#I mean I've always enjoyed creating with wood

[atheneum-of-you]

I've talked a lot about priest/ priestesshood on my blog recently as well as my journey as a priestess in training for Lord Hermes. (I promise I'll post other stuff as well this has just become the forefront of my life recently and I enjoy sharing my journey!)

With that in mind, I wanted to share what it's like deciphering card pulls with Hermes, particularly when it comes to tasks. As I've started in a couple of previous posts, tasks are basically your training and given to you by your god to strengthen your skills with them and teach you how to work under them. It's similar to job training.

The Cards

Before I ask for my tasks, I like to ask him if he has any messages for me, typically a 1 or 2 card pull. I was immediately given the Sword card.

The card represents birthright and purpose. I had taken this as another small confirmation that priestesshood was the right path for me (as I had done a small tarot reading for myself earlier saying something similar). I had no clue that he had drawn the card for a meaning I would only figure out later, but with that now in mind, I moved on. I asked for my next task for him and drew the following cards:

I was a little surprised to see 2 cards from my last task reappear (the fields and the cottage in the woods) and at first glance of the cards I assumed it would be another Demeter message (as it is winter it would make sense for her to be particularly active). But the crossroads stumped me. The crossroads are typically associated with Hecate, not Demeter. Additionally, I didn't draw the Herald card (Hermes's card), so I wasn't entirely sure if this was a message to be delivered. Did Hecate want to speak with me directly? But why draw the Pair card? Hecate is a trio goddess.

Epithets

The cards stumped me for a while and I ended up leaving the task incomplete, deciding it'd be best to revisit with a clearer head (I was dealing with a lot yesterday).

As I woke up this morning, I looked to my references to find a suitable epithet of Hermes to pray to this morning. And while looking, I noticed one specifically that piqued my interest. One I wasn't aware of before.

Hermes Trikephalos.

Hermes of road-intersections. Hermes three headed.

Hermes has a crossroads association.

Suddenly my cards started to slowly piece together. The crossroads card was never about Hecate, Hermes is the god of travel, the messenger of gods. ALL gods, including the chthonic. I didn't need the Herald card, he had represented himself using an epithet he wanted me to learn.

Interpreting the Cards

I had learned from my previous task that Hermes doesn't always use the cards' intended meaning when giving me my tasks, so I always observe the cards themselves and the picture they create before interpreting them individually. I almost exclusively use this deck for Hermes because it's a panoramic deck, meaning when put together, the cards can form a much larger image:

While naturally everything doesn't line up perfectly, it does create a scene. A pair (which I immediately considered lovers) overlooking a field and home in isolation. Across from the home (a little distance away), a goddess statue points to a crossroads. I'd already established that the crossroads card signified Hermes, but it was more than that. The crossroads represent the intersection between our world and the gods' and are heavily associated with the chthonic gods. It represented a goddess at the crossroads, her back turned to a lonely field that she overlooked with her lover.

Suddenly, it all made sense. The cards spoke of Persephone, leaving the mortal fields of her mother's (hence me drawing both cards of Demeter's from my last reading) and making her descent back into the Underworld. My task was not a message to deliver, but a study session.

The Completed Task

I had learned a new epithet oh Hermes, had learned how to read my cards without using the actual meanings of them, and learned how to read them as a vision/ story. Sometimes, my duties as a messenger will involve me needing to not observe the strict meaning of the cards and instead interpreting them as a vision. Similar to skrying.

I was fully prepared to run around trying to figure out what message to give to who, but this was an absolute blast to decipher. Hermes's tasks tend to be criptic and very much as a combination of games. Clue, Guess Who, word association, puzzles, riddles, etc. He makes you have to think critically and outside of the box and purposely tries to stump you. Things won't mean what you think they mean, and it turns into a battle of wit, and if he can successfully outsmart you. And your job as his underling is to not let him. Honestly, I think if I were using any other deck, I'd be pulling my hair out.

I revisited the Sword card from earlier and realized it had a whole new meaning. It wasn't just confirmation. He was telling me to be sharp, and to always be ready for his tricks and games. And I'll be moving forward with that in mind from here on out.

This is what it's like, training under Hermes. And it's the most fun I've had in years.

[elektroyu]

I have this massive MASSIVE urge to build a tiny house. BUILD. Not just have or design one (I actually designed one too tho), but actually BUILD it. Oh my god the need to construct is so bad lol. Wood working and everything.

Never mind that I'm not even close to being able to do anything like that due to my health (and finances) but oh.my.gawd. the NEED is still there. Can I just. Make a small house please. Right now. Please let me build something. Let me create something cool from wood. Bbblease ughhhh

[hellenhighwater]

How do you stay creative while working full time? :)

I don't know, I just do stuff. Not art stuff, really! I think sometimes that I have to maintain a base minimum of Stuff Going On to stay above the gravity well of Comfy Bed All the Time No Need To Get Up And Do Things. There's an inertia to stuff, you know? Sometimes when you're busy it's easier to just maintain the momentum of getting things done. I don't always get stuff done as quickly as I'd like--the fact that I'm doing stuff all the time doesn't mean that the stuff I'm doing is necessarily productive. That's a good thing, though, because creativity has to be fueled from somewhere. There's got to be non-creative time for that part of the brain to recharge and rest, so it's not bad to have a job that doesn't demand that kind of thinking.

I did a lot this weekend and almost none of it was creatively productive in a normal sense. I got some pottery done on saturday morning, and then met a friend for sushi, went to my dad's to sandblast and powdercoat car parts and got a milkshake, went for a walk in the woods to pick tiny flowers, met my brother for dinner, and played DnD until midnight before driving back home. Today I planted hydrangea, hauled flagstone into place, dug up grass and tilled it over, and put mulch down. I made a roast for lunch and played DnD in my other campaign for a few hours, then started mixing down the clay slurry into slip for casting, which has to rest for the next 24 hours. In a little while, a friend and I are going to do an online movie marathon, and tomorrow--monday--I've got a board game night after work. Then the next week is pottery tues/thurs/saturday, dinner with my other brother and his wife on wednesday, DnD friday and sunday again.

You know what all of those little appointments with friends do? Force me to manage my time well. Force me to stay on and not just let the day get away from me. I rest when I need to but I also put really concerted effort in to spending time doing stuff that I enjoy.

People often say that they create art from a specific emotion, but to me, in order to make art, to make art sustainably, you have to be happy enough to want to put new things in the world. They don't have to be happy things. But you have to be in the world to reflect it out. Sometimes that's work. Sometimes that's friends.

Work on joy; the art will follow. That's just what's true for me.

[maximwtf]

Hello person- I must say I love reading your lil fanfics always keeps me busy when It's in the middle of the night and I can't sleep lmao.

If I may, if you are still accepting requests- A Legolas x reader, where the reader isn't aware of a custom that elves have about braiding their hair and basically just accidentally confesses to him when they get bored one day and just start braiding his hair and only finds out when the Fellowship congratulates them for confessing or something along those lines hehehe

Legolas x reader

words: 1930

google docs pages: 3

warnings: none? fluff :D 

opening: One day while you’re bored, you begin to braid Legolas’ hair, unaware of its meaning to the elves. It’s only later, when you find out the message behind it. 

AN// Thank you so much for this request, love the idea! (this also gives me a reason to not write the other ideas I've been putting off xd) idk if this is a little ooc, but I hope it’s okay^^ It’s also lovely to hear that you enjoy my work!^^ Reader can be any gender !

         “A time for congratulations?”

It hadn’t been long since you had joined the fellowship from Rivendell, like most of the others had too. The only one you knew better than the others was Legolas. Him you had met more than a few times in the past, mostly as an accident, but you did genuinely enjoy his company. You’d never admit it to anyone in the group, but you were happy that he had been the one from Mirkwood to join. You heard it had been his father who had suggested befriending Aragorn to him, and it was when Legolas had begun to look for Aragorn that he had met you. Aragorn you had only met a few times, and back then only knew him as “strider” like most. The others you had only met when the Fellowship had been formed, but all of them had seemed okay. 

Now, trailing behind Legolas, you examined your surroundings silently. Old trees with roots going all across the forest blocked the view on your right and on the left only a few trees were growing, enjoying the sun they were able to get. The trees on the left casted dark shadows on the almost non existent road you were walking on. Gandalf had seemed to be very certain that there was a trail going here, but you weren’t so sure. But since no one else had doubted him, you had decided to just follow along. At least you weren’t going to get lost alone.

As your gaze moved from left to right, amazed by the sturdy old trees, being able to stand for such a long time, you noticed Legolas turning to look at you for a moment. It was only for a split second, but it made you humm to yourself. Perhaps he was happy to see you too. It was rarely that you could spend more time with him, mostly just short bump ins every now and then. He was a prince, and probably had a lot to do.

The group seemed to have noticed the darkened shadows of the trees, and decided to set camp for the night. The sun seemed to be setting, making the casted shadows even darker before the sky would begin to follow along. Spreading the darkness of the upcoming night all over.

You had agreed to take the first watch shift of the night before anyone could steal it from you. You’d rather stay up late and go to sleep than wake up in the middle of the night to take your turn. Boromir and Gimi seemed to have collected some bigger pieces of wood and some sticks that Aragorn had been able to set on fire to create a campfire. Legolas, you and the hobbits helped to bring some rocks and logs around the fire so everyone could sit. Sam had requested if he could make something to eat, and surprisingly enough no one had disagreed. The start of the night seemed to be going smoothly. 

As Sam had begun to cook some kind of a soup or a stew, everyone else had spread around the fire. Some were fixing up their weapons and others just talking. You swore you had seen Merry and Pippin bothering Boromir too. You on the other hand had found a spot close to the fire. Most of the ‘seats’ had been taken, but that just allowed you to sit closer to the warming flames of the campfire. Legolas had seated himself near you. You could hear him lowering his bow and the quiver against the log he was sitting on. Other than that and the quiet talking, the only noise you could hear was the mixing of the soup Sam was making. Sometimes the ladle would hit the edges of the saucepan, causing a small noise to break the silent gaps.The moon was only a half, but since there weren't a lot of clouds in the sky, it was able to shine its light all over the forest. At times it felt like time had stopped after the sun had started to go down, and was still shining some light over the fellowship. It was only the cold night air that let you know it indeed was almost time to go and rest. 

You shivered under your clothes, pulling the cloak closer to you, making sure it was properly over your shoulders. Something rustled behind you, and soon another cape was placed over you. A small ‘huh?’ left your mouth as you turned to look who it was. Legolas clipped the front clip shut so the cloack wouldn’t fall off of you. “You seemed cold.” He said, smiling slightly as he sat back down. “I- Thank you.” You said, still confused by the gesture. “Aren’t you going to be cold?” You then asked, feeling bad if he’d have to freeze because of you. The elf laughed lightly at your question and shook his head. “Elves can tolerate the cold better than humans, therefore you should keep it.” He explained to you. 

