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ddarker-dreams · 4 years ago

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Yan Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Beidou & Ningguang / Courting Darling.

Warnings: Stalking, implied blackmail, kidnapping, and gaslighting. Note: this is a bit of an amalgamation from different asks i’ve gotten, put into one thing bc i thirst for these six characters so hard .

Childe:

“What’s life without a little adventure? You can stand to miss work for a day or two, it’ll still be there waiting for you when we get back. People have even gone so far as to say I’m an absolute joy to be around. You want to know who said that? Sorry, that source is staying a secret.”

Childe is an erratic whirlwind of highs and lows. You never know what to expect from him, and he likes it that way, always keeping you on your toes. He doesn’t bother with having his friendliness appear genuine. If you want to doubt his goodwill, then so be it, he won’t stop you. It just makes it all the more interesting to keep you around should you be wary of his presence.

He doesn’t care for the traditional conventions surrounding romance. It isn’t his thing, and he’s used to being considered the odd one out of every crowd, so why stop now? Childe doesn’t tone down any aspects of his bloodthirsty personality in your presence. It’s difficult to tell how serious he’s being since most of it takes the form of jokes or other lighthearted jests. In his mind, the fact he’s even spending so much time with you should make it obvious he’s interested. Whether that’s good or not.

You’re going to be dragged all over the place. Childe’s stamina is seemingly an infinite well, as he takes you from activity to activity. By the end of the day, you’ll be exhausted. Unfortunately, he doesn’t take no for an answer, weaseling his way into your schedule despite your protests. Childe is particularly fond of getting into situations where a fight is inevitable, purposefully taking you to areas with monsters to show off his combat prowess.

“Did you get a look at that, [First]? Aha, I haven’t had this much fun in ages! You already want to head back? Hm, I don’t know, the night is still young. Stop dragging your feet or I might just have to carry you. Not that I’m complaining, should that be the outcome. It’s up to you. Oh! Now that’s the spirit! I’ll try not to be hurt by how fast you’re moving now.”

Diluc:

“Ah, [First], I take it you’re doing well. I couldn’t help but notice you eyeing this book at the market earlier. I’ve had a copy of it for ages, but with how busy things are, rarely do I have time to read. I’d be appreciative should you accept this and give it a better home.”

Diluc is self-assured in many areas of his life, romance is not one of them. He knows how to carry himself in the company of businessmen, staying polite and vigilant, but this rigid method doesn’t work in his favor when it comes to wooing you. To soften the blow on his side, Diluc tells himself that it was never about a relationship anyway. That his main priority was and will always be to ensure your safety. He tells himself this, but... isn’t sure if he really believes it.

He’s a perfect example of pining from afar. Subconsciously, he’ll drift towards areas you tend to linger around, hoping to spot you amidst the bustling crowds. Each time he tells himself that this’ll finally be the time he approaches you. The opportunity is set before him, waiting to be taken advantage of, but he rarely follows through with his desire.

It frustrates Diluc to no end how easily others flock to you. He’ll stand there, still as a statue, eyes boring into whatever pest currently holds your attention. This would be the push to finally send him your way. It’s a surprise to you both when Mondstadt’s wine tycoon materializes by your side, politely asking to speak in private. Truth be told, he just can’t stand the thought of another person holding your attention that isn’t him.

“I apologize for my abruptness back there. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about for some time, and well... would you consider having dinner with me tonight? I’d appreciate your company.”

Kaeya:

“It’s a funny thing, really. How we keep bumping into one another like this. Ah... that suspicious expression, it wounds me deep, sweetheart. When did you start looking at me like that, I wonder?”

There’s no doubting Kaeya’s interest in you, from the first time he sauntered over to you and started a conversation. The problem you have is deciding how genuine his advances are. While Kaeya might not be the textbook definition of a heart-wrenching playboy, you’re familiar enough with the many rumors surrounding him to be wary. It doesn’t help that he’ll point this out to you when guessing the source of your apprehension.

His methods are, oddly enough, effective. Kaeya balances the various aspects of seduction with ease. He reveals just enough about himself to draw out your attention, before focusing the conversation back onto you. You’ll never get to stop and realize how little you know about the man sitting in front of you, he makes certain of that.

Kaeya might hide certain aspects of himself, but his dubious morality is never concealed. He has you entirely wrapped around his finger, words validating his actions falling from his lips with the utmost ease; he’s a force to be reckoned with. You’ll start a conversation heated about something you’ve learned, only for it to end wondering why you were ever upset in the first place.

“Now, now, there’s no need to get all riled up over something like this. Don’t you trust me by now? When have I ever given you reason to doubt me? You need to take a look at the bigger picture. Hey, take a seat. I’ll sit here all night explaining to you if it’s necessary.”

→[More underneath the cut].

Zhongli:

“There must be something that I can assist you with. It may not look it, but I’m familiar with many fields of work, even obscure ones. Please allow me to lend a hand.”

Zhongli, despite having been around for many centuries, is somewhat clueless in romantic pursuits. He’s aware of his fondness for you, but doesn’t know what to do with it. This leads him to becoming your shadow for some time. He focuses on what he knows best: observation and processing new information. Your every little movement will be analyzed and tuck into the back of his mind for later usage.

Zhongli’s soft over the idea of you coming to rely on him for everything. He prides himself on his wealth of knowledge and work ethic, believing it a strong appeal, one that he puts on full display when you’re around. It’s not rare for you to overhear neighbors and friends speak highly about Zhongli. They’ll mention in passing how they were having difficulty with something, only for Zhongli to come around and help without asking for anything in return.

This is exactly what he’s been hoping and waiting for. Zhongli has patience and sets himself up to be a desirable partner in your eyes, the efforts from his labor coming into fruition. Before you even speak to him for the first time, you’re likely to think highly of him, having heard all the ways he’s helped people close to you. Now that the stage is properly set, he’s ready to make his interest in you more evident.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, [First]. Oh? You can say the same for me? Well, I hope I can live up to your expectations. I had just been on my way to Yanshang Teahouse, would you care to join me? My treat, of course.”

Beidou:

“You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced a voyage with my crew and I. I’ll set up a nice cabin just for you, how does that sound? Hm? Special treatment? Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, lass.”

Beidou’s attention is overwhelming and oftentimes dangerous. Traditional social conventions are nothing but a waste of time for her, meaning that common courtesy is disregarded in favor of always speaking her mind. Which might not be so bad if she wasn’t so amorous. Even the most oblivious person couldn’t miss Beidou’s overt favor towards you.

This reverent display of affection is only exacerbated when she’s drunk, face flushed and an arm swung tightly around your shoulder. She doesn’t care who sees, who’s judging, or what gossip will be born from her actions. Beidou makes a point of showing everyone in the vicinity that even if you aren’t officially partners yet, a claim has been staked on you.

Whether it be coercion or some other unsightly method, Beidou is intent on bringing you on her ship at least once. Or that’s how she initially phrased it to you. Imagine your surprise, that when you finally caved so she’d drop the subject, her crew was untying the ropes keeping the boat at port.

“The fun’s just getting started, you haven’t seen anything yet. Don’t get all teary-eyed yet, sweetheart, I know you’ll come around. This’ll be a story sung by sailors for generations to come.”

Ningguang:

“If I’m being honest, not many are given the opportunity to speak to me outside of business-related ventures. I never thought I’d find it this... pleasant. I hope you’ll continue to entertain me as you do now.”

Ningguang starts off her wooing in a subtle, almost coquettish manner. She is confident in her charm and brilliance. Not many have been gifted in the art of conversation to the same extent Ningguang has, her silver tongue paired with quick intellect making it difficult for you to escape. She’ll corner you verbally without you even noticing it.

Ningguang finds amusement in how you stumble over your words, pure of heart and not chained down by special interests. Your forthright but considerate demeanor intoxicates her. She’s used to people cowering in her presence or trying too hard to pursue their goals. You might even earn a rare compliment or two, disguised as politeness, that doesn’t register for hours.

She is a lady of fine taste. The sky’s the limit when it comes to her wealth, which is unrivaled throughout Tevyat, and you’ll be quick to notice this. Ningguang is most partial to sending you traditional Liyue adornments, believing the rich culture behind each piece suits your beauty. She’s also fond of the fact that when you wear her gifts, everyone in the vicinity will know it’s from her, due to its extraordinarily high cost.

“Do you like my latest gift, little dove? It was made custom with you in mind, an unrivaled display of craftmanship, if I may add. Wear this and carry me with you... always.”

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

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thoughts on Bela///Donna?

What a lovely can of worms you've placed in my inbox, dear nonnie. I cannot wait to open it and lose followers (regardless of what I actually say).

Since this is, uh, a subject of some debate among RE8 fans, I will be inputting my thoughts on the idea of the ship (and the possible controversy), as opposed to doing HCs or something for it (which I recognize might be what you were asking for, despite the excessive /s).

This is all based on my playthroughs of the game, as well as what I've managed to double check on the fandom/wiki for it. I know that a lot of people who read fanfic for the game haven't actually played it, likely having been lured in by Tall Vampire Milf, and so I hope that some people will be open to a reminder of, like, canon vs fanon? I've mentioned in a previous post that there's a lot of details for RE8 that are not made clear, and I feel the need to reiterate that in this post. Capcom left a lot of stuff up to people's imaginations, or kind of just hinted at in game or in concept art.

But more importantly, regardless of what game we're talking about, regardless of the conclusion I come to (and the one you come to) at the end of this post, I want to say that I absolutely understand the need/desire to have your own perspective/take on the characters from the game, as well as their dynamics. If a ship makes you uncomfortable because you see the characters as being family members, it's totally okay. Block the ship tag, or filter it out when you look through fandom stuff, don't follow people who post for it, etc, etc.

If you think of characters as being family-family (like, not just "we got married and are now a family" but, like, "we're siblings/parent and child") and still ship them? uh. sorry, bruv, maybe think of hitting that unfollow button. No, seriously, hit that unfollow button. This blog is anti-incest, thank you very much.

The last thing I'll say before putting it under a read-more (for both length and major RE8 spoilers) is that I recognize that I might have missed something, either in game or developers talking about things on social media, and so if you read through this and go "god, J, you're such a dumbass for forgetting *critical piece of media*" or even just "okay but have you seen *small but meaningful piece of media*?" please. Just. Please. Tell me. Link me to that shit. I WANT to know if I'm wrong. I've literally avoided talking about this for as long as I could in order to TRY and make sure I have all the context I need.

With that said, let's examine what context we are given for Alcina Dimitrescu, Bela Dimitrescu, Donna Beneviento, and their relations to each other. I will be leaving my personal thoughts on Bela///Donna at the very end of this, as somewhat of a conclusion, somewhat of just a "hey, this is what you technically asked me about".

Firstly, let me begin by explaining what I consider to be the 3 tiers of "canon"

In-Game/Direct: The highest, truest tier, the definitive canon. This is everything that takes place in game, excluding certain hallucination scenes (ex: Mia was not really in House Beneviento, but we can infer some things from what Donna made Ethan hallucinate about). Things either happen, or are directly stated by characters. There's some wiggle room for dialogue, as characters can lie, but overall we, as the audience, assume we are being told the truth. At the very least, games usually eventually make it clear when a character has been dishonest. Examples of Direct Canon include the following: Ethan is infected with the mold, Lady Dimitrescu drinks blood, Heisenberg wears sunglasses, Mother Miranda can shapeshift.

Concept Art/Developer's Notes/Indirect: Mid-tier and debatable, the "we think, but we're not sure" of canon. Resident Evil: Village contains lots of concept art that the players can browse through, all of which include notes from the developers about the game, characters, environments, and story. Sometimes the notes make something "direct", but oftentimes they do not specify whether the listed idea is still canon or if it was removed during development. This tier also includes information that is implied/can be inferred from tier 1 information, but is not directly stated. Examples of Indirect Canon include the following: Donna's mother died by suicide, Moreau was going to have his lover fused to his back, Duke was originally a fifth lord, Heisenberg was going to have a twin. As you can see, not all of the concept art ideas made it into the final version of the game, so it can be hard when some information seems like it might still be true (such as the matter of Donna's parents).

Fanon/"False": Sometimes collective ideas in a fandom become so widespread that people start interpreting them as actual canon. Sometimes it gets hard to remember what's just obscure lore and what's fanon. When we get a piece of fiction as overall vague as a lot of Resident Evil: Village is, there's bound to be some confusion over time. That's one of the main reasons I waited to talk about Bela////Donna until after I had recently replayed relevant sections of the game, as I wanted to remind myself of what we're actually told. Examples of False Canon are difficult to pinpoint, but might include things like: Hufflepuffs are good at finding things? The Avengers got along for awhile and all had their own rooms in the tower? There's a number scale for the danger level of ghosts in Danny Phantom?

