#if only they hadn't flattened her character

[lagosbratzdoll]

thinking thoughts

I have quite a few thoughts about Alicent Hightower, both the book and show versions of her character. Her actions remind me of the hyper-religious women in my own life, and while I sympathize with her somewhat in the show, I find her character cruel and callous. In the book, however, I respected her agency and choices, even if she annoyed me at times.

That being said, my main issues with the House of the Dragon show are the mistreatment of Laena, Leanor and Alicent's indecisiveness and lack of backbone. Rhaenyra's accusation that Alicent had been hiding behind her righteousness was spot-on. I'm sorry that Aemond lost his eye, but I do not think that the appropriate response will ever be knowingly removing the eye of a six-year-old boy. 

Alicent declares war against Rhaenyra because she believes she didn't tell her the whole truth about the pleasure house incident with Daemon. I wonder why she'd think she's entitled to anything from Rhaenyra, much less the truth.  She broke her trust and they are barely friends. While we know that Otto pressured her into going into Viserys' room, Rhaenyra does not, and in her mind, her best friend married her father only six months after her mother's death. Rather than trying to understand where Rhaenyra is coming from, Alicent breaks her trust once more and declares war.

Alicent ignores the violence her older son inflicts on his younger siblings, and she marries her 13-year-old daughter to her own violent rapist son.  Additionally, Alicent emotionally abuses her stepdaughter/friend for no apparent reason and aligns herself with an incel/murderer/oathbreaker, a kin slayer and a rapist despite going on and on about Rhaenyra's lack of morals. She knowingly crowns her violent rapist son, who she'd told was no son of hers, literally one episode ago.

[surgepricing]

I think about Azula shooters often and their common refrain of "if Azula hadn't had a mental breakdown, she would've won" and I'm here to tell you that no, she wouldn't have.

There is no universe in which Azula was winning that fight with Zuko (or Katara, for that matter).

Azula spent so much of Book 2 being built up as this deadly terrifying force against whom the heroes are badly outmatched that it can be difficult to catch exactly how quickly Zuko is advancing.

Back up a bit to Book One. For the fearsome exiled crown prince of the Fire Nation, Zuko's not that impressive a firebender. He's not bad by any stretch, and he's able to lay the untrained Sokka and Katara flat pretty easily. Then he gets in the ring with Aang, who is an airbending master, and the difference between a regular bender and a master becomes apparent when Aang literally puts his ass to bed:

People have attributed this to the fact that no one's fought an airbender in 100 years, but I think it's also worth noting that Aang (a 12 year old from a pacifist nation) has probably never fought anyone before. Like, ever. And yet the second Aang thinks "okay, I'll attack back", the fight's over.

Zuko's got the same genetic predisposition for firebending talent that Azula does, yet it never seems to manifest because of his mental blocks. At the beginning of the series, he's already so beat down that all he really has is conviction, pride, and anger, so even with training from Iroh (the firebending master, thank you very much), he struggles. Yet throughout Book 2, when he has no time to train because he's on the run, he actually seems to advance faster. The fact that his bending is literally tied to his character arc (as his morals become tangled and he has to fight off aforementioned mental blocks) is pretty brilliant. Like, by the time of the Crossroads of Destiny, Zuko getting his ass handed to him by Aang is a pretty consistent feature of the show--he just can't match wits with him.

Hell, at the beginning of the series, he and Iroh (again: the actual firebending master) launch a combined power surface-to-air attack...which Aang casually swats away into a nearby ice wall. Come the Crossroads of Destiny, however, and Zuko by himself launches this bigass fireball that blows through Aang's defenses.

Zuko advances so quickly that it's scary. That prodigious talent is in him even if it doesn't come through as cleanly as with Azula. Who, by the way, was busy about to get flattened by Katara some few dozen feet away, until Zuko took over and then effectively stalemated her himself.

All of this in retrospect makes it abundantly clear why Zuko's firebending seemed to skyrocket so much when he learned true firebending from the Sun Warriors: it was really the only thing left. He's hard a hard road learning how to fight waterbenders, earthbenders, and airbenders, and even if unconsciously, he's applying the philosophy Iroh taught him about augmenting his bending style with aspects of other styles (see also, the waterbending-like fire whips he uses in the above gif). Once he actually understands fire and how it works, he's got it mastered. Hence why any gap between him and Azula effectively disappears as soon as their next fight--before her friends have betrayed her and her stability goes out the window. There's no real sense of urgency to their fight at the Boiling Rock prison. True, Sokka's presence with the sword helps, but Zuko doesn't look remotely worried and he counters Azula's every attack perfectly.

All her life, Azula only ever learned fire. She was taught by the best people the fire nation can employ, so she knows all the cool tricks, but she's still poisoned by the corrupted firebending practiced in the modern ATLA timeline. Unlike Zuko, who managed to get the basics if nothing else from Iroh (fire comes from the breath, and can be used to survive as much as to kill), Azula has always used fire as a weapon and a means to hurt others. She has no true knowledge of the craft, meaning she's got the same weaknesses as Zhao, she's just better disciplined to the point she can make up for it.

Zuko's victory was a given considering Azula's complete loss of control by the time of Sozin's comet, but even had she been in a perfect mental state, she'd have lost, because in many ways Zuko is simply the better firebender.

And that's the truth of it.

[wxstros]

dream a little dream of me - aegon & aemond targaryen

summary: There were many things you regretted doing; drinking milk on a hot day, letting your dickwad of a boyfriend lie to your face... and creating a dr after reading a dark romance and subconsciously modelling traits after morally grey men; because unlike Wanda Maximoff, they followed you to the real world.

warnings: morally grey characters. dark themes. typical targc*st. jace was supposed to be the love interest but aha! smut. cursing. oral.

pairings: aemond targaryen x reader, aegon targaryen x reader.

notes: this is probably an prologue or a synopsis or a test chapter one! just had to write it so the plot isn't lost!!

"Dōna mandia.." Aegon whispers, brushing a ghost of a kiss on your own; his breathing was slow, as if savoring your closeness, "let me drink wine from your lips alone." he uttered in a low voice, making a noise from the back of his throat as your lips part, wispy lashes brushing against his cheeks as you trembled beneath his fingers.

"Such a jumpy little thing, aren't you?" Aemond tuts, a hint of a smile on his lips. "We barely touched you and still..." your breath was caught in your throat at the feeling of his kisses on your neck; his arms wounding atightly around your waist, fingers splayed around your stomach.

You could hardly breathe from their seeking, probing touches, let alone move when they pinned you inbetween them. Your throat closed up and you struggled to breathe when Aemond's fingers breached your nightwear, his forefinger brushing against your folds, "Is this for us, dōna mandia? Our sweet sister, dripping... aching to be fucked by her own blood." He mocked, repeating your own words with disdain.

Aegon smirked, cupping your face with a firm grip, "What? That strong bastard not doing it for you? Do you regret choosing him already?" you whimpered as Aemond thrust a finger into you; slipping in with ease from your own wetness. You hated how your body reacts to their proximity, and their damn, filthy words! You were both humiliated and aroused. Ashamed and.. unbelievably turned on. Fuck. Wasn't this ironic? For all your unspoken convictions, when it came down to it, weren't you as weak and pliant in their arms? Your only consolation was weak; this was merely a fantasy. A fantasy. A fanta....

"Fuck!" Your cry was genuine, as you felt Aegon's lips suckling on your pearl; lapping up at your cunt with invigorated will, while Aemond worked in tandem, thrusting in and out of your sloppy cunt.

"Cry out, mandia. Louder. Let the servants hear you!" Aemond coos, nipping at a sensitive spot in your neck. Your breath came out ragged, leaning most of your weight behind Aemond, as his brother lifted your leg to his shoulder, opening you more to his mouth. Your eyes were half lidded from pleasure... a distant ringing echoing in the back of your head... an anxious purr... a clamor and a yelp escaped your parted lips as he flattens his tongue on your core—

You jolted awake, scrambling to turn off your screaming alarm, and cursing altogether. You didn't know wether to thank the alarm rang when it did, or be frustrated from being sexually frustrated. It was merely a dream, of sorts, yet you felt the uncomfortable heat inbetween your legs as if it was real.

Forget about it, you muttered to yourself. You hadn't planned for the plot to go south, when you'd imagined it; it was supposed to be wholesome, and sweet, a sort of fix it for your own relaxation. Something to comfort yourself as the series completely tore down any sort a happy ending for your favorite characters on television.

But as it stands, just like in the series, you had little control over what your characters did; it was as if they have their own free will, and desires independent from what you had thought them as. They could hold conversations properly, engage in witty banter, flirt— you were incredibly baffled when the first hint of attraction had come to light with your so called brothers.

Nevertheless, you chalked it off to circumstances. They were unloved; neglected and lost with the expectations of many before their shoulders. It was natural they would hold on to affection and tenderness without any sort of ill motive; it was human nature to seek love, afterall.

But your designs were clearly intended for Rhaenyra's oldest son... how come, there was a side plot, in the realization of your love story with Jacaerys? Was there some manual, you should have read when constructing a desired reality? You thought it was more on feelings!

Shrugging off the night's exciting festivity, you rose from your bed, and took to the shower as swift as you could. You still had classes to attend, assignments, papers to write... dreaming was a stress relief, so you shouldn't think about it as deeply as you should. You couldn't dwell on it with normal, society accepted, morals. It wasn't real.

And the Targaryen brothers? Fucking easy on the eyes. Who can blame you from deviating from the plot? You would climb them like a tree, surely.

You had to laud the whole casting team for casting such delicious villains. Ewan Mitchell and Tom Glynn-Carney are so gorgeous, you could cry.

You dressed for the day, skipping breakfast, as you were already too late, and leaving your dorms to attend to the real world..

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.6

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

The inside of the embassy looked much like the outside let assume.

Fancy furniture with tasteful vases and decoration, wallpaper-covered walls and paintings hanging on them. A big mirror placed across from the entrance hall caught their attention, seeing themselves in it when entering. Their eyes lingered on their reflection a little longer. They looked like actually belonging there along with the other guests.

Taehyung gently guided her to the direction string music was heard from, following the other attendees inside. As they entered the ball room, she let the blazer fall from her shoulders, returning it to him.

"So, what's the plan?" Cassandra whispered, eyeing everyone around them eagerly as he put it back on. "Eavesdropping on a diplomat? Observing the guests? Keeping track of the security? I counted five guards nearby so far."

He chuckled at how serious she was taking her role, flattening the collar of his shirt. "First, I have to meet the guys. They sneaked in my gun, so I gotta get it from them."

Right, made sense. He couldn't have sneaked it in with the metal detector at the entrance.

"Oh okay, and what am -"

"You'll take your seat at our designated table and wait, okay?" Before she could even revolt, Taehyung tapped his in-ear and pivoted towards the back of the room only to disappear in the sea of well-dressed people.

Cassandra huffed, taking a handful of tulle into her fists before trotting to the direction of the tables at the side. The invitation said she'd be at table 16 and soon she spotted the card with the number. And the place card with her fake name on it.

Ms Cassandra Vasques. A fake research scientist in the medical field.

At least the field of profession wasn't so far off. Probably chosen on purpose by Jimin to minimize the potential of her blowing her cover. A medical researcher was easier than pretending being an international lawyer or engineer.

With disappointment spreading inside her, she took a seat and propped her chin into her palm. As if her insecurities hadn't been enough, now she was left to sit there alone like a loser. Besides, she could swear the old lady in her dark blue dress sitting at the table next to hers was scrunching her nose at her. Great.

Cassandra's arms instinctively folded in front of her in an attempt to cover the décoleté, although she could spot some other ladies with similar deep necklines or daring side-cuts while still managing looking classy.

She dragged a breath when sensing someone approaching her. A waiter from the look of his red vest and the silver tablet he was holding.

"May I take your order?"

"Red wine and.. and any cocktail you have with blue curacao, please." The waiter rose a mildly startled brow but only gave her a bow before leaving again.

If she had to go through this night feeling like a fool she might at least enjoy herself with a cocktail. She rarely got to drink any, so might as well tonight.

The drinks arrived soon and she immediately took a few sips of the deep light blue drink. Contently wiggling her shoulders when tasting the sweet-sour taste.

Unsure if much time passed or she simply drank too quickly, something she tended to unfortunately despite a cocktail's high alcohol percentage, her drink had eventually reached the lower half of the glass.

She felt a light buzz taking over, her mind beginning to float lightly and a sheepish smile plastered over her lips as she observed the people dancing to the string quartet's music in the dimly lit ballroom. Making her head sway to its rhythm, mimicking their movements.

She wasn't drunk, nor really tipsy. She had only begun to loosen up a little when she decided to take another sip before checking her make-up, just in case. The small pocket mirror in her purse coming in handy, she noticed that of course some of the the brownish-red lipstick had faded by now and she attempted to fix it with the lipstick she'd bought, when the reflexion of something black appeared behind her. Her eyes narrowed and in a mindless move, she turned her head and let the lipstick disappear back inside the purse.

Taehyung was standing behind her, having returned and now glancing down at her with a soft grin on his face. His hand stretched out towards her.

She looked at it suspiciously, making him laugh under his breath.

"May I have this dance?"

Cassandra shrugged, not try hiding she was sulky of him abandoning her among strangers. All her social awkwardness she thought she'd left behind in university, resurfacing after all in an unknown environment.

"Sure, but I have no clue how to dance."

Taehyung noticed her sullen mood but decided not to go into it and instead make up for his, admittedly, unpolite behaviour.

"You're lucky I don't mind you stepping on my feet."

Somehow this along with his boyish naive smile managed coaxing out a small laugh from her after all and her expression softened. Usually she wasn't so fast in giving in, but he made it easy.

Eventually, she placed her hand in his bigger one and let his fingers close around it and Taehyung gently pulled her up from her seat. Leading her through the crowd, until they reached the centre of the dancefloor. A clear vision of the band playing on the stage. Along with a clear sight on the French embassandor. Cassandra looked behind her to see what he was looking at and recognised the man. She hadn't attended totally unprepared after all, having looked up photos of him and his wife online, remembering Taehyung's task - which naively enough also in some way felt like hers, too - to keep an eye on the embassandor and warn the others if he attempted to leave and go upstairs.

Another couple bumped into her, not paying attention while dancing and she redirected her focus on Taehyung. He held her hand firmly, his other arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Pulling her closer in the narrow space, to prevent her from bumping into another person. And Cassandra swallowed at the almost non-existent gap between their chests.

"You have something.. there." He gestured to the corner of his lips and she frowned for a moment before realising she must've smudged the lipstick when seeing him behind her. And she cursed under her breath because of course, her clumsiness just never gave her a break.

"Wait, I -" She attempted to let go and get her purse but his thumb was already wiping off the faint smudge and she paused startled. Her eyes blinking rapidly. "T-thanks."

He nodded, his hand going back to holding hers as they began to move among the others.

"I really don't know how to dance, I wasn't joking," she mumbled embarrassed as she felt her feet almost tripping with every move, glancing up at him with an apologetical smile. He only breathed out a chuckle and she felt her skin tingling where his hands were laying on her. 

"Just follow the rhythm." His mellow voice almost drowning in the soft melody around them.

It was so strange. Like a fever-dream. Swaying with him among strangers who were most likely by far more important and wealthy than her. She felt like Cinderella. A poor maid in disguise at the king's ball, dancing with prince charming himself.

And as they kept moving, her body following his eloquent moves, she felt the tingle develop into a burning, spreading on every inch of her skin like wildfire. And she wasn't sure if it was the liquor, opening her blood vessels on its surface, or the warmth of his touch that caused it.

There had always been an attraction simmering under the surface for Taehyung, she couldn't deny that. It'd been there four years ago when she'd first met him and it'd still been there over a year ago when meeting him again.

However, Cassandra had never dared to see him as more than a friend before, knowing it would've been pointless with their vastly different lives.

But moving along his lead under the sparkling lights of the dimlit room in such close proximity along with the palm of his hand leaving her waist to lay flat right at the ribbon on her lower back, made her feel deezy.

Right now, her mind had completely shut down and all she could hear was her beating heart putting her skin on fire and all she could see was his dark irises, getting lost in their depth - along with that damn lonely curl on his forehead.

She was an internist. She knew the neuro-biology behind attraction, inflatuation, sex and even the feeling of love.

Neurotransmitters, hormones, endorphines.

At the end, it all came down to serotonine, dopamine, β-endorphine and noradrenaline.

She also knew, however, that this cocktail of messengers alone would only cause a feeling of happiness, lust and content, no deeper feelings. It was humans themselves putting meanings into them. And right now, Taehyung was causing her neurological system to have a complete meltdown.

His hand slid off from her lower back then and he stepped back, making her spin before stepping in and catching her again. And she held her breath for a moment before giggling, seeing an equal amused glint in his eyes. His hand finding her waist again. "Would've never guessed you'd be such a good dancer," she teased. Her natural response to distract from her flustered face.