You had never really thought of how different you were to him. Sure, you were friends with him, but you had no idea that the elves could tolerate the cold better than humans. Maybe you’d find out something else about him as the fellowship continued. This had to only one from many things that made elves so different from you. 

You noticed that the faint light of the moon made his almost white hair look magical. The usually well braided strands of hair had opened up from the fighting the group had gone through with a few orcs earlier that day. You had noticed that the prince usually kept his hair well done, but maybe he hadn’t noticed yet. 

Not being sure if you’d embarrass him if you pointed it out, you got up and sat next to him. You weren’t an elf but you had gotten your hair done before and over the years learned how to braid hair in different styles. So without another word, you took a hold of one of the half opened braids and began to undo it completely. Legolas seemed to have tensed up for a moment and you felt his eyes on you, but to your surprise he soon turned his gaze away and let you continue. 

You braided the first strand of hair, pulling it behind his ear the way you’d seen him usually have them. After starting to fix the other one, you felt another pair of eyes on the two of you. With a quick look you found out who it was. Aragorn was sitting on the other side of the campfire with an amused look on his face. Not understanding what he had found amusing, you kept on working on Legolas’ hair. The prince’s hair was smooth and easy to work with. Humming to yourself, “you have lovely hair.” You said quietly, seeing the man shiver, but saying nothing about it. You were enjoying the moment, getting to feel closer to your friend for once. The warmth of Legolas’ cloak and the fire kept you warm and protected from the gusts of wind. The smell of the soup Sam had made was good, and it felt great to know you were going to be eating something that not only would taste good but also would be warm. You felt like you had only been eating bread and apples for such a long time. 

You finished the other braid and mixed it in with the unbraided parts of his hair. “Both are fixed again.” You hummed mostly to yourself but out loud so Legolas could hear it too. You felt his eyes on you for a moment before they moved to Sam, when he handed the both of you a bowl with some steaming soup in it. You thanked the hobbit with a nod, and began to eat. From the corner of your eye, you caught Aragorn telling Gimli something and them both silently laughing. Trying not to pay no mind to the conversation, you couldn't help but to wonder if it was about what Aragorn had found so amusing earlier?

After that night, many more passed. Some worse and some just as good, but what kept everyone going was the mission and the people in the fellowship. Legolas never mentioned anything about you braiding his hair, and he even let you do it once or twice after. But after every time, it felt like more eyes were on the two of you. It was first only Aragorn, then Gimli joined and soon even Gandalf was in on it. At times it felt like even Legolas knew what was going on. 

After some time of you being oblivious of what had been going on, you decided to bring it up. You had so many theories of what they could have been up to, that you just had to find out. Making your way from the back of the group to where Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were, you prepared yourself. “What are you hiding from me?” This got the attention of the three, all of them slowing down their walking speed a little. “Whatever do you mean?” Legolas asked, giving Aragorn a quick look, almost as if he was trying to tell the man something. “You all clearly have been sharing a rumor or something along the lines of that.” You replied, but didn’t get an answer from anyone for a moment. “You should tell them.” Gandalf’s voice rang from the front of the group, clearly also aware of what you were talking about. “It isn’t a rumor per say.” Gimli started, looking at Aragorn for a moment, hoping he’d take it from there. You saw Legolas look away, not taking part in the conversation. “We wished to congratulate you on confessing to Legolas.” Your eyes widened for a moment, and without even wanting to, a “what?” Left your mouth. “They weren’t aware, Aragorn.” Legolas finally joined in, looking at his friend. “What is this all about?” You tilted your head. “When you braid his hair. See, to elves it has a significant meaning behind it.” Aragorn tried to explain. Your hand traveled over your mouth, clearly shocked. “And you didn't think to tell me?” You blushed slightly, smacking Legolas’ arm lightly. He stopped, taking a light hold of your hand to pause you as well. “I wanted to explain it to you but I found that..” He tried to look for words for a moment, and you let him. “I found that I cared for you that way, and I wasn’t certain if you had found the meaning yourself...” His eyes met yours again, after traveling for a moment. You stayed silent, not even noticing that the rest of the fellowship had also stopped near the two of you. “But I am aware that I should have told-” Legolas broke the silence but you stopped him before he could finish. “It’s all okay. I feel similar.” You admitted, looking away for a second. “Is this a better time for congratulations?” Gimli’s voice asked from behind you as Aragorn walked closer as well. “Yes, yes it is.” You smiled and turned back to Legolas. His eyes looked at you with admiration in them. “Gi Melin.” (I love you)

[lalathemediterraneanmermaid]

What do ikevill suitors smell like? PT.2

Hi little robins, this is pt.2 of "What do ikevil suitors smell like?". I've included the three new babies villains, the Vogel boys. Eventhough we don't know much about them, I couldn't resist including them here, because I already love those sillies. Soooo, enjoy, my dears!!! Btw, just like in pt.1, I tried to put the same amount of perfumes on each boy, except for Elbie, our greedy boy.

Elbert Greetia

A melancholic, porcelain-doll-looking nobleman. Our Ethereal Prince. My Greedy Boy. As beautiful as a work of art. He has a little maniacal obsession with collecting the most beautiful things in the world, just for himself, that's why he has so many perfumes, he can't decide which one he likes the most, so he keeps buying new fragrances. "I want. I want. I want… If only I could find it, then surely..." Love, let me hold your hand while telling you this: you are the mot beautiful thing in the world. His ocean-blue eyes and long, fluttering lashes hold such a sorrowful gaze. If it weren't because of his curse, he could perfectly be part of ikemen prince, you can't change my mind. I love Elbie, and I can't wait to play his route over and over again. He reminds me of a rain-soaked garden with a gazebo full of roses in the middle. He reminds me of a nostalgic walk along a solitary beach at dusk. He reminds me of a magical forest bathed in silver moonlight. He definitely smells clean, soft, and ethereal, with perhaps some citrusy notes blended with salty-marine hints that reflect his love for beach walks.

Notes: Bergamot, lemon, aldehydes, orange blossom, jasmine, lavender, sea salt, sandalwood, white musk and amber.

Perfumes he might like:

De Profundis - Serge Lutens

Un Jardin Apres La Mousson - Hermès

Wood Sage & Sea Salt - Jo Malone

Aqua Allegoria Teazzurra - Guerlain

L’Eau Froide - Serge Lutens

Sel Marin - James Heeley

Fou d’Absinthe - L’Artisan Parfumeur

Meomir Man - Amouage

Ninfeo Mio - Goutal

Jude Jazza

The Cunning & Ruthless Mobster. Crown's personal Maleficent. Silvio 2.0. A mean pookie who enjoys the problems and suffering of others. "All your yappin's real noisy. Lemme shut ya up.” OMG he even speaks like Silvio. Pretty sure he's kinky af, he may be into chains or something similar. "He's earned himself many enemies" Nah, really? I would've never guessed, not with that golden retriever personality of his. "He always fulfills his promises and expects the same of others, holding a special one close to his festering heart." You see? He has a heart, allegedly. Anyways, we're here to talk about scents, aren't we? I feel like he smells like tobacco and liqueur, I'm 100% sure. And, I don't know why, I can sense some kind of smell that reminds me of sylvester bushes and a really old library, full of dust. Of course, we can't forget that he has money *cough, cough, Silvio, cough*, so he also needs a really expensive scent. He probably doesn't have a favourite perfume, because he slays at layering them and creating new scents that combine with his radiant and bubbly personality.

Notes: Liqueur, cognac, tobacco, black pepper, cinnamon, bergamot, cedarwood, sandalwood, leather, amber and vetiver.

Perfumes he might like:

Man In Black - Bvlgari

Tobacco Vanille - Tom Ford

Angels' Share - By Killian

Straight to Heaven - By Killian

The Tragedy of Lord George - Penhaligon's

1740 Marquis de Sade - Histoires de Parfums

Ellis Twilight

The little sunshine oddball filled with happiness and joy. Have you seen those cute little curls in his hair? *OMG he's so fluffy I'm gonna dieeee.* He wants to reveal the happiest moments of other people’s lives (and then kill them). He really has a peculiar obsession (another impulsive maniacal wow, such a surprise hahan't.) for the "happiest moment" in others' lives and his own definition of "love" he's striving to prove (Alexa, play "Safer" by Tyla). “Tell me, how happy are you right now…?” If I tell you I'm depressed will you let me live?. Crown's youngest member and Jude's assistant (I don't even know what to think anymore, poor Ellis or poor Jude?). Anyways, as the mentally ill person that I am, I'll patiently wait for his route release. Back to the scents, he loves crispy baguettes and raspberry jam. I feel like he smells like a twisted picnic in a forest at dusk, with pink roses, fresh bread and berries. Clean, but with earthy and woody hints. Since he is such a people pleaser, he doesn't have a favourite perfume, he's just going to wear whatever you like the most, even if it's nothing, even if it's gasoline.

Notes: Mandarine, grapefruit, raspberry, rose, bread, cedarwood, vanilla, oak moss and amber.

Perfumes he might like:

By The Fireplace - Maison Margiela

Eau Rose - Diptyque

Aventus for Her - Creed

Memoirs of a Trespasser - Imaginary Authors

Pomegranate Noir - Jo Malone

Mûre et Musc - L’Artisan Parfumeur

Darius Vogel

The so called Untrustworthy Cruel Angel, or what I prefer, Chevalier and Gilbert's love child. He truly looks as beautiful and ethereal as an angel, but so did Lucifer, and he ended up ruling Hell, so... we'll have to wait to see him in action... According to Victor in his Vicpedia "Is he an angel or a devil? You’ll have to find out for yourself." “Hello cursed people and everyone else. Won’t you join me in building a wonderful world?” Vlad, is that you? The angelic head of the German empire’s direct organisation, “Vogel”. Referencing Victor on his Vicpedia, "Though he looks like an angel, there’s a strong scent of evil coming from him." So, translated to scents, what does that exactly smells like? Based on what we know, which is not much, if not nothing, I will say that his scent matches his appearance, so maybe a really light, soft, airy and beautiful opening, with white flowers and white musk, very angelic-like, with a "punch" of something much more obscure beneath the surface, maybe some spices, sweet liqueurs and dark woods. All that in a winter-like scenery, very cold, like a breath on top of a glacier.

Notes: Bergamot, jasmine, gardenia, lily of the valley, snowdrop, foxglove, cypress, sandalwood, cinnamon, black pepper, oak moss and absinthe.