For this post, I will be limiting the majority of my notes to the first two levels of canon, and will do my best to mark them as such. Now... let us... begin.

Alcina Dimitrescu:

Born no later than 1914, Alcina Dimitrescu was 44 years old when she was granted the Cadou by Mother Miranda. (1st Tier: Canon. Source: A note in the castle basement from a servant is dated 1958, and mentions both Alcina and her children. Secondly, Miranda's experiment notes state that Alcina was the 181st subject, and was given the Cadou at age 44. By doing math, we can then determine the earliest Alcina could have been born.)

Alcina refers to the other Lords as her family once without any disdain (when Ethan first arrives at the castle and is caught, Alcina says "you've escaped my little brother"). In a private journal (located near where she threw the infamous vanity) she insults the other Lords, and expresses anger that she is "treated like a sister to them". She argues with Heisenberg without any hesitation, and seems honest in her hatred of him (per Maggie Robertson's wunderbar performance). (1st Tier/2nd Tier: Canon with a sprinkle of interpretation for the last line)

Alcina openly refers to Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela as her daughters, and wrote in her experiment journal that she felt instantly connected to them (as mother and daughters). (1st Tier: Canon).

Bela Dimitrescu:

Likely born in the 1930's or 1940's, in order to be an adult by 1958 (the first dated appearance of the Dimitrescu daughters). (2nd Tier: Based on inference)

Dialogue shows that all three of the daughters do love their mother, and reinforces the bond Alcina's journal mentions. (1st Tier: Canon)

We are not given any information about how Bela feels about the other Lords, or even what she knows about them. Once can assume that she shares the ideas of her mother, either because Alcina tells her things directly, or because Bela (who is eager to please her mother) picks up on them over time. (2nd Tier: Based on inference)

Donna Beneviento:

No idea when she was born. If you've read one of my recent posts, then you know that it's almost entirely a matter of 2nd and 3rd tier canon.

Of the four lords, Donna seems to have the most story within the 2nd tier, and has very, very little in the 1st tier. Duke says she's somewhat isolated, and that her "playmates" never leave the house. Miranda's notes state that Donna is mentally ill, and the gardener's diary states/implies (bit of both) that Donna has severe social anxiety. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly canon)

Supposedly, her parents committed suicide while she was still a child. This is indicated in concept art/the attached developer's notes. However, the only part that's also directly stated in game is that her parents (specifically her father) died while she was young. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly canon)

While Donna only has one voice line in the game (and it's sad), Angie talks a fair bit. Angie seems to disapprove of the other Lords, or at the very least enjoys mocking them, as well as enjoys watching them fight with each other. As Angie is connected to Donna, and Donna has some level of control over her, one can assume that the two have similar (if not the same) opinions. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly Canon)

Donna was adopted by Mother Miranda as an adult. It's unclear exactly how old Donna was, or what exactly Miranda did as her "mother", just that Donna was excited about it. (1st Tier: Canon)

Other Relevant Information:

Heisenberg refers to the other Lords as his siblings a minimum of 1 time. Similarly to Alcina, however, he openly insults them and seems to hate them. He just, you know, hates Mother Miranda the most. (1st Tier: Canon)

Mother Miranda does not actually give a shit about the four Lords, intended for them to die before the ceremony, and has been manipulating them for her own gain this entire time. Her notes and dialogue make it clear that she only cares about getting Eva back. Somehow mother of the year and worst mother ever. At the same time. (1st/2nd Tier: Mostly Canon)

It's unclear who treats Alcina "like a sister" to the other Lords. Were there cut lines of dialogue that cemented the idea of them being a "family"? Did Miranda call them a "family" as part of pretending she cared about them? I've done my best to dig around, but there's very little in game that treats them as a family of any sort.

As each Lord ruled their own section of the region, they don't have any mentions of interacting with each other outside of meetings with Mother Miranda. None of the notes for any Lord (and their relevant experiments) mention what the others are doing. In game, their environments are very separate, very well divided, though this is likely as much for gameplay as it is for story.

Conclusion:

I do not not believe there is enough in game evidence to suggest that Alcina and Donna consider themselves to be siblings. There's the possibility for a large age gap, Alcina was a fair bit older than Donna when she met Miranda, Donna is a social recluse whose closest bonds were with dead blood relatives and dolls, Alcina openly dislikes (if not hates) the other Lords, they seemingly lived very separate and distanced lives, and Mother Miranda does not enforce the idea of "family". Furthermore, the sheer contrast between how Alcina interacts with/speaks of the other Lords compared to how she interacts with/speaks of her daughters says a lot about her feelings. Even if Heisenberg takes the brunt of her anger, Alcina never once says anything remotely positive about anyone other than Miranda and her daughters.

As Alcina/Bela and Donna are not blood-relatives, the definition of what would count as "incest" does vary depending on who you ask. Personally, I do count non-blood relations as potentially incestuous. For example: Alcina "dating" one of her daughters would be incest, regardless of the fact that she's a mutated human and her daughters are weird swarms of flies.

Now, I do understand how popular the idea of the four Lords being a real, chaotic but still close family is. And as I mentioned above, it's totally valid to not like the Bela///Donna ship, whether it's because you think they're family or some other reason. I don't personally see them that way, even in my definitely-not-canon stories.

Do I personally ship Bela///Donna? Nope. Have I liked art for the ship? Admittedly yes, even if I thought some of it was, like, maiden x Bela because Donna didn't have her veil and I'm a DUMBASS who doesn't always remember to read tags. Would I ever write for it? Yeah, probably, assuming I didn't miss anything in game/that I don't eventually change my mind.

#*incredibly deep sigh*#*incoherent screaming*#it's 6 in the morning #i spent too long doing research #again feel free to send me links if you think I missed something #what do I even tag this as?#asks #anonymous #meta shit #i'm procrastinating on posting this because of anxiety #I'm worried 2 specific followers are going to unfollow me #and possibly one mutual #somebody just kill me already

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luv-skz · 3 years ago

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Hi!

Could I please have a SKZ/BTS ship? 🥺

I'm an INFP (but almost 50/50 split, so ambivert), Virgo Sun with Scorpio Rising. Because of my looks, and the fact that I work a lot (I'm a film major/barista, involved in a lot of stuff), people tell me that I can come off as a bit intimidating, both as a friend and romantically. On the inside though, I'm just as insecure and mushy as the next person, and have this big giggly inner child that I only really let out around my close friends.

I'm a huge a work hard/play hard, I spend a lot of time on my passions, so much so that I oftentimes forget to sleep/eat. A lot of times, my partners tend to be more laid back, and help me relax and not stress so much about life. That's ideal - someone who's passionate and driven, but can also have fun.

My turn-offs would be excessively shallow or broey types (I tend to hook up with them, but not necessarily date them), and people who don't have much to talk about. I love adventures and deep conversations, about politics, art, music, pop culture, the universe, and beyond.

No trigger warnings...I'm trying to think of anything else that might be useful. I'm a singer/rapper, awful at dance though. I like interior decoration (IRL and the Sims), but I'm bad at video games. I'm a former varsity athlete, but didn't choose to play in college. I'm also a writer by trade (used to write fanfic), now I'm focusing more on original works and screenplays. I love cooking/eating all types of food, mostly Chinese and Korean (I'm Asian, but neither of those). Oh, also. Crafting. I love origami and all types of crafts. Random fact.

Thank you so much!

stray kids – seungmin

seungmin would really relate to you on imitating from outside but all fluffy on inside, that's why he would understand you, and give you time to let you get comfortable around him

seungmin is really a caring person, he would always reminds you to eat, drink and sleep, can come off a little, only little agressive but he means well

seungmin is quite a laid-back person, and talk to you about random things to help you relax and get your mind out of your stressful day

minnie loves reading, would definitely recommend you new books that he find interesting and you can always have deep conversation with him about anything

you both can do karoke together, and would give you his honest opinions on your designs

bts – jin

jin would definitely make you comfortable enough to come out of your shell

jin is definitely the mom friend, so whenever you work too hard and forgets to eat, he will be there with his amazing cooking

jin is really do self love, and makes sure you do to, so whenever you feel insecure he'd be right there telling you how gorgeous you look

jin is one of the mood maker of bts, jokes around a lot, so there won't be a day where you would be sad

hmm jin chef, would make you all your favourite korean dishes and will also teach you how to cook them

being with jin won't be boring at all, he's the most funniest guy and knows when to get serious too

and you can do some crafting with jin too

hope you like it and don't overwork yourself, take breaks in between. sorry if i took quite a time to answer it. i hope you have a good day ♡˖

#skz ships #bts ships #ship asks #kim seokjin #kim seungmin

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eyepatchdate · 4 years ago

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I saw this bouncing around my dash and decided to fill it out myself for fun :) I decided to not double-list any games, and I tried to mix up the companies I used too so that the list would be more unique.

Long post, so I’m doing a readmore for my longwinded part lol.

(read more)

Favorite Game: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords - I could talk about this game forever. How it tears apart the Star Wars universe from within, how it creates a compelling story while challenging the usual themes, etc. I could talk for ages about the characters and how their motivations slot in place, and how this game lends itself to interpretation and analysis alongside roleplay. It’s just a wonderful game, one I deeply love and will always love. It’s a game that isn’t afraid to have you talk to other characters for twenty or thirty minutes at a time and honestly I’m always riveted at every line. This game deserves the cult fanbase it has, but I think there’s a lot the fanbase misses in appreciating this game. (Note...gameplay is a little janky and a community made mod restores a lot content that was cut before shipping-the game wasn’t properly finished).

Best Story: Fallout New Vegas - It’s the setting that makes the story here, and all the moving pieces and factions alongside the main conflict really make this game stand out. There’s so many little pieces to find along the way in the world and the way the main quest splits based on who you want in power feels important--and you are choosing a future for this whole region.

Favorite Art Style: The Witness - This game is peacefully wonderful with its visuals. There are wonderful nature scenes and nests of wires and panels spreading in various parts of the island that are fascinating to look at. The environment is half of the gameplay in most areas, so it’s important to look around even though exploration is not really the gameplay. You find puzzles in the world, even in nature, and it’s fascinating. The colors are bright and beautiful. There is even a map in the middle of the island inside of a lake that helps you track your progress if you notice it (it isn’t like a normal ‘map’).

Favorite Soundtrack: Shin Megami Tensei IV - I love video game soundtracks, but SMTIV is something special. The music booms in ways that make you really understand the atmosphere of the world, and there’s a great mix of different kinds of tracks for different places. I love the tracks for the other worlds you enter, and the themes of the different routes are done so well. Some of the music draws from past SMT games, but the remixes done for this game really are stunning to me, and there’s so many fantastic original tracks.

Hardest Game: I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream - I love this game but I literally never touch it without a walkthrough, which is why it gets to be the hardest game on the list, despite being a point and click adventure game lol. Also just emotionally this game is challenging too, but I definitely mean this more in terms of getting a ‘perfect run’.

Funniest Game: The Stanley Parable - Trying to make this list has taught me that I don’t really play many ‘funny games’. I don’t know if a game where multiple endings demand that you kill yourself should count as a ‘funniest game’, but it is also a game where the narrator tells you to stare at a fern and memorize its features, so....it counts.

Game I Like that is Hated: RWBY Grimm Eclipse - I’ve been playing this game since it was in early access and have loved it the whole time. I find the gameplay soothing and fun, and I like playing the different characters. It’s a game I play to chill out and just enjoy some fun battle mechanics. It’s a fun game and I’ve spent over 100 hours in it, so I hope I like it, lol.

Game I Hate that is Liked: Nier Automata - Neither this game’s gameplay or story impress me, and the fact that you have to replay basically the same stuff from a more boring-to-play-character’s pov in order to SEE all of the plot is a huge damper on the experience. The story, to me, someone who engages with a lot of robot-focused fiction, is far from impressive or new, and it hardly engages with genre specifics at all, let alone in a new or interesting way. I view this game as ‘a story with robots in it’ rather than ‘a story about robots’, which, to me, is a detriment.

Underrated: Nevermind - This game is amazing and very unheard of--and when it is heard of, it has been marketed incorrectly. Nevermind seems like a horror game, and does market itself as one a bit, but it’s much more than that. It’s more about trauma, recovery, therapy, etc. This is a game that is so mindful about the topics it engages in that I am impressed by it every time. It’s heavy with symbolism and character, despite lacking conversations or other similar game mechanics. This is a lovely game that I really wish more people knew about-`p5-all of the patients are so interesting, and the focus on recovery and mental health is impressive.