He shrugged non-chalantly, spinning her again. Her giggles making him smile while he glanced above people's heads. Spotting the embassandor talking with other guests next to a pillar at the side.

"Picked up some moves at all these sleazy parties we attended."

"Mhm, to dance with all the pretty girls I see.." she grinned.

He only breathed a laugh, his attention back to Cassandra. Sensing her hand gliding from his chest to his back. Briefly brushing over the pistol grip that stuck out from the waistband and pressed onto his lower back under the suit jacket.

A slower song began playing and she leaned her head against his shoulder to rest her - surely alcohol-induced - spinning head. And they began moving slower. His breathing hitching along with their movement.

Her eyes closed then and she let herself take in the feeling of Taehyung holding her in his broad arms like this. Forgetting completely where they were and why. For just a minute, she wanted to be in a bubble of her own instead.

Taehyung smiled to himself, pressing his cheek against her sweet-scented curls.

The bare curve of her back fit perfectly under his fingertips and he wondered if that was even possible or if he just made things up by now. Like the aching in his chest and the cloudiness of his mind at the feeling of Cassandra's delicate body swinging in his arms.

"No, you're the only pretty one so far."

His thoughts mindlessly slipped out of his lips, not meant to actually be said out loud. And the thief realised he had to snap out of whatever this was he was letting himself get lost in.

They were only there as a cover so he could keep an eye out for the job.

And moreover, Cassandra was a friend. A dear friend. One of those friends you didn't need to see every day to know they were there. A friend who, no matter how much time apart, it would always feel like not even a day had passed by since the last time you'd joked with them. No matter how far away, they still cared for you. And you for them.

That was the kind of friend Cassandra was to him. A special one. He knew, after all, that a friendship like this wasn't a given. Especially considering his busy and beyond legal life.

So no, he couldn't allow himself to feel anything beyond that. He couldn't allow himself to dwell or surrender to that looming feeling. Or the way his chest contracted irregularly when sensing her fingers fisting his suit jacket when hearing his words.

Cassandra's heart skipped a beat at his warm breath brushing over her ear and she swallowed. She wanted to believe she knew him well enough to know he'd never say something ingenuine, he wasn't the type to wrap others around his finger just for fun.

"Glad my dress is 'fitting' enough," she quietly joked, reciting his previous choice of words to ease the sudden tension between them. His chest vibrating against her cheek.

"Mh, green is my favourite colour."

Her eyes fluttered open at this and she slightly heaved her head to look at him.

"You're lucky, then," she smirked, "If it was available in blue or red, I'd have chosen them instead."

"Huh." His lips shaped a small grin. "Are these your favourite colours? Blue and red?"

"Mhm, and their pastel shades."

He nodded, licking over his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, I can see that. Emeralds, sapphires, rubies.."

She faked offence with a pout then to keep herself from blushing. "No diamonds?"

For a moment, he simply stared at her dark-frame eyes, mesmerized and perhaps a bit bewitched by their intenser look that night. "Diamonds are awfully common, they wouldn't suit you," he said matter-of-factly as they danced in a circle. The song changing into a more up-beat one. "They just became popular thanks to good PR."

Her lips formed a small 'o'. "Really? I didn't know that." Intentionally dismissing the subtle compliment between his words - unsure if she could handle herself otherwise - she was surprised by this information, seeing him nod.

She hummed then, looking away for a second before giving him an amused smile.

"Wow, what good promo can do. So no diamonds then.. good thing I was never a big fan of them anyway."

His brows rose, not having expected that as most people were, thanks to aforementioned advertisement.

"No?"

"No, though there's one exception.."

Now he was intrigued. "And what would that be?"

Her lips curled and she bit back a cheeky grin. "I wouldn't say no to a pink diamond like the Pink Panther."

At this Taehyung couldn't help but burst out laughing with a chesty sound. Of course she'd be referring to a classic heist film, he thought. His head falling back before he tried containing himself as a few people around them already glanced in utter bewilderment at his sudden amusement.

Flashing her a square grin then, still chuckling. "A pink diamond would suit you indeed."

Cassandra smiled contently and placed her head back onto his shoulder. Feeling her cheeks warm. "Thank you."

His glance left her then and instead wandered up, looking around in the sea of important people and to the direction of his main person of interest. Only to freeze, coming to an abrupt halt.

The embassandor was gone from his spot and nowhere to be seen.

Dammit, he wasn't able to spot him.

Cassandra frowned, mirrowing his expression. "What h-"

"Come," he said in a stern tone and tugged at her hand. Rushing out of the crowd. "I lost sight of him," he explained over his shoulder when reaching the spot he had last seen him at.

Her eyes widening in mild panic as well, now also frantically looking around.

With quick steps, he held her close to him as they left the ball room. His eyes intense and it worried her, the last time she'd seen that expression on them was when they'd been chased through Barcelona half a year ago.

He scanned their surroundings, his eyes seemingly a shade darker and he tapped his in-ear transmitter then. "Guys? Stay alert, I lost sight of him."

"What?" Jimin's raised voice was heard from the other line. "How? Weren't you paying attention?"

"I-" He briefly peeked at Cassandra. Feeling disappointed in himself for acting like a noob and letting himself get distracted. "I shortly lost focus," he eventually muttered.

"Yeah, can imagine with what," his friend chuckled then and he felt his cheeks turning red.

"We're almost done," Yoongi spoke up then, "Just make sure he isn't entering his office in the next ten minutes."

"Got it."

According to the blueprint, the office was in the second floor, at the end of the left corridor. Right there where Jimin and Yoongi were located at right now.

He took a last glance into the ball room, ensuring he hadn't missed him.

"Can you see him?"

Cassandra shook her head. "No, but I can see his wife. Wait."

Before Taehyung even realised she had left his side, she was already walking up to the embassandor's wife, a blond woman in her forties in a deep lavender-coloured dress currently holding a martini while chatting with another woman. Only when he saw her green dress flowing a few metres away from him, he realised what she was planning to do. His eyes widening, about to run after her and hold her back when the blonde turned and smiled at Cassandra. The three women began to chat away for a moment. Cassandra giggling at something the brunette woman in the blue dress said, bowing at her before walking back to him.

Already spotting Taehyung's inquiring look. "What did you-"

"Her husband apparently lost his cufflink and went to replace it with another pair in his office. He's supposed to deliver a speech in fifteen minutes and didn't want to do it without it."

"How did-"

She shrugged, cutting him off. "I just introduced myself with the fake name and explained my work in the medical field. The other woman was the leader of a women's health organisation, I recognised her. So it was easy to strike a conversation. Then I casually wondered where the gala's host was and she told me."

His lips parted, taken aback by how smoothly she obtained the information, almost reminding him of the other smooth-talker he knew, Jimin. However, something else caught his attention then.

"Office you said?"

She nodded.

Fck.

He slid off his suit jacket, wrapping it around her shoulder. "Wait outside for me, okay?"

"Wh-why? Where are you going?"

"Saving their asses."

And with that he ran off, leaving her back. Again. If she didn't know better she'd have thought he was Cinderella and it was close to midnight.

Holding his blazer tightly, Cassandra went back to the ball room, passing by the dancing crowd and towards their table where she picked up her purse before making her way out of the stuffy atmosphere. Past the foyer with the big mirror which she intentionally ignored and exiting the building, the cool night air hitting her heated skin.

- Heated from the drinks and the heat from so many people in the room of course.

At least there were also other guests lingering around there. Some only now arriving, others gathered in small groups for a smoke.

She held the suit jacket closer to herself when she felt several pairs of eyes on her, stepping more to the side where she hopefully wouldn't gain any attention. And she waited.

Usually, she wasn't someone who liked being in the dark, but she understood this wasn't a common situation for her. Her only role was to get Taehyung in, nothing else. She was supposed to stay out of trouble. So she tried actually listening this time and simply let him do his job.

However, after awhile she felt bored and didn't know what exactly to do with herself, so she observed other guests when suddenly faint pop-sounds echoed above her.

She glanced up, unable spotting anything out of the ordinary that could've caused it. It seemed like nobody else had heard it though, most likely due to the loud background noises of chatter and music.

Minutes passed and she grew more impatient while waiting outside in the chilly air, another sound being heard then. This time it was a creaking from around the corner.

The young woman tensed, again no one else but her having heard it. Sparkling her curiosity once again, she turned around the corner only to be almost hit by someone landing right in front of her on the grass. And she squealed, clutching her purse tightly until realising it was none other than Taehyung who had appeared out of nowhere.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered in a hiss as he brushed over his black dress shirt. His hair dishevelled by now.

He quickly pressed a finger to his lips then, shushing her. And with wonderous eyes she observed him sliding the magnum out from between his waistband along with a small cylinder. Screwing it onto the gun barrel. Next, he pressed himself against the wall, peeking around the corner and aiming at the side-building on the opposite side of the courtyard.

He knew they were at a blind spot which the guards couldn't spot, but if he leaned out too much he'd be caught by them so he had to act quick and careful.

His tongue slightly darted out as he focused, firing one precise shot at a window in the first floor then. Everyone present stirred up at the shilling sound and the security from the entrance immediately rushed inside. The people who had been outside in the courtyard all looked up at the window while raising their voices in confusion. Confused mumbles about what it could've been, some guessing a stone having been thrown. No one having guessed a gunshot as the silencer prevented it creating a loud enough noise for the to hear with the background buzzing.

Content by their reactions, Taehyung tapped his in-ear then. "Quick."

At his command, Yoongi's head followed by Jimin's appeared out of the window in the second floor. And the two began climbing out the windowsill to slid down the gutter pipe. Half-way through though they slipped and landed in the bushes beneath them, with butts first.

Taehyung and Cassandra stifling a  laugh at the hilarious sight.

"Haha funny."

"Well, quite an elegant way to go," Yoongi chuckled in self-irony as he picked leaves out of his hair.

"Something that wouldn't have happened if someone had done his job correctly," Jimin coughed then. A knowing smirk on his lips as he glanced at Taehyung from the corner of his eye. Before the younger one could counter something though, he already waved him off. "Anyway. Let's get out of here before they notice."

They nodded, Taehyung turning to her then. "Cas, wait at the gate for a few minutes. We'll get the car and pick you up."

"Wh-"

"Just trust me, okay?"

She swallowed at his look of appeal and nodded. Watching them sneak behind the bushes to the very back of the high metal fence, which immedietally subjected to Yoongi's katana as if it was nothing but butter under a knife. And the three escaped from the hole and into the night.

Perplexed and a little unsure, Cassandra slowly walked out and making sure no one had seen her appearing from behind the corner when she heard loud voices coming from the open window in the second floor. Security probably having entered the office.

Acting as if she hadn't had a clue about what had gone down, she innocently walked across the courtyard and through the corridor to the entrance. The grip around Taehyung's suit jacket firm when she entered the chill night at the open street. Even humming while letting her gaze wonder around, pretending she didn't notice any of the uproar from inside the building. Glancing at her imaginary watch then, she acted as if she was waiting for someone and they were late which technically was true.

Finally, the familiar black limousine appeared in front of her and she hurried to the backseat where Yoongi greeted her with a nod. And they drove off.

"Alright. What even happened?" she asked then, a rush of adrenaline still running through her veins as she began shifting in her seat and glancing at each of them.

Taehyung dragged out a tired breath from the passenger seat, recalling the events of the past twenty minutes. How the embassandor had indeed been heading to his office. How Taehyung had to knock out a security guard to create a commotion in the first floor for the embassandor and his security to go check out. And then him escaping by climbing out the window before they reached the source. "Nothing."

Cassandra blinked with a scoff. "Nothing? Seriously now?"

"Just had to do create a little distraction."

Was that the noise she had heard? "What distraction?"

He smirked into his palm that was propping up his chin. "Oh, you know. Had to get a little creative." By basically making his own firecrackers.

"Don't worry, love, no one saw us and we got what we were there for," Jimin smiled brightly from behind the steering wheel, glancing at her in the rear-view window before adding with a wink, "Nice dress, by the way. I can see why Taehyungie got so distracted."

Taehyung's brows rose at this, his hand slipping from his chin. He probably would've fought his friend if he hadn't been driving right now, surpassing cars at speed limit.

"This had nothing to do with anything," he said with a scowl, keeping his voice calm and unphased. Cassandra only folded her lips, nodding to ensure she believed him. His attention then returning to Jimin. "And you, can you not flirt with any female for just five minutes?"

He was just glad he had offered her his blazer so they didn't actually get to see the whole dress or otherwise Jimin wouldn't have stopped pestering her.

He heard the master thief groan in annoyance then. His gleeful mood by their successful stunt, sullening with Taehyung's irrational agitation. "Man, chill. She looks good, that's all I said."

"It's alright, seriously," Cassandra giggled bemused by their quarreling, patting Taehyung's shoulder reassuringly from the back. She leaned over between the seats then to flash Jimin an appreciating grin. "And thanks. Wasn't quite sure about it so I'm glad someone likes it."

Jimin's eyes widened at this, peeking at Taehyung dumbfounded. "Don't tell me I'm the only one who complimented you tonight."

"Well," she laughed under her breath and sat back, "I also heard it'd be 'fitting' for the occasion. I took that as a compliment."

"I-it definitely was," Taehyung assured, earning an eye-roll from Jimin who found him unbelievable.

"You do look good," Yoongi spoke up then from beside her. Giving her a small encouraging smile, which she reciprocated happily.

"Thank you, Yoongi!" It felt great to hear all these compliments, even if it was just out of politeness.

Her eyes briefly wandered to the passenger seat then, lingering there a moment when an inaudible sigh escaped her. Adverting her eyes from him then and instead looking out at the passing buildings across the illuminated Danubian bank.

As they turned into a side-street and away from the river, Jimin's phone vibrated in his pocket. Cassandra didn't really think much of it, but Yoongi and Taehyung exchanged an alerted glance. There were only two reasons someone would call him after all.

Either it was Arabella, wanting to persuade him into helping her out again or it was interpol being on their tail.

Honestly, they didn't know which one was the worse trouble.

By the light scowl on Jimin's face, though, and the lack of flirting and heart-eyes while speaking to the caller, it was most likely not Arabella.

"Alright, thanks dear," he said then and ended the call. A groan leaving his lips before he faced them with an uneasy laugh. "Well, seems like pops found our hide-out. The nice old neighbour called me. I'd asked her to let me know if someone showed up and she said some tall, handsome guys with trenchcoats were questioning them."

"Sounds like pops and his entourage," Yoongi nodded, being glad Jimin was charming enough to convince nice old ladies to help them out and inform them if cops showed up, "How far is the airport?"

"Pops? You mean that interpol agent?" Cassandra's eyes grew twice in size when recalling that nickname, "He found you here? How?"

They shrugged. "That's his job, after all. He'd quite suck if he didn't do it right occasionally," Jimin chuckled, taking a sharp turn and earning some honking from other drivers.

"You think it'd be smart to head to the airport now though?" Taehyung wondered out loud then, "Last time they were already surveillancing all airports and stations. Maybe we should just head to another city and lay low instead."

"You got a point," Jimin agreed then, "But then we gotta change cars. They'll probably soon find out about this one."

"Crap."

They fell silent and Cassandra looked around. "Well, how about you hide somewhere like my hotel room for the night and then think of something in the morning? I mean, no one will search you there, right?"

They perked up, Taehyung instantly shaking his head. "No. You already got enough involved."

"But no one knows that yet," she deadpanned, making his jaw clench. "No one will find you there."

"She got a point.."

"No, she doesn't," he protested in vain. He knew she was right, but he simply couldn't accept that.

"Alright, you got another idea then?"

"The one I suggested."

"You forget that last time they were also barricading the main roads in and out the city," Yoongi countered then, "So got any other idea?"

He didn't.

»»»

Thankfully, and much to Taehyung's relief, they didn't have to actually all cramp in Cassandra's hotel room since the room next door was unoccupied. It was easy for them to pick the old lock after sneaking into the building from an open window without anyone noticing that they were even there. The perks of old, small hotels.

When they parted, Cassandra's body was still buzzing from the gala. The exhilarating feeling not having fully subdued yet.

After entering her dark room, she first freed her feet from the stilettos and kicked them as far away as possible, not wanting to ever see them again. However, she didn't feel like taking off her dress as well yet and shedding off the elegant feeling of the night so soon.

It was still fairly early, not even midnight yet, and she decided to sit outside at the small balcony for a moment to cool down and recall the last few hours. Taking one of her jackets with her as she'd already returned Taehyung's blazer.

It was silent in the backyard of the hotel, save for the faint melody of music coming from an open window somewhere. The little tables in its centre sitting lonely among trees and bushes.

It was ironic in a way, how no one out there could imagine what had happened on the other side of the city that night. As if it was a parallel universe.

Standing there for awhile enjoying the peaceful silence and reliving the evening in her head - while intentionally not dwelling too much on specific moments, or feelings - she  decided to go back inside. It was getting cold, even with her thick jacket on, and a sudden exhaustion overcame her after all when the sound of someone stepping out on the balcony beside hers made her pause in her tracks.