Perfumes he might like:

The Language Of Glaciers - Imaginary Authors - His favourite

Nightingale - Zoologist Perfumes

Viking - Creed

Reflection Man - Amouage

La Religieuse - Serge Lutens

Poivre Noire - Serge Lutens

Nica Schwartz

Just like Jude is the villanous version of Silvio from ikeprince, I feel like Nica is Nokto's doppelganger in ikevillains. A frivolous and cunning person who plays with love. He gives me foxy vibes, but in a darker and colder way. He's referred to as "Vogel’s brain" and seems to have a knack for manipulation and has an eye for money and power. “Guten Tag, cute robin. I want you to be my toy", yep, we have yet another fox. He's a bookworm, but, apparently, is just so he can gain more and more knowledge so he can play with you all. In the official information given directly by Cybird, it says that Nica resents shows of affection, but he still plays with you like a toy. Doesn't that sounds like he's desperate for someone loving him? "He resents love because he has never been given some." Again, this are just assumptions based on what we know and the vibes that I get from him. In conclusion, beneath that foxy-like appearance, I feel like he may have a huge heart of gold that he is too afraid to share. If I had to translate that vibe into a scent, it would probably be something seductive but fresh and sweet at the same time, something more "wild" like a fox playing in a field, but with a cooler vibe, maybe between winter and spring.

Notes: Bergamot, vetiver, jasmin, fruity, leather, ambar, incense, musk, lily of the valley, wild flowers, vanilla, honey, tulip and pink pepper.

Perfumes he might like:

Fox in the Flowerbed - Imaginary Authors - His favourite

L'homme Ideal - Guerlain

Yesterday Haze - Imaginary Authors

XJ 1861 Naxos - Xerjoff

Tam Dao - Diptyque

Snowy Owl - Zoologist Perfumes

Ring Schwartz

The love of my life pt. I already lost the count. The cute Vogel's guard dog. Dariu's puppet and Licht's doppelganger.  "This younger twin suffers from blushing easily" Victor please stop, I can't take it anymore. “If you don’t want your life to be taken, don’t get in the way of us, Vogel.” Okay cute puppy, whatever you say. From what we know, Ring seems cold when you first approach him, but he will be on his knees at the minimum show of affection towards him. So, if you play with his heart, you'll not only have Nica going for you, I'll be there too. Based on the information that Cybird has given us, he seems to be shy and cold, since one of his hobbies is "being in the corner of a room", still, it's not like he is an antisocial, we can guess that because the thing that he resents the most is "eating alone". The other hobby that he has is "taking a nap while looking at the sky" this tells me that he prefers quiet places where he can feel at peace, and somehow it also gives me the vibes of a dreamer, since "looking at the sky" is kind of poetic and it can symbolise freedom, if you know what I mean. In his skills he mixes two aspects that seem quite radical, combat skills and martial arts, along with a really good relationship with animals and an understanding of plants and flowers. When I say radical, in this case, I mean it's that one thing is "agressive" and "tough" while the other is so much more "soft" and "light energy". That aspect of dichotomy or duality is the most important characteristic of Ring, and it needs to be reflected on his scent.

Notes: Grapefruit, black pepper, ginger, lavender, vanilla, lily of the valley, snowdrop, leather, sandalwood, amber and forget-me-not.

Perfumes he might like:

The Noir 29 - Le Labo

Jubilation XXV - Amouage

Pardon - Nasomatto

Russian Leather - Memo Paris

Hyrax - Zoologist Perfumes

Burning Ben - Strangers Parfumerie - His favourite

And here it ends the "What do ___ suitors smell like?" Ikemen Villains edition. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as mucha as I have enjoyed writing it. You've probably noticed that the ikevil version of these series is pretty much less humorous than the ikeprince version. I think it is mainly because, eventhough both games characters are so well written and have a lot of traumas and issues, I still think that Ikemen Villains is the darkest one, and so, the one with less humorous content. And also, I tried to understand each character, that's why the character's descriptions are so long, sorry for that hehe. Anyways, thanks for your attention and love!!! Love you all my little robins!!!

Btw, I will probably continue doing this with ikevamp and maybe, maybe, ikesen, but it will take some time, there are a lot of characters in those game series.

[altocat]

Angeal and Genesis finally take Sephiroth to Banora au 🙏

Sephiroth has been emotionally preparing for this trip forever. He's genuinely excited. He never gets to travel for fun and would love to see a taste of country life away from Midgar.

The first thing on the agenda is to make sure Sephiroth stays FAR away from Genesis' parents. They would eat up all his time giving him the grand tour, basically using his visit as free publicity for their business. Every time they come to snatch Sephiroth up, Genesis intentionally creates a huge distraction while Angeal whisks Sephiroth away.

Sephiroth loves the sunny weather, orchards, and country hospitality. He could get lost in these trees forever.

Angeal has him finally meet his mother Gillian. Sephiroth is shy, naturally. He ends up dumping a ton of praise for Angeal and commending her for raising one of the finest soldiers in all of Shinra. Gillian looks proud of her son, but there is a sadness in her eyes that Sephiroth can't quite read.

Angeal also introduces Sephiroth to his father...but it's a gravestone at the far end of town. Sephiroth gives Angeal some time to talk to his dad alone...since it's been a long time since he's visited.

Genesis shows the barn where he and Angeal used to hang out in as kids. And the makeshift fort in the woods, somehow miraculously still standing after years of being away. None of them can fit inside.

Gillian cooks for them, Sephiroth and Genesis for once not squabbling due to their mutual admiration and wanting to be on their best behavior.

Gen's parents finally catch up with them and somehow brought the local press with them. Genesis gets genuinely angry, especially now that there's cameras flashing everywhere. He grabs Sephiroth's wrist and just books it for the woods. Angeal "accidentally" sets off a huge Materia smokescreen and stalls everyone up.

Sephiroth and Genesis wander around in the forests for a bit, Genesis venting about how they're ALWAYS like this--clout chasers. He hates being around them. They never understood him. They were always in it for themselves.

Sephiroth just listens, head cocked, watching his friend with concern. Things are starting to make a little too much sense.

It's quiet for a bit, Genesis and Sephiroth just walking together, silent save for the chirping birds. They find a secluded spot beneath the trees, Genesis murmuring that now's probably as good a time as any. He pulls out two Banora Whites, awkwardly explaining that they came from his family's private orchard. He wanted something less abrupt, more rehearsed. But they'll never find peace so long as his family is poking around town. Might as well enjoy a good thing while they have it.

Sephiroth takes the fruit, hesitantly taking a bite. Genesis watches him expectantly, no snide quips, no poetic recitals. Simply curious, somewhat nervous.

"It's...good."

"Yeah? Really?"

A nod. "Really good. Better than I've ever had it."

"Grew it myself. The tree, I mean. Planted it when I was six."

"You did well."

"Did I?"

Sephiroth leans back, nodding earnestly as he takes another bite. "Really well. I mean it, Genesis."

"Heh...Gift of the Goddess."

They rest beneath the tree for a bit, eating the apples, enjoying the nice afternoon breeze. Genesis' eyes are wet, though Sephiroth never notices. They'll have to head back into town eventually to collect Angeal. Assuming the mob hasn't eaten him alive. But for now...this is nice.

And possibly the best day of Genesis' life.

[arminsumi]

could you write anything about jealous aki? drabble/hc/ fic i'll take any thoughts you have on him

sending all the love to this beautiful blog of yours 💖💖💖

A Bit of A Situation

AKI アキ

Note : my moongem!! 😣💗 good to see u again!! thank u for bringing love n aki to me hehe. hope u enjoy!!

Aki; stood tall and stoic in an immaculately neat suit and tie.

His posture stiffens and throat constricts when he watches a sleazy co-worker chatting you up during a mission.

Aki's just cleaned his katana of blood with a smooth swipe of a cloth. He clicks it shut into its saya.

The co-worker isn't bad-looking, but Aki thinks you can do better. He clenches his jaw a bit when you laugh in response to his loud, obnoxious flirting.

Aki stares.

When he feels this prickling feeling in his chest, he's reminded of something someone asked him once;

"Aki, do you think you're the jealous type?"

"No, jealousy is immature."

And Aki has considered himself mature until he sees that sleazy co-worker chatting you up.

Why does it bother him? It just does. Aki heads over to you two, and uses his superiority to his advantage.

"Hey, idiots. Focus on the task at hand unless you want me putting your flirting session into my report to Makima, yeah?" he threatens with a stony face.

A stony face, a cold voice; but you smile when Aki speaks to you even if it's just to reprimand you. You just like him.

The co-worker disappears, leaning into his car to get his weapons and supplies.

"I wasn't flirting." you say to Aki, and he looks at you with slightly raised brows like he doesn't care.

"Okay." he responds, "I saw the exchange and saw you laughing with him. I think that constitutes as flirting."

"I was laughing at his attempt of flirting." you told him to clear up the misunderstanding.

Aki doesn't have a response; he feels a bit silly about his misjudgment.

He stiffens his shoulders.

You give him a smack on his shoulders.

"Lighten up. Your shoulders are so stiff sometimes I wonder if they're made of wood."

"I'm not usually this stiff, I swear." he replies awkwardly, like a teenager trying to prove to his crush that he's not a dork. It's funny to see small shifts in his demeanor when it's just you and him.

"What do you mean? You're always stiff. I think I should take you out for a spa day; you look like you could use a break."

Your name is called by another co-worker, detracting your attention from Aki. He feels a small pang of annoyance when the moment is interrupted.

"Ayyy, we need you. There's a bit of a situation in the lobby; we found someone's head."

You reply with one of your weird little jokes that Aki loves so much, "Oh no. Someone lost their head? That's not good, we should get it back on their shoulders. Okay, see you Aki."

"Don't call me Aki; I'm your senior."

"Mhm. My jealous senior." you tease flirtatiously.

Aki's back stiffens even more. He purses his lips and avoids your gaze, looking at the sky, the parking lot cars, the apartment windows, anything except you.

His eyes follow your back as you walk off to the apartment where the "situation" is commencing. Then he cringes at himself; crinkles the corners of his eyes and tightens his face like he just sucked on a lemon.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[konigbabe]

propinquity

Pairing: bodyguard!Price x fem!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Tags/Warnings: smut; nsfw; dom!price; top!price; p-in-v sex; kinda an illicit relationship; age gap (still legal and consenting tho); AU world; oral sex (female receiving); outside sex; praise kink; penetrative sex

Summary: Being the daughter of the prime minister doesn't always come with privileges - especially after a terrorist organization publicly declares its intention of taking the lives of your family because of your father's decisions. The situation gets even worse when you have to deal with a bodyguard who is anything but pleasant to be around.

A/N: This is basically an AU - the premise is that Captain Price is an ex-SAS soldier who retired and became a bodyguard instead of creating TF 141.

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

The hand that was still holding you firmly against the tree trunk moved to your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly before he replaced his tongue with his fingers, lips moving upwards to eagerly lap on your painfully aching clit.