Overrated: Fire Emblem - I sort of mean this as the series as a whole really. I have enjoyed the entries I have played somewhat, but I overall consider the series much less impressive than I was led to believe by others. The gameplay especially is not impressive to me in any regard, even though I sometimes do find myself enjoying it. The stories are alright, but many of them are weighed down by the gameplay and as a writer and person who likes to analyze writing, it’s very hard to do so when it isn’t able to fully exist under the chains the gameplay forces on it. There are ways to mix gameplay and story well, Fire Emblem has not really done that in any of the entries I’ve played. That being said, I don’t regret playing them, and I will occasionally replay, but I consider them mediocre games at best.

Best Voice Acting: Devil Survivor 2 - I love the voice acting in this game. I feel like all the characters are really suited to their voices, and it’s really easy for me to visualize their voices. They really bring the game to life and make both the dramatic and the funny scenes more enjoyable.

Worst Voice Acting: Jedi Knight Jedi Academy - I love this game, I really do, but some of the voice acting is janky. Some of it is okay too--I think Kyle Katarn’s voice actor does fine, and some of the others I like NOW but hated when I was a kid, but the male protagonist voice in this game is just awful. Which is bad when Jennifer Hale is the female voice actress lol. His performance is passable though unless you’re playing darksided--the darksided ending to the game lacks all punch when you’re playing the male protagonist.

Favorite Male: Battler Ushiromiya from Umineko no Naku Koro Ni - He’s the protagonist for most of the visual novels and I adore him utterly, especially once you move past episode 2. He’s a wonderful character who I care about deeply. I love his drive and how he fights--he’s someone who is easy to cheer for. He matures well throughout the series and his character development is just wonderful.

Favorite Female: Naoto Shirogane from Persona 4 - I really like how Naoto fits so well in the game, especially for being a final recruit--oftentimes the final recruit of Persona games (post 3) have a bit of a more difficult time feeling right with the group. Naoto works really well though, and I love her struggles and story as well. I think the difficulties she has concerning living as a woman in her field hit very deep to a problem that has existed for a very long time.

Favorite Protagonist: Connor of Daventry from King’s Quest 8 Mask of Eternity - I’m like, one of four fans of this character in the world, lol. KQ8 is not a very well liked game and it does have a lot of issues, both with age and with how much of a departure it is from the series prior to it. It’s strange to take a puzzle adventure game and make it a hybrid with what basically is a shooter, and it doesn’t really work. Add to that the fact that you spend most of your time in the game without anyone around to talk to and it leads to this really polarizing and weird experience. For me, Conner goes through what I would consider to be the ‘Ultimate Nightmare Scenario”. Everyone in the world is turned to stone except him (and he survived out of mere chance) and so now it’s up to him, practically alone, to save the entire world. There is no game lonelier than this. I adore him for his bravery in the face of it, and how he just picks up to do what must be done because someone should do it, and if no one else can, then he will. I also really love how he apologizes to people who are encased in stone while he takes money from their houses to help him on his journey. I really do think he went back after the game was over and gave everyone heaps of gold to pay them back with interest lol.

Favorite Village: Oakvale from Fable - The first Fable is the only one I really like, and it was one of the games I played when I was little, so the hometown in the game always meant a lot to me. I like how you grow up there and how your tragic backstory is there--and then how you get to return to the town years later after you’ve come into your own, and you can see it completely rebuilt. I like to spend a lot of my time in this town, just wandering around it and playing the minigames. Even though I have a house in every town, Oakvale is where my hero calls home.

Most Hated Character: Merril from Dragon Age 2 - I don’t really want to lay into how I feel about Merril, but what I will say is that it was suggested to me that I totally ignore her when playing, and I did so. I only met her for her quest, dropped her off in town, and literally never spoke to her or interacted for the rest of the game. I had a much better experience for it, honestly. She appeared after I made my choice in the end of the game, which felt weird since I hadn’t spoken to her in several ingame years, but other than that, the game was totally fine without her. I sort of just wish you could kill characters in DA2 the way you can in DAO, then I’d just do that, tbh. It doesn’t suit very many (or any) of the characters I rp in DA2 to keep her around or support her in any way.

First Game I Played: Mixed up Mother Goose Deluxe - I’m not actually sure if this is the FIRST game I’ve ever played or not, but it’s one of the first I played alone as a kid. I really loved it--this is probably what created my love for point and click adventures, and the game was very silly and fun.

Favorite Company: Bioware - I’ve always been a sucker for Bioware games, ever since Knights of the Old Republic 1 was my favorite childhood game. I love how they do stories and party members, and while I’m not a fan of all of their games, I really love what they’ve made and their style of storytelling and character driven plot. Even though sometimes their stories get cliche, I think the suit video games well and most of my early gaming was within their games.

Hated Company: EA - Bioware truly only started to go to shit after the EA acquisition, so I fucking hate EA. I know Bioware had issues before EA too, but I definitely don’t think EA has helped the situation whatsoever.

Depressing Game: The Beginner’s Guide - I relate to this game as a creator and a writer, and it affects me deeply because of the story it tells and the questions it raises. It makes me reflect on how I think of myself as a creator, and it reminds me of friendships I used to have.

Creepy Game: The Path - God, I love this game. It’s just aimlessly wandering around and finding symbolic scenery and watching your current character comment on it. Then, you go off to find your girl’s wolf, and each one is different and unique to her, and you watch it ‘kill’ her--and facing her wolf is the only way each girl can truly mature. Whenever you get to grandmother’s house, the camera switches to first person, and your eyes keep closing, so you can only see while clicking to move. It forces you to keep moving so that you can see, but since you are moving, you only get to see things somewhat vaguely. It’s got a great atmosphere, and I love the symbolic storytelling.

Happy Game: Eastshade - This game is so sweet. There’s some drama around to with many of the quests, but I like this as an rpg without combat, and I think this would be a really good kids game. There’s a lot to see and explore, and the game was made to be really pretty so that you want to paint several aspects of it. It’s really lovely to just wander around in this game and bike around the area, painting anything that suits your fancy. As long as you don’t finish the main quest, you’re free to wander, and materials do respawn, so you essentially can infinitely paint once you get far enough.

Favorite Ending: Virtue’s Last Reward - I love the questions this game asks and where the ending goes. It thematically ties together--the whole reason the game itself exists is to get the attention of a ‘higher being’--the player, essentially. I love how it plays with that concept, and even though the final game in the series doesn’t entirely pick this idea up where this game left it, standalone this game is stunning in how it comes together.

#shitpost #long post #this was fun to do #i made it so every answer was a different video game and i tried to mix up my companies as well #got 3 atlus games on here but mer #2 obsidon #llol #2 sierra too haha but still #beginner's guide and tsp were made by the same guy too but #STILL I LIMITED MYSELF OK #these answers aren't absolute because i was trying to have a good diverse list lol

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hanamiyaaaa · 5 years ago

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ONE PIECE HEADCANONS: Ideal S/O

Monkey D. Luffy

It's already very obvious that Luffy is basically chopper when it comes to sexual/romantic attraction (when not under usopp's influence). Oda stated that Luffy can identify beauty and while this is true, it's also made obvious that physical appearance isn't a major player (at all) for him when it comes to choosing who he wants to drag into his crew/life. That's why if he were to fall in love I'm sure he'd very much see past the cover.

Luffy would want someone adventurous; someone who he could share those thrilling moments with when he feels as if nothing is chaining him down. It would be great to have a wind beneath his wings of freedom, but he'd enjoy a partner who could find their own wind and glide with him. He'd want someone to laugh with, eat with, play with, basically share his life with. It's very important that his s/o would be open enough to let him in and is willing to be involved in his life too. He'd also prefer people who are on the positive end of the spectrum. I can see him being drawn to a cheerful girls and would grow fond of her smile and laugh. Above everything else, his s/o must know the right thing to do. Luffy wouldn't want a saint, if his s/o was too selfless he may even tell her that being selfish sometimes can be okay. Instead, he'd want someone who listens to her conscience and has a sense of sincerity. Patience isn't something that Luffy would actively look for an s/o but would be a good trait to have especially with that devil-may-care attitude of his. He's bound to bring all sorts of trouble to himself (and to the people around him by extension) and get all beaten up so his s/o would repeatedly have to patch him up and then prepare to repeat it all again. She can remind him to be careful, he'd try but will ultimately fail. He'd tolerate your nagging but don't expect him to be tied down.

Roronoa Zoro

Women with a more athletic build would catch Zoro's eyes. Size wouldn't matter as long as they have defined muscles. He'd find her toned curves and well-built shoulders very much attractive, and would be his favorite places to attack during sexy time. Having muscles on her body will give him the idea that she's strong and is capable of taking hard and heavy work which wouldn't be just hot but also really impressive. I think he would find girls with broad shoulders and a pair of long legs to be more attractive because of the way she projects a certain kind of masculinity but maintains a womanly image. Like a female warrior, she’s strong but delicate at the same time.

First and foremost, she must have dignity. She must maintain pride and honor through her actions, words and thoughts. This means she'd have to deliver what she promised, practices what she preached, and stay faithful to her subordinates and master. She doesn't have to play by the rules all the time, but she has to be someone who trusts her strength and abilities to defeat her adversary rather than a person who'd use deceit to win. A victory achieved through dishonesty wouldn't be a victory at all, and nothing would have been proved. Despite Zoro’s proven perceptiveness in battle, he’s socially dense so he’d prefer a woman who would straightforwardly tell him a problem and hurt his feelings than a girl who beat around the bush and hurt his head. Bonus if she knew the things that she wanted and knew how she'd get them. Decisive women would be very attractive to them because that meant they're self-reliant, self-assured and is prepared to face the consequences of their actions. That kind of bravery would impress Zoro, but not the reckless kind of bold. It's a shame for a swordsman to have scars on his back, but if she'd throw away her life for something meaningless just to prove that she can would just look foolish in his eyes even if she ended up surviving. Perseverance would also be an important trait that Zoro would look for a partner. She should have enough self-discipline and motivation to achieve her goals no matter how unimportant they may be, and no matter how difficult things become.

Trafalgar Law

I really feel like women with a light hair color, like platinum blonde or white, and/or a very fair skin would catch Law's attention as it would remind him of Flevance. She would remind him of his cold past, but at the same time remind him of the warmth of his home. Law would find girls with smaller bone structure more attractive. She'd have a thin and willowy build with modest endowments and slender arms and legs. Like a ballerina, she'll be peppered with delicate features that would make up a feminine and gentle image. Law would find tranquility in her simplicity, and would be a sight for his sore and tired eyes.

It's important to know the difference between know-it-all and an intelligent person because the former would only annoy Law while the latter would impress him. A woman who could quickly process a complicated thought and find a way to apply it to her current situation is the kind of intelligence that he's looking for. She should display a sense of caution, a good judgement and the ability to protect herself because Law wouldn't be able to look after her all the time, and he especially wouldn't want to be with a helpless damsel. Maturity would be the next good thing to have because loving Law isn't an easy task. After everything that happened to him, opening his heart once more to love isn't going to be easy. It would be a painfully slow process with a lot hesitation. Things are bound to be frustrating because there would be a time where he'd start opening up but then suddenly takes a step back and begin creating distance, that's why she needs to pack a lot of patience and understanding if she wanted to be a part of his life. Grace is a quality that he may find attractive. A girl who acts in a refined way, and moves with precision and poise would be satisfying and spectacular to watch... just like a ballerina. Also, I feel he'd like soft-spoken girls, Even if she's talkative, he'd enjoy listening to her voice but then he would prefer to hang around someone who can respect and find comfort in silence with him.

Eustass Kid

Kid is a man. A carnivore, above all. Naturally, he'd want meat in the things he eats. He'd be attracted to women on the heavier side. Large busts, wide hips and thick thighs with a proportionally narrow waist would steal his eyes from whatever he's looking. A little muscle would be great too, especially if the ones on her legs are tone and well-built. It would earn her a grin or a smirk from Kid if he saw her flex her legs as she prepares for a kick and then the muscles on her thighs become defined. I also see him favoring fuller and plump lips, liking the way they feel during a kiss and finding beauty in their shape and how they look and feel when it's around certain... things. He'd also find tattoos and body modifications like tongue or naval piercings pretty hot.