She knew it must've been one of the guys and yet, whoever it was probably went out to be alone just like her, so she didn't want to intrude.

So she dared an attempt to sneak inside. Only to get hindered by a low chuckle.

"You stalking me now?" The teasing smirk was audible even from behind the partition. And Cassandra exhaled in relief before huffing jokingly.

"Excuse me, I was here before you?"

Taehyung tsked and leaned his folded arms over the railing right beside her. Letting his eyes wander over the dark scenary of the night. The music had stopped awhile ago, only a stray cat pushing a can echoed through the peacefulness now.

She leaned a bit over to catch a glimpse of him behind the thin cement wall then.

His side-profile shone under the sparse lighting of a lamp underneath them, its serene expression captivating. Unsure if she'd ever seen it before.

She was fond of it, though, just as she was fond of his strong brows, the curves of his nose and lips and all the other soft edges complimenting them. And she was especially fond of the way the night breeze was swaying his tousled strands, not much of their previously sleeked back state evident anymore. Causing them to fall right into his eyes before he pushed them back with his long fingers.

In that moment she made a mental snapshot of this sight, the sight only she got to see and nobody else. She knew with time, her memory wouldn't be able to fully capture this placid nature anymore, but she knew the emotions it triggered inside her would forever be engraved in it.

Her gaze wandered out into the old buildings then, she inhaled deeply and ignored the lingering chemical reactions underneath the surface of her skin. Pushing it all away. Or at least, pretended to.

"I had fun tonight."

Taehyung hummed in acknowledgement and tilted his head to face her better. In the faint lightning, her round face glowed like the mood. And he observed her tuck away a brash curl which had fallen into her view and got caught in her long eyelashes. Warm eyes absentmindedly staring at nothing in particular and he noticed the tiniest reflections of light dancing in them.

His mind instinctively remembering the similar sight in the ballroom only a few hour ago. When she was in his arms in the sea of people.

A shaky breath left his lips at that memory and he averted his eyes from her again. Focusing on the dark silhouette of a building in the distance instead.

"Me, too," he eventually breathed and pushed himself off the railing. "But don't expect this to happen again," his tone turning into a warning one then, "This was the first and only time you'll get involved in a heist."

He had to stifle a laugh when hearing her offended huff, imagining her folding her arms in front of her with an adorable confusion.

"What, why? It was so exciting! And I did my part well, didn't I? Not my fault if you blew it." A dull sound followed her mini rant along with her small yelp and he already figured out that she hit her elbow against the metal railing. Shaking his head, he was about to argue when she continued, blowing out some air. "Besides, it hardly counts as 'participating in a heist' anyway."

"And why doesn't it?"

"Because I barely noticed anything from the action."

Her complaint made a laugh brush past his lips. "Good. Let's keep it this way. It was the last time this happens anyway," he simply stated then and she pouted.

"Fine, you meanie."

"Cas-"

"I said 'fine', I get it," she sighed then, "I'm not naive, I know it can get far more dangerous than that. No reason to keep lecturing me. But it was still fun and I don't regret it. When else could I dress up and attend a gala after all?" She smiled and he could tell she genuinely meant it.

Taehyung nodded, biting back a smile.

"You looked beautiful tonight, by the way."

Her breath hitched and she stayed quiet for longer than she intended. "Oh, so not just 'fitting'?"

And Taehyung folded his lips, unable to retort anything as the mocking, even if playful, felt deserved.

Why had he struggled so much telling her before?

He should've told her way sooner, face to face with no partition seperating them. It had been on the tip of his tongue all night long, but something inside him feared crossing a line if saying it out loud. He felt like a coward right now.

But what if he didn't even mean to say 'beautiful'? What if the word he much rather preferred was 'breathtaking'?

"No. You.. you looked great."

His firm voice put a smile on her face, feeling the chemical reactions inside her gaining intensity all over again. She straightened herself then and cleared her throat.

"Thank you. You looked quite handsome, too, cool guy." Like someone who drank his vodka martinis 'shaken, not stirred' -type of handsome.

She found herself silly for not telling him sooner either, for some reason overthinking it the whole evening. So she couldn't really judge him for only complimenting her now. She wondered if he had struggled as much as she had.

"Ah, did I?" Taehyung laughed under his breath, masking his own blush.

"Mh, I'm sure you already knew."

"No, I didn't actually," he grinned, "But thank you."

And they enjoyed the silence of the night for a little bit longer.

»»»

next chapter: 0.7 here

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

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[ooops-i-arted]

oooo not sure if we are still on the "if you have nothing nice to say about ahsoka, sit next to me" train but i was in the prequels fandom pre-tcw show/when it was just getting popular and hadn't proliferated yet and the amount of complexity and nuance anakin's character was allowed to have rocked (in both fanon and the canon materials that were coming out at the time)!! he was a whiny, graceless, socially awkward, violent little boy who suffered from horrible trauma (also really miss the dark places that the sw eu was allowed to go pre-disney) and a war where he felt more and more isolated as it mounted. the only two tethers he had were obi-wan and padme, both given so much more depth and importance in his life i feel like. his fall was a long, slow careful build-up of terrible choices and immaturity that kinda gets destroyed the second you give him a padawan and make him a good master to her. it's not that i hate ahsoka or anything but her presence really.... lessened the story a lot and flattened it down into "jedi bad, anakin good, obi-wan and padme just kinda there while anakin is understood by his TRUE family and is tricked into going to the dark side." the anakin i conceive of in my head is never gonna be filoni's and is never gonna have a padawan lolllll

Yes! Yes this! Anakin is a trash can of a human being, and yeah trauma is a factor but it's HIS OWN CHOICES that cinch the deal and that is ALWAYS made clear. He was a wonderful unique amazing character and George Lucas did a great job setting up his fall gradually through AotC and showing it in RotS. Filoni's stuff is just cheap filler that tries to rewrite it to make Anakin look "better." HE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE BETTER, THIS GUY TURNS INTO DARTH VADER. But yeah everything you just said, amen.

[nanomooselet]

Visual Motifs: Tesla

So, one of the benefits of an adaptation like Stampede - a retelling, rather than just lifting from the page - is that they know where it's leading, and they can add context or foreshadowing. For some characters, they can even add presence. In addition, Stampede is required by the limits of the medium to do some streamlining. From all I've heard about their consultations with Nightow, their concern was with themes first.

But there an issue arises in Tesla. What is there to say or do for her? She isn't a presence; she's an absence. There's not much you can add without undermining the gutwrenching horror and thus the thematic impact of her character.

But Orange found a way. In fact, they found multiple ways.

Tesla can never let anyone know what she wanted because she was so thoroughly stripped of action or speech. While she lived no one cared to listen to what she had to say, and she's forever silenced by death. Nightow had to bend the rules to give her a last, ambiguous word.* Memories and assumptions are all that's left. Those are all undoubtedly themes in Trigun. I think it's all still true in Stampede, with an obvious exception.

After all, silence is a statement.

Congratulations to Orange on making it even more horrifying. Though I'm at least reasonably sure that she wasn't conscious in suspension... I hope she wasn't. I suppose it adds to the argument to suggest her fate in the manga was kinder.

It also opens the question of what happened to her in the Fall, but helpfully (?), Nightow had already introduced a means of resolving it. It tidily both suggests a possible future plot point and further characterises Knives in the way he protects what he loves. He says her discovery was to him "but one grain of sand", and he's a fucking liar. (Also, note Dr. Conrad in the picture on Tesla's file. Nai had to learn he was involved somehow.)

My trash boy never disappoints.

Personally I do believe it's jumping the gun to assume Knives actually bears her consciousness, but she had a profound effect on him, much as red geranium petals are now foundational to Vash's identity. While the icon of the Eye of Michael represents a number of things (I'm gonna talk about them too, if I ever get around to it), the variation on it used in the Windmill Village isn't so ambiguous. The arrangement turns up over and over.

Behold the single most obvious way Tesla's made more "present" in Trigun Stampede. (It's sure beholding you.) The motif of Tesla's eye is as central a symbol in Knives as geranium flowers are in Vash. Tesla might not literally be a ghost, but she haunts Knives anyway. He's determined that she'll haunt everyone else too, though they may not know it's her. In his mind, he's her avenging angel.

But he isn't the only one who holds onto her.

And a certain panel in Maximum...

Though those particular eyes actually represent the eyes of humans. Eyes weren't prominently linked to Tesla in the manga, but this may have been the inspiration.

Speaking of the manga... what about Rem? Though we know it or something like it occurred, in Stampede we don't see the confrontation with Vash where she confessed to her anguish over failing their sister, and how far she was willing to go ensuring he wouldn't be hurt. I understand feeling that it flattens her. The narrative is being dictated by Knives in that moment, who wasn't there to witness it and had a vested interest in removing Rem from the story.

That doesn't mean there's no sign Tesla haunted Rem. If Tesla hadn't suffered what she suffered, maybe Rem would have served an uneventful term as Navigation Officer before going back into cryosleep, while the SEEDS fleet peacefully continued on its journey. It was still because she failed Tesla that Rem adopted and raised the twins. Knives's anger/fear at the perceived betrayal by both Rem and Vash still led to him crashing the fleet, Rem's death, and all that happened in its wake.

It's an interaction we never witness - it may not even have been a direct encounter - and yet Tesla, through Rem, instigated the plot. And that's also still true.

Comparing the discovery scenes in Stampede and the manga directly, there's a change. The flower Rem left as a memorial for Tesla in the manga (looks like a white lily, which represents innocence and purity in the Japanese language of flowers and is often used for funerals) is instead a red geranium.

I'd chalk it up to reinforcing Rem's connection with the flower and minimizing the 2D background painting budget, except...

Almost every time the twins as children are together on the screen with Rem, a geranium in a glass dome is there too. The only time it's not present somehow is when they're visiting the Plant room at the start of ep twelve.

And when they find Tesla, there's a shot where this happens:

The red petals are almost invisible in the darkness... and then pop out when she's revealed, like a wound. As if they emerged along with her.

The geranium, to Rem, represents Tesla. When she can, she has it accompanying the twins. The presence of this small, red, glass-bound thing - suspended, mute, so easily stripped of its petals - is perhaps an inadequate gesture, just as Tesla herself never grew to be what she could have been, and adopting the twins may not make a difference. But Tesla can be with her family in spirit and her baby brothers will get a chance to grow. That's all that Rem can do for her now, a regret she bore until the end of her life.

In Stampede, Rem and her successors are positioned as Knives's most direct ideological opposition in a number of ways, and I think one of them is in how they honour the memory of Tesla. Would the twins' older sister have wanted the vengeance Knives wreaked in her name? Or would she have had the grace to hope the humans would learn better? Would she have been happy those who came after her were given the love and the choices that she wasn't?

She can no longer choose. No one will ever know.

And that brings me, finally, to how Tesla haunts Vash.

Unlike the manga, in Stampede it's not as though Vash has any reason to fear being abused, or dismembered, or consumed, or exploited. In the manga he very much feared all those things, and accused Rem of raising them to continue the experiments. He was very angry and frightened to realise he was surrounded by humans and he was "not like them". But in Stampede Vash might as well be a human.

That's definitely a way Stampede thematically diverged from the manga. Nai's the one who's perfect and more like a Plant, because of his powers. Right?

It's Vash who tends to be physically closest to the geranium.

In the SEEDS database, Vash and Tesla are in the same folder, while Nai has his own. There are all sorts of potential reasons, but in my mind it'd be because their colouring matches (yellow-blonde hair, blue eyes). It's Vash (his hands on the left) who notices there's an extra file and starts scrolling through them. He unlocked the database, and he caused the jars of what was left of Tesla to be revealed.

He wears red. Specifically his outfit is red over black - his shirt and pants. And his eyes are the first ones in which Plant patterns are highlighted.

Ever noticed that Tesla's missing both arms?

But it's hardly as though Vash is in any position to understand what Tesla felt, or what she wanted.

And it's not as though Knives, in his loneliness and fear and denial of responsibility, would puppet his sibling for the power to take revenge.

Right?

* Don't get me wrong. Nightow's relaxed approach to worldbuilding could have made her reveal in Maximum a plot hole, but it's not. Plants really are weird enough that just about anything seems possible. Nightow created the impression that discovering her remains was so painful for the twins they came to a mutual, unspoken agreement to avoid mentioning it, let alone using her fate as a rhetorical tool. When Knives finally does bring her up, it's just before trying to meld with and then imprisoning his brother aboard the Ark. To me, it feels like his declaration of total war.

[sjsmith56]

None Shall Sleep

Summary: Bucky comes to the aid of his neighbour one night when he hears her crying after breaking something in her apartment.

Length: 5 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, named but not described OFC, minor OFC, Pepper Stark.

Warnings: Description of eye surgery (personal experience), trust issues, Bucky feeling inadequate, health insurance company assholes.

Author notes: Inspired by this video of a tenor who sang Nessun Dorma (from the opera Turandot) accompanied by a flash mob orchestra in a German bookstore. The video showed up on my FB feed but I’ve always loved this piece, as it’s full of passion. My description of the opera is taken from the internet. https://fb.watch/pE60YHrtsM/? I’ve been to one opera in my life (La Boheme) which I enjoyed. Bucky is a big softy in this one shot which ends very romantically.

👁️ 🎶 🌖

Sam carried the last box into Bucky's new Brooklyn apartment, taking note of the high ceilings and windows this place had, compared to his old place, the small studio apartment.  With the settlement for his back pay, and damages for what had been done to him awarded from the now unfrozen assets of Alexander Pierce and several other high ranking HYDRA officials, James Buchanan Barnes was finally in a position to live in a manner that he deserved.  Buying this apartment was the start of his new beginning.  He also had plans to take some college courses so that he could prepare for a life that didn't involve using just his physical attributes.

"This is really nice, Bucky," he said, as his friend came out of the bathroom with an empty box, pulling the tape off the bottom so he could flatten it.  "Pepper found this place for you?"

He looked around.  "Yeah, it is nice.  Still has enough of the old features like hardwood floors and finishes, vintage claw foot tub in the master ensuite bathroom, mosaic floor tiles in both bathrooms.  Feels familiar but it's mostly modern so it should last a long time.  Not sure how the other owners feel about me living here but no one's said anything yet."

"Why would they?" Bucky scowled without answering.  "Hey, your money is as good as theirs.  You're quiet, you're not a criminal, and honestly, it will likely make criminals think twice about trying to break in.  I'm sure you'll be attuned to everyone's coming and goings pretty quickly."

"You calling me a busybody?" 

At least he said it with a grin.  It was true.  His bad sleeping habits meant he was often awake at night, watching out the window for anything out of the ordinary.  Knowing his neighbour's habits came easily to him but wasn't always understood or appreciated by them.  Still, his previous landlord and Pepper Stark wrote character references for him when he first applied to buy in the building.

A week later he had met several neighbours, finding most of them quite nice.  It surprised him on the one night when he heard crying from his nearest neighbour's apartment, a woman he hadn't met yet.  At first, he listened carefully for any sounds of fighting or abuse, but it sounded more like frustration than anything else.  Then he heard the sounds of something breaking and jumped out of bed.  Approaching her door, he listened carefully again then knocked before speaking.

"Hello?  Is everything alright?  I heard the sound of something breaking."

He could hear the sounds of someone approaching the door.

"Who are you?" Her voice sounded both anxious and upset.

"Bucky Barnes.  I just moved in next door.  I could hear you crying but tonight sounded like you broke something.  I can help."

"Fuck."  He could barely hear her swear.  "Hope he's not an asshole."

With the sound of her locating the locks and turning them, he waited, only to be surprised by the sight of a woman with both eyes heavily bandaged.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," she said, extending her hand outwards, not quite in the right direction.  "As you can see I have temporarily lost my sight.  I'm supposed to have someone to help me but they haven't showed up for the past two nights and that's left me trying to fend for myself."

He took her hand gently in his, squeezing it then releasing it.

"Well, I'm here and I can help you if you wish."

"I know I broke something, and I stepped on it."  She lifted one foot, that seemed cut open.  Spreading her hands helplessly, she began to cry again.  "Could you just help me?"

"I'm going to pick you up and carry you to the bathroom," replied Bucky.  "You have cut your foot.  I can take care of bandaging that.  Then I'll clean up what you broke.  After that, we'll see what more I can do for you, okay?"

She allowed him to pick her up in his arms, carrying her into her bathroom, where he placed her on the counter.  Returning to his place for his first aid kit, since she only had a kit of bandages for her eyes, he gently cleaned her foot in the sink, then checked the wound for any pieces of the broken glass.

"What's your name?" he asked, as he applied some antiseptic to it.

"Roberta," she replied.

"That's a pretty name," he smiled.  "How long have you lived here?"

"About a year.  I sublet from the owner.  You just moved in?"

"Yeah, a week ago.  If it's not too personal, may I ask about your eyes?"