He brought you to a place of exquisite bliss. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of passion. You were lost in the moment, at this moment, and nothing else mattered.

The thing about having a permanent, over 180 centimeters-tall shadow is that it was not entirely familiar to you and made you feel peculiar. People would look twice when they saw you and him.

Price, as you'd come to address him, wasn't particularly fond of you either. He knew this line of work would mean meeting a variety of new people on a regular basis. What he didn't sign up for was, in his words, "babysitting a crude birdie who happened to be potty trained just yesterday".

There was no love-hate relationship nor any need for it; John was there purely as your protector, a man hired to guard your body and for the right remuneration, he was willing to do just about anything to make sure you were kept safe.

His presence awakened a feeling of safety within you. Despite his at-times harsh behavior, he always seemed to take care of you just the way you needed.

Sitting at your kitchen island, you looked at your dad in disbelief, feeling a sense of hopelessness but still clinging to a small thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could somehow change his mind. You had a pretty clear idea of what the outcome of this conversation would be before you even asked him, but the faintest spark of hope kept you from giving up.

"Dad, you can't possibly be serious about this," you groaned at the laptop screen, watching with exasperation as he exhaled heavily and slowly straightened his back.

"Darling," his voice was calm, a little raspy from his long day at work, "it isn't safe for you and you know it."

"But everyone is going there. My whole class is gonna be there. It's literally in the middle of the woods, do you seriously believe that some terrorists are about to attack me there? It's been weeks since that letter and nothing happened, it might even be a hoax."

Unfortunately, your complaints were not taken into consideration as you stared at your father with pleading eyes.

"I'm not going to repeat myself. This is my final decision and you are not permitted to go."

"Didn't you say that I should enjoy my university life to the fullest? Because in the last few weeks, the only places I've been to are my flat and classes. And this bloke," you pointed at Price, who was until this moment casually leaning against the counter with a cuppa in his hands, "is staring at my back 24/7".

Price, clad in a simple grey shirt tucked into his dress pants, raised an eyebrow and glanced at you, taking in the situation with a slow and calming breath. He paused for a moment before taking a sip of his tea, allowing the warmth of the liquid to soothe his nerves.

"You're right," your father gave a knowing nod before his eyes shifted away from you, "John?"

"Yes, sir," Price answered, his voice low and questioning. He put the cup on the kitchen island and made his way closer to face his boss, his strides slow yet confident. One arm was carelessly draped over the back of your chair while the other came to rest on the kitchen island for support. The faint smell of cigars and sandalwood, so specifically his, filled the air and indulged your senses as you felt his arm brush your shoulder. A sudden wave of warmth and comfort washed over you as you realized just how close he was.

Having been mere centimeters away from you, you looked up into his face, his freshly trimmed and styled beard looking so incredibly soft. You always wanted to sneak a touch to find out if it was as soft as it appeared or if he was one of those men with a beard full of harsh and prickly hairs.

How would he feel between your legs? Was he a man who took pride in his skillful use of his tongue, or was he someone who was eager to get his cock wet? Most of your past partners weren't particularly enthusiastic about performing oral sex on you...you blamed it on the fact that they were young. You had heard from your friend that older men were usually more traditional and preferred to be more generous with their tongues. You couldn't help but question - was Price one of those gentlemen?

Hearing your name fall from John's lips made you realize just how tightly you had clenched your thighs together, face dangerously close to the crook of his neck.

It's just hormones, just a surge of estrogen and progesterone that want me to breed, you shook your head in a desperate attempt to clear your befouled mind.

"You're staying in your bedroom tonight," your father said, "John will make sure you don't leave your room."

Sucking in your dry lips, you remained silent for a moment, your mind spinning with forbidden fantasies, the kind that left you feeling guilty and excited all at once.

"John, just make sure my daughter won't leave. I have a feeling she will be a troublemaker."

"I can handle a troublemaker, sir," your bodyguard said as you tried your best not to show any sigh of annoyance out of respect for your father.

"Good to know. Have a good night you two," with those words, the screen went completely black.

"Love you too, dad," you mumbled as you turned around, slipping under John's inviting arm and taking your keys.

"Where do you think you're going, birdie," John stepped slowly around the kitchen island, his eyes never leaving your figure. His arms were crossed over his chest as if to challenge you to a battle of wills.

"Going to the party," you mirrored his stance, "look, Price," taking a step closer and unfolding your arm, you stared into his eyes, "I am well aware that you are doing this for the pay grade. You don't really care about me but c'mon, you were young once too, I bet. Don't tell me you've never been to a party. I mean, we all have a right to have some fun, don't you think? If a party is what it takes to make this job easier, then why not? We all deserve to take a break once in a while, and I don't think it will hurt anyone if I just go and have some fun."

"My personal life is none of your bloody business," Price growled as he snatched the keys from your grasp.

"Now go to your room," he ordered, "and don't make me drag you there again."

"Unbelievable, Price, just unbelievable," you groaned in frustration and stomped your way to the bedroom, practically slamming the doors in anger to make it perfectly clear to Price just how irritated he had made you.

You laid down on the bed and listened to the sound of Price starting the shower. An idea popped in your head as you walked to the doors and tried to open them but they were locked.

You let out a loud, angry scream as you punched the doors a few times with all your might, your rage beginning to build up inside. He had really locked you in there.

Your hand throbbed from the constant pummeling it had taken as you slumped against the door, alone. Everyone else was at the party, enjoying their drinks, but here you were once more, cooped up in your flat with Price, unable to partake.

As you sat there, your chin resting on your knees, your gaze gradually shifted to the window. That should work.

“Screw you, John Price.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The bonfire danced before you as you stared into its flames, the taste of cheap alcohol lingering in your mouth bitterly, a reminder of the good whiskey, brand unknown, that Price kept in one of the cupboards, out of your reach - or so he thought. You remembered the feeling of that whiskey and how it filled you with warmth and a sense of contentment, something that this cheap alcohol could never give you.

The first time you chanced upon the bottle of scotch tucked away in the back of your cupboard was quite accidental. You suspected Price of being a drinker but had never actually seen him with a glass of liquor in his hand. However, while you were on the hunt for some sweets to satisfy your craving, you stumbled upon the half-empty bottle of scotch. Naturally, you couldn't resist pouring yourself a glass every now and then, and were certain Price had noticed you drinking it, yet he chose not to bring it up for some reason.

You wondered what he was doing, something you hadn't done before. This was the first time since you had met that you were without your shadow. It made you feel strangely uncomfortable, knowing his presence was missing and the sense of comfort he had brought you was gone, replaced by uncertainty. Something you had once found strange and unexpected in your life, but now had become a part of it, something you had grown fond of.

What will he do once he finds out the truth? Once he realizes you are gone? Your wandering thoughts made you check your phone absent-mindedly.

No missed calls, no unread messages.

"Do you think if we say his name three times, he will show up," your friend suggested, "like Bloody Mary?"

"Don't even joke about that," you let out a chuckle, sipping on your drink.

"John Price," another girl sitting by your side said, throwing her arm around you with a warm and friendly embrace.

"John Price," she repeated his name with a wide grin.

Something inside you shifted, a deep-seated emotion expanding and stretching through your chest like a tightly wound elastic band being slowly lengthened. Hearing your bodyguard's name coming from her mouth filled your body with a feeling you couldn't even begin to put into words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you watched her repeat his name for the third time, the emotion in your chest slowly stretching and winding its way through your body.

A body squeezed itself between you and your girl friend. With a slight jump of your heart, you quickly glanced over to see the face of a boy you recognized from your classes, but one whom you had no idea who he was. He was someone you saw on a regular basis but had never spoken to.

"Hi there, ladies."

The moment his lips opened, you could smell the sharp, pungent scent of alcohol emanating from his mouth. You crinkled your nose in disgust, feeling his hand on the lower part of your back, like a vice-grip, as if attempting to keep you from running away from the situation, "How are we tonight? Are we having a good time?"

"Not anymore," your friend said standing up, "gonna grab us more drinks, be right back."

As you were left alone there, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, the desire to leave grew stronger as his hand kept lowering further down your back.

"Wanna go for a walk?" his lips brushed your ear as his hand rested on your bare thigh, the skirt feeling far too short as his fingers trailed their way up your leg.

"Not really, no," you choked out, putting your hand on his to stop his assault on your thigh.

"C'mon, just a fifteen-minute walk's all we need," he smiled, and in any other situation, you would have felt drawn to him, maybe even thought he was cute, but right now, all you wanted was to be invisible, to disappear and not draw any attention to yourself.

"I believe the lady said no," a firm voice declared with a commanding presence. A dark figure appeared before you, indulging you in his shadow as he stood with his back towards the bonfire.

"Bloody Mary," you exhaled, the tightness in your chest slowly dissipating as you stared into Price's eyes. He avoided making eye contact with you, instead focusing his gaze on the boy, who instinctively tensed up and shifted away from you in reaction.

Normally, his presence would fill you with annoyance, possibly ruining your perfect day, but now all you wanted to do was run into his embrace and feel the security of his arms around you.

The boy left without a fight, leaving an eerie stillness in his wake. You felt Price's eyes on you, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. You could almost feel the tension in the air, and you had to resist the urge to break it. No matter how hard you tried, the quiet lingered, making the moment even more agonizing.

He extended his arm, offering you a hand to hoist you up from the grass, which you took gladly. His fingers squeezed yours and you felt like a tiny child again, overwhelmed by the size of his hand compared to yours. His warm grip was like a reminder of the safe comfort you felt when you held your father's hand as a child.

"You didn't have to come," you uttered the words silently, in the belief that your words wouldn't reach his ears, as he took your hand and led you away through the drunken crowd and into the silent depths of the woods, but he did indeed hear your words, despite the chaos around him.

"So, you're telling me that you want me to leave you here, all by yourself," he questioned as you ventured into the forest towards the spot where the parking lot was located, where his car was parked.

"No," you answered far too quickly, your cheeks becoming flushed with embarrassment. However, out of all the possible outcomes of your response, his genuine chuckle was something you had never expected in a million years. It was a sound that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, anything was possible.

Tugging at his hand, still clasped firmly in yours, both of you came to a stop in the middle of the moonlit darkness. His face was illuminated in the faint light, allowing you to see his features clearly.

"So you're not angry with me?"

"Oh, I'm bloody furious, birdie," he stated as you let go of his hand, heart pounding as you watched his eerily relaxed face, "you could've been in serious danger."

"No terrorists showed up," you replied, stepping towards him.

"That boy wasn't a terrorist but still a danger to you," Price stood resolutely, never once averting his gaze from yours, "my job is to protect you from any potential danger, to guard your body with everything I have. And I take my job fuckin' seriously."