They said opposite attracts, but Kid would beg to differ. A girl who can bark as loud and bite as hard as he does would be immensely annoying but at the same time really impressive. She should be able to show him that she's strong, that she can handle herself and the things that come at her. It doesn't matter if she gets bruised and battered as long as comes out alive and victorious, it all makes a good difference. Kid would like to have a woman who he could compete with because a girl who gives up to everything that he says wouldn't be so fun. She should have enough balls to challenge him and stand up with the things she believes in. Restraint wouldn't be matter to Kid, in fact he'd like a girl who could go crazy with him but should be aware and ready to face the consequences that would come with rampaging. He'd also be more comfortable with someone who's a bit crude and emotionally/mentally-strong as compared to goodie-good girls. He's not the most refined person either and he'd definitely never deal with nitpicky people. That'd be so annoying. Honesty would be very important for Kid, and it's something that he'd constantly want her to give him. Don't lie to him, don't hide anything from him because he's perceptive and, I believe, naturally intuitive to know that there's something weird going on in his ship behind his back.

Killer

I feel like Killer would be attracted to hips; a woman who sports hips wider than the rest of her body. Imagine her figure, a bit narrow at the top then it gracefully pours down into a lovely shape that resembles the number 8. The way her hips flick from side to side as she walks would definitely catch eyes, especially Killer's! A little lean muscle is fine here and there, but a girl with too much may be a deal-breaker. She could be strong, but he'd like his women leaning more on the softer side.

Killer would prefer brains over beauty, preferably a rational thinker. She doesn't have to be a genius, but it would matter a lot if she could fight with her wits just as much as she could fight with her fits. Her artful ways of escaping enemies that she deems too strong to fight, and the way she sees beyond the situation and find solutions through unconventional methods would truly change the way he looks at her in a really good way. Killer isn't too different from his captain, or from anyone in their crew. He's just as violent as they are, but being the most reasonable member of the Kid Pirates oftentimes prevents him from going all out in battle. A woman who could lift that responsibility off his shoulder and help him lash out more would really please him. To do this, she'd have to be willing to sacrifice her own fun, otherwise she'd be added to the list of fully functional adults that Killer has to babysit... which isn't helpful at all. A person who's more comfortable in the sidelines and is more interested in supporting the crew would be best for him. A girl with a more passive disposition with an open mind would appeal more to Killer. She doesn't have to be physically strong as he can protect her, but the Kid Pirates has made a lot of enemies along their way so she should be able to keep herself alive at least.

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece imagine #monkey d. luffy #trafalgar law #eustass kid #roronoa zoro #killer #anime headcanons #one piece ideal s/o #one piece worst generation

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dirthavarens · 4 years ago

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Birthday Variables [Bookerbeth]

Fandom: Bioshock Infinite Characters: Booker Dewitt, Elizabeth Comstock Relationship: Booker/Elizabeth Rating: Explicit Warnings: SMUT AHOY. Word Count: 5,499 Notes: This started as an Anonymous ask for the “send me a ship and a prompt” and I got a LITTLE carried away. It’s the night before Elizabeth’s birthday and she finally get what she wants

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or read below;;

New York City, October, 1912;;

It had been months since they discovered the truth of their connection, since his death, and his revival. The Lutece twins may have been able to take her away from Booker, but they could not take Booker away from her. Not again.

Not ever again.

With infinite wisdom and foresight came a price, one that she would pay time and again if it meant her first and only friend was still planted at her side, protecting her. She knew when tears would appear, when she would close them, what would happen in them, and yet she still held a sense of wonder and adventure very close to her heart. He brought a unique perspective into her life and made decisions entirely of his own volition since she brought him back on the shore of his betwixt.

The weather in New York was far different from that of Columbia, even more so was the filth that lined the streets, but Elizabeth paid no mind. They only stopped by his rundown one-bedroom every so often to pay the bills enough to keep the lights on and occasionally sleep off whatever adventure they had gone on. Though, Elizabeth had brought in a personal flair to breathe life into the dust covered hazy room.

A love seat, a dresser, some of her personal art, and some of the more prominent necessities, were all brought into through the tears she created. Of course, she had access to libraries aplenty, but she kept those in her tears, bringing through whatever book she wished and devouring it before Booker could even begin his. Not one for the books, that man.

The first week they were in New York, Booker insisted on sleeping on the floor or passed out at his desk, cigarette often still in-hand. He had been working non-stop to put the pieces together, to track down any signs of the Lutece twins, specifically Rosalind, and her connection to a debt collection agency. Although, at the time, with Annabelle gone, he had been too far into the bottle to remember much of anything, let alone care.

They maintained more than a comfortable friendship and Elizabeth found herself aching for him to be at her side in the middle of the night. She would lay awake and silently watch him nurse a glass of bourbon as he read the newspaper. Her fingers would ache and her heart would pound at her ear. She knew nothing terrible would come of it, there was no fear of rejection, but a barrier needed crossing.

And one night she crossed it. A nightmare had her screaming into the air and she scrambled to sit upright in bed. Booker reacted before she managed to get up, his hand cannon in one hand, her wrist in the other, ready to pull her behind him. When she admitted it had just been a nightmare, he offered her a drink and it was enough to loosen her tongue. She spilled more truth than she had wanted. That she loved him, that she felt too far from him when he slept ten feet from her, that he was her only friend.

From that night on, she fell asleep cradled in Booker’s arms, tucked squarely against his interminable warmth. She had loathed it in Paris, the late August sun bearing down on them as they stood atop the Eiffel Tower and her own excitement kept her warm enough, but Booker was still there at night to hold her close to him. Though, his warmth had proven itself useful as of late as she learned the first snowfall came terribly early and it was to be an unbearably cold winter.

They had shared their first kiss atop the Tower, in a cliche moment of romance, and Elizabeth could nearly feel herself plummet to the ground while soaring on the wind. From then, she sought to steal a kiss whenever she could. She adored the way his unchecked stubble felt against her cheeks and always pulled from him with a smile.

Kisses were nice, but she could see something more in his eyes. More than that, even. She saw her own desires reflected plainly, but neither took the initiative to make the first move, to take their relationship to that point. For all intents and purposes, they were a couple. The fact of their relation lost to them as they had never known the other as father or daughter, but as friend and something approaching lover.

She could feel his arousal from time to time, as she would sit in his lap, panting between pairs of parted lips. In their shared breath, he would mutter profanities before he put his hands at her hips and gently rocked her against him until she picked up the motion on her own. Elizabeth was far from naive. She knew of his desires and could hear him in the bathtub, her name falling from his lips in a voice she wished to hear at her ear. Oftentimes, her hand would wander between her thighs and stroke at the sensitive bundle of nerves before sinking into her entrance. She felt a voyeur, a sinner, but if she could not have him physically, she would at least find pleasure in knowing she is the focal point of his arousal.

“Hey, thought you’d be in bed by now.” Booker’s voice broke through her thoughts as he walked into the apartment. Elizabeth noticed him carrying a small parcel bag in one hand and a bottle of bourbon in another. His drinking had slowed significantly since they had started traveling and not running for their lives. But when Booker found some time, he’d sniff out a bottle.

“I have too much on my mind and can't sleep,” she explained with an experimental tone. Perhaps tonight she could talk him out of his clothes and into their bed. After all, Booker didn’t seem the prudent type.

He gave a knowing hum and nodded his head, grabbing at two glasses from atop the icebox after setting the bag down where she could no longer see it. With her curiosity piqued, Elizabeth wanted to use her omnipotence to peer inside. However, gestures such as these, she knew, were uncommon coming from him. He preferred his sentimentality to come from protecting her and doing what he could physically to please her.

Well, almost physically.

He waved her over to his desk with but two fingers and she crawled from the sheets. Her nightgown was from another time in the future, shorter and thinner than any she had seen in any store in 1912. The ivory silk-like material floated over her form, but complemented her shape, giving credit where credit was due.

She caught sight of Booker eyeing her up from the corner of his eye while she cleared a space for her to sit on his desk. His jade eyes trailed her form as though he was looking at meal and she awarded herself a small, satisfied smirk that she withheld from his gaze. Not that he was looking anyway, his sights homed in the points of her nipples against the fabric of her sleepwear.

“Same stuff as before?” Elizabeth asked, amusement edging her voice, as she sat atop his desk, legs crossed.

“Nah, I was gettin’ tired of Jim Beam and decided to go with Old Crow. A bit smoother, but not by much. Might help you sleep,” he returned roughly, like a man caught in the middle of a drink.

Good.

When he regained his composure, Booker poured each of them a drink, Elizabeth’s considerably lesser than his own. She slowly inched closer to him and brushed against his leg with her own as he took a slow sip. She had grown tired of dancing around the subject. And tonight was as good as any because tomorrow they would be off to Paris as the tower was being built and then from there, it was her choice. Her twenty-first birthday would be the first she spent as a free woman.

She grabbed the glass he offered her and took a sip, the alcohol immediately making her recoil until she remembered how he showed her how to drink it. Open her throat and let it slide back, the burn wouldn’t be so bad that way. Just like drinking medicine.

They sat in silence for a moment before Booker’s curious green eyes looked up at her.

“You know what you’re wearing is lingerie? Might be from another time, but I know lingerie when I see it.” His words were plain, matter-of-fact, but she saw behind the apathetic veneer was an interest she wanted nothing more than to expand on. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk, the chair creaking as he shifted his weight towards her.

“I saw it in a store and thought it was worth buying. Do you like it?” She slid closer to him, her foot resting along the inside of his leg.

He glanced down at her foot then back to her and took a drink. Subtlety was gone from her mind. “Yeah, I do. Why?”

They met in July, formed an inseparable bond by August, fell in love shortly after. She knew marriage was the first step, but in their precarious situation, such things could not happen on paper. She didn’t care if she’d be marked as a harlot or a heathen for the rest of her days. Not when she had Booker.

She took another sip from her glass and cleared her throat when the burn settled in her stomach. Warmth spread through her body as the alcohol quickly went to work.

“Booker, why haven’t we made love?” she asked abruptly.

He raised a brow at her, eyes wide as he set a pack of cigarettes back down on his desk, and cleared his throat. Elizabeth felt the air around them grow dense with tension, but she needed to know without having to use her gifts. Booker collected himself and took another sip before he stood, positioning himself between her legs.

“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” he replied and left his glass to the other side of the desk. Her breath hitched when he placed his hands on either side of her. “But if that’s what you want for your birthday...”

“How’d you kn--” she began then remembered. “Oh.”

“Hard to forget dates like that. They stay with you no matter how much time passes.”

There was a forgotten emotion that flitted in his gaze but it disappeared before Elizabeth could place it. In its breadth came a much more germane state, one that she welcomed with open arms.

“What brought this on?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Nothing. It’s something I’ve wanted for months. Ever since that day. Ever since I watched you come back to life.” Her confession was honest and said with her eyes bounding between him and the amber liquid in her glass. “I figured that if I don’t initiate it, then it will never happen and I’ll never...”

He leaned in and stole a slow kiss that tasted of alcohol and cigarettes on her tongue as she opened her mouth to his. The first time he kissed her, Elizabeth hated the sense of burnt tobacco in her mouth and carried mints on her to erase the taste. But as was in many cases, she adapted with ease and found the taste to be enjoyable at times. It was befitting of him, as rugged and weathered as his palms.

“I know you’re interested, Booker,” she started again when he pulled his lips from hers. His breath played against her mouth and she had to keep herself from leaning back in. “I know you want this, and now you know that I do, too.”

He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her against him, barely giving her enough time to set her drink down. She prepared herself for a kiss but was left empty as his lips found her neck. “All you had to do was ask.”

Nervous giddiness built within her and she held to his shoulder and wound a hand into the short hairs on the back of his head. Booker had explored her with similar kisses before, but none ever had such prominent intent. They had been lackadaisical and playful. His teeth raked against her jugular, drawing a gasp from her and sending warmth to pool in the pit of her belly as her excitement grew.

“Aren’t you all-knowing?” he asked against her skin and pulled a strap of her nightdress over her shoulder. “Why did you wait?”

Elizabeth pressed into him as he ran his mouth over her clavicle, a mixture of tongue, teeth, and lip as he explored the expanse of her chest. A low moan served as response when the hand at her hip scooped her up. Her legs wrapped around his broad form as he easily carried her over to the bed. She shrugged the other shoulder strap off and the silken fabric hung loosely from her nipples as he held her above the mattress.

“I don’t use my omnipotence for my own sexual gain, Booker.” Her lips found his, her hands at either side of his face, and showed him that she was in the mood to talk no longer.

With the message having been received, Booker deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers while a low groan sounded in his throat. He lowered her to the mattress and positioned himself above her. Elizabeth’s breath hitched when he ran a hand down her torso, over the swell of each breast, and down to her abdomen before bringing it up to rest at her cheek.