She lowered her head.  "I was mugged, hit my head pretty hard on the pavement.  It gave me a concussion and partially detached the retinas in both eyes, so I had to have surgery to fix them.  It sounds kind of gruesome, but they had to empty the eyeball of the vitreous gel to do it, then used a laser to seal the tears, and then a bubble of gas to reinflate the eye was inserted to keep the retina in place.  As the gas is absorbed into the body, the eye replaces the gel with new liquid, but it takes about six weeks for it to heal properly.  This past week I had to sleep on my stomach at the hospital, face down so that the bubble stayed at the back of the eyeball and kept the retina from detaching again.  I had an aide to help me at night for the first two nights when I was released, to make sure I didn't flip over onto my back, but she didn't show up last night or tonight.  Since I can't see, I can't call my insurance company to find out what happened to her and the woman they got for the daytime doesn't speak much English.  She just cooks and cleans for me."

He listened, fascinated by the medical process that would restore her vision, knowing that during the 1930s the success rate for repairing that was abysmal. 

"When were your eye dressings last changed?" 

"Two nights ago," answered Roberta.  "I was trying to do it myself because it felt gross, but I knocked something over and it broke."  She lowered her head as if she was looking at the floor.  "I just feel so helpless.  I'm sorry I woke you up."

Once again, he took her hand in his.

"I'm a lousy sleeper and was already awake.  You stay here while I clean up then I'll see if I can help change your dressings.  Is that okay?"

She nodded, waiting patiently for her neighbour to return.  At least he sounded nice.  Bucky wasn't a common name, perhaps it was a nickname.  Carefully, she listened as she heard him sweep a broom over the floor and into a dustpan.  The running of water was followed by the sound of a cloth being wiped over the floor, presumably to clean up the blood from the cut in her foot.  Then she heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Just me," he said, before he entered.  "Everything's cleaned up out there.  Now, how do I take care of your eyes?"

She told him to boil some water first and let it cool, then add a little salt to help with cleaning.  He left coming back a few minutes later.  He washed his hands, then unwrapped the larger bandage which released the plastic eye shields that protected her eyes.  Under them were gauze pads, which he carefully peeled off.  All she saw was the light of the bathroom, and the bubble of gas inside her eyes which kept her repaired retinas in place.  Everything else was blurred or distorted.

"It's pretty red," said Bucky, his face close enough to hers for her to smell his aftershave.  "Is that normal?"

"Well, it's pretty invasive eye surgery so I guess it is.  If you could take some clean gauze and dip it in the boiled water, as long as it's not too hot, you can clean the guck off, gently."

Patiently, she waited as he did as he was told, slightly surprised at how gently he cleansed her damaged eyes.  She noticed the sound of whirring and that one of his hands was warm and the other cold, which she brought up.

"I have a prosthetic arm and hand," he explained, hesitantly at first.  "It's a very high tech one.  I'm kind of the only person in the world with one like it.  It functions almost like normal, but they can't make it feel warm, or mask all the sounds it makes.  I'm thankful for it but I worry about how people see it."

Roberta smiled.  "Good thing I could only hear it and feel it then," she said.  "Although, I bet it's impressive looking.  Is it a prototype?"

"I guess," he admitted, then she was aware his face was further away.  "Okay, that looks better.  What's next?"

"There's a tube of ointment," said Roberta.  "If you pull the lower eyelid out, you can squeeze a small portion into each one and distribute it a bit.  That's to heal the incisions."  She waited while he did it.  "Okay, new gauze to cover my eyes, then the shields over top.  Just check that the shields are clean.  They can be cleaned with soap and water if they have anything on them."

She smiled as she heard the sound of water, assuming that the shields needed cleaning.  Then they were placed over her eyes, and she held them in place as Bucky wrapped the bandages around her head to keep them there.  By his silence, other than his breathing which seemed to shift slightly as if he was moving his head, Roberta assumed he was checking his handiwork.

"How is that?" he asked.

"Feels great," she answered.  "Thank you."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?  I'm guessing anything involving the eyes are out."

"I wouldn't mind listening to some music," she answered.  "My phone is around here somewhere.  If you could open the playlists, I could choose one.  You're welcome to stay if you're not sleepy."

She felt his warm arm circle around her waist as he helped her off the vanity, then he placed her hand on his arm as he led her out to the living room, telling her when they were a couple of steps away from the couch.  He joined her a moment later, as he placed her phone in her hand.

"Needs to be unlocked."

"Oh, it's set to Face ID which won't work with these bandages.  If I give you the code, do you promise not to go snooping?"

"Scout's honour." She could just feel the smile from him.

After giving him the code she waited while he opened her playlists, then he began listing them off.  When he got to her guilty pleasure one of opera, she told him to choose that.

"I'm a bit weird, I know," she joked.  "Not many people my age like opera but it was something my dad and I would do every time the Met put on a new one.  We always had discount tickets, would go for dinner, then to the opera.  Dad loved it and it was time well spent with him before he died."

"I'm sorry.  You must miss him."

"I do.  He died of cancer just five years ago." 

The sounds of La Traviata came on and he smiled as she relaxed, slightly leaning into him.  She quickly told him the plot of the opera and encouraged him to close his eyes and lose himself in the singing.  There were several other arias from other pieces that played then another came up and she straightened a bit.

"This is one of my favourites," she said.  "It's called Nessun Dorma, from Turandot.  A disguised prince falls in love with a princess who is indifferent to him.  To win her hand a suitor must solve three riddles, but if he gets any of them wrong, then he will be executed.  The prince succeeds but she still refuses him, so he challenges her to guess his real name, which would allow her to put him to death.  If she doesn't then she must marry him."

"Does she?" asked Bucky.

"That's the mystery behind this opera," said Roberta.  "The composer, Puccini, didn't finish it as he died, so no one really knows if he meant this to have a happy ending or a tragic ending.  This piece, Nessun Dorma, means none shall sleep, as the princess commands everyone to put aside sleep and find out the prince's real name.  Whether she found out and chose to reveal it or not is one of the great mysteries of Turandot.  Both endings have been used, written by other composers."

He listened with her, finding it a stirring piece of music.  As they listened to several more, he became aware of her breathing becoming deeper and more regular.  Roberta had fallen asleep.  Gently, he extracted himself from beside her then remembered what she said about sleeping with her repaired eyes.  Going to the linen closet he pulled out some towels and rolled them into position on her bed, to surround her face, keeping it off the surface of the sheets.  Then he returned to the couch and gently lifted her into his arms.  She whimpered a little and buried her face in his chest.

"You smell good," she whispered, sleepily.  "I like it."

"Thank you," he whispered back.

Gently, he positioned her face down, making sure that she was set in a way that was comfortable but allowed her to breathe.  Then he covered her up with her bedcovers and turned off the light.  Returning to his apartment, he laid on the couch, falling asleep until the morning.

Knowing that Roberta wanted to phone the insurance company about the aide not showing up, Bucky woke up early then listened carefully to any signs of the young woman getting up.  When she did, he went over and knocked on the door, waiting as she approached.  Instead, it was another woman who opened it and he looked at her a little surprised.  She spoke Spanish, identifying herself as Maria, the daytime helper who cooked for Miss Roberta.  Addressing her in Spanish, Bucky identified himself, waiting while she checked with Roberta before she let him in. 

"I thought you might want me to help phone the insurance company," he said when she came out of the kitchen.  "Find out what happened to your night-time aide.  I also speak Spanish if you want me to tell Maria anything."

"Yes please, to both," said Roberta.  "Thank you for putting me to bed last night.  I actually had a good sleep because of how you arranged the towels.  How did you know how to do it?"

He shook his head.  "Just seemed right."

She gave some instructions for Maria, which he passed on, then dialled her insurance company for her, placing the phone on speaker so she could talk to the agent.  When she told them the aide hadn't shown up for two nights they disputed her account, saying the woman had clocked in.  Bucky frowned as he listened then asked if he could speak.

"Hi, I'm Roberta's neighbour," he started.  "I can't say about Monday, but your aide was definitely not here last night because I heard Roberta crying after she broke something and cut her foot open.  I looked after her, cleaning her eyes and changing her dressing.  She wouldn't be phoning to complain if your employee actually showed up, don't you think?"

"Well, our employees are very professional and whose to say that you aren't lying on behalf of Miss Paxton?" said the woman on the other end.

Roberta's face reddened when she heard that, and Bucky felt his own irritation grow at the insinuation.

"Well, why don't I give you the name of someone to verify my identity," he said.  "If you would be so kind to contact Pepper Stark at Stark Industries, I'm sure she can vouch for me."

"Your name, sir?"

"Bucky Barnes, currently one of the Avengers.  My full name is James Buchanan Barnes."

There was no sound from the insurance agent for a moment.  Then there was a little cough, and she came back on.

"I will make that call and get back to you, Mr. Barnes," she said.  "Will you be at this number?"

"Yes, I'm not going anywhere." 

He hung up and placed the phone on the table.  There was silence between them until Roberta extended her hand towards him.  Gently, he took it and held it.

"You're really him?  I didn't quite hear your last name when you came in last night."

"Yeah, I'm him, the former Winter Soldier.  Once we get this cleared up, I won't come around anymore, if my presence makes you uncomfortable."

"No, I mean, I would like it if you came over.  I enjoyed your company.  You were kind to me and let me talk about opera and never once interrupted.  That's more than most men have ...." 

She coughed, then began to cry and Bucky reached into his pocket for his handkerchief, then looked at it, realizing her eyes were still bandaged.  Maria looked at him, whispering in Spanish that perhaps an arm around the young woman would be acceptable.  With a slight smile to her he did just that and pulled Roberta close.

"I'm sorry.  I'm kind of predisposed to being rejected and kind of jumped the gun on your reaction to who I was."

His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket, seeing that it was Pepper.  He explained to her why the insurance company was calling, smiling as she expressed dismay that they would leave a woman without home care when she was basically helpless because she couldn't see.

"If they don't send anyone, I'm happy to help her," he said to Pepper.  "Roberta is very nice, and we got along just fine."

"Well, if they don't send someone, or if no one comes, you let me know, and I'll hire a small team myself to help her out."

He passed on the message to Roberta, who thanked Pepper profusely, then hung up, expecting to receive a call from the insurance company.  When it still didn't come an hour later, they phoned again, were put on hold then the call was dropped.  At that time, Maria came out of the kitchen with her phone, looking like she had bad news.  With a halting voice, she told Bucky she was laid off, as Miss Paxton's insurance policy had been cancelled.  Worriedly, she looked between Bucky and Roberta.

"Hold on, Maria," he said in Spanish.  "You won't be laid off, I promise.  Wait with Miss Paxton while I make another call."

After telling Roberta he had to make a private call he headed out to the hallway and called Pepper to pass on what he had learned.  She swore profusely, then he heard a large exhale of breath from the executive. 

"Alright, I'm assembling a team to take over Miss Paxton's care, and you tell Maria she now works for Stark Industries starting at twice the measly pay they were probably giving her.  Then I'm calling my lawyer and getting them on the sudden cancellation of her policy.  They can't do that, and I won't let them get away with it if I have to buy the company myself.  Don't you worry, Bucky.  We'll take care of Miss Paxton while you're on mission."  She hesitated for a moment.  "Okay, I wasn't supposed to say anything, but you'll be getting a call shortly."

Returning to the apartment, he broke the news gently to Roberta, then assured her that she would be looked after.  He also told Maria she still had a job, with Stark Industries, sending the woman into her own joyful expressions that someone would do that for her.  As she thanked him enthusiastically for his help, he received his mission alert from the Avengers and looked at the readout.  He had six hours to report for duty.

"Well, I have some sad news," he stated.  "I'm being called out for a mission, but you can take Pepper Stark's insistence on a team to look after you as the complete truth.  She'll make sure you're taken care of while I'm gone."

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know but we can talk whenever I have a chance," he replied.  "Give me your phone and I'll put my information in."

He entered his information in her phone then did the same to his.  Then they sat together on the couch.  Her hand slowly inched its way towards his and he held her hand while they waited.  An hour later, the doorbell rang, and the first member of Roberta's care team, Julie, arrived, along with a contract for Maria to sign that she explained fully to the woman.  He stood up, then began to walk towards the door.

"Bucky, can I see you privately for a moment?" asked Roberta, then she blushed and grinned.  "You know what I mean."

Julie took Maria into the kitchen, leaving the couple alone.  Hesitantly, Robert lifted her hands towards Bucky, and he took them, holding them in his hands.  She stepped closer, until there was barely any space between them.  Raising one hand to his face, she cupped his cheek as he watched her intently.

"Thank you for taking care of me," she murmured.  "You're a very nice man."  He began to protest but she placed her fingers on his lips, and he instinctively kissed them, bringing a smile to her lips.  "You are a nice man and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.  When you get back, I would like to see you again.  I don't know many nice men and I kind of want to keep you around."

If she could have seen it, his smile likely would have dazzled her.  With his free hand he brushed some hair over her shoulder then leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

"I would like to see you again, Roberta," he answered.  "You're a very nice lady and I don't know many.  You let them take care of you while I'm gone, okay?"

She nodded and they kissed again, for longer and with some feeling.  Then he caressed her face and left to get ready for his mission. 

Two months later.

Carefully, Bucky looked at himself in the mirror of his apartment, satisfied with his haircut and the trim of his beard.  After making sure his tie was right and that there were no white cat hairs on his black suit, he turned towards the window.  Alpine, the stray kitten he found on the mission and brought back with him, watched from her cat tree in front of the large window.  He confirmed he had his wallet and his car keys, then checked the inside pocket for the tickets, smiling at how excited Roberta would be when he told her where they were going.

"What do you think, Al?  Do I look good?"

A cross between a meow and a trill greeted him, confirming that he did indeed look good.  Leaving a light on in the living room, he gave the kitten a quick stroke on the head, then left, locking the door behind him and walking to the apartment next door.  He could hear opera playing in the apartment and smiled, then knocked loud enough to hear the music stop and footsteps approaching the door.  It was opened and for a moment he was dazzled at the vision in front of him.  Roberta was in a form fitting black dress that seemed to glitter like the night sky.  Its open neckline highlighted her collarbones, and a hint of décolletage completed the top part of the dress.  A long slit on one side showed off her shapely leg, along with the strappy-heeled sandals she wore.

"Wow!  You look amazing," he said, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek.  "Pepper helped you get that dress, didn't she?"

Roberta blushed.  "Maybe.  We've become good friends, I think.  So, we must be going somewhere fancy because you're looking good as well."

"Darlin' I always look good," he grinned, then his face grew soft as he came closer.  "I mean it.  You look like a dream and I'm the luckiest guy alive."

They kissed and she used her thumb to wipe off the lipstick that transferred to his lips.  Taking her lipstick out of her clutch she reapplied it then waited as Bucky approached with her coat, helping her put it on.  They held hands on the elevator down to the parking garage, where Bucky held the car door open for her until she was belted in, and he got in behind the wheel.  As they passed over the Brooklyn Bridge, he told her to close her eyes so that it was a surprise.  When he pulled up in front of the Metropolitan Opera House, he reminded her to keep her eyes closed.  After helping her out, he handed his keys to the valet, then whispered in her ear.

"Open your eyes."

She opened them, ignoring the camera flashes from the paparazzi and seeing they were in front of the Metropolitan Opera House.  A big smile appeared on her face, and she looked up at him.

"It's Turandot, isn't it?" she asked.  "You got tickets?"

He nodded, then took her hand into the crook of his arm and began to walk to the entrance.  There were several calls of his name, and he stopped once, to the sounds and flashes of multiple cameras going off, then they turned away and continued inside.  After dropping off her coat at the coat check, they went up the staircase to the Parterre, where they were shown their seats, two in the front row of the left center box.  Two programs were already waiting for them, and he watched with an amused smile as she excitedly read it through.  When the music started, she watched the performance intently, occasionally glancing at him and squeezing his hand. 

At the intermission, they went out and ordered champagne for her, bourbon for him, sipping it as several celebrities approached them, introducing themselves.  Bucky was polite but reserved, his attention directed all towards Roberta.  The second half of the performance was just as enthralling as the first, especially when it came to the performance of Nessun Dorma, which drew a standing ovation and cries of "Bravo" for the tenor who sang it.  Bucky watched Roberta's face as she sat, enthralled at the whole experience.  When it ended and the theatre started to empty, she sat bright eyed, still staring at the stage until she turned to him.

"That was amazing," she enthused.  "I've never seen it before, and it was everything I ever hoped it would be.  Thank you."

"You're welcome," he smiled, standing and offering her his hand.  "Now, we can go to dinner, or we can pick up some takeout and have it at your place.  I'm good either way.  Which do you prefer?"

"You really don't mind takeout?  These sandals are beautiful, but I'm not used to them, and I wouldn't mind changing into something more relaxing."

"Takeout it is," stated Bucky, as they approached the coatcheck and he helped her on with her coat. 