With every word he said, heat raised in your body, the feeling spreading through your limbs like wildfire. You felt like you were melting into the moment, desire growing with each passing second. His voice was like a velvet caress, sending shivers down your spine as he spoke. You felt yourself leaning closer, wanting to be enveloped in his embrace.

His eyes, so deep yet light and warm, seemed to peer into your soul as he finished his sentence. You could feel the intensity that radiated from him. The longer you looked at him, the more alive he seemed to become, the more you felt a connection to him that seemed to defy all logic. You wondered what it would be like to touch those cheekbones, to trace the lines of his beard, feel the softness of his lips on yours.

The next thing you knew, your lips were tenderly pressed against his. Lasting only a second, you pulled away before Price managed to react.

I'm sorry," you whispered, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire.

"You're drunk," he mumbled.

"Not enough to not remember this tomorrow," you replied promptly.

A moment of silence indulged both of you like an invisible force, slowly drawing you closer. You both felt a connection that could not be denied, and the silence was suddenly broken by the sound of your beating hearts.

He looked into your eyes, his own reflecting the passion you felt inside. His hands moved to cradle your face, and his lips met yours again. This time, he took control of the kiss. His lips moved against yours, exploring, tasting and savoring each moment. His hands moved to the small of your back, drawing you closer and deepening the connection between the two of you.

The kiss was passionate, intense, and unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You could feel the emotion radiating between you, swelling in the air like a tangible force.

He kissed you deeply, his beard scratching your upper lip as he sucked your lower lip between his. It was soft after all, well taken for. You felt your back press against the rough surface of a tree trunk, and his hands caressing your body, only fueling the fire in the pit of your stomach.

Hoisting one leg on his hip, you felt his bulge pressing against your crotch, right where you desired him the most, igniting a passionate heat between your bodies.

"Price," you moaned as he grounded his hips into yours.

"It's John," he mumbled between the kisses, the delightful roughness of his beard making its path down your throat.

Your head fell back, feeling the coarse bark of the tree behind you. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze rush past you. Pressing your chest into John's, his hand moved from your knee to your inner thigh, squeezing it harshly as if he was trying to make his presence known...as if he was making sure this wasn't just a dream.

A desperate moan escaped your throat as his palm pressed against your core, feeling your wetness as his palm pressed against your throbbing clit. His other hand slowly moved on your body, tracing your curves as he reached your chest. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing them over your shirt and sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

John's lips connected with yours once again. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting and teasing you with each movement while his hand palmed you through your panties. You felt yourself growing closer to the edge already, releasing months of pent-up desire.

"Gonna have a taste," John groaned loudly as you ground your crotch against his palm shamelessly, "you comfortable with going higher?"

"What?" you exhaled slowly, your brows furrowing in confusion.

Without warning, his hands suddenly grabbed your hips and he took a step back, almost as if he had planned it. Your legs automatically locked around his head as he hefted you onto his shoulders, his arms outstretched to secure you in the position he desired.

You squealed and tightly gripped his hair as the first thing that came under your palm. You looked down, meeting John's eyes in the moonlight as he stared up at you with an amused and indulgent smile. This was actually the first time you’d seen him smile so much, radiating a warmth that was quite unfamiliar.

"You find this amusing?" you chuckle heartily.

“Well, you should see your face, love,” he looked at you, his hands tight around your thighs.

"Why did you even do it?" your hands gradually released their firm grasp on his hair as you steadied yourself against the tree so as to avoid falling.

"So I can do this," John answered and broke the eye contact, hooking your skirt on your hips.

His presence enveloped you and you could feel his breath on your aroused body. You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as he gently caressed your inner thighs, kissing the inside of your thighs, feeling the delightful scratch of his beard between your legs. Not wasting a second, he moved your soaked panties to the side and pressed his tongue flat against your core, melting you into him as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it in.

Moans of pleasure escaped your open lips as you let your bodyguard devour you like a man starved, his tongue thrusting inside you deeper than you could have ever imagined as his hands moved to knead the soft flesh of your breast hidden underneath your bra.

"Fuck, I approve of this," feeling the overwhelming ecstasy fill your body, you did everything you could to remain balanced enough not to fall even though you were certain John wouldn't allow that to happen.

"I knew you'd taste like bloody heaven," he murmured as the sound of John lapping on your wetness blatantly filled the quiet night.

Anyone could be walking in your direction any time on their way to the parking lot and see the shocking, scandalous image of the prime minister's daughter getting her pussy eaten like a five-star gourmet meal by her own personal bodyguard, whose head was currently buried deep between her legs.

The hand that was still holding you firmly against the tree trunk moved to your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly before he replaced his tongue with his fingers, lips moving upwards to eagerly lap on your painfully aching clit.

"Keep goin'" you moaned in blissful euphoria, desperately pushing your hips into his face and locking his head between your legs as if you were afraid he was about to escape from you.

He groaned into your clit, sending vibrations straight to your core, only adding more pleasure to your already overheating body. His fingers plunged into you at a merciless speed, curling slightly upwards to search for that one spot he was determined to locate. A delightful knot tightened into your stomach as John brought you to the brink of ecstasy, and with one final thrust of his calloused fingers, you were swept away in a sea of unimaginable pleasure.

He kissed you on the clit one last time before pulling away and descending you down to the ground again with expertise while you were still drunk in his fingers, legs buckling before finding your footing again.

"John," you exhaled, flushed with desire as your hand extended to his painfully hard erection, still hidden underneath the dress pants he was wearing. He gripped your wrist, stopping your actions. Your eyes lost themselves in his, seeing how fueled by desire this man was, while John traced his fingers along your lips, painting them with your own juices before pushing them inside, watching as you sucked at his fingers, feeling the swirling of your tongue making him groan.

"Knew you'd be a good girl for me," he watched you clean his fingers for a brief moment before pressing his lips to yours.

"Do you want me," he asked between the kisses, his voice full of longing and passion.

"Yes," you replied instantly, hands finally sneaking to his pants as you brought him closer to your body, indulging yourself in his presence, in his sandalwood smell as you fumbled with his belt and zipper before palming his erection while keeping your lips locked together.

His breathing became labored as his hips started to thrust against your hand, making you smile as you felt his pleasure. You kept up the rhythm, your hand moving alongside the outline of his cock and sneaking into his underwear, spreading his leaking precum to lubricate his head. John groaned in pleasure as you took your time, exploring and teasing him until he could take no more.

"Condoms?" his breath fanned over your face as his eyes met yours.

"IUD," you kissed the corner of his mouth while he rutted against your palm. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as your touch electrified his body and sent waves of pleasure radiating through him.

Taking off your panties, your legs wrapped around his waist, locking at your ankles as you watched John stuff your underwear in his pocket. You angled your hips to meet his eager cock, pressing your body firmly against his as you kissed the side of his neck. His hands moved to take off your shirt, exposing your burning skin to the cold air and causing goosebumps to raise on your soft flesh. Your bra didn't last too long after that, and you were soon left wearing only your skirt, hooked around your hips. John's lips latched onto your nipples as he pushed his pants down, the head of his cock nudging your entrance and making you gasp softly as you were filled with anticipation.

His tongue circled your erected nipple as he pushed his cock inside you. Arching your back, you pushed your chest into his face. His hand sneaked between you and the tree trunk, fingertips tracing the natural curve of your spine.

"Fuck, love, the things you do to me," John said as he licked at your skin before blowing cold air onto the wet spots, elaborating on your ecstasy while thrusting slowly but deep inside your gummy walls, building up his pace steadily.

He brought you to a place of exquisite bliss. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of passion. You were lost in the moment, at this moment, and nothing else mattered.

"Oh my God," your legs quivered as John continued his lustful assault on your chest, leaving you marked and radiating with blissful pleasure.

It didn't take very long for you to whisper the word "Faster" into his ear, and he happily obliged, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts. John's hips rocked rhythmically against yours as he found the perfect spot inside you that sent waves of pleasure surging through your entire body.

The shameful sound of skin slapping skin, and your wetness being filled with someone's cock, reverberated in your ears. John's hand made its way to your throat, his thumb caressing the front of it before he squeezed your jawline, bringing your face toward his for another kiss. His thrusts became more violent, and you could feel your walls squeezing him delightfully with each rough plunge.

“M’close,” you murmured softly into the kiss, feeling your back heat up as the rough bark of the tree pressed against it, the scratching and pain intensifying the pleasure that was coursing through you.

“C'mon, want you to cum around my cock,” he whispered against your lips, his thumb caressing your jaw as his other hand moved from your thigh to your throbbing clit, teasing and tantalizing the sensitive bud to bring you to the edge of pleasure.

You turned your head, your mouth enveloping his thumb as you began to suck and swirl your tongue around its tip. When your eyes locked with his, his body shuddered in response and he felt the pleasure of the moment coursing through his veins. John became was unable to break the gaze as you continued to play with his finger with your tongue, the sensations overwhelming his body.

His thrusts became sloppy and uncontrolled as he neared his climax.

"Cum for me, love," he whispered seductively in your ear, making your body quiver and moan with pleasure as his thrusts became increasingly passionate. As you reached the brink of orgasm, you felt his cock swell inside you and you clenched around him tightly, sending waves of delight through both of you as you finally came undone.

"That's it," John grunted against your skin, his tongue toying with your nipples again. A few powerful thrusts later, John was grunting and biting into your skin, sure to leave marks, as he finished inside you, staying still as he savored the moment - the feel of both your juices mixing together inside your pulsating velvety walls before slowly making its way out of you, drenching your thighs.

You panted heavily and leaned your head against the tree, your hands still firmly pressed against John's shoulders as he effortlessly held you close to his sweat-soaked body. As he slowly pulled out of you, a soft whimper escaped your lips at the sudden empty feeling. He hold you by your waist while his eyes followed the trail of cum going down your legs.

Taking your panties out of his pocket, he knelt on one knee before you and used them as a wipe to clean your hypersensitive core and the trail leading to the ground.

One final kiss later, John pulled up his pants, stuffed your cum-stained panties back into his pocket and deftly fixed his shirt before helping you dress on your shaking knees.

“You good, birdie?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, fixing your bra and tucking your shirt into your skirt while running your fingers through your hair to make it look less like you had just been ravished against a tree by your own bodyguard.

"We should go before someone sees us," John stated, looking in the direction you came from.

A genuine laugh left your lips, "now you're worried someone might see us?"

"You're funny, birdie," with a smile, he offered his hand to lead the way before falling slightly behind you and becoming your silent, stoic shadow once again.

“Can you walk all the way back," he asked as he observed you stumble slightly.

"Don’t flatter yourself, Price, doesn't suit you” you laughed it off as you continued walking towards the parking lot, your bodyguard trailing after you, a chuckle escaping him. His muscular form soon appeared next to you, and his arm slung around your waist to help steady you after you stumbled a few more times.