There was a familiar pressure at her core. It was the same sensation she got while she pleasured herself to hearing his moans and pants when he thought she slept. Though, it felt urgent and she felt a slickness start to ease its way from between her folds.

Her hands moved to his belt and slipped it through each loop with ease after unbuckling it. She threw the leather to the floor and grabbed at his button-up. For a moment, Elizabeth considered tearing it off of him, leaving the buttons to land where they would. But Booker beat her to the punch.

He leaned back on his knees and unfastened each button with intentional slowness. His chest was not something she hadn’t seen before. In fact, she had seen in so many times she knew the exact number of scars he had, but that information was not prudent as he pressed his knee against her core.

The contact sent a zip through her that crackled with more electricity than Shock Jockey ever could, and she shuddered. Her eyelids fluttered as he shifted his knee, working on the last couple of buttons quicker than he had the first three. She reached up, pushed the fabric out of her way, and placed her fingers into the band of his slacks.

The forming mass within his pants had not escaped her when she unclasped the button. With an eagerness that she never experienced, she pressed her palm against his erection. Elizabeth glanced up to see Booker looking down at her with approval, his hips swaying into her touch. Admittedly, he was larger than she had expected, though she wasn’t sure why she was surprised.

He dwarfed her when it came to size. Booker stood just over six feet and she came in an entire foot shorter. Not to mention he was broad and muscled, while she was sleek and slender. The two couldn’t be more opposite.

Elizabeth shook the thought from her mind, not wanting to intimidate herself too much. She was intent on enjoying her first time having sex, especially with Booker. Her safety and comfort were not in question on his part. He always moved at her pace, but was leaping the second she said jump.

She ran her hand along the length of his erection and gently squeezed when she reached the top. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Hard but pliant, though not by much.

Booker rocked into her touch as he shrugged his shirt off and tossed it across the room. Her fingers hesitated for a moment at his zipper, noticing that he wore no undergarments. The tuft of sand-colored curls that lined down to his pelvis was left uninterrupted and Elizabeth ran her fingers along the straight patch. In response, Booker took it upon himself to pry her legs open further and place his hand where his knee had taken residence.

Another hitched breath escaped her mouth when his thumb lightly traced over her clit through her underwear. He teased her nub enough to make her hand falter for a moment longer before she regained composure. Her grip was quick at his zipper and she pulled it down to reveal the flushed tip of his cock. His pinstripe pants hung loosely at his hips for but a moment because he was leaning forward over her and kicking them off.

Elizabeth caught his lips in a kiss and found herself moaning at the sensation of his erection bouncing against her. Booker smiled against her mouth and tugged at the hem of her clothing, a silent demand for her to remove it.

Without hesitation, she adjusted herself and peeled the silk from her body. There was nothing but her underwear now, and Booker’s hand was working its way between her skin and the fabric. His middle finger slipped between her folds and both of them shuddered in time when he was met with an abundance of her juices.

“Fuck, Liz...”

The nickname rang at her ears as he sank the digit into her core. So far was the feeling of his finger inside of her as opposed to her own, Elizabeth thought it was something entirely different. She let out a breath as she adjusted to the girth of his finger. Again, she thought of how she was going to fit his erection within her body, but this time with desire instead of fear.

“God, you’re so...” he breathed and leaned down to take her breast into his mouth. She lifted into his mouth and rocked against his finger, her body writhing in opposing directions as she let out a string of breathy moans. “I’m afraid I might break you.”

Her hands moved to her underwear and she peeled them off. Admittedly she did not care that they were essentially ruined for the night as she heard them fall against the floor. His finger continued to work in and out of her, prodding and curling within her. Her thoughts clouded and Elizabeth was abuzz with crashing waves of warmth and shocks of something she had only experienced in privacy.

Though, Booker had been the cause of most--if not all--of her orgasms since they escaped Columbia.

His lips moved from her breast, touched her chin, then left her entirely. The loss of contact caused her eyes to shoot open and search for where he had gone. She saw him hovering over her abdomen and thought she might go mad at the sight.

His dusty blond hair was mussed and there was a glint in his gaze as he met her eyes that left her dizzy and full of need. Elizabeth held back a moan as his lips returned to her skin, his kiss at her hip rougher than any kiss before. It sent her reeling, her head falling back to the pillow as she released a strangled gasp.

“Oh, if you’re enjoying this, darling, just you wait,” he chuckled and she glanced down to see the look of a predator in his eye. Booker gave her wink before crawling from the bed and knelt on the floor. “Put your legs on my shoulders.”

Her thoughts too cloudy to question, Elizabeth obeyed and positioned herself squarely in front of him, knees bent over his shoulders. She caught sight of his hand slowly working his shaft and shivered at the soft glistening coming from his cockhead. He removed his hand from himself after she was situated and pulled her to him until her thighs rested against his collarbone and his mouth was directly at her core.

“Relax, Elizabeth. I have to get you as ready as I can. I don’t wanna hurt you if I can avoid it.” Booker’s reassurance touched a soft spot within her and she pushed herself up on her elbows to watch.

Without another word, he experimentally traced up between her folds with his tongue and rounded her clit. Elizabeth nearly collapsed from the electric pleasure that shot to and fro in her spine before it crashed directly into her core. Her eyes stayed fixed on him as best they could at the combination of sensation and focus as he swept his tongue over her again.

When Booker met her eyes and flicked her clit with the tip of her tongue once, twice, one more...

Elizabeth groaned, her head falling back against the mattress and reached for his hair. She squirmed beneath him, relishing the heat between her legs as he lapped and sucked at her core, his stubble scratching and tickling between her thighs.

He was driving her closer to the edge of cliff she never knew could be so high. Her hips jutted and rolled against his mouth, lifting into the air, but Booker only held tight to her, letting her writhe against him as his tongue focused entirely on her clit, striking the nerves just right...so incredibly right...her world plummeted into darkness and reemerged with bursts of blinding light.

“Booker!” His name split into the air, loud enough to ring through to the neighbors above, beside, and below, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t care when Booker’s tongue was working such magic on her. And when he pulled back, Elizabeth caught sight of him licking his lips with his jaw glistening with her juices.

“This might be uncomfortable at first.” Booker pressed a gentle kiss to her inner thigh before he sank and worked his forefinger into her. What? What could possibly be--

She watched as his middle finger squeezed beside the other and ease into her. The sensation of being stretched by him, his fingers working in tandem to prime her, was unlike anything she could imagine. He took his time with his preparation. On occasion, he would hit a spot that made her moan or curse and every time, he would chuckle, his eyes never leaving her face.

“Boo--” she panted, voice hoarse and heady with arousal. “Booker, please.”

He removed his fingers from her and crept over her, his lips meeting hers in a kiss so desperate Elizabeth thought she might cry. She tasted her own release on his mouth, thinking the flavor strange. However, the permanent taste of bourbon and tobacco backed the taste enough for it to heighten the ecstasy driving her. Her body was shaking as he led her up until her head was back at the pillows, her form crying out with overwhelming desire.

“I’ll go slow, alright? I don’t wanna hurt you,” he ushered against her lips as his hand grabbed at his cock to align it with her entrance. “Try to stay relaxed.”

Elizabeth tried to follow instructions, but he was running his dripping erection against her entrance and it had her shivering and rocking her hips against him. Instead of stopping her, he moved in synchronicity with her, meeting her peaks and nearly dipping into her when she ground her hips down.

“Elizabeth.” Booker whispered her name with such reverence, she thought it might be a prayer. He bent over her, his forehead pressed to hers as he prodded her entrance with his cockhead. “I’m going to start now.”

She nodded and locked her attention on his features. Slowly, he pushed into her and Elizabeth did her best not to wince, but tears pricked at the edges of her eyes all the same. He was hard and pulsing and too snug inside of her and she clung to his back, digging her nails into the already scarred expanse.

“God, Booker...” she cried, burying her face into the sweat-coated nape of his neck. He had prepared her, but she had not anticipated such a different feeling. “It hurts...”

He brought a hand to the back of her head and carded his fingers through her hair. “I know. Give yourself time to adjust. I want you, but if you want to stop, we can.”

The thought of stopping snapped something in her and she pulled back, shaking her head wildly in disapproval. Booker was inside of her, ready to make love to her and she wasn’t going to stop because of a pain she was slowly growing accustomed to. “No. I want to keep going. It’s like you said, right? I just have to give myself some time to adjust.”

There was a smile forming on his lips that gave her some reassurance and the finger that came up to wipe at the tear at the edge of her eye settled some of her nerves. She gave a breath and scrambled for something that might help.

Distractions always aided in pain. Her rage had blinded her to the hole in her back, too many bullets whizzing by her had kept her focused on Booker. A distraction was what she needed.

“Booker,” she began softly, swallowing the pain, “...kiss me. Kiss me and keep going.”

He obeyed. He met her mouth with abandon and the world returned to the haze it had been before. Elizabeth groaned into the kiss when Booker sank further inside of her and slowly filled her an inch at a time, withdrawing slowly before sinking deeper.

A groan escaped from him and she drank it in with fervor as the pain began to subside. She still felt too-full, but the pressure released a ravenous hunger in her for him to take her, and she wanted him to know. She pushed down on him as he rolled into her and sent his cock deeper into her, pressing against something within her that caused another cry to split into the air.

“More,” was all she managed to say between the steady thrusts of his hips. And he happily gave her more by sinking into her until she could feel his skin against her own.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he muttered against her mouth and grabbed at her hips. Before Elizabeth realized what he meant, Booker had her in a steady hold and drove himself into her, faster and more forcefully than before.

An instance of pain dissolved into a fire that resided deep inside of her, burning up and making way for the pleasure that seized her. He met her lips in sloppy, haphazard kisses as he repeated the motion again and again. They held a steady tempo, each thrust brushing somewhere deep in Elizabeth that had her breathless, her mouth dry, and crying out for more.

Pressure built with every motion, her lower half trying to escape his hold, but each movement brought her walls clenching around his cock. And every time she constricted around him, a near feral grunt would sound in his throat. With every noise he made, the pressure built higher, her pleasure increasing with his own.

Then something changed, he lifted her hips and pushed her legs back until her knees were level with her face, his dick falling from her for a moment. The sudden loss of him inside of her left her aching painfully with need. She had been so close...

But Booker kissed her forehead, realigned himself, and thrust into her without the tenderness of the start. Elizabeth muffled another cry as he filled her completely, their skin slapping together.

“Elizabeth, don’t hold back. Let it out. I want to hear you come for me,” he urged with a strained growl, his pace erratic but hitting something inside of her and beyond that made her unable to hold out. She twisted and writhed against him, seeking purchase anywhere she could with her lips, her teeth, any part of him.

In the midst of blissful chaos, Booker wiped her hair from her face, and Elizabeth looked up at him through blurred vision. Despite her body nearly thrown from a mountaintop and the ache deep within her, she felt tender warmth spread throughout her. “I...love y-you...Booker DeWitt...”

“I love you,” he returned, his words nearly drowned by the sound of their sex.

Each point of contact was met with a cry from her lips until her head was numb and the pressure was too much to take. She reached her peak in stunned silence at first, her eyes opening wide before her entire body clenched in around him, legs shifting to find purchase, nails digging into him, her walls trapping him inside of her.

With a deep groan, Booker’s hips jutted against her; and as she felt his seed spill into her, Elizabeth’s final note was a strangled cry, tears pricking at her eyes. Every nerve of her body was overloaded with too much stimuli as she collapsed back onto the mattress.

Her chest heaved, her lungs burned, her mouth was terribly dry, her every muscle ached, but she had never felt so satisfied in her life. She wiped at the tears falling from her eyes before Booker could get a negative impression, if that was even possible.

She felt his spent cock pulsing and softening inside of her while he collected his faculties. His exhaustion brought a pleased grin to her lips and Elizabeth sighed contentedly when he pulled out of her with a wet pop.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead and then to her lips before he fell to the bed beside her. She laughed as he stretched out like a satisfied cat, his body covered in a sheen of sweat, and cheeks flushed from exertion.

Elizabeth felt like she was made of batter, nearly too exhausted to move, but she forced herself to roll over and set her forearms on Booker’s torso. Her grin was permanent as she kissed his jaw.

Booker glanced at the wristwatch he left on the end table beside the bed.

12:05 AM.

“Hope that was a good enough start to your birthday,” he hummed with a breath of laughter.

“It was...” Elizabeth paused as she searched for the words. In all of her infinite knowledge, she found herself scrambling. “It was incredible. Does it always feel so good?”

