discussed between us, she will not partake in any field work. Along with that, until then, I am barring her from Felt resources in regards to any future problems with Droog or otherwise. And let me just say this plainly, as I'm sure you and I will be speaking privately soon, Trace. Shame on you. Shame on both of you. Choosing to care about your own emotions over whats best for you partner. And if you didnt know, or chose not to realize, then you're idiots. Dissmissed, all of you."