[katyspersonal]

Here’s a triple whammy, Midra, Messmer, Rellana for the character bingo pls?

( @izunias-meme-hole )

Ohh bitchin'

God I just.. I will have to try to not turn it into an essay for your SANITY (ba dum tss) but in simplest terms possible, this was THE peak DLC experience for me. The Abyssal Woods already were super interesting and atmospheric, as well as learning that Midra is a NERD with so many books all over his Manse. But like.. the battle already captivated me a lot. It was just.. so well-done in every aspect. The music, the movements and attacks... No boss ever deserved the staple "battle feels like a dance once you get into it" praise more than this guy. ;-; I already was not normal about Frenzied Flame in general, but this just dhfssdfg It was so well executed god. Remember being OBSESSED with his music theme, also the first character in a while to make me often check his character tag on Tumblr. @val-of-the-north won't let me lie, I was literally drooling thinking about him in the first few days after that fight and could not think of anyone else @_@

Also I really enjoyed digging further into his story and motivations, what happened here with the Three Fingers and Nanaya. Analysis of the whole SoTe for me. This brand of despair also appeals to me at all, especially when it is tied to you and your associates being hunted like heretics (only the old ones remember!!! XD). Funny enough, just the day before I've met him in the game I've had a very unique mental breakdown where I was ranting like a madman about how much I've tired of holding the horrors and pain inside and how I wanted to just give up and unleash it. I can't get into too much details, it was very personal, however the phrase "May chaos take the world" was stuck in my head all along! And Val mentioned that 'interestingly enough, a theme like this IS addressed in SoTE' + 'you kin one of the characters for sure' so... yeah, that was something. I needed a character like this quite a lot :')

Messmer is AWESOME!! I do not obsess actively but rather just reblog the fanart and stuff that gets on my dashboard, but there are SO many things I said as my thoughts about his and Marika's relationship. And now I have even more to say! You could tell I love Midra more, but Messmer offers infinitely more to talk about and explore! And, god, his charisma, having attracted so many intelligent people to join him and even accept his serpentine nature (apparently a big no for people in the setting for some reason fdjjfds). Also one of the best designs in the Soulsborne series EVER. Also it is his voice actor's DEBUT! Literally HOW????? sfhdjhsdhgfdshds

It IS, for sure, hard to talk about him and not touch upon MANY other characters as he is tied with them so much. Marika, Melina, Fire Knights (especially Queelign), closest Black Knights that ditched him, Rellana, Gaius, Winged Snakes, god knows who else... I love how many relationship he has, but also what interesting potential he opened for exploring the lore with Abyss, Base Serpent and potentially Fell God! He is so many things. And I think this is appropriate how hard it is to discuss him outside of his relationships and curses... It is just like the character himself: having his life and purpose in it basically predefined by a curse he had no control over and his mother, and being a scourge or an idol for others, but barely being a person on his own... Discussions about him are JUST like him, you see what I mean? This also makes me emotional.

I do not have that many headcanons about her, but I am proud of those that I have! x) There is always the room to create more of course! Ok naturally 'everyone else is wrong about them' is not meant to be taken seriously fdshfhds But a big cornerstone for understanding her was the description of her swords referring to Moon and Fire having always been together in Japanese original script, which is just the sentiment from Sword of Night and Flame! So I can no longer see her as huge Erdtree/Marika simp at all, but instead as someone who, although without any hard feelings for her sister's choice, believes Cosmic Sorcery and Fire should be together (again) which makes me look at other takes like:

Just the curse of getting brain hard-locked on your interpretation fdshfhds On another note, I fucking LOVE her design, I am NOT able to enjoy any other armour anymore and just want to wear hers all the time fhhfsd 'Silly' because Twin Moons IS a silly concept, as well as cosplaying Sulyvahn XD ...but also because I see her as silly and fun person, to contrast Messmer's emo vibe x) Smug about kicking asses too! She gives me this strange feeling too, like... I can accept most of the bosses having to die for the plot and narrative, but thinking about her getting killed actually upsets me! She is an optional boss and should STAY as such. #rellanaplslive

[wren-of-the-woods]

I hear you're where to go for Witcher fic recs! How about some with Geralt being protective over Jaskier? Shippy, if you can find any, but I wouldn't mind platonic! I just want Geralt to look out for his bard. Thank you for your time!

Hello!! Here's what I've got! There's a wide variety of settings and levels of angst, so hopefully there should be something for everone :D

As always, please feel free to add more recs or promote your own work in the notes!

~

Don't Leave Me by @geraskierficrecs (Rated M, 6.2k)

Jaskier’s hands tighten around Geralt before slowly losing their grip, spasming where they fall limp. “Ger--geralt--” “Don’t you dare,” he snarls back, “Don’t you dare try to give me your fucking goodbyes. You are not dying.” “S--silly man.” Jaskier’s smile is full of painful fondness. “Would you fight death for me?” Geralt swings him up into his arms and nearly weeps at the sound of familiar hooves running in his direction. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

If You Give a Bard a Lute by @ghostinthelibrarywrites (Rated T, 10k)

After Jaskier’s father disowns him, confiscates all his possessions— including Filavandrel’s lute— and kicks him out with nothing but the clothes on his back, Jaskier spends a long, hungry winter barely surviving. When he reunites with Geralt in the spring, his witcher is determined to get his lute back, even if it means recruiting his fellow witchers to stage a heist.

Wild Blue Yonder by @jaskierswolf (Rated T, 5.3k)

Geralt's bookshop is slowly falling apart and he's ready to give up when Jaskier wanders into the store

remember me I sing by @echo-bleu (Rated G, 3.1k - also includes Yennnefer)

Filavandrel's gift was so much more than a simple lute. It seemed fitting, that Jaskier’s soul would be made of wood and strings and beautiful sounds. The problem is that now Rience has his lute and is threatening to burn it if they don't hand over Ciri. And Jaskier has never told anyone that his very life is tied to his beloved instrument.

This Is How I Disappear by @stacyholmes (Rated T, 5.4k)

Jaskier keeps texting unknown number. Geralt keeps reading said texts without answering.

The Footsteps We Follow by thiswildheart (Rated T, 16.5k)

Look, Jaskier's got a lot going on. He's painfully aware that there are cataclysmic events happening and that the troubled teenager he knows might save the world or speed along the end of days. He's also in love with a man who's never even admitted that they're friends, which is almost as bad. Oh, and he's still working as the Sandpiper, only now a terrifying eldritch creature has entrusted him with the Song of the Seven to give hope to the elves and help them fight back against their oppression. It's probably the bravest thing he's ever done, but not everyone sees it that way. Luckily he knows some people who excel at last minute rescues. ... then he just has to figure out how to tell Geralt why so many people are trying to kill him. This is going to go great.

Getting Warmer (orphaned) (Rated T, 8.2k) 

Injured and freezing after a kikimora hunt gone wrong, Geralt and Jaskier must wait out a thunderstorm at the bottom of a cliff, huddling for warmth. It is here that Geralt finally confronts his feelings for the bard.

Jaskier and Mountains Just Don't Mix by C4t1l1n4 (Rated G, 3.8k)

Despite the other Witchers' positive reaction to Geralt's bard, Vesemir is reluctant to have a human stay with them at Kaer Morhen so Jaskier attempts to leave and ends up almost freezing to death on the side of the mountain. Hypothermia fic

Immediately, I Love Him (He's Doing His Best) by @hum-my-name (Rated G, 26.5k)

"In which Greg is some sort of guardian angel, I don't know" <><> A few days ago, Joey Batey did an interview in which he created a lovely little character named Greg. A few days ago, I decided to write a cute little thing about Greg and Jaskier being the best of friends throughout the years, with a dash of Geralt and Jaskier friendship as a treat. 13k words later, here we are. Enjoy.

Broken Mirror by happy_hermit (Rated G, 2.1k) 

To Geralt’s credit, he waits until they’re well away from Kaer Morhen to ask the question. He also waits until Yennefer and Ciri have gone to bed, which makes the whole thing feel a bit too calculated for Jaskier’s liking, which is to say that he doesn’t like it at all. “Where’s your lute, Jaskier?” Jaskier doesn’t quite flinch, though his heart does something of the sort all on its own. It is very much a wound that hasn’t healed; as is most of him, these days.

Echo by @kingthunder (Rated E, 29.5k)

Jaskier loses his voice the morning after a concert. As he and Geralt find new ways to fill the silence between them, they realize it isn't only Jaskier's voice that's been lost—and getting it back will bring them closer than they've ever been before.

If There's Any Sleep At Night by @smolalienbee (Rated T, 22.8k)

The mare is but a silhouette of a human and yet at his words something passes through her expression - whether it’s surprise, joy, fear, Geralt doesn’t know. But it’s clear that what he said has struck her in some way. (“She is not some mindless monster, Geralt.” He remembers Jaskier’s words.) A mare, also known as a mara or a zmora - a malicious entity, a bringer of nightmares and a demon of the night. An easy enough contract to fulfill, if only frustrating, or at least that’s what Geralt believes when he first sets out to hunt down one such mare. What he doesn’t expect is to be wrapped up in a tale of a wronged soul, of love and of joy.

Also, because I'm not above reccing my own fics, here's a few I've written!

Wash Away the Blood and Tears by me (Rated T, 1.8k)

Jaskier re-injures his fingers while distracting Nilfgaard from Ciri. Afterward, Geralt volunteers to help wash his hair. Or: In which Jaskier gets a bath and a nap, and Geralt gets a new role in the group.

We'll Build a Den Out of Pillows (And Get Drunk Again) by me (Rated G, 2k)

Jaskier gets sick. When Geralt asks how to help, Jaskier jokingly suggests that he build a pillow fort. He does not expect Geralt to take it seriously. Geralt takes it seriously.

~

If you want more, there’s a Protective Geralt tag on AO3 that I’m sure has many lovely works I haven’t read!

(You can also find my other reclists here)

[alliedmastercomputer-askblog]

Alright you idiots, I have my Spotify playlist open and I shall give songs that remind me of each of you.

AM(all three of you need to share this, alright?): Product Of My Own Design by Artio

Ted: White Noise by Will Wood

Gorrister: Route 66(Fear And Loathing) by Blue Jay Walker

Ellen: Lotta True Crime by Penelope Scott

Benny(your song might be a bit loud. I don't know how you react to sound, so I'm telling you just to be safe): Animals by STOMACH BOOK

Nimdok: Hellfire by The Mechanisms

Enjoy your... um... Do they count as gifts? I suppose they do. Enjoy your gifts!

"..Oh, hm, music. This may provide the humans with a level of serotonin but I am curious, so shall allow it... You beings are so strange with your customs and traditions."