Booker thought for a moment, as though unsure of what to say. “Depends on the person. If you’re compatible, it’s usually something like this.”

“But not exactly?”

“No,” Booker returned and leaned forward to kiss her. “That’s the difference between fucking and making love. Sex is usually great, but there’s more to it when you love the person.”

The sentiment was strange coming from his mouth, but Elizabeth found herself beaming and curled up beside him. They laid there for a few moments, both content with the silence surrounding them.

Booker was the first to rise from the bed, pulling his pants up and moving to lean against his desk. He grabbed his cigarettes and lit one with his vigor, taking a hard enough drag for Elizabeth to hear the crackle of the tobacco burning. He exhaled with an air of satisfaction she hadn’t seen from him before and her inquisitive nature must have been reflected in her expression because Booker was already preparing an answer.

“A smoke’s always tasted great after sex. Don’t know why, but it does,” he explained as he grabbed her glass and went to the bathroom. She heard him rinsing and filling the glass, and when he came out, Booker handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she started as she sat up to take a drink.

Something slid out from between her legs and Elizabeth immediately clenched them together, her eyes wide as she looked to Booker, who was biting back a smirk.

“That’s normal,” he said as he put out the cigarette and offered her a hand. “C’mon, we’ll get you cleaned up.”

She slipped her free hand into his and finished her glass in one gulp before setting it on the nightstand.

Elizabeth watched--no, marveled--at the sight of Booker being so caring and dare she say it, domestic. The man who killed with his bare hands and had a body count higher than she ever needed to know, was showing her a tenderness that she could never fathom, but knew to be true.

She thought then of everything that she would have deprived herself, deprived him, had she left him drowned in that river.

There’s always a man. There’s always a lighthouse. There’s always a city.

But that didn’t mean it had to end the same way each time.

#my writing #bookerbeth #booker x elizabeth #elizabook #lizabook #dewincest #i am a SAP for them #hyperfocus came in clutch for this one kiddos #bookerbeth fic

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starstruck-xavier · 4 years ago

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[6] 5 Times Someone Stopped Virgil From Self-Harming and 1 Time He Stopped Himself

it’s the final big big chapter!! the support i’ve had on this fic, both on tumblr and ao3 has been whoaaa and i’m so so glad people are enjoying it <33 this is the last update, i didn’t intend for the chapter to get this long but it’s actually- longer than the rest of the fic combined so ahdgjfhgdfg get ready for a long read

1 - Logan || 2 - Roman || 3 - Patton || 4 - Janus || 5 - Remus || [6 - Virgil]

ao3 || wattpad || fanfiction masterpost

words for this chapter: 4277 ships: platonic dukexiety & anxceit & prinxiety & analogical, queerplatonic moxiety warnings: self-harm (cutting, bruising), injury, one brief mention of (not-real) spiders, scars, anxiety, brief mentions of alcohol towards the end

One tiny thing can really set a lot of regrettable decisions into action.

It doesn’t quite matter what happened, just that Virgil is desperately trying to pry open this disposable shaving razor to alleviate some of the pressure inside his veins that’s building exponentially by the second. He’s not sure if he should be frustrated or happy that it’s next to impossible to dismantle the thing; it’s almost like the manufacturers don’t want people to take the blades out and hurt themselves or others or something.

He leans his forearms against the bathroom sink and lets out a shaky breath, his tears escaping with it. This is stupid, he tells himself in one fleeting moment of reasoning, but he suddenly comes quite close to being able to open the godforsaken razor and any rationale is completely lost on him.

His five other roommates are also home, each probably doing their own thing. Virgil could always go to one of them and see if he could find someone who’s feeling okay enough to help him feel okay too, or just ask for a hug, or even just to sit in the same room as them, because then he at least has a safeguard if he were to give into the urge and try to cut again. However, clouds swirl around inside his skull, blocking his vision, rainfall trickling out of his eyes, and now - now he almost wants to do this, wants to feel the pain.

The now freed piece of metal shines with the reflected light of the ceiling lamp above him. Something’s stopping him from making the first cut, though, like an invisible force. Virgil’s mind is taken back to his conversation with Remus that had started with him grabbing his arm to stop him from bruising his collarbones with his pencil. He almost feels like Remus is stopping him from doing this, too, even though he’s not in the room, or probably even aware of what Virgil’s doing. What would Remus think or say if he could see him right now? Virgil recalls the events of the night Remus found out about his habit like it was only yesterday.

Virgil winces and clutches his shoulder as the sting subsides at an agonisingly slow rate. He always regrets this immediately after it happens, now that the initial frustration has been replaced by an overwhelming of pain that has tears pricking at his eyes, which momentarily scrunch shut at the feeling of new bruises forming. Soon there’ll be a new blossoming of them to go with the others, in varying stages of healing, some purply-blue, some with a hint of yellowy-green. It doesn’t help that they contrast so well with his skin.

He trudges out of his room to find an ice pack; he may as well, he tells himself. Besides, he wanted a glass of water anyway. So, he eventually enters the dark kitchen and crouches down, beginning to rummage around in the freezer (with difficulty as he didn’t want to turn on a light and blind himself) until a voice suddenly startles him.

“Virge, is that you?" It sounds like Remus - of course he’d be up late at night too. Virgil doesn’t have time to hum in response before a bright light stings at his eyelids and he brings his hands up to rub at them. Remus’ hand places itself on the small of Virgil’s back. "What are you looking for in there?”

"Ice pack." He replies hoarsely, the reminder that comes with saying it aloud making him aware again of how much it hurts.

Suddenly, he’s being manoeuvred up to a standing position and then lifted onto the kitchen counter with ease. At last his eyes begin to adjust to the light; the sight of Remus creating a makeshift ice pack with ice cubes and a small dish towel comes into focus. He seems to be examining the bruises peeking out from underneath Virgil’s shirt as he pulls the hair tie from his hair and fastens the ice inside the towel. Then, he sets the ice pack down next to Virgil on the counter and moves to touch the bottom hem of Virgil’s shirt.

"May I?" He asks with a hint of playfulness; Virgil rolls his eyes with a smile but nods, lifting his arms to allow Remus to remove his shirt and get a better look at the bruises. His face immediately falls to one of concern and he winces empathetically. "What happened here, emo?”

Virgil sighs. "It’s about time I tell you, but… don’t laugh when I say it?" He starts to fidget with his hands, but the way Remus’ face softens almost puts him at ease again.

"I would never, I promise. I'm worried about you, what’s going on?”

"Well… they’re self-inflicted.”

Remembering how Remus grew quiet and looked at him with such sadness in his eyes as he pressed the ice pack to the newest bruises, it breaks Virgil’s heart just a little more than it already feels. He’d hate to see his friend look at him that way again, especially if it’s while treating cuts like the ones he’s about to make.

Then, all of a sudden he feels a tiny bout of tiredness coming on. Are these emotions coming from a lack of sleep? His and Janus’ conversation comes to mind - ‘I suppose me telling you that you look tired wouldn’t help with those anxious feelings, hmm?’. Virgil reluctantly looks up at the mirror; he does appear exhausted. The shadows under his eyes, even without makeup, are starting to settle into weary, sleep-deprived lines sinking into his skin, and the redness of his eyes accompanied by the dampness of his cheeks only adds to that image. The sorry sight of his face only spurs more tears to fall.

Another memory swims to the front of his mind amongst the clouds and rainfall inside his skull - the one where Janus first started to point out that perhaps he’s not letting himself rest enough.

They’re both huddled together in the back of the library, Janus working on his history essay and Virgil doing research on various artists. The problem with researching artists, though, is that sometimes it’s extremely difficult to find any biographical information that doesn’t come from one of the sources he’s been specifically instructed not to use, and so he’s been at this task since late last night with only sporadic naps dotted throughout time since. He’s had no deep sleep at all and now that’s what his body is crying out for, pulling his head down to rest on the table and just close his eyes for a few minutes.

Before he knows what’s happening, though, he’s being prodded out of his slumber.

“Virgil, c’mon, wake up.” Janus is talking quietly into his ear and pulling at his shoulders to get him to sit up. "I was letting you sleep, but they said if you’re not gonna keep working we have to leave. Let’s go back to the dorms, okay?”

"Hmm?" Blinking slowly as the sticky remnants of sleep still hold onto him with its sweet promise of exhaustion relief, Virgil lifts his head to sit up and winces at the stiffness of his neck. "Did I fall asleep?" But Janus doesn’t answer straight away, instead busying himself with packing up Virgil’s things for him. Virgil tries a different question, "How long?”

Janus slings both of their backpacks over his shoulder and stands, offering a hand to Virgil. "Around half an hour. Did you get any sleep last night?”

Even though they both already know the answer, Virgil takes a few seconds to decide whether or not he should tell the truth, and Janus watches him expectantly as they both make their way out of the library together. Just as they pass through the automatic doors, with the air conditioning just above them ruffling at his hair, Virgil finally answers. "I was doing art research.”

"That’s one way of saying no.” Janus huffs, but there’s a softness to his face that reminds Virgil of the caring attitude his friend always has towards him. "You’re going to get a full night’s rest in preparation for tomorrow’s classes, alright? Falling asleep in the library is one thing, but you’ll never hear the end of it if you fall asleep in the lecture hall.”

Virgil smiles sleepily, nodding along to Janus’ words. "Okay, if you insist.”

He would’ve been lying if he’d told Janus he didn’t feel much more well-rested the next day. He remembers feeling more emotionally stable too, and concludes that if he was an emotional mess before, it must’ve been from the lack of sleep. Now, as he watches the disheveled man in the mirror, shaking and quietly crying with irregular, hitched breaths, a passing thought that the exhaustion may be just why he’s about to do this terrible thing crosses his mind, though the contents of the thought are hard to make out as the water in his skull is growing murky.

However, if all of these emotions and urges to just do it already are polluting the water, the spontaneous thought of Patton is a water filter, beginning to clean out all the dirt and murkiness clogging up his ability to think straight. Patton, the one who always offers his support when people are feeling down even though oftentimes he needs that comfort just as much, the one who kisses Virgil on the forehead every morning, the reason why he leaves his room in the first place on days with an empty schedule.

The one who always reminds Virgil of just why he tries not to do this kind of thing anymore.

"Oh, Virge, look at the sky!” Patton points up to the sky with one hand and squeezes Virgil’s hand with the other, beaming excitedly at the little drops of snow that fall down to coat the grass at the park they’re walking through. "There’s snow-way I would’ve expected that in a place like this.”

Virgil lets himself laugh at the pun, his days of groaning at the word-play to shield his amusement left behind. "This is unexpected for Florida." He muses, watching as the green grass starts to become a sheet of white rather rapidly. Patton shivers just a little beside him; even though he’s wearing his cat hoodie, the material isn’t the most insulating. "Are you cold?” Virgil lets go of Patton’s hand, just to take off his own hoodie and offer it to his partner. "You can wear this over your hoodie, I don’t want you to get cold.”

Patton takes the hoodie and smiles as he feels the warmth of the inside of it, but still glances over at Virgil’s short sleeves worriedly. "Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

"Yeah, it’s alright, Pat. Besides, you have a singing part for your music class this week. You need your voice intact more than I do, so let’s make sure you don’t get sick.”

That logic isn’t incredibly easy to argue with, Patton must admit, so he gives in and pulls the purple hoodie sleeves over his own grey ones. "Okay, if you’re sure." He still takes Virgil’s hand in his own so that they can share the warmth a little more as they walk through the park.

Eventually they both end up standing together underneath a large tree that hasn’t lost its leaves yet, creating a natural shelter for them to avoid getting more snow in their hair. All the while, they’re making easy conversation and playing off of each other’s comments like usual, until Patton takes Virgil’s warm hands into his own and grows quiet. Virgil’s about to ask what’s wrong, but the sudden embrace that Patton pulls him into makes his breath escape him. While the hoodies feel cold against his skin because of the weather, Virgil can hear Patton’s heartbeat and it fills him with warmth, along with the sensation of his partner’s breath fanning out over his neck in regular intervals. Then, Patton starts to sway just slightly, from side to side, akin to rocking a baby to sleep, a sign that this isn’t some ordinary hug in a passing moment - this one’s emotional, soaked with feeling.

It takes a few moments for Virgil to put the pieces together. He’d actually forgotten about the partially faded lines that litter his arms, not thinking anything of it when he took off his hoodie, but then remembers that he’s never really told anyone about it, only assuming that people know from when they see him wearing short sleeves and don’t comment on it. Considering how Patton had held his hands, he must’ve seen.