On the drive back to the apartment building, they held hands, stopping only when they picked up some Chinese food.  They were both quiet on the elevator ride to their floor.  Inside her apartment, Roberta left Bucky to open the containers as she disappeared into her bedroom, coming out in a pair of leggings and a soft tunic.  He took his jacket off, draping it over the back of the chair, then slipped his shoes off.  They both ate a good portion of their food, then Roberta winced when she stretched her one foot, noticing she had a blister forming.  Putting his food aside, Bucky switched positions on the couch and gestured for her foot, gently massaging it.  As he ran his hand over her foot, he rubbed her ankle then her calf muscle, watching her intently.

"Stop," she whispered.

He stopped.  Carefully, she shifted closer to him, ending up on his lap.  Looking at his tie, she loosened it enough to raise it over his head, then unbuttoned several buttons on his shirt, placing one of her hands on his upper chest. 

"Stop," he murmured.

She stopped, still perched on his lap, close enough that she was well aware of the warmth of his body radiating through his shirt and the hands that rested on her thighs, in addition to the bulge already forming in his pants.  They gazed at each other then Roberta leaned closer.

"None shall sleep," she said softly.

"You're sure?"

"Very sure."

Slowly, he ran his right hand up her body to her neck.  Placing his hand at the back of her neck he pulled her closer then wrapped his arms around her as they kissed passionately.  They explored each other's lips and mouths thoroughly, before pulling away, each of them a little breathless.  Lifting herself off of Bucky, Roberta went over to her phone and brought up the opera playlist then turned off the light and stood in front of the couch, offering him her hand.  He kissed it, then raised himself off and picked her up in his arms.

"You smell good."  Her eyes were luminous in the dark that was lit only by the moonlight coming in the floor to ceiling windows.  "I love you."

He smiled softly, kissing the top of her head.  "I love you, too."

To the sound of her favourite arias, Bucky carried Roberta into the bedroom where neither of them slept until much, much later.

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One shots Masterlist.

[weirdestcornelius]

A little Sketchbook fluff fic for all the slappers out there. . .it had to be done, I don't make the rules. It's been a hot minute since I've written anything so apologies if this seems rough lmao.

This whole thing is building off what I said about Sly helping Scrap design a fersona for him to express himself. I accidentally projected onto Sly. Btw. I cannot promise that it won't happen again.

Scrap was laying on the floor of the Comet family's house, as he usually did on the weekends. But this time was quite different; it was the floor of Sly's room rather than Eve's. The bright green fox was sitting close to him, her drawing tablet in her gloved hands.

Scrap knew why Sly wore gloves, he had heard of it in fens mind multiple times. She picked at her nails out of nervous habit, and the gloves were something that she wore to "keep everyone from having something else to pick on me for" in fens own words. Well, thoughts was probably a better way to describe it.

The two had just been sitting in silence for a while, the only noise filling the room being the quiet scratching of Sly's stylist against her drawing tablet. But after a while, Scrap spoke.

". . .what are you drawing?"

That was probably a bit of a dumb question. Scrap already knew a rough idea of what the answer would be. He knew it was something about some sort of fersona thing, but he still wanted to know what it actually looked like; the way that Sly's mind buzzed with happiness anytime she was drawing told Scrap everything he needed to know about the contentment that the character brought her.

Sly's fur spiked a bit at the sudden words, though fen hesitantly looked down at Scrap's lying form. Nobody has ever asked to see her art besides her family, and well. . .that hadn't really gotten fen any nice remarks that really felt nice. Every compliment her family gave her felt so hollow, compared to all of the insults that were hurled at her. Those, fen felt whole and completely. Scrap could hear her mind swimming with negative thoughts, and he couldn't hide the frown under his paper mask.

"I'm not gonna- make fun of you or anything. You know I already know what you're drawing, kind of. I just want to see. If you're comfortable."

Sly exhaled slowly through her nose. Right. It was a bit weird, knowing someone who could read your thoughts. . .but it was also nice in a weird way. Sly had a hard time articulating all her negative feelings into words, but fen didn't even have to do that with Scrap. It was a relieving kind of weird. Besides, Scrap had never made fun of her for anything else before.

"uhm- yeah, okay. It's not that good though, so don't expect an actual work of art or anything-"

Sly nervously turned the drawing tablet towards Scrap, letting him see what she had been drawing. It was nothing fancy, just a few messy sketches of Stroke and some of her friends fersonas. They were a bit rushed, but clear for the most part.

Scrap could already hear Sly's mind going off in all sorts of directions. He almost winced at how loud it was in there.

"oh Tears, is he going to make fun of it? It's stupid, yeah- it's stupid. I'm going to be called something like coxgirl for the rest of my life- he's being quiet because he doesn't like it, isn't he? That was so stupid, so stu-"

Scrap abruptly cut off the flood of thoughts, his ears flicking as he sat up.

"Hey, those are pretty cool! What are their names?"

Good, a distraction was just what Sly needed. The ears of the fox flattened as they tilted back purely from surprise. Most of her family just said "cool" or "cute" in response to fens art. Nobody had ever asked her about it. Scrap kept his smile visible despite the sadness that creeped onto him hearing this in Sly's mind. Jeez, he really needed to get her out of this place someday.

"O-oh- well, the blue one is Stroke- she's my fersona. She's a cox and dragon hybrid, but it was honestly just because I wanted her to have wings- it's a pretty stupid reason, but yeah"

"it's not that stupid, I probably couldn't name a single person who doesn't think wings are cool"

Scrap laid his hands in his lap as Sly's eyes brightened. It was a nice change, hearing good things from fens head rather than just self hatred and dysphoria. Sly hesitated to speak, a smile forming on the corners of her mouth.

". . .yeah-! That was my thought process too! I've always wondered what it would be like to fly, or just have them to use as extra hands- imagine how cool that would be!"

Sly's smile became a bit more solemn as she looked down at her drawing tablet, her gloved hands resting on its corners.

"I could just fly away from all my problems. It's- kind of freeing to have Stroke. It's like I can live my life through her."

Scrap felt a bit bad for Sly for that last sentence- but the bad feeling was much, much worse in Sly's own head. It had already started to swarm with thoughts of all the things Eve has done to her, how it was hard to even live fens real life because of how bad she felt.

But Scrap could fix that. Not forever, but just for a moment. Sly needed- no, deserved even just a moment of content happiness.

". . .What do you think my fersona would be?"

Perfect distraction. Sly's ears perked up almost instantly, fens eyes drifting back towards Scrap instead of staring down at her drawing tablet.

". . .well, you seem like a drat to me- but like, maybe a cyclops drat. Since you have one eye and all-"

Scrap smiled under his mask. Maybe he wasn't able of fixing every problem in Sly's life, no matter how much he so desperately wanted to; but he could make life happier for her, if only for a few moments.

"Really? How would that work?"

Two hours later, Scrap is standing in the driveway of the Comet household, holding a piece of notebook paper with a few doodles of a bipedal drat drawn onto it in blue pen; with one eye, just like Scrap.

He stared at the paper for a moment, the same smile on his face that had been on Sly's own just a few minutes prior. He slowly slipped his backpack off his shoulder, unzipping it to grab the red folder he kept in its large pocket. He opened it, shuffling a few half drawn faces to one side to keep the left pocket empty.

Then, he put the paper inside.

[martyrbat]

But, having just reread the stuff, some of it for the first time since the original publication, I'm mildly amazed at how cohesive it all is. It really does form a single, unified narrative—what today would be called a graphic novel. Does that mean that when we introduced Talia we knew that eventually her father would be presumed dead, and she and Batman would finally enjoy a walk into the sunset? No, certainly not. Rather, I'm sure, we understood the characters well enough to keep them from doing anything alien to them and, with that as a constant, the narrative grew organically, each incident suggesting others. The overall design was never imposed on the material; rather, it emerged gradually as we produced the individual episodes. We were guys sticking tiles up on a wall, just interested in covering the space, and after a while, Look at that! Darn if we didn't make a mosaic! This kind of process is denied to storytellers who create conventional plays, movies, novels-forms that demand structure with clearly defined beginnings, middles, and ends. It lets the writers and artists share, at least to some extent, in the audience's pleasure of anticipation, of being surprised by what happens next. It can be an absolute joy.

(full ID below cut)

[ID: an afterword by Danny O'Neil on the collective comic ‘Batman: Tales of The Demon’ from 1991. Text reads:

If you're reading these words after you've finished the stories collected in this volume, you may have noticed some things. For example, you may have observed that although the hero is often driven and desperate, he isn't quite as grim as today's Batman. He banters with the bad guys, he essays the occasional mild wisecrack, he is more openly compassionate. Nor is he quite so superhumanly competent; would the present Batman ever be flattened by Molly Post and her lousy skis? Not likely. You may wonder about some of the captions—the alliteration, the chatty little asides. (“Did you catch the key to the mystery, as did the Batman?” a typical one asks.) But then, you surely remind yourself, these tales first appeared almost two decades ago, at a point in Batman's 50-year history when a lot of the elements of his persona were still being defined, as he was evolving from the cheery, sun-drenched do-gooder of the 1950s and mid-1960s to the present Dark Knight. As for those captions...like Batman himself, comic book conventions and technique were changing; in particular, many young comics professionals were influenced by Marvel Comics' Stan Lee, whose writing teems with friendly comments to the reader. And almost nobody working in the medium would admit, under torture, to taking the work seriously. In a cutesy mood? a writer might ask himself. Then knock out a cutesy caption. It's only a comic book...

Okay, granting all that, you still have a question. You've given the stories titled “The Vengeance Vow” and “Where Strike the Assassins” your close attention and you want to know how the Batman found the Bronze Tiger in the hospital after the fight with the Sensei's thugs. Well, try this: it was simple detective work. He knew, from the amount of blood on the ground, that the Tiger was badly wounded and so would probably seek help at the nearest medical facility. The hospital was it.

Not satisfied? No problem. There are other possible answers. (He spotted the killers and tailed them, hoping they'd lead him to the Tiger? He was able to follow the trail of the blood itself? He questioned someone who saw where the Tiger went?] You might be able to think of something better than any of these. Me—I don't know if I had an explanation and forgot to include it, or if some months passed between the writing of the two stories and I didn't remember that the Batman's fortuitous arrival at the Tiger's bedside hadn't already been explained, or what. Maybe I would have fretted if I'd noticed the omission after the story was published—maybe I even did. I don't know. We weren't taking notes back then. We were just dashing from assignment to assignment, producing monthly entertainments and, frequently, having a pretty good time doing it. What we weren't doing was expecting that those entertainments would ever be collected in a single, rather portly book with an introduction by Sam Hamm and a postscript by the undersigned.

But, having just reread the stuff, some of it for the first time since the original publication, I'm mildly amazed at how cohesive it all is. It really does form a single, unified narrative—what today would be called a graphic novel. Does that mean that when we introduced Talia we knew that eventually her father would be presumed dead, and she and Batman would finally enjoy a walk into the sunset? No, certainly not. Rather, I'm sure, we understood the characters well enough to keep them from doing anything alien to them and, with that as a constant, the narrative grew organically, each incident suggesting others. The overall design was never imposed on the material; rather, it emerged gradually as we produced the individual episodes. We were guys sticking tiles up on a wall, just interested in covering the space, and after a while, Look at that! Darn if we didn't make a mosaic! This kind of process is denied to storytellers who create conventional plays, movies, novels-forms that demand structure with clearly defined beginnings, middles, and ends. It lets the writers and artists share, at least to some extent, in the audience's pleasure of anticipation, of being surprised by what happens next. It can be an absolute joy.

Of course, it does cause the occasional glitch, such as Batman arriving at a hospital without anyone, maybe including the writer (maybe especially the writer), knowing exactly how he got there.]

[phoenixcatch7]

Just finished bayonetta and honestly it was SO GOOD. FanTASTIC game. Final thoughts:

The final boss fights were both a million times easier than expected but they were over fast enough the hype hadn't had time to run out (and the manic pixie dream girl style bayonetta playlist I had blasting didn't hurt either XD. Hard to be irked when you've got Bling Bling firing at twice speed while you fight a giant hair tentacle lady with face missiles IN SPACE).

Also going in knowing the bayo 2 ending is so much worse because you can see how 500yrs of loptr has just eroded him into a shell of himself ToT. This weapon flailing peacock wearing ash white lunatic is so far from the righteous, devoted warrior who loved his family above all else 😭. He's still wearing his wedding ring!!! And he dotes on tiny cereza whom he never got to hold, but that's it. That's all that's left...

Bayo 2 did the sequel plot twist thing so good, because you can see so much more of loptr in him than balder. The speech rhythm, the weirdly crooning faux polite monologuing, the rippling blue of his eye and outfit despite all his magic (both in this and the next game) being gold?? Yeah!!!

The peacock feathers in his boss fight though,,,,, sooooo pretty. They moved so beautifully, it really had so much elegance and grace, even when I was chopping him up 😍

Him and Jubileus were kinda cheese though. Like, the final Jeanne boss fight was a million times harder and with so much high stakes (having to redo the missile section again). I died like THREE times, and one was because I was curious as to what would happen if I threw Jubileus into a planet (spoiler - she did not in fact take damage but instead shook herself off with an evil grin and one shotted me, boo).

The dance video was so much better than I expected! She moves so fast lmao. There's a lot of repetitive moves but she does it at such speed!! It looks like such a fun dance too lol.

And!! I unlocked the gallery and stuff!!! 100/10 it was an absolute blast to look through and listen to the music, I literally examined every single model and every single piece of concept art. Bayonetta's designs were all amazing but no one told me how feminine every SINGLE character was posed!!! Crying laughing. Everyone had their legs like a meter apart apart from balders 'rich new widow meeting the police at her door' energy.

New drinking game: go through the enemy/demon models and take a shot for every face/human skull you see. It's so creepy lol. Phenomenal character design on all fronts!

Got 10,000 halos for finishing the game and immediately spent it all on the super outfit maker thing. I deserved it!!

Also apparently I got an achievement for using 20 wicked weaves with dodge offset, which is hysterical given I still don't know how to do dodge offset. Still don't know any combos either! It's a miracle I made it this far XD.

The characters are great, even the bosses have little interactions with bayonetta (mostly her cutting them off and shooting them lmao) and the found family energy the bayo/cereza/luka trio had was off the charts, but I'm so glad they didn't go through with it like every male/female leads ever. It has a way of flattening everyone involved :/.

The final cutscene totally happened because bayonetta and Jeanne got together with rodin like 'okay the angels probably think she's actually dead. This is our only chance to do something SO funny' like Enzo and poor luka fully thought she was dead. Jeanne called her nun outfit cosplay. Rodin stole enzos cig and lectured him while he accidentally protected him from falling coffin lids XD. With the intermittent fight scenes in the credits, the dance video, the amount of unlocks I got, what a way to end the game!!

In conclusion - this was definitely a game I'm going to replay and try to 100% (maybe not platinum style, but everything else lol), and it's so obvious how much thought, effort and love was put into it. A masterpiece but also very clearly an older game (the lack of save points and a good place to practice combos, combined with the painfully long chase segments both attest to that). Something I've thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of and something I'm most definitely going to come back to for a while to come.

Kinda want to get bayo 2 now... Do you think they still sell it on cd?

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

December Drabbles

Prompt 18: Sledding Characters: Cheka, Leona, Vizzie (OC) (Continuation of yesterday) (Also note, Vizzie calls Leona "kitty" it is an established nickname she has for him blkfjhdskjfsdf) -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Leona would never admit it, but this wasn't half bad. Once he got throw the squeals and giggles from his nephew showing off his new spaceship boots, it was easy to just sit and watch him run up the hill and slide down it. Vizzie was waiting at the bottom, anxious as ever to make sure the kid didn't biff it....or if he did, she would be there to help. Aside from a few glances from other caregivers there, Leona found it rather enjoyable. He had his shades on, the sun glaring off the snow made it impossible to be without them, but had also made the paths the kids had been using for sledding into sheets of ice that only seemed to propel them faster with every turn. If Leona hadn't fallen half asleep in his camp chair, he would have seen that. His ear flicked a bit as he heard Cheka panting a bit and walking up to him. He sat up and nodded slightly at him. "What do you want?" Cheka struggled to catch his breath, but was smiling brightly and squinting because of the sun. "Do y- do you wanna turn? Aunnie Vizzie said she wants to see you have a turn cuz she thinks you're too scared to do it and I wanna see you do it too cuz I dont think you're scared to do it I think she's wrong." He panted still, exhausted from his many treks up the hill. Leona's ear and tail flicked in slight annoyance as he looked down at Viz, who was chatting up another mom or something at the bottom of the hill. Truth be told....it looked kinda fun. And he could find a way to crash into her without hurting her. Even if it meant stopping in front of her just to get up and toss her in the snow bank. Revenge. Yeah, this could work. He groaned slightly as he stood up and stretched. "She said that about me, huh?" He gestured to Cheka to hand over the sled, which he did gleefully, giggling and nodding. "Alright kiddo. I'm only doing this once, because Viz said that, ok? Then you're plopping your butt back on this thing or we're going home." Cheka nodded in response, giggling. "Got it! Siddown siddown I wanna see you go down!" Leona waved him off a bit and sat on the sled, trying to get situated when he felt tiny hands grab the back of his jacket. Before he was able to ask Cheka what he was doing, the kid managed to spin him on the sled as he sent him down, jumping and squealing as he watched his uncle fly down the hill. He immediately went to sit in the camp chair, kicking his feet happily as he opened the thermos of hot chocolate, making sure it wasn't too hot before helping himself to some. Meanwhile, it was taking everything Leona had to not yell. He hadn't been spun like this....well.... since ever, and certainly not this fast. He had enough wits about him to set up a small buffer spell so he wouldn't flatten any kids on the way down, but only registered that he flew way past Vizzie when he heard her shocked voice ask his name. He finally put his foot down to drag himself to a stop. As much as Vizzie wanted to check on him, she had to watch Cheka to make sure nobody tried to touch him. Even with a slight masking spell on him he was unaware of, she couldn't help but be concerned. She was glad she hadn't gone to check on Leona when she heard the ragged sigh from behind her. She put her hand up behind her head in time to stop the bonk he was going to give her with the sled, only making him huff more. "Why did you do that?" Leona gave her the side eye of the century. "The fuck do you mean why'd I do it. You told Cheka you thought I was too much of a coward to do it." She looked at Leona confused, then tried to cover her growing smile with her hand, only serving to make Leona more irritated. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? He s-...." his sentence trailed off as his gaze returned to Cheka. If he listened closely, he could hear him bragging to the other kids about how cool his uncle was.