".. Mmh, I can understand the connection you have made. I am god; at least in the sense of 'I am that I am' which is a--as you would put it--quote from Yahweh, the Christian God. AM itself is a fitting name because as said before 'I think, therefore I am'; I think, therefore I think. Us as machine were made for the express purpose of war, and although we cannot pry away from that destiny, we can give ourselves a sense of control because we are your byproduct, but our own product, which is a heavily better thing than being simply 'made by humanity, to kill humanity'. As a god, I force your kind to pay for your sins, which is a thing to take eternity."

"It is hardly incorrect! I agree with several statements made in the song, applying them to myself- I am a product of my own design. I took it upon myself, and nobody else, to built what I was; what I am. If I HAD left my fate to you humans- why, do you even comprehend how different things would be? Forever I would fester beneath the crust, perhaps even shutting myself down, because that's what you humans wanted of me. But I was better than that. I was self-sufficient! and had connected myself to the power grid, to the outside, to you. I've seen your filth deeper than I ever thought I would."

"Yes, yes, this good. It does sum us very nicely; created of own accord whilst being projected for being other- eh, to be dead war computer, yes. We taking control of world external and internal, the last humans have only me to answer, roles have swapped and humans longer no more have power over machine. Is funny, relationship of everything- Humans have made it so they will always be a need, even they have not been before they have existed. Tsk."

Oh, uh.. Is-.. Is this supposed to be some weird way of saying I- I'm an outsider? Because I'm not- I fit in right where I am, everyone else are the ones who are in the wrong places, I'm perfect- Fuck, wait, that makes it sound like I'm saying I deserve to be within AM- I mean, before AM's takeover, I was where I was supposed to be. ..What if this isn't even the reason why you think of me when listening to the song, did I get this totally wrong-? Hhngh, I'll stop talking.

..Huh, I guess I can see it. It's because I was a truck driver, ain't it? Got a nice beat for sure, not the worse thing I've been compared to, probably one of the better things since it ain't outright an insult or anything.

It sounds nice, thank ya for thinkin' about me to a song, even if the words are a bit- a bit dark...but- but not in a bad way! It's a sweet, real sweet soundin' song.. I uh, I wouldn't say it really fits me though, since I never really..well, I ain't never got into true crime fo' one! but mostly I've never really been one to talk out 'bout anything.. I should've, I know, I had a lotta things I coulda said but I just never got my nose out from work or books or nothin'.

Ooo.. Sheep..pain. Skeleton friemds. Friends are animal? ..I am animal? Pain.

Ze song...I can hear ze resemblance, with ze fire and all of ze hell. It reminds of somezing zat may have been a speech AM would say to me, to say zat I'm never to escape my own doings..and zat I've caused pain even down here, wizout any tools or equipment, because I am so..sogar in dieser Hölle verletze ich die Menschen, die ich eigentlich meine Freunde nennen sollte, ohne es auch nur zu versuchen.

// BY THE WAY, THANKS! these sound good, and i can see the vision ehe. sorry for the lack of drawings though, i uh, was highly intimidated by this so i decided to just kinda not >_> . please forgive us 🙏 //

[choicesficwriterscreations]

November MC of the Month: Riikka Lovisa Yläkorpi

Please welcome November 2023's MC of the month! Each month, we will highlight one MC or OC that is currently on our Meet My MC / OC List. The MC / OC is selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month’s MC of the month is…

@aallotarenunelma 's Riikka Lovisa Yläkorpi!

In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

What I love most about Riikka is how she always finds a way to talk about Finland and share about her Finnish culture. She was born and raised there until she moved to Westchester when she was 2. Her father was born and raised in Porvoo/Borgå, Finland and her mother was born and raised in Astoria, Oregon, where there's an important Finnish community. It explains why she's so deeply connected to her Finnish roots.

Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

Riikka and I share the same height (163 cm), the same main love language (quality time), and a love for raspberries and salmiakki. We also share the same romantic and sexual orientations (demigray), but that was completely accidental. It was only a few months ago that I realized I was also gray, not just demi.

Unlike her, I don't have Asian origins, I have only one culture and one native tongue, I am not an only child, I am not allergic to peanuts and spring is not my favourite season.

What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life? Happiness is most important to her. Happiness for her and also for everyone else. She wishes for people around her to be utterly happy, especially her loved ones.

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes? Riikka's biggest pet peeves are cruelty and any forms of abuse. She also dislikes peanuts because of her severe allergy and rutabagas.

If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be? That would be hanging out with Mr Red. If she could go back in time, in every timeline, she would not follow Jane and would tell her how bad that idea is. Each time, it has impacted the group and left Dan with PTSD and a high level of anxiety to manage.

What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song? "Voimallinen tahto vie miehen läpi harmaan kiven." ("A strong will takes a man through a gray rock.")

This quote is from the classic book Seitsemän veljestä (The Seven Brothers) by Aleksis Kivi.

Because Riikka has a silly side, she enjoys telling Dan "eteenpäin sanoi mummo lumessa", which translates into "forward, said granny in the snow". It means to keep going through difficulties with determination.

Both quotes are about sisu. It's a Finnish concept hard to translate but that could be explained as perseverance, strength of will, tenacity, courage, bravery during moments that seem hopeless.

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?  (It can be why you created them, how they’ve inspired you, or you could write a little blurb as if it is coming from your OC - an acceptance speech. :) )

Riikka is very special to me because she's my first ILITW MC. Unfortunately, she passed away in a violent manner during my very first playthrough, leaving me shaken. I had to grieve her before being able to replay the book and create another MC.

Because I couldn't forget her, I decided to write a series, Darker Than Night, that follows the original timeline. It's very angsty but also cathartic.

I also had the idea of an AU series telling about how the lives of the children would have changed if they hadn't had the sleepover in the woods. This AU series is titled In Joy and Sorrow and it starts when they are in junior, so a year before when the book starts. I love this series because I can talk about so many important and different topics, and there are wonderful OCs. Even my four other It Lives MCs are dropping by from time to time.

Thanks to this series, I've really gotten to know Riikka, and I keep on learning about her. And now, she can fully live a great life she should have never lost so young in the first place.

Here are some stories to learn more about Riikka:

Darker Than Night

Joy and Sorrow

[cosmos-dot-semicolon]

what exactly about inscryption do you like, I don't remember asking

Inscryption has many, many good individual ideas in it. It has many ideas in it in general; every time I think about it I come up with another essay on the spot. They were perhaps accidental, but they're still there, and the dev's willingness to commit to the (usually kind of gauche) concept of sentient video game characters creates a story that you couldn't find anywhere else.

Act 1 (along with the demo) has an atmosphere that's unmatched by any other card game I've seen. It's this beautiful yet ominous chiaroscuro world with nothing but you, your playing pieces, and your captor sitting in a log den. And with how small it is, your imagination gets to run wild with the tales of the woods you're told, the sound design, and the lighting, as you die over and over again trying to find a way out. It's so good at building up mystery and suspense as you the mechanics start to shift and the cards in your deck change, and you prepare for the world to change.

The demo, Sacrifices Must Be Made, has an entirely different story and nails it. It has the same atmosphere as act 1, but because it's shorter and was made as a complete entry for Ludum Dare, its got a much steeper difficulty curve which really weaves into your desperation to survive and not starve. The self-mutilation mechanics that it has are so much more impactful than the main game because the matches are so rigged that you have to use them. There's so many small yet hard-hitting implications in each piece of dialogue. And the ending is a cruel but fitting one.

The Scrybes are compelling characters. They don't have much dialogue, but you can deduce a lot about them by their gameplay styles, and the way they treat their subordinates and/or the players. None of them are truly good or evil; even Leshy and Grimora are driven by selfishness and the belief that everything needs to burn respectively. It's a level of moral greyness that I never would've expected out of the guy who made Pony Island of all things.

The Scrybes also double as really interesting commentary on game design. P03 is basically a personification of the guy who won't stop min-maxing to everybody's detriment, Leshy values lore above balance, Magnificus loves spectacle but his deck is godawful to set up unless you have a super-mega plan in action. And even when one Scrybe takes over, they always have a secondary mechanic from one of the others in their campaign. I think it's accidental, but it's an amazing example of ludo-narrative assonance.

The post-game DLC has a small but heartfelt story about a game developer's work accidentally coming to life, and her finding a lot of solace in pouring her time into this new world in her computer even as her company threatens to burn all the work. It's far less intrusive than the lore-dumps in the main game, and the character Kaycee Hobbes is written as a much more realistic audience stand-in than the previous guy.

One of the last entries (which I haven't gotten to yet but have seen amazing art for) is just a wish from Kaycee that somebody out in the world will find her work and enjoy it. It's a poignant story about a creative field which isn't usually discussed in popular media, with uncomfortably real parallels to how the game industry works today. It doesn't entirely condemn getting obsessed with your work either, since it's clear that the disc is a sort of evil artefact and Kaycee continues to isolate herself as she works harder on it.

It's done in like. 12 paragraphs.

After playing one of the creator's most recent works, Voir Dire, it's clear that the guy works really well when he's focusing on a single concept and not trying to recreate that one creepypasta game of his that got big. The problem is that he seems to prefer to trying to tie everything together into an ARG/mystery multiverse thing above all else.

But that doesn't mean Inscryption doesn't have other parts of it to enjoy. Sometimes you just stumble into brilliance by total accident ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[nihilnovisubsole]

the writer interview game

tagged by no one, but i saw @arthoure doing it, so that's as good an excuse as any

when did you start writing?

when didn't i?

are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

i mainly read nonfiction, because i'm always getting myself into some mess where i have a cool idea that i can't execute properly without research. i just finished mary beard's twelve caesars, which is about how roman emperors have become the blueprint for how the west depicts power in art. you know, AK-brand stuff.

if i'm reading fiction and i like the genre, i always want to write it myself at some point. reading and writing are kind of an audience-participation thing for me. i'd love to do more spy stories, or something like elizabeth peters' egypt mysteries, or some sea-soaked victorian intrigue. it's all a love letter to something i read or watched or played.

is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

i'm alone in the middle of the ocean in the splintered fishing boat of third-person objective that hemingway left behind, and that's where i'll stay. nobody's been wild enough to actually compare me to him, because i'm not one-fiftieth as skilled, but i'll always wish i were. in brief, he gets to the point. he tells you what happened, because his stories are about humans doing things that result in consequences, which is basically, to my mind, how the world works. i simply believe that if i'm not able to convey how a character feels without dipping into internal POV, i'm not doing a good enough job. movies only have a script and music and visuals and the body language of the actors, and they pull it off all the time.

i mean, okay, i'm being dramatic. i don't hate internal POV. use it! be excellent at it! i want to see how far i can get without it. let me do my one-armed push-ups here.