The hug drags on for some time, but then Patton pulls back, looking just a little teary-eyed. Virgil intertwines his fingers with Patton’s and gazes warmly into his eyes. "Hey, it’s okay. I— those scars are old, I don’t do that anymore. I promise.”

A short silence settles over them both until Patton holds out his pinkie. "Pinkie promise?”

"Pinkie promise.”

Thinking about that, even if Virgil has created new scars since in moments like this one, something about the image of Patton’s upset expression makes him want to throw the blades away, go do something else. He can’t hurt his partner like that.

Even so, Virgil can’t help but think of Roman and Logan, the two roommates he’s yet to reminisce about as he continues to fiddle with the piece of metal, not quite letting go yet. Why can’t he let go? A quick mental assessment of himself just shows that the urges still haven’t passed - this is getting tiring, he thinks to himself. Though, if he were to think about it in a more optimistic light, these reasons and memories he keeps thinking about are still clearing away the water in his head, still slowly dripping out of his eyes but less muddy and opaque.

After a one-night hospital stay to fix up Virgil’s broken ankle, Roman was the one who’d volunteered to collect him, aware that having everyone there all at once would overwhelm their injured friend. So, when Virgil gazes passively at the cast on his ankle as he sits on the edge of the hospital bed, still a little out of it from the intense painkillers he’s been on, he almost doesn’t register the presence of Roman finally walking into the room, but when he does, a small blossoming of happiness is felt in his heart.

"Hey there, Thundercloud.” Roman speaks with a soft tone, crouching in front of the bed so that they can wrap their arms around each other, Virgil missing those warm hugs and touches, Roman just happy to see that Virgil’s not in so much pain anymore. He’s not sure if he can get the memory of that injury, the look of it, the screams, out of his head. "You can come home now. I've brought you a change of clothes, okay?”

It does take some effort to get Virgil into his clothes, both with the cast and his hazy state, but luckily Roman had thought ahead and brought only loose clothes that would provide minimal trouble. Then, the next thing that Virgil’s processing is Roman’s smooth voice, filling him in on how everyone’s been since he got admitted to the hospital, accompanied by the click of the crutches that help him along down the hospital halls, and then the rain-stained streets.

The rest of the day also goes by quite fuzzily, with everyone else greeting him at the door, giving him hugs, then allowing him to rest when they notice how his responses and movements are still slow with fatigue. Part of him still hasn’t even processed that he has a broken ankle.

It’s just a couple of days later, when he’s relaxing in Roman’s arms on the couch with hands carding through his hair, that it finally hits him. He’s been crying fairly often since coming home, mostly from the pain that takes a while to go away before the prescription painkillers kick in and also the slight drowsiness and general loopy feelings that come as side-effects to the medication. So, when his breathing suddenly hitches and the tears start to fall from his eyes, he hears Roman coo quietly and feels him move one hand away from his hair to rest on his cheek.

"What’s the matter, Virgil?”

Virgil looks up at Roman’s soft expression and barely holds back a sob as his anxiety starts to build, clutching at his heart. "What if I can’t dance again?”

Roman’s face also grows anxious, but just for a moment before it morphs into a sad smile. "The doctor said that if you follow his instructions, it’s entirely possible for you to recover. And you’re doing wonderfully at that, aren’t you?” Virgil nods, sniffling as he spares a glance at his cast, covered in signatures and messages from his friends, even some from the people in his dance and sports classes. "You’ll be dancing with us again in no time. Just remember to avoid breaking any more bones in the future, yes?”

Despite the tears that won’t stop flowing for a while after this, possibly for hours, Virgil nods with a quiet laugh. "I will.”

Part of that promise to not injure himself again would include avoiding working himself to exhaustion and not attempting the more dangerous moves while he’s tired, which he’s definitely been working on (even though Roman had to bring him home way later than they were intending to stay out earlier this week, but it’s an improvement from the past). Now, on some days, Virgil can forget he ever had a broken bone in the first place with how enthusiastic he is to hit the track field and the dance studio again, returning to his athletic activities again and again like clockwork. It took all the support from his friends, especially Roman, to bring him to this point.

And, at last, the thought of Logan swims into Virgil’s head and everything becomes just a little clearer, almost back to the way it should be. His heart rate has slowed to a regular kind of calm at this point and he still hasn’t made any cuts, even after standing here for so, so long, but it may just be one last memory involving Logan that could make him put the blade down. In fact, when he recalls that memory, the setting doesn’t even change. He’s still here. The only thing that’s different is the state of his arms.

Blood. Blood, everywhere, staining the perfectly white sink and draining out of him along with his focus on reality; not a life-threatening amount, but certainly enough to freak himself out a little. So, when Logan enters the bathroom and physically startles at the sight, Virgil lets himself be guided by him, lets him clean up the blood, rub stinging alcohol into his wounds and bandage up his arms. Still a little hazy and not fully processing what he’s done, his voice just carries itself through the air, simply delivered if not with a delay when Logan tries to ground him by asking him questions.

The next moment he can really ground himself in is when he finds himself in Logan’s bed, his friend’s arm draped loosely over his waist from behind, touching gently at the bandages. And while Virgil can’t see Logan’s face, he can hear the sounds of crying as clear as day.

Crying? At this point in their friendship, Virgil’s never seen Logan looking extremely emotionally charged, never mind crying, so he tries to shuffle his body to look at Logan but he’s stopped by another hand in his hair, stroking through it, making Virgil stay still.

Eventually, though, Virgil finds his voice returning enough for him to speak. "Are you okay?" He asks the wall just a short distance away from his nose, and Logan breathes a laugh through a quiet string of sobs.

"That question should be directed to you, not me." His voice sounds hoarse and wavers with his words, but then Virgil hears him attempting to take a deep breath. "You’d been in the bathroom for so long, I was just going to check up on you, and…” Logan sighs shakily. "Why do you do it?”

It takes a moment for Virgil to think about it before he can respond. Why does he do it? "I… I just— sometimes I get really anxious, too anxious, and the pain… it stops my brain from floating away. Keeps me grounded. I also feel like I deserve it for having a messed up brain.”

He can really imagine Logan’s face, concerned, upset as the arm around his waist moves to Virgil’s face, prompting him to move from his side to his back so they can make eye contact. “Virgil, you don’t deserve any of the harm you bring upon yourself. There are much better ways to keep yourself grounded when you’re anxious too, just… please, try not to give into the urges to hurt yourself if they arise again. You’re really strong, you know that?" By this point, Logan’s tears are flowing freely down his face, and at some point Virgil had begun to cry too, but there’s no shame coming from either of them. Virgil nods and snivels, almost sobbing as Logan lets one of his rarer, genuine smiles show. “I'll always be here for you. I don’t care what I may be in the middle of, or what time it is, whether it’s day or night, even if I'm in the middle of a class, just tell me if you’re ever wanting to cut again and I'll give you whatever it is you need to calm down.”

Virgil just looks into Logan’s eyes for a sweet moment, then reaches up to wrap his bandaged arms around him, the two of them holding each other close for eternities. "I will. I promise, Logan, I will.”

The water is perfectly clear.

Now simply reduced to tired, breathy sobs, Virgil throws his blades into the toilet along with the other smaller parts of the razor and flushes them away, out of his reach forever. The simple motions feel unexpectedly freeing and empowering, knowing that this is the first time he’s been able to stop himself, all by himself. That’s not stopping the tears, though, and Virgil remembers Logan’s words: ‘I'll always be here for you’.

After calming himself down enough to leave the bathroom, he quietly shuffles down the hall and into the open-plan common room-combined-kitchen space, where all of his friends are dispersed about. Roman and Remus are arguing over some board game on the floor while Logan moderates the discussion from the couch with the rules booklet in his hands, and Patton and Janus are talking and sharing wine in the kitchen. Upon seeing Virgil walk in, completely dishevelled, hair fallen in his bloodshot eyes and tears still not dried, the twins share a concerned look and are about to stand and ask if he’s okay, but Virgil just gives them a teary smile and walks over to the couch, nudging Logan’s arms up so he can sit in his lap with the arms holding the booklet looped around him.

"Are you okay, Virgil?” Logan looks a little surprised but doesn’t protest the extra weight in his lap, instead setting the booklet aside and hugging Virgil closer to his chest.

Virgil hums contentedly and buries his nose into Logan’s shirt. "I will be.”

There’s not much time for Logan to try to decode that answer before the twins are abandoning the game on the floor and joining them on the couch, Roman running his hand up and down Virgil’s arm soothingly while Remus plays with his hair. Soon enough, Patton and Janus are also abandoning their wine glasses so they can come over and see what’s going on. After some shuffling about, Virgil is now still sat in Logan’s lap but with his legs laid across Patton’s, Roman’s hands in his hair from the other side of Logan, and Remus and Janus sat on the floor but still providing their own comfort, holding Virgil’s hands so that he feels safe and secure.

All of the anguish, the anxiety, the fear, it all completely melts away as he’s finally exhausted his supply of water filling his skull. The tear tracks dry away to reveal contentment in his eyes, happiness at all the cuddles from his chosen family, them all making conversation around him, him simply listening in and occasionally inputting his short comments and laughing at the various antics going on, mostly from Roman and Remus.

Eventually he will explain what happened, receive hugs and forehead kisses and different coloured hearts drawn on his arm so that he can look at them and remember who he’s staying clean for. There’s an eloquently drawn, large red heart with extra little stars around it and the letter ‘R’ written inside it in cursive, a similar one in green but with a moustache drawn on it and the letter ‘R’ written in bubble writing, a light blue heart with paw prints and smiley faces all around, a dark blue heart with Virgil’s zodiac constellation drawn inside, a yellow heart simply drawn with the words ‘stay strong’ inside with neat writing, and finally, a purple one with little spiders and cobweb designs inside, drawn by himself. A reminder that he’s doing this for himself just as much as his friends.

A reminder that, even after all that’s happened this week and today, there’s still a sobriety timer on his phone ticking away at two and a half months.

tysm to @underestimatemethatwillbefun for all the support and comments because aaa each one you’ve left on my chapters just encourages me to write more <33

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cinemavariety · 5 years ago

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The Director’s Series: Nicolas Winding Refn

The director series will consist of me concentrating on the filmography of all my favorite directors. I will rank each of their films according to my personal taste. I hope this project will provide everyone with quality recommendations and insight into films that they might not have known about. Today’s director in spotlight is Nicolas Winding Refn

#9 - Fear X (2003) Runtime: 1 hr 31 min Aspect Ratio: 2.35 : 1 Film Format: 35mm

When his wife is killed in a seemingly random incident Harry, prompted by mysterious visions, journeys to discover the true circumstances surrounding her murder.

Verdict: Refn’s most forgotten about film, even I have a hard time remembering that this film is part of his oeuvre. Nevertheless, Fear X is a quiet and lingering exercise in style. It’s a surrealist film noir with heavy influences from David Lynch. It’s also the first time where Refn began experimenting with color and started to move away from shaky cam.

#8 - The Pusher Trilogy (1996/2004/2005) Runtime: 1 hr 45 min / 1 hr 40 min / 1 hr 30 min Aspect Ratio: 1.66 : 1 / 1.85 : 1 / 1.85 : 1 Film Format: 16mm / 35mm / 35mm

A drug pusher grows increasingly desperate after a botched deal leaves him with a large debt to a ruthless drug lord.

Verdict: I made the decision to categorize all three Pusher films as one entry for this post (otherwise it would just be too many). Nicolas Winding Refn started off his career with the strong crime tale of Pusher, and made the last two films to complete the trilogy after his English language debut Fear X ended up bombing. While I love the first and third entry more than I do the second, all three Pusher films are captivating and anxiety-ridden crime docudramas. It’s a great way to see how far Refn has evolved by starting with these films first.

#7 - Bleeder (1999) Runtime: 1 hr 38 min Aspect Ratio: 2.35 : 1 Film Format: 35mm

Two stories for the price of one: Lenny works in a video shop and tries to get acquainted with the waitress Lea. Leo can't cope with the pressure of becoming a father, leading to trouble with his pregnant wife and especially her brother.

Verdict: While Bleeder might be Refn’s lowest budget film to date, and not all the violence comes off as extremely convincing, I enjoyed it more than all three Pusher films because of the emotional stakes within the story. Multiple characters lives intertwine and interconnect in oftentimes disastrous circumstances. I also loved how Mads Mikkelsen’s character is a huge film aficionado, all of the scenes he is featured in bring a much needed reprieve from the turmoil and abuse.