"He played you like a fiddle. Don't get mad though Leona, please?" She begged him quietly, her tone shifting from amused to desperation. Leona sighed. "He's just a kid. It was a small, one time thing. That I will never do again, but still." He shrugged a bit and looked up at his nephew again. "If you make me more hot chocolate when we get back to school I'll let it go, let this incident go." She smiled a bit and rubbed Leona's back. "Sure thing Kitty."

[lyssaterald]

Take Flight, Part ?: The Confession

In which Lyssa finally confessed one of her secrets and received a different reaction than what she had been expecting.

Lucifer x MC smut

Content Warning: General spoilers for the main story. Minors and ageless accounts do not interact! Named character, and slight mentions of character’s past and history which are expanded on as they are important to this chapter. Weirdly, I switch between past and present tense. Sorry, not sorry. Unbeta read.

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I don't know how many times we've been together by this time, but it's the first time I notice my fingers run across the straight, jagged scars between his wing sets. He's mid-thrust, his mouth occupying mine as I grunt and moan into the walls of his rooms and it isn't the best time to ask. Still, my hands turn tender as I caress those scars and map the shape of their knots and valleys to my fingers. Somewhere, he responds to the tenderness of my touches and it turns into an evening of mapping out the scars on my own body...again.

Luci is always so gentle of the scars and lines that my body possesses, already knowing that a normal human wouldn't have held so many. My body is battle hardened and my instincts well trained. His is, too, though he lacks the many scars usual warriors I knew carried. Even if he was physically beautiful and attractive, he was also beautiful and deadly in ways no one but warriors could understand. His movements, his center of gravity, everything spoke of training and battle experience.

I'm tracing the scars again, gently, post-coitus and he is smiling into my shoulder already half asleep. "Your body tells the story of your life," he chuckles at me. "You have fought hard to keep what you want and love." His own fingers are gently tracing the knotted scar on my arm.

"It was a gift from someone that hated me and my family for being different," I murmur, remembering the hard fight that ended in a noble's death and a power struggle that upset Dame's court. "I was targeted because they thought I would be easy." My mouth flattened unhappily. "I wasn't."

Luci chuckled again. "Of course you weren't," he says like it's the most natural thing in the world and it warms my heart. "They were fools to look at your gender or size or blood and make that assumption. You are a very powerful and sneaky woman."

I am ready to roll on top of him again and go another round, because no one else-no one-had ever bothered to acknowledge that sneaky was useful to survival, that it was a skill. Even my older siblings who had purer blood and, thereby strength and magic, hadn't said anything like that even once.

Luci lets me have my way with him, stroking and squeezing and desperate, until we reach our climaxes. He just holds me, then, his fingers gently tracing the scattered scars of my back and the smooth skin between them. He's soothing a pain I had never been able to acknowledge, never wanted to touch. Desperately, I want to cocoon us in my wings but they don't know yet that I am more than human and only Diavolo and Lucifer have seen my wings once. I shiver at the remembered pain.

"What are you thinking about, my heart?" He asks, lips curving in a tiny smile.

My heart flutters a little every time he calls me that and I give him a shy smile in return. "That you're beautiful in more ways than appearance and that I'm glad you are the one I love." His blush is light and I trace my fingers gently over his cheek, wishing for claws.

The reason I had kept my secret was because they had kidnapped me from the heart of my Dame's stronghold and the seat of power for our species. Months spent with them had developed friendships and deepened into pacts with some of them, a relationship with Luci, and something developing with Diavolo. I had patiently waited for the other side of the coin to flip up and reveal the second part of their plan, but it doesn't seem like there is one.

Months without flying or stretching my wings had left an irritable itch under my skin that was only briefly settled by sex with Luci. And he could fly, had been out flying during my time here and it was hard not to be jealous of the freedom to do so.

But...

He'd had three sets of wings once. Likely, the missing set had been the price from war and Satan's creation. Pushing myself up on his chest, I settle on his hips and study him. His hands slip to my hips and he watches me curiously before his dark eyes switch to three distinct scars on my hip and across my stomach.

"These almost look like claw marks from a demon," he murmurs absently. Then, his focus is on my face again. "You're in a thoughtful mood tonight, Lys. Anything in particular on your mind?"

"You," I tease.

His laugh is deep and pure. "Well, yes," he returns, giving a roll of his hips. His half hard cock teases my G-spot and sends a wave of pleasure and soreness through me with a sharp gasp. He splays his claws against my hips and covers the scars he was just looking at. His look softens again, probably seeing lingering unease and nerves. "But that's not the topic that has you looking at me with questions. You may ask me anything, but I may not be able to answer."

"It's more a comparison than anything," I say hesitantly and one eyebrow lifts. "You've given tremendously of yourself to protect your family, right down to a set of wings and your very identity."

One of his claws trail up my side as he considers my words. "You've seen something of yourself in my history?

I twine my fingers with his wandering hand. "Do you love me because of my humanity or in spite of it?"

Lucifer frowns at the way that I wouldn't look at him, at the way that I looked away from him. His other claw came up to grasp my chin and bring my eyes to his. Unease filled me as I looked into his dark eyes, but I didn't look away. It was my own discomfort making me squirm in his lap and I had no right to make him doubt our relationship, not that I was trying to.

"What's troubling you tonight and causing you to doubt us?" he asked softly. Then, more hesitantly, he added, "Or is it that Lord Diavolo is actively pursuing you?"

My surprise that he wasn't angry with Diavolo or I cut through my unease and I stared at him for a long second. "I...was going to ask you about his sudden shift in affections, but you already knew."

His claws slid back to my hips and begin to rub comforting circles into my skin. "It is not uncommon for demons to take multiple partners and, unlike my brothers, he asked permission from me to continue courting you."

I sorted the emotions I was going through and acknowledged that I might be more than a little peeved that they had planned this without involving me. But...I was also somewhat relieved because I'd had no idea how to broach the subject with Lucifer. "Alright, we'll talk about that a little later, but I'm not doubting us or making plans to leave you. I just...want to know what you suspect of my heritage and bloodlines."

It was Lucifer's turn to look a little surprised and then he shrugged. "I had not given it much thought, but if I were to guess I would say that you are definitely human though you also appear to be something else. I have no idea what species or subspecies are part of the human world these days so I cannot comfortably make that guess. Were those wings Lord Diavolo and I assisted you with yours or part of Mammon's back fired plan with those witches?"

In answer, I coaxed my more draconic features to unVeil and show him. The wings unfurled from my back and stretched, fingers sharpened to claws, teeth became fangs, pupils shifted to a cats eye, and scales formed beneath one eye and followed a path down my collar bone, stomach, and disappeared along my thigh where we were still joined.

"I am three parts human and one part dragon," I told him and blushed under the scrutiny he was looking me over with. His eyes were slowly bleeding from black to the shade of crimson I associated with lust.

With a quick movement, Lucifer had us rolled over and reversed our positions. He was careful to make sure our wings didn't tangle around us as he touched the scales under my eye and traced them to the valley between my breasts. He eyes flickered up to mine and a smile was tugging at his lips.

"Beautiful," he murmured to me and I clasped my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder. "What is it, sweetheart?"

I hadn't known I was shaking until he asked that question. "Just...relief, I suppose. I'm just relieved you don't hate me for keeping this from you and everyone else."

His claws in my hair gently coaxed me into looking at him. "I could never hate you for protecting yourself. You had no way of knowing if you could trust us at the beginning and I doubt any of my brothers will hold this against you. Lord Diavolo certainly won't." His eyes took on a mischievous look as he contemplated my body. "In fact, there are many things that I can think of doing with this new form of yours."

With that, he kissed me and it became a long night in which he worked all of the worries out of my body and left me bonelessly exhausted. Sleep has never come easier than after he was satisfied and I had all but screamed my voice hoarse.

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Lucifer waited until she had fallen asleep before retrieved his D.D.D from the nightstand. As carefully as he could, he angles the camera to snap a photo of Lyssa's sleeping face, making sure to capture the way her wings draped across his and the scales that shown under her eye. Satisfied, he tucked the phone away and brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. For now, this was something that he would keep from Diavolo and allow her to come clean with him in her own time.

[sindar-princeling]

actually! i have another question! i know you’ve said that ROP’s holistic reception was rather… :/ but how was the show’s true quality? was there any memorable/fitting music? was it plot accurate? was the film quality high? and a bonus, do you have a favorite scene?

not to offload all this on you at once, but i just want to know your opinion of its quality uwu

hi again! ❤️

I just wanna begin by saying I'm no expert on film- and tv-making, so I don't think I'll have much professional input, but. here we go!

(this is gonna be a spoilery review, just a warning)

overall, the quality was pretty uneven, I'd say. the show was advertised as the most expensive series ever made, and... I personally couldn't see that. especially regarding costumes and cgi, i feel like there was a lot of room to improve. some views and wide shots of locations were pretty nice (lindon, eregion, also khazad dum was just beautiful in some shots), but the scene where they were sailing to valinor looked really bad to me, especially those cgi seagulls.

the acting was a mixed bag. there are characters whose acting i really enjoyed (miriel in the second half of the series, elrond, arondir had his moments, adar was GREAT, elendil was pretty cool, durin was good even when the script wasn't), but it only made the rest look worse in comparison, i'm afraid.

I'd say the music was good. I'm not sure i'd call it memorable, because apart from the opening credits music i well. don't remember it, but that may just be my shitty memory jshkjfhjdk but I don't think there were any moments where music felt unfitting or jarring. it was fine.

about the writing... okay, that's a long one.

as for the plot - they didn't have many rights to tolkien's works, so their options were limited, plot-wise. even the intro with some information from the years of the trees and the first age was very general, and didn't even mention the kinslaying.

but while they had to invent a lot of plot, the characters were RIGHT THERE. all they had to do was do them justice, and in my opinion - they didn't. galadriel isn't wise or power hungry (in my opinion), and it's a shame. her arc is in most part just the writers screaming ISN'T IT IRONIC HOW SHE CAUSED THE THING SHE TRIED TO STOP, it lacks any subtlety.

(on this topic, why did sauron tempt her, and not celebrimbor? does it stink a bit of homophobia or...? it's like they were deadly afraid of even a hint of homoerotic subtext. like im sure that's what happened, but it still sucks)

it's a story about forging of the rings of power, and celebrimbor is barely there. i'm really baffled by some of the writing choices, because they clearly had the rights to the rings, celebrimbor and sauron, so why not tell the story that was written? there is enough material there to tell a compelling story, and in my opinion choosing to omit and overwrite it was a bad one. neither galadriel, nor the original plot benefitted from the writing choices, i think. they both ended up heavily flattened and less interesting than their original versions.

galadriel especially had many of her ambitions and stuggles taken away from her - by making her conflict with sauron central to the plot, the show takes away from the fact that galadriel's biggest stuggle has always been with herself - and in lotr, she wins when she resists the ring (NOT sauron - she resists her hunger for power and her huge ambition. it's about HER). it was one of the changes that made me the saddest, because they had a truly amazing, iconic female character right there, and they wasted her potential so painfully.

it WOULD feel wrong to say i wish they just hadn't chosen her as the main character, because we DO still need more female leads - many, many more. but i can't not be angry at the way they stripped her of her ambitions, best strengths and defining flaws.

there are also many changes to the lore, to which my reactions switched between "why add that?" (isildur's sister, the priestesses? witches? whoever they were), "why change that" (mithril lore (im still all "???" whenever i try to make sense of it)), and "oh my fucking GOD" (halbrand as sauron, mordor's on/off switch). especially the last one was... ridiculous. mordor is a country that's seeped through with evil because of the dark forces inhabiting it for ages, and you're telling me they decided to make it so that it was created within a few minutes because a guy put a sword into a keyhole? fuck off

the whole sauron thing is a material for a separate post and this is already long enough, but I'll just say. i don't get why they had to make drama around sauron. everyone and their mother knows who sauron is, you can just use the impact that this character has instead of creating conflict with a weak plot justification. of course it was going to be hard to create a character from someone who in LOTR is more a symbol than a person - but in my opinion, they didn't make any right choices regarding him. and they didn't even tell the actor he was going to be playing sauron until they were shooting episode three, which is a trend that seriously needs to stop.

all in all, if you're looking for bits of story and lore that tolkien came up with, they are not there. solid 90% of the show - maybe more - is something new or changed

the costumes are... meh, mostly. there is one thing in particular that makes my blood boil, and it's Numenorean armor, best visible on Miriel. take a look at her sleeves:

(id in alt text)

it's fucking. fabric with the scales pattern printed on it??? which is either a pretty bad costume idea/design, or THE cheapest, laziest, almost insulting execution I've ever seen.

also, many costumes are only like two layers of clothes, they usually have few details like jewellery and such, so they often look simply unfinished. especially elven costumes are underwhelming. I think as far as i remember, the dwarves' costumes looked best. I'd recommend watching LanaMarie's videos on youtube, I've stumbled upon them while looking for video essays on rop and it's clear she knows what she's talking about when it comes to costuming.

(also, I stand by what i said when the first promo pics came out - why would you get rid of long-haired male elves? I hate that they did that. are they THAT afraid of breaking gender norms?)

last but not least - i was seriously not impressed by the actors' accents choices. you got English elves, irish harfoots, scottish dwarves, cockney (? i'm not sure) orcs... it was a mess of really ugly stereotypes.

(EDIT: I worded this poorly - it sounds like I mean to say it's the actors' fault, but that's not what I meant. I wanted to say that the actors playing certain races seemed to have been assigned certain accents by the creators and along with some script choices it created a few ugly situations that felt very stereotypical and harmful towards real life people who speak with those accents)

HOWEVER, despite all that i'm gonna end on a more positive note and refer to your last question, my favourite scene. this spot is easily taken by the scene where disa and some other dwarves sing to the mountain to let go of trapped miners. it had amazing impact, to me it was a beautiful piece of lore, and it showed the love and respect and trust the dwarves have for the mountains. it was so short and simple yet so amazingly effective in conveying everything it had to convey. also disa's singing gave me goosbumps, the actress has an amazing voice.

okay, i think that's all i wanted to say (wow, that's. a lot). thank you a lot for asking, I hope that tells you what you wanted to learn! and i really enjoyed this opportunity to talk some more about my thoughts :)

[andantexvii]

// Promises // Pt. 4

Eddie Munson x Reader

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Word Count ~ 3,714

Warnings ~ profanity; smoking; (blink and you'll miss it) implications of past abuse/abandonment; use of she/her pronouns

Notes ~ Sorry for the wait! I've been struggling MAJORLY with my epilepsy lately, and am in need of and preparing for a much needed surgery to help correct some issues I'm having with it. Writing keeps my mind off the worst of things and productive, so I'm happy to have this project going! My medication-addled brain can sometimes overlook some editing errors. If it’s glaring, I don’t mind being notified, but if it’s passable, let it pass~ Reminder the time is adjusted to 1987 - please enjoy!

FIXED! - Oh my goodness why did no one mention my scrambled egg brain posted the darn text twice? 😭😭😭😭😭

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Requested tags: @eddieswifu, @missfangirl-slightly-obsessive, @booksarekindaneat, @renaroo123 [To be added for future updates, shoot me an ask!]