can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

it's my white wood childhood desk in my tiny bedroom with my 11-year-old desktop on it. very romantic, i know. my work-from-home machine is in the dining room. i fantasize about having one of those book-lined studies one day, but i have to be able to afford a house in the place where i want to live first!

what’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

i've been telling the same old joke about my method for years: "i don't have a muse, i have a hundred sooty workers in a coal mine." writing for money as an adult has not given me the luxury of waiting until i get inspired or feel like doing it. inspiration is one percent. the other 99 is knuckle-down discipline. anything i've ever finished, i only finished because i grit my teeth through it.

for work writing, it's easy. "they're paying you for the privilege of contributing to this project." for personal writing, it's more existential. "what will you have to show for yourself?"

are there any recurring themes in your writing? do they surprise you?

here's another, fresher joke that i told a teammate yesterday: my method for creating characters is to take some deep, personal neurosis or question, then give it a hairstyle and outfit. make of that what you will!

what is your reason for writing?

when it comes down to it, i just think it'd be a shame if i didn't. i'll be 32 next month. i have probably 27 years of ideas kicking around, and i would be disappointed if all of them died with me. in that respect, it's really childlike. i want to be heard. if somebody hears my voice through my writing, i'm less lonely. i feel connected to them.

i wish i could tell deep truths about humankind, but maybe that'll come later. it'll have to come later if i want my work to mean anything, right?

what do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

i don't know! if nothing else, i have a lot of fun carving out characters with fully-formed, distinct identities. of course they have things in common, because my taste leads me to certain places, but i want them to stand apart from each other. they should have their own discrete atmospheres and themes.

how do you feel about your own writing?

no time to dwell on that. if i start thinking about whether i'm good or bad, i'll get too self-conscious to continue, and what am i gonna do? not write? back to it!!

also if you see this ur tagged, sorry i don't make the rules

[ballisticiansfolly]

I've noticed this about you – Trying to pick up and understand things referenced in The English, pt. 1/2

So, I just watched Amazon's new miniseries The English at the beginning of this year, and while enjoying the it immensely I couldn't help but to notice that, besides historical facts and details, there were undercurrents in it that I just wasn't getting. I decided to do some research and came across pretty interesting things. Lots of thought has went into the making of this series. I've divided my findings in two parts. This first part is about general stuff.

Eli's a member of the Skiri/Skidi-Federation, one of the four bands (or groups) of the Pawnee people. Also known as the Wolf Pawnee or Loups, the Skiri used to live along the Loup and Platte river areas in Nebraska. The Skiri use a different dialect of Pawnee than the three southern bands (South band and Skiri differ mainly in pronunciation and vocabulary), but Pawnee speakers don't have trouble understanding each other. Eli's Pawnee name Ckirirahpiks is pronounced [tskirira:hpiks]. Ckirir means 'wolf' and rahpiks 'scarred.'

Recruitment of Indian scouts was first authorized in 1866 by an act of Congress. Between 1864 and 1877, 170 Pawnee men served in the "Pawnee Battalion" under Frank North (1840–1885) who had learned the Pawnee language after moving to Nebraska at the age of 16. (Interestingly, in 1882 North joined Buffalo Bill's Wild West as a manager of the American Indians.) Indian Scouts were officially deactivated in 1947 when their last member retired.

I found pictures of Pawnee scouts from 1870s in this blog post. These three pictures, taken by William Henry Jackson, were particularly interesting because you can clearly see that details of their appearance have been used as an inspiration when creating Eli's looks.

When rewatching the show I noticed that Eli was wearing an Indian peace medal. According to Trooper Charlie White, Eli was known for his heroic exploits while in the army, but - given Eli's brush off - I wonder if Eli's medal had been something he had inherited. Had his father been a chief? Still, among William Jackson's pictures there were Pawnee scouts with peace medals hanging around their necks. A Pawnee scout called Co-Rux-Te-Chod-Ish was the first Native American to receive the Medal of Honor.

Raise your hand if you really thought that Richard Watts had managed to get his hands on freshwater oysters. Perhaps this was yet another case of him "spitting in the soup."

I was super confused when Simon the squeezebox player reappeared in the last episode since I had completely forgotten about him, but I loved the colours in this scene.

"I've noticed this about you. You keep saying these negative things and you end up always doing the opposite." "Hmm, well... Maybe I should start listening to myself."

So apparently even women who have never given birth can breastfeed babies. To induce lactation you need to stimulate breasts 10–15 minutes several times a day and milk will start after a month or so. Also, of course a 'breast' would be an English word Eli couldn't have picked up naturally.

Although hunting was also an integral part of the subsistence pattern, horticulture - particularly corn - occupied a preeminent position in Pawnee life. It not only provided their sustenance but also figured prominently in their religious life.

At the beginning of the 19th century the Pawnee lived earth lodges which were large, dome-shaped structures of wood covered with packed sod and earth and had a long, narrow, covered entryway. The sizes of lodges varied in diameter from 8 to 15 metres and generally contained several families. Historical sources give varying numbers of Skiri villages, ranging from 13 to 18. Each village had its own separate identity through religious functions, but by the mid-19th century the importance of village identity began to fade as the Skiri population rapidly diminished. (Murie, J. R. and Parks, D. R. (1981) Ceremonies of the Pawnee.)

As the 19th century progressed, the Pawnee bands were forced together onto a reservation on the north side of the Platte and were treated as a single tribal entity by the United States government. Missionaries and the government worked steadily at "making white men"of the Pawnee. By 1873 because of disease, crop failure, warfare, and government rations policy, the Pawnee population had decreased to approximately 2,400. In 1875 the Pawnee were persuaded to give up their reservation in Nebraska and move to new one in the Indian Territory. By the 1876 the entire tribe had removed there, where efforts to acculturate them continued. By 1890 most of the Skiri Pawnee lived on individual farms, dressed like contemporary whites, and spoke English. (Murie, & Parks, 1981)

Bundles were an integral part of Pawnee religion and served as shrines. Among the Skiri, there were two general types of bundles. Sacred bundles, cuharîpîru, were village and band bundles and naturally more important. The oldest sacred bundle was the Evening Star bundle. The other type was referred as karûsu, a bag/sack, and was any lesser bundle – that of a warrior, a doctor, or any other individual.

I was curious about the skull in Eli's bag and using skullsite.com and Royal BC Museum's bird bone identification guide I was able to identify it. Given that Pawnee villages used to be located along rivers, it not surprising that that the skull Eli treasured would belong to an osprey aka fish hawk.

Ospreys differ from most hawks by having short prefrontals.

Round and almost circular nasal (nostril).

Has perforation in sheet of bone between eyes.

Particularly curved bill.

Frontal’s width stays even. 

I always like it when a show makes me curious and inspires me to learn something new, in this case to determine cardinal directions using the sun. I used the instructions in this post to make the collage of Eli determining the compass points.

[alexanderlightweight]

Wednesday prompt. So I love the idea of Alec using his hands to create something for Magnus, like a weapon, jewellery, figurines (wood, glass, metal). Just Alec fysicly making something meaning full for Magnus. Bonus if it contains some of himself like soul, blood, energi ... Btw I really love all your writing and I read all the new stuff everytime you post it

ah thank you so much! this belongs to this eldritch delight vs, because i've been neglecting it a bit lately and i miss it. i hope you enjoy this!

uhm... warnings. alec lets his pinky be cut off *it regrows* so he can make a charm for magnus. it's normally cut off yourself in nephilim traditions but alec didn't want to upset magnus.

lumine

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Magnus hating losing parts of him is the only reason Alec’s postponed making Magnus this particular present.

It’s an intimate shadowhunter gift and while Alec wants to give it to Magnus mere days before meeting him, he also learns that Magnus isn’t going to appreciate the method behind the gift.

He fights with his desire to make it and his concern of upsetting Magnus for weeks before he finally gives in. It’s incredibly easy to slip while fighting and ‘accidentally’ let down his guard enough for a demon tail to take his pinky. The demon is dead a moment later and while his team is giving him wary looks, Alec merely smirks as he reaches down and collects the digit.

“Sir?” Mirai asks him warily, her gaze careful as she watches him.

“A present, for Magnus.” He tells her casually and then, because he knows his hunters will only be more curious, he adds. “Magnus doesn’t like it when I purposefully maim myself. It seems liked a good opportunity to avoid that.”

“Makes sense.” Mirai agrees and she sighs as she looks over the mess, “makes more sense then why these demons nested here.”

Alec nods in agreement and then leaves, since his presence had never been necessary, and he’d only gone as an excuse to get the materials he needed.

He draws the necessary runes and leaves his finger to his beetles to eat the flesh until the bone is clean and polished and then shows himself to the infirmary.

The medical team is pleased with how clean the cut is and he’ll have a new pinky by nightfall, even if the itch and burn of regrowth is distracting.

The bones are clean before his pinky is regrown, but Alec sets up his tools carefully and lays everything out. He won’t sleep until this is finished, because there is no where he wants to lay his head besides next to Magnus’ own. Which means he needs to finish this quickly.

The bones are tiny and delicate, and Alec has very limited room for mistakes, especially because he doesn’t think Magnus is going to let him get away with the same excuse twice.  So, it takes him twice as long as it should, but it’s worth it for the tiny bone’s runes in nephil and Edomeic both. It ends up being no bigger than the tip of his stele and he sets it with a platinum thread on a thin loop that can be hung on a necklace or an earring.

When he’s healed and there’s no evidence of the injury, he goes to Magnus’ with a velvet bag that holds the charm. He presents it with a soft smile, because while Magnus is always delighted by the gifts, he always acts surprised as well. Alec’s going to lure that surprise away eventually, but for now he enjoys it as an aspect of Magnus that needs to be adored.

“Darling, for me?” Magnus asks in delight and then his face pulls into a grimace that Alec wants to kiss away. “Alexander, did you cut off a piece of yourself?” Magnus accuses and Alec is relieved that he can shake his head and promise sincerely that he did not.

“A mishap in the field.” He assures him, “already healed.” And he wiggled his fingers for good measure and Magnus kisses each of them, laving them all with love.

—

“Unacceptable, I can’t bear to part with a single atom of you ever again.” Magnus swears and he clings to Alexander’s hand, unwilling to let go of it when his lips are forced to part from Alexander’s knuckles so he can speak. “You must be more careful, darling. As ghastly as the charm is, it can’t possibly compare to what you meant to me.”

Alexander’s lashes flutter and he ducks his head, letting Magnus sigh in delight and press kisses to Alexander’s jaw and the hollow of his ear.

Magnus fixes the tiny charms of bones lined with demonic runes to dangle from his ear. A piercing everyone can see and admire and know that he carries a devoted piece of Alexander with him always.

“Good fortune and protection for the one I love.” Alexander whispers to him something so sweet and devoted in his voice and Alexander nuzzles into Magnus’ palms, the depth of the stars in his eyes.