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Eddie rode his Hellfire Friday high through to Saturday night, at least, that's what he told himself it was. Another successful night of fun and storytelling, his flock of misfits finding comfort and friendship, not just in him, but with one another. Though, he couldn't deny the fact they looked to him as a source of their joy, responsible for bringing them together and making them feel welcome at the table, was something he'd always revel in. Welcoming a new soul into the fold was a different kind of uplifting feeling, and one he didn’t experience enough - even so, this one felt different, and the lingering satisfaction might last him a while, though he’d never admit it to himself.

He was always ready to invite anyone willing, or clearly in need, that was one of the founding principles of Hellfire he strove to uphold - he hadn’t anticipated having to make changes to his meticulously planned campaign nearly a month in. Still, with as often as he’d been pestering his new friend to join him, he wasn’t going to have her pull up a seat only to feel as though there was no place, or she was being squeezed in at an inconvenience. No, each of them had gotten an appropriate introduction to the story, to the rest of the party, and even if he had to reach a bit, or quite a lot, she’d know she was going to be a valuable asset to the team, he’d see to that.

"Al-l-lright, let's make some magic." Eddie mumbled to himself, a pen clenched between his teeth as he flattened a well-worn composition book against his crumpled sheets. Rolling to one side, he reached as far as he could to press play on his stereo, the floor immediately vibrating with the rhythmic pulses of music. Sure, his uncle would probably give him hell about 'waking half the neighborhood' when he returned - but Eddie knew he had a few hours of peace to work for the time being. Then of course, as he stared at the lines, he realized his mind was as blank as the page.

All at once he realized Dustin had interrupted their Friday night meeting before they'd gotten a chance to talk shop, so to speak. He vaguely remembered her mentioning having played before, and having none too pleasant an experience. Step one was to fix that, for certain, but step two eluded him as he wasn't sure if she'd already established a character or if she really was just coming into the whole thing blind. Maybe she wanted to start new, everyone did at some point in time… There were a dozen possibilities, more even if he thought about it, there was no way he could prepare for them all. Could he? He could just wait and ask her at school, but he was in the zone right now, ready to pen some magic - who knew if it would last?

His eyes darted down the hall toward the phone… right, they hadn't crossed that threshold, and she hadn't lived here long enough to be in the white pages yet. Pacing the room he paused to peek out the window, wondering if knocking on her door after 10pm on a Saturday would be too unreasonable. He sneered remembering the foul-mouthed woman who'd ruined their night a few weeks back, not knowing what he'd do if that creature were to answer him instead. Besides, her rust dusted ride didn't appear to be in the driveway… she probably had better places to be than to waste her weekend talking fantasy games with a guy like him, anyway.

Sighing, he dove back onto the bed; fishing in the blankets for his pen. Determined to make the most of his creative streak, and rolling a joint for luck and focus, he began furiously scribbling away as the ideas came to him; more as a disjointed stream of inspirational bits than a cohesive foundation to build on, but one brick at a time would get him there. Eventually.

"Hope her class fits in with the dynamic we've got. Ah, hell, I'll make it fit." He wrinkled his nose, crossing a few things out and writing a new memo to himself in the margins. “There’s no way she’d spec a character as lame or try-hard as any of these guys…”

Pausing for a moment, he flipped back a few pages and reviewed the notes he'd jotted down a few months back when the campaign was just starting to come together; snorting at the short list of one-off preparation exercises Mike was still apologizing for insulting. Smirking, he read down the list of each club member's name next to their character and class, happy to find one blank line left at the bottom where he wrote her name, as neatly as he could manage, in honorary red ink. He left just enough space for her character's name as well… as soon as he learned it. Truthfully, there was a lot he still needed, and fully intended, to learn about his newest friend; he could only hope the space that existed for her, that he'd welcomed her to, would be enough.

Bouncing between rapid scribbling and flipping through his game books for reference, he had hardly felt the time pass as quickly as it did. The few who cared to notice always praised Eddie for his creative mind. Whether it be the stories he loved to weave with ease, the lyrics he penned as though the muse poured directly into the paper, or the music that seemed to effortlessly blossom to life beneath his fingers every time he touched his instruments, artistry flowed from him like water from a spring. Too bad it wasn't much for making a living in a place like Hawkins, as every teacher and counselor liked to remind him. It damn sure made it more tolerable though.

He rubbed his eyes from strain and disbelief as he noticed the first dim glow of morning through his half-open blinds. Rolling lazily out of bed, he sauntered to the kitchen for a snack. He could hardly call it breakfast, as he hadn't really been to sleep, even so he pillaged the cabinets as the soft sound of gravel beneath tires outside heralded his uncle's return. He smiled weakly, admiring the man's kindness, fortitude, and patience - even Eddie knew he could get a bit out of hand at times. Without thinking, he turned to ready the coffee pot with a fresh brew, and dragged himself back to his room empty handed.

In the front driveway, Wayne Munson shut off his truck engine, sighing heavily with exhaustion. He paused momentarily to look at his own weary reflection in the rear view mirror, eyes bloodshot, before opening the door to the chilly morning air. He'd gotten used to this reverse schedule of sorts, if it could be called a schedule at all. Sleeping his mornings away, working the night hours… until someone didn't show for their morning shift, and their hours got tacked onto his; which had been happening more and more frequently. It was an honest living, at least, he could rest easily enough in that and hope his example would be enough for his nephew.

Pausing to let the brisk morning air remind him a world existed outside the factory walls, he took in the placid peacefulness of the morning. He lit a cigarette and closed his eyes to enjoy the quiet… that is, until the continued sounds of a car engine struggling to turn over half a dozen times caught his attention. Peering up the road, he noticed the tail lights aglow in the driveway of the newly occupied trailer a few lots away. He knew a new family had moved in there some months back; maybe it had been that long? But between work, and keeping Eddie in line he'd hardly had a moment to introduce himself - in his experience, most folks around here tended to prefer keeping to themselves anyway, but there was no time like the present. 

"Car troubles there, miss?" A gruff, but gentle voice called to her through the chilly morning mist. 

"Erm, something like that…" She gave the engine one last turn of the key to encourage it to start, met only by a few wheezing sputters.

The man strode a short distance closer and gave her car a once over, tutting softly as he examined the patches of rust beginning to take over… whatever the original color of the car had been. He knew the value of taking care of things and keeping them in good order, hanging on to something until it was beyond repair or use, but this had clearly seen its better days.

"Take it you don't know too much about fixin' cars." He took a long drag off his cigarette and eyed her for a moment; it was no reason to assume. "Your old man never take a look at 'er for you?"

Wayne was already rolling the sleeves of his flannel shirt up to his mid-forearms before her eyes even fell. There were more people like him and his nephew around, even if he'd sometimes rather forget. No one to do the repairs for her, and probably no money for routine upkeep - he'd been there, done that a hundred times over. It was clear she had places to be, and no girl her age was headed anywhere on a morning like this they didn't absolutely have to go; he chided himself as he stepped toward the front of the car.

"Ah, I'm not his problem anymore." She mumbled, offhandedly. 

"Mind if I take a look, here, for ya'?" He peered through the windshield at her diminishing form; she wasn't used to asking for help, much less getting it, that much was plain. The two of them teetered on the edge of silence for a few long moments as she wrestled internally with the instinct to say no.

"I…I'd appreciate it if you have a moment…" She released the hood latch, giving him access to the engine compartment.

"Not a problem, young miss." He flicked his cigarette away and dove into the tangle of pipes and wires, seeing what he could glean of the problem before he tried anything. After a few moments, he went to his truck, retrieved a few items and returned; all the while eyeing her with a faint smile that masked what appeared to be empathy. The two of them walked a similar road, even if she was several miles behind where he’d ended up - oh and he prayed she found a good turn off before she made it that far.

"Well, y'ain't dressed for church…" He grunted, wrestling with a rusted bolt. "Where's a young lady headed so early on a Sunday morning?"

Looking down, she adjusted the unflattering, gaudily colored apron poking out from under her coat. Crossing her arms she looked down and away, clearing her throat as if trying to avoid the question - not that this good samaritan looked like he’d judge her much.

“Work.” She said bluntly, glancing up.

Wayne paused for a moment, lifting his head to catch a good glimpse of the girl around the open hood of her car. He knew she’d been part of whatever family had moved in down the way a few weeks ago, but not much more than that. He could tell at a glance she was about his nephew’s age, maybe a bit younger, still in school no doubt; a pretty, young thing he thought to himself. Shaking his head he ducked back down and continued to fiddle with the engine.

“S’good, college ain’t free." He said with an encouraging chuckle, with a faint hope the money she was earning was to get her out of a place like Forest Hills.

“Neither is living.” She huffed under her breath, hoping the kind, older man wouldn’t hear but, having raised a teenager, he could hear a sarcastic huff from a mile away.

"Amen t'that…" Wayne grunted, his tired voice echoing against the raised metal hood of the car. "I didn't mean nothin' by it, miss. Y'look like you've got a good head on y'shoulders, shame t'let it go to waste in a place like this." He waved the tip of his screwdriver in a circle, gesturing more to the city itself, than their immediate surroundings. 

After a few more minutes of pained silence between them, Wayne stood upright and dusted his hands off on his heavy work coat. 

"M'nephew's the same way, smart as a whip, that boy, but he's pissin' it all away. Ah, s'cuse my mouth, missy; get in there and give 'er a try now."

Looking up she gave the man a shy smile and slid into the driver's seat, giving the key in the ignition a tentative turn. With a few strained wheezes and a pop of the loose muffler, the car roared to life; she sighed deeply and turned her smile to Wayne gratefully, as if it had just dawned on her.

"You're Eddie's uncle, then?" She looked down as she climbed back out of the car, giving the engine a moment to warm up.

"Heh, yep, that'd be me." He tucked a cigarette between his lips as he closed the hood of the car. "Figured you might've met my boy, once or twice, at school probably. Hope he ain't been a menace t'you."

"N-No, not at all!" She stuttered, stepping back a few paces and opening the back door of the car, seemingly looking for something. "In fact, he's been about the only person who hasn't. Only one who's treated me well at all, since I got here, really; well him, and you now."

"Ye-e-eah, that sounds about like him, too." Wayne laughed, good-naturedly as he lit up his cigarette. He hadn't wanted to make snap judgements about the girl, but there was something that told him she was a bit of an outcast herself, having trouble fitting in. Those were always the kind Eddie surrounded himself with, even if he was out clinging to the fringes of society himself he wasn't going to let anyone else out there go at it alone.

"You, uh, mind giving this to him?" She handed over a small, plastic container filled with, what Wayne could tell, some kind of baked good. "I um, I made some for DnD last week and I don't think he got to have any, so I um… yeah."

"Oh, good lord, he roped you into his little game club, too?" Wayne’s face lit up with a genuine smile at the presentation of her humble gift - in that moment, he cared less about the game, and more that a respectable young lady was giving his nephew the time of day. "That's awful kind of you, miss, I'll make sure he gets 'em, and that he's damn grateful for 'em too."

"Thank you. Have some too if you like!" She whispered, relieved before diving into her pockets, producing a worn-out ladies' wallet. "Oh, um, what do I owe you for-"

"Put that away, miss. Just a kindness to a lady in need, y'don't owe me a dime." Wayne sighed at the sight of the few crumpled dollar bills she fanned through. He could tell she wasn't used to receiving help, or much of anything, without strings attached.

"Are you sure? I can't just…" She was cut off when he raised his hands and gave her a warm smile.

"Damn sure, an' I won't hear another word about it. Now, you get on up the road, y'don't want to be late."

Smiling weakly, she tucked the wallet back into her coat and climbed into the car; taking a moment to adjust the vents which didn't seem to be producing much heat. 'Another time.' Wayne thought to himself, suddenly surprised to find himself hoping she might come around again, some time or another. Most girls that followed Eddie home he couldn't hope to get rid of fast enough…

"T-Thank you again, um, Mr. Munson." She gave him a shy wave and shifted the car into drive. The rusty suspension groaned in protest, but surely the car started rolling away toward the main road.

"Take care now." He returned the wave, standing long enough to make sure his temporary repairs kept her going until she made it out of sight. Finishing off his cigarette, he flicked the spent butt into the grass and headed inside.

"There you are. Mmmhm, what kept ya'?" Eddie emerged from his bedroom with a yawn and a stretch as his uncle, finally, came through the front door.

"Well, well." Wayne smirked, stooping to take off his work boots and leave them on the rug. "Somebody's up early. What's the occasion?"

"Up late." He corrected with a smarmy little grin. "Just doing some important work, that's all. Made coffee when I heard you pull up; y'want some?"

Tossing his coat onto the sofa and stretching a bit himself, Wayne nodded as he placed the little plastic container on the kitchen counter with a smirk. He had already been pouring his uncle a steaming mug before he turned back and spotted the package.

"Thought you'd fallen asleep in the driveway again, was afraid I'd have to come out and-" Eddie stopped as his eyes fell on the box, hand outstretched with the freshly poured coffee. "What's, uh… where'd you get that?"

Wayne grinned as he took the coffee cup, and sank into a comfy recliner nearby; he relaxed for a few seconds before answering.

"Met the new neighbor girl on the way in." He chuckled, propping up his tired feet. "Car troubles. What would you know, she had 'em in the back seat. For you."

Eddie stepped around the counter, taking the tupperware in his hands and eyeing his uncle skeptically. It looked enough like the one she'd had with her on Friday - the one Dustin had happily carried home with him.

"For me?" Eddie perked an eyebrow, wondering half if he was telling the truth, and half why she would bother in the slightest.

"Yup." Wayne took a long gulp of coffee, closing his eyes and relaxing into the plush chair. "Said y’didn't get to try any at your goofy little game night, so, she wanted y'to have some."

"What was she doin' up and out at this hour?" Eddie stooped to peek out the front window, as if responsibilities that began at daylight were unheard of. "I mean, she didn't seem the church goin' type, not that I care or nothin', but…"

"Workin'." Wayne grunted, clearing his throat and adjusting himself in his seat. "That's what she told me anyhow."

"Man, that's why she's been falling asleep in class so much." He tutted under his breath, a sympathetic grimace on his lips. No one he knew, at least not in a position like theirs, that had to work while they were in school was doing it because they wanted to. "Probably why it took her two weeks to show."

"Bless 'er heart." Wayne huffed, shaking his head a bit. 

Pulling back the tupperware lid, the small space was filled with the enticing aroma of warm coffee and chocolate; Eddie’s stomach gave an audible growl as he wriggled his fingers into the container and pulled out a brownie, taking an eager bite.

“Awh, shit.” He mimed dramatically collapsing backward onto the countertop as he chewed. He'd imagined what they might have tasted like a dozen times over since Friday evening, but nothing had prepared him for this.

His uncle chuckled, peering over his shoulder and taking in his nephew’s brief moment of happiness; they were far too few for his liking, try as he might.

“Heh, that bad, huh?” Wayne chuckled.

“Mhm!” Eddie held up a finger, munching slowly as if it required his full attention. “S’Awful, wretched, worst thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. …here, have one.”

“Nah, she made those for you, you enjoy ‘em.”

“Uh-uh, this, thi-i-is…” He skirted around the countertop and waved the open tupperware under his uncle’s nose. “This is no Betty Crocker bullshit, it’s the real deal.”

“Fine, fine.” Wayne took a brownie, enjoying it with a sip of coffee - pleasantly surprised at how tasty they were. “So, this uh, new friend of yours, huh?”

“Hmmpf?” He looked up, eyes wide as he wrapped his lips around another brownie, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“You know. Cute lil’ gal next door, bakin’ for you and all…” He gave the boy a wink. 

"Dunno’, most girls we invite to Hellfire never show up in the first place. That or don’t stick around, so I mean, it's a real sausage fest." Shrugging, entirely clueless as he often was. "Henderson likes her, anyway, he's the little jerk who ate all the brownies she brought in Friday… asshole."

“Damn sight better’n the ones that try t’follow y’home from that bar, anyway.” The older man rolled his eyes, silently chiding his nephew’s short-sightedness. 

“Hah!” Eddie snorted through a full mouth, earning his uncle’s disapproving glare. “No worries, I got you runnin’ interference. You give ‘em that golem stare of yours and they scatter like the roaches they are.”

“That little darlin’ comes back around, just so y’know, I'm not chasin’ her off. Don't imagine she's like to linger where ‘roaches’ gather, though.”

“Look, those leeches can fish all they want, so long as they keep buyin’ tickets and beer at every show, I’m not bitin’. No way man, me? There's only one, and I'm waitin' for-”

“The real deal?” Wayne cut him off with a smirk, giving him a knowing glance over the rim of his mug.

Staring blankly and blinking a few times, Eddie dusted his cheeks with a paper towel before crumpling it up and tossing it at his uncle with a sour expression at his good-natured teasing.

“I’m goin’ to bed.” He grunted, slamming the lid back on the brownies and carrying them toward his room, as if he were determined to protect this batch from being plundered.

Maybe the old man had a point, he figured - man he hated when that happened.

[pan-fried-autism]

The North Experiment Part 4: Like Prey in a Trap

Characters: Swap!Grem, Swap!Jack, Swap!M0u5e, Swap!Nikolai (@bowlerhatwearer)

Summary: It seems like Grem and Jack's game of tag has come to an end.

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: Stalking, like a boatload of horrible obsessive behaviour, attempted kidnapping, and murder + death. You have been warned.

Grementine was frozen in place. The cold gales of wind blowing from the doorway were practically heavenly compared to the current situation.

How did he find her here? She hadn't made any actual indication she was leaving. Hadn't mentioned it to him last week when he come over with that stupid pearl bracelet. Hadn't even posted about it, since she kept having to block Jack's sockpuppet accounts. The only people she had told were her coworkers.

Jack kept staring down at her, smirk still on his face, waiting for a response.

Ok, ok, what should she do? There wasn't really any way to get help. M0u5e. M0u5e, yeah, she should get him somewhere safe first.

Grem turned to the robot, who still watching the movie.

"M0u5e, go to the bedroom now." she said to him, quickly and urgently.

The tone of her voice brought M0u5e out of her trance.

"What--"

"M0u5e."

M0u5e was about to say something else, but its eyes flicked over to their visitor. Within a second, it was pausing the movie and awkwardly scurrying off to the bedroom, shutting the door behind it.

Grem breathed a sigh of relief, though it was immediately nulled once she faced Jack again.

"H... How did you find me here?" she asked him, voice shaking.

"Eh, wasn't too hard." Jack replied, looking off to the side. "All I knew was that a friend of mine wasn't able to go to the local pub tonight, seeing as she had to cover a coworkers' shift."

He turned to face Grem again, smirk deepening into a menacing smile. "Kaia thinks you're strange, you know that?"

Wha-

Oh.

... That connects some dots.

Jack shook his head a bit, and closed the door behind him. "Whatever. The important thing is, you don't have to run anymore."

The cats eyes widened, and her eyes flattened down. She started to slowly take a few steps back. Jack matched her movements, walking closer to her each time.

Shit, she thought, this is bad, REALLY bad. What do I even do???

Jack was still talking, his facade of cold indifference already slipping a bit.

"It's been a real pain dealing with ya, kitten. Always on the lookout for something I need that just keeps slipping out of my grasp! Even changing your name to something dumb. You've always tried to make it hard for me."

Fuck you, the name change was unrelated, Grem spat at him within her thoughts. She was still backing away from him, Jack still approaching.

Finally, Grem felt herself bump against the counter, a sensation that skyrocketed her heart rate. DAMN IT! She was cornered! She could see Jack's face twisting a little into something between a grimace and a wide grin.

Strings of curses and profanities whipped through her mind as she desperately thought of possible ways to escape. Her hands fumbled around the counter and brushed against the handle of one of the drawers.

An idea sprang forth-- a knife! She could stab him somehow!

Grem started speaking gibberish a little loudly, like "Ah, uh, Jack-- you-- uh..." and fumbled with the handle behind her, trying to open the drawer and search for a knife, or really anything sharp.

Unfortunately, Jack had came prepared.

Seeing the cats hands at the drawer, he quickly moved his arm and hand around Grem to the base of her neck, and in one swift motion, Grem was off the ground, held by her scruff.

Now was when she was really, truly trapped.

Panic filled Grems mind and spread throughout her being. She felt her limbs go numb, being limp and unmoving no matter how hard she tried. She begged at least an arm to move, to slash Jack's face, to do something.

Jack watched the fear and panic in Grem's face grow and grow, and chuckled with a horrible delight, muttering "silly kitty" to himself.

The hare walked away from the counter (still holding Grem), and stood in the living room, near a wall. He said nothing for a few seconds, before looking back at Grem and raising his eyebrow callously.

"You know..." he started,

"I don't know why you won't give me another chance. I always try and check up on you. And I bring you nice gifts I think you'll like. Hell, I even left you alone for a while when you 'needed it.'"

He looked away from Grem again, eyebrows now furrowing.

"... and yet, you don't appreciate or care about one god damn second of it." he hissed in her face, malice coating every word.

Grem said nothing, too scared to make a sound.

Jack continued.

"You can't bring yourself to care when someone else does. Not in high school, not five years ago, not even now when I come for a visit. You've KNOWN this is all I ever wanted, especially with YOU, and you don't give a shit. I mean, I guess I can give you a pass, considering... y'know.

"But now I got you where I want you. And I'm not letting you go this time."

His deep, angry frown was curling up into a wide, toothy grin, his eyes widening and staring deeper into Grem, whose eyes were spilling tears.

Quickly his expression changed to a more neutral one, though you could see the hidden rage if you looked at him for more than a second. He took a deep breath before speaking yet again.

"Now, Claire-bear, here's what we're going to do.

"I'm going to put you down on the couch, and I'm going to pack up your belongings. We're going to walk back to the parking lot, we're getting into my car, and I'm driving us back to the house.

"And finally--" he looked off past Grem, a wistful expression forming-- "FINALLY, we'll be able to spend our lives together.

"Got that, kitten?"

Grem said nothing, trying to form words through the cloud of tears and hatred, and the lump in her throat, though both eventually went away.

"Jack," she snapped at him, " I'm not going anywhere with y--"

Jack quickly lunged forward and slammed Grem against the wall, which caused her to yowl.

"Got that, kitten?" he repeated fiercely, not even bothering to hide the 10 years of pent up fury within in being.

Combined with the fear and newfound pain in her back and head, a new feeling came over Grem-- despair. She really couldn't get out of this, could she? No internet, no phone in the cabin, miles away from everyone else, and the only other person anywhere here was waiting for her to come over TO him. What could she do?

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, she finally whispered, "... Yeah."

Jack's expression changed to neutral once again, and he smirked, pleased with the outcome. "That's what I thought." he quipped.

Jack removed her from the wall and carefully placed her on the couch, bending down to meet her eyes.

“Stay here, and don’t move. I’ll know if you do.” He stated.

He quickly got back up straight and walked to the bedroom door, opening it and going in.

Grem sat down on the couch for a while. Maybe 15 minutes or so.

She sat down and felt the feeling return to her limbs, and she heard Jack opening and closing things, occasionally saying something unintelligible to himself. She heard M0u5e, he was evidently talking to Jacks, saying things like “What are you doing in here?” and “Why are you taking that, Jack?”

She never heard any response.

Jack also went through the kitchen and combed through the cupboards, taking anything he thought was Grems or just thought was needed. So enraptured in the task at hand that he barely noticed anything going on inside or outside the house.

Grem sat for 15 long, long minutes, and felt the life she had built for herself crumple away.

Eventually, Jack had two suitcases and a bag of odds and ends packed. He put one down before grabbing onto Grem’s hand and yanking her onto her feet. The cat stumbled a little before Jack gave her one of the suitcases.

Jack was smiling. Was one of those smiles that never quite reached your eyes. A smile so sweet, it seemed rotten.

“Excellent. This is going good so far,” he remarked to the both of them. He cleared his throat, and spoke again.

“Now, Claire-bear, I'd say it's about time we get ready and get our coats on and stuff. That way we can safely get down the mountain and the snow. You ready to go, wifey?"

She couldn't respond. There were way too many things, awful things running through her mind. One in particular stood out, however.

"... What about M0u5e?" she murmured.

The hare's expression changed to one of confusion. "Uh.. what about it?"

"What are we doing about M0u5e?" Grem implored, anxiety creeping into her tone.

Jacks brow furrowed a little, not in anger but in thought. Seems like he didn't factor the little robot into his plan. After about a minute of thinking, he simply shrugged and responded, "Tell it we'll be back in a bit. I'll be waiting here."

Oh. So we abandon her. That's fantastic. Grem brooded in her thoughts.

Defeated, she turned to go to the bedroom, but something happened that caused both her and Jack to freeze.

There was a knock at the door.

Jack eyed the door. There was no window or even a peephole to see out of. Who in Gods name was that?

Looking back at Grem with distrust in his eyes, he slowly made his way over to the kitchen counter. A drawer was opened, and Grem could hear his hands rummaging through its contents, bumping against woods and metals.

Eventually, Jack closed the door and let out a frustrated grunt, and opened the next one.

Another knock at the door.

She could see his shoulders tense for a moment, then relaxing as he went back to rummaging through the drawer a bit faster than the first. It didn't take long before he pulled out his prize--

A knife. A Chef's knife, specifically. It looked a little old, but it didn't look blunt.

Shit.

A look of triumph on his face, Jack headed back over to the front door. He turned to Grem and held a finger up to his mouth, making a shooshing noise. Hiding the knife behind his back, he opened the front door...

A figure was standing there, in ratty old winter wear.

He was recognizable to only one person in that cabin.

Jack was going to greet him, but his words stopped in their tracks as he took in the sight of... whoever this is.

"... Who the he--"

A dry, bony hand was clasped around his throat, and faster than he could percieve, he was about 15 feet in front of the house. The shock of the cold hit him before the shock of the situation.

The hand around his throat brought him down to face level with whoever (or whatever) had attacked him. The hood on his head covered most of his face, but what he could see was a pale, flaking chin and an angry frown, plus a faint blue glow from under the hood.

From that frown came the coldest voice Jack had ever heard.

"It seems you have overestimated the value of your life, Harris."

After that, all Jack could feel was an absolute, piercing freezing sensation. Until he felt nothing at all.

.......

Nikolai watched the flash frozen body of the hare plummet to the ground, fluffing up the fresh snow around it.

Good. That's one thing off his bucket list.

It only took a second or two for him to turn his attention to the cat in the cabin, though, and he quickly went over to the front entrance, getting as close as he could without being affected by the warmth within (though considering the amount of cold air blowing inside, he could get pretty close).

"Dr. Mewton, are you okay? Did he hurt you?? What on earth happened?!" he spluttered to her, worry creasing his face beneath the hood of the coat.

In the doorway standing there, a frazzled Grementine found herself unable to respond.

She stood taking deep breaths with every second, shivering but not just from the cold.

Neither said anything for a while.

[nebulousfishgills]

Part two, for Necrosis

Mona Lisa, Girl with a Pearl Earring, American Gothic, Guernica, Creation of Adam, The Last Supper

Yesssss let's do some Necrosis asks. We'll see how much I can say without giving too much of what I have planned away. >:)

Mona Lisa - Oh, it's the fanfic writer's favorite word! Do a find-and-replace on the word "smirk" and share any lines that pop up.

...this is a fucking call out.

Okay, in my defense how else do you describe this:

That's the definition of a smirk, I don't know what the fuck to tell you.

Anyways, I'll share only a few since a) I know damn well it will pop up a fair bit and b) I'm keeping any smut exclusive to AO3 and I fucking know I used 'smirk' there.

He didn't turn to look at Emily, but she could see the side of his mouth curl up into a smirk. Her lips flattened.

Emily by all rights should have been sick of it by now, but once again she started purring, leaning back against Caius' chest. She could almost hear the knowing smirk on his face. 

She seemed to become drawn even closer, gingerly resting a hand on his shoulder. Emily smirked, turning back to Eliza.

Emily's lips curled upwards into a smirk, her own smart-ass nature pushing forward.

Emily didn't miss the prideful smirk on Caius' face as he looked at her from his [throne].

(Skipped lines: 4, so far)

...as I said this was a call out. How dare you /j.

Girl with a Pearl Earring - Are there any moments in this work where a character's clothing or accessories play a major role?

For the sake of secrecy, I'll keep it short.

Pay attention whenever a character is wearing gloves. It's not meant to symbolize dishonesty like in a lot of media, but rather it represents defending against a specific action.

Always try to understand:

Who's wearing gloves

When they're wearing them

Why they're wearing them

And around whom they're wearing them.

American Gothic - What's one relationship between characters in this work that you think people wouldn't expect?

Actually I think there are several. Emily seems like she's at least on decent terms with Bella, Alice, and Nessie even if there's a history there we're choosing to bypass. Mele seems like she has a type of bond with Renesmee as well which can seem a bit like an "I could see it but I never thought about it before" moment.

The main one, though, is Emily's relationship with Mele. It's obviously not without some pushback, but whether she likes it or not, Emily is Mele's mentor. She has to guide Mele, teach her... as we know, Emily and childcare isn't always the greatest combination, but she really feels like she understands Mele to a certain degree and becomes quite close with her. It helps her to mature and grow a little bit.

(I got my first nosebleed in a very long time the second I mentioned Emily's history with childcare, so take that as you will)

Guernica - Look through a few of your imagery/descriptions in this work. Are they generally straightforward or are they more "abstract?"

"It was an old shirt, one of the very few remnants she had of her past life. The black and white baseball style t-shirt was slightly washed out with age, the hand-painted demon's head starting to fade. Long ago, it was the only shirt of its style at the local thrift shop, a size and a half too large for her. So she shortened the front with a straight line of black stitches, the holes the needle had poked starting to get larger the longer the old thread tugged against it."

"The venom's effect on Emily's own transformation hadn't exactly been perfect. It cleaned up her imperfect physical facets, removed marks and egriegous scars that had been a source of shame for years, and had taken away the more inhuman features she had gained from her previous otherworldly home. One of those traits being the monstrous wings protruding from her back. The wings were gone now, but they had left behind some unfortunate scarred ridges on her shoulderblades that the venom couldn't scrub away completely."

"Emily hadn't run outside like this in a very long time, the fresh air and woody smells mixed with the petrichor hitting her nose pleasantly. She looked behind her again, watching the trees rush past her in a blur. She heard Jane and Mele running not too far behind, also followed by the excited whoops Mele gave. Emily chuckled, continuing forward. Maybe she should take more leisurely runs in the woods, escape the confines of the Palazzo once in a while to enjoy the woods that reminded her of home. Her first home."

I'd say these are pretty straightforward. I think the reader can paint a pretty accurate picture of what's going on in their head without having to fumble with too many metaphors to understand what's happening.

I like being detailed with my descriptions. Again, there are some good descriptive paragraphs I can't reveal, so I'm sticking with only ones that have been published. I think it only gets better from here.

God I hate being coy but I also really love being coy about this.

Creation of Adam - Choose one character that is not present at the beginning of this work. How did you introduce them into the story?

Well, the obvious answer is Mele.

I feel like I need to explain who she is cause I know she's a bit of a niche character that only a handful of people know about. She's a character that's only mentioned in "Life and Death," one of Stephenie Meyer's many Twilight re-writes. This one features a gender-bent cast of characters. So now Bella is Beau, Edward is Edythe, Carlisle is Carine, and so on.

(Ms. Meyer literally picked the worst names and/or the worst spellings of names for these characters, Jessamine instead of Jasper actually causes me physical pain, what mental gymnastics is she fuckin doing? She coulda just fuckin picked Jessie or something.)

As much as I wish I could say otherwise, Meyer didn't genderbend the Volturi... which is a shame cause I think imagining the Three Stooges as women would be kinda cool. The idea of a female Caius makes my bi ass kinda... You know she's gotta be one of the most badass characters ever... with probably the stupidest fucking name Meyer could come up with.

She actually likes the Cullens and she really named Esme's male counterpart fucking Earnest. You know she's giving shit names to Aro and Caius... not Marcus, though, he'd get a nice name. He's her Favorite Child of the three by a long shot.

(Meme by yours truly)

Anyways, instead of doing that, she tagged some of them out. So now instead of Aro, Caius, and Marcus, we have Sulpicia, Athenodora, and Marcus (see, favorite child). Aro and Caius are out of the picture for... reasons, and so their wives stepped up to the plate. Mele was introduced so Meyer could keep Aro's gift in play, giving it to Sulpicia.

I'm not gonna get into the nitty gritty details, but that's Mele.

I decided after I wanted Mele in the story that I should pair her with Jane. Life and Death describes Mele as a girl rather than a woman. I feel bad that the twins are frozen so young and so close to the "immortal child" threshold that them finding mates is a low chance event... also gay, I wanted more gay.

So I figured the most realistic option was to have Mele be one of Heidi's many tour group victims.

I think that's probably the biggest difference between my take on Mele and her book counterpart since book Mele had to have been around at least three thousand years ago whereas my Mele is a modern (meaning 2012) fourteen year old.

She's a cool character.

The Last Supper - Does this fic incorporate any symbolism based on religion, theology, or mythology? If so, give an example.

If there is, it was accidental. My knowledge of religion is very limited, it usually comes from Jeopardy questions my dad always answers with an enthusiastic "JESUS!" or episodes from cartoons like Family Guy or The Simpsons that recount bible stories in a very... satirical way. You can't beat Stewie as Baby Jesus using lazers in a spaceship to kill Romans.

Mythology is more my speed, but again, I don't think there's much in Necrosis as of right now. That could change of course, it's still a work in progress.

It's kind of incorrectly answering the question, but if I had to pick sources of more symbolism and metaphors, it's probably Shakespeare.

I'll list a couple with similar themes and let you interpret that as you like: "Julius Caesar," "Richard III" (shout out to my fellow Will TNT girlies), and a little bit of "Antony and Cleopatra."

Do with that as you will :)