#6 - Too Old to Die Young (2019) Runtime: 15 hr Aspect Ratio: 1.85 : 1 Film Format: Arri Alexa Digital

The numb existences of Martin Jones, a police officer with secrets to hide, and Jesus, a traumatized avenging son, collide in a ghostly Los Angeles where several ruthless criminal gangs fight for their turf and dictate who lives and who dies. Verdict: Too Old To Die Young finds the celebrated auteur, Nicolas Winding Refn, sharing his view of humanity and society at its most despicable. All of his usual motifs and creative decisions are employed in full force with Too Old To Die Young, sometimes to an almost unbearable degree unless you are a truth Refn aficionado. His long takes, infinitesimal silences between lines, neon lighting, synth score and characters belonging to a criminal underworld are all utilized to great affect within the series. And while I believe that Refn’s sensibilities are best conveyed through a film medium, the limited series allows Refn to explore what he wants to convey like an artist adding layer upon layer of colors onto a blank palette.

#5 - Bronson (2008) Runtime: 1 hr 32 min Aspect Ratio: 1.85 : 1 Film Format: 35mm

A young man who was sentenced to 7 years in prison for robbing a post office ends up spending 30 years in solitary confinement. During this time, his own personality is supplanted by his alter ego, Charles Bronson. Verdict: Bronson is quite possibly Tom Hardy’s most impressive performance, and that’s saying a lot. It exudes such a hypnotic quality that every time I watch it, it’s as if I am seeing the film for my very first time. It tells the true story of one of Britain’s most infamous criminals.Refn’s visual flair and unique filming style make it unlike any other prison film I’ve ever witnessed. This is the beginnings of Refn’s disinterest in traditional narrative structure.

#4 - Only God Forgives (2013) Runtime: 1 hr 30 min Aspect Ratio: 1.85 : 1 Film Format: Red Epic Digital

Julian, who runs a Thai boxing club as a front organization for his family’s drug smuggling operation, is forced by his mother Crystal to find and kill the individual responsible for his brother’s recent death.

Verdict: This is easily Refn’s most frustrating film. Whenever I watch it, I’m unsure whether I adore it or dislike it. But the fact that it’s the Refn film I have probably revisited the most is extremely telling of the ambience that Refn creates. Only God Forgives is arguably the most beautifully shot film from Nicolas. The neon drenched streets of Bangkok are presented to look like a netherworld. It’s a revenge fantasy thriller mixed with Oedipal undertones. Also, Gosling looks like a treat in every frame.

#3 - Valhalla Rising (2009) Runtime: 1 hr 33 min Aspect Ratio: 2.35 : 1 Film Format: Red One Digital

1000 AD, for years, One Eye, a mute warrior of supernatural strength, has been held prisoner by the Norse chieftain Barde. Aided by Are, a boy slave, One Eye slays his captor and together he and Are escape, beginning a journey into the heart of darkness. On their flight, One Eye and Are board a Viking vessel, but the ship is soon engulfed by an endless fog that clears only as the crew sights an unknown land. As the new world reveals its secrets and the Vikings confront their terrible and bloody fate, One Eye discovers his true self.

Verdict: Valhalla Rising is Refn’s dirtiest and bloodiest work, and it certainly finds the director at his most surreal and existential. If anyone wants to know a film that epitomized what it means to be considered art house - this is it. It’s a film about a slave finding emancipation from his tyrannous slave owners, and finds himself on a doomed voyage to the New World with a group of fanatical Christian vikings. The story is told in separate chapters, with each section the audience finds itself traveling down a rabbit hole that resembles something of an acid try gone awry.

#2 - The Neon Demon (2016) Runtime: 1 hr 57 min Aspect Ratio: 2.35 : 1 Film Format: Arri Alexa XT Plus Digital

When aspiring model Jesse moves to Los Angeles, her youth and vitality are devoured by a group of beauty-obsessed women who will take any means necessary to get what she has.

Verdict: The Neon Demon has grown to become my second favorite movie from Nicolas. The film succeeds in shedding light on the hedonistic lifestyle of deranged young women in a tongue-in-cheek, almost satirical fashion. It’s one of the best looking Refn films to date, with even banal or commonplace locations drenched in neon hues. Composer Cliff Martinez outdoes himself with the synth-heavy score which guides the audience along a fairytale of horrors. In Refn’s surreal vision of Los Angeles there is no such thing as going too far to reach fame, even if it means bloodshed. As one character says in the film: “Beauty isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.” It would be nice to write off this statement as pure subjectivity, but what else has the media taught us but this ideal?

#1 - Drive (2011) Runtime: 1 hr 40 min Aspect Ratio: 2.35 : 1 Film Format: Arri Alexa & Cooke S4 Digital

A Hollywood stunt performer who moonlights as a wheelman for criminals discovers that a contract has been put on him after a heist gone wrong.

Verdict: Seeing Drive in theatres back in 2011, without even having seen a film from Refn and not knowing much of the plot in general, is hands down one of the most memorable and inspiring theatrical experiences I ever had. Drive, among many other films that came out around that time, acted as a catalyst for me to branch out and discover more independent and arthouse filmmakers. I believe that it is undoubtedly Refn’s best film, and I might dare say that might be credited to the fact that is one of the only Refn films in which he didn’t write. These characters, while quiet and mysterious, have more depth to them than any of his others. The quiet romance between Drive and Irene provide more emotional stakes than any of his other works as well. All the elements of Drive complement each other and build off of each other. As cheesy as it may sound, if any film could be considered cool - it’s this. It’s already gained a cult status and it will most definitely go down in history as one of the most beautiful crime noirs ever made.

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myaekingheart · 6 years ago

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1, 2, and 12!!

Bless you, Jessie 🙌💕

Alright so since I reblogged like 20 ask memes, I’m just gonna go ahead and take the liberty of doing all of these numbers for every single one I’ve reblogged that’s applicable to give myself extra stuff to do xD

Fanfiction Asks!

1. Do you read fic? Do you write fic?

I actually write fic WAY MORE than I read fic. I find that the issue I have when reading fic is that I get really giddy and inspired and then I lose my concentration on the story in front of me and my interests rather shift more towards the story in my own damn head. I really need to start reading more of other people’s work, though. I have a handful saved on AO3 that I just have not gotten around to, but I really should. I really have so many damn things I want to read, fanfiction and otherwise, but lack the motivation to sit down and actually read it.

2. Favorite genre of fic?

I feel like it’s kind of hard to pinpoint exactly what kind of fic I’m drawn most towards, but I guess the best descriptor would be drama? I don’t know, I just really like stories that focus heavily on character development and interpersonal relationships (so bildungsroman lmfao), especially when there’s some imperfect romance and action/adventure involved. Both of my main fanfics, my Narnia series Temptation and The Scarecrow and the Bell, my Naruto fic, both are pretty much just that: heavy focus on character with imperfect romance and action/adventure. I just think it’s fun seeing characters, especially ones that have feelings for each other, in stressful and dangerous situations trying to work through them together and oftentimes disagree and have to figure out how to handle the disagreements, too. Or have personal stuff they’re dealing with on top of things. I don’t know, I just really love focusing on relationship dynamics and situations like that are a fun lens to look through.

12. What turns you away the most from a fic?

Honestly, grammatical issues and whether or not the story feels believable. I guess I’m kind of picky when it comes to that stuff, but I’m also used to being critical of writing solely because I’m a creative writing major and a big part of this degree’s curriculum is workshopping peer writing. Grammatical issues in terms of a misplaced comma or something aren’t that big a deal, I’m not that stingy, but things like lacking paragraph breaks, or not knowing when to switch paragraphs, bug me as well as habitual misspellings of common words--the one that peeves me off the most is spelling “definitely” like “defiantly” or “definately” or any other misspelling under the sun. The idea of a story feeling believable might just be me being really picky but I’ve opened up fics sometimes where I could hardly get through the first paragraph because the story didn’t feel genuine to me. It’s kind of hard to explain, but I guess as someone who puts a ton of research into my own fanfics and also really tries to perfectly capture the tone of the source material, sometimes I’ll read stuff that just feels out of place and it really takes me out of the story and honestly makes me cringe. I feel like saying all of that makes me sound like some kind of asshole, though. I don’t know, I’m just so goddamn picky when it comes to what I’m reading and especially with fanfiction, since it’s a lot more organic and it doesn’t go through the same fine toothed editing process that professionally published works do (although I’ve picked up on some questionable stuff even in print books; one such thing was so minor, but it was a forgotten period at the end of a sentence and I kept laughing about it saying to myself “Someone missed a period!” You know, like an asshole.)

Music Asks

1. your favorite album opener

Beartooth’s Greatness or Death off their most recent album, Disease. It just really sets the tone for the rest of the album and feels like such an appropriate intro overall. They have a playlist for the entire album on Youtube with the correct track listing so that was the first song off thei newest album that I had heard and it just felt like such a great and appropriate intro, it really got me into the vibe and energy of the rest of the album and I just...I love it a lot. The song, the album, the band in general.

2. a song starting w/ the same first letter of your first name

Aurora Avenue by Defeat the Low. I’m a huge Nirvana fan, and the song is all about Kurt Cobain. The entire first verse was literally pulled straight from his infamous suicide note (”Speaking from the tongue of an experienced simpleton who obviously would rather be an emasculated, infantile complainee.”) I stumbled upon this song by pure chance-- it was playing at the end of a video for a different song, which I think was actually a Beartooth one-- and it sounded interesting so I pulled it up and the minute I heard the first verse, I, who had read Kurt’s suicide note already, was like “WAIT A SECOND THIS SOUNDS REALLY FAMILIAR” but it didn’t hit me that that was what it was, and that the entire song was about Kurt, until later and it made me love it even more.

12. a song you can scream all the words to

Hospital for Souls by Bring Me The Horizon. It’s an all-time fave, made even more so by the fact that it’s one of my top ship songs (for my Naruto ship, Kakashi Hatake x my OC Rei Natsuki, who I write the fanfic about, and even made an AMV for them with because I’M CRAZY). It also just hits really hard personally, especially the line “Have you ever put a blade to your wrists, or have you been skipping meals?” because it relates to my own mental health struggles. I’ve never had the right opportunity to actually scream all the words aloud along with the song, but I desperately need to find the right place to do it one of these days because I have a lot of feelings I need to get out that can only be done through that exact act and I need to do it in a way where I will not end up getting the cops called on me for being way too loud. I just need a soundproof room in general (not just for these purposes, but also because I’m a voice actress for an independent animated series called Space Hotel and I need someplace to record shit anyways.)

Soft and Ethereal Asks

1.secret garden or forest?

Secret garden! I love the idea of having someplace only I know guarded off by a wall with vines running up the side of it, the kind of place you enter through a wrought-iron gate, where flowers are growing through the cracks and there’s a bubbling fountain in the center you can sit by either on the edge or in the grass or on a dirty old cement bench from times before I was even a thought in my parent’s head, and just revel in the silence with a good book or a pencil and sketchbook and make flower crowns and daisy chains or have a little personal picnic laying out a checkered blanket and carrying everything in a big basket like strawberries and little sandwiches and homemade cookies and shit. I’m such a sap but I live for the idea of that gentle, pastel-tinted quiet afternoon. Pure solace.

2.the stars or the moon?

The moon. I love stars to death, too, but there’s something about the moon that really hits me. Maybe it’s because it goes through phases but no matter what is still whole even when it appears not to be. Maybe it’s because it’s kind of comforting to look at. More than anything, though, it’s probably at least partially because one of my favorite films is Rise of the Guardians (and by extension, the book series it was based upon, The Guardians of Childhood) in which the moon is a major character, or at least The Man in the Moon. In the movie, he’s never seen or heard but he’s always there watching over the world. Jack Frost, the protagonist, doesn’t understand his purpose in this eternal life of his where no one can see him and no one believes in him, and constantly looks to the moon for answers but never hears any. The very first lines of the movie are even “Darkness. That’s the first thing I remember. It was dark and it was cold and I was scared. But then...then I saw the moon. It was so big and so bright. It seemed to chase the darkness away.” Not to get super religious here but in a way the whole moon thing even reminds me of Christianity a little bit, and I’m not really religious in the slightest (maybe spiritual, but not very religious) but this movie also came to me at a time when I was very at odds with the idea of God and faith and everything, and I felt like Jack Frost constantly questioning what the point of it all was and questioning whether something greater even existed and if so, then how could they let terrible things like this happen? Without any solid answer? I don’t know, I don’t want this to get into a debate about my own religious beliefs, but yeah. The moon and I have some history, so I’ll choose the moon over the stars.

12.fiction or short stories?

Fiction. By nature of my degree, I have to read a lot of short stories for college and some of them are really enjoyable and interesting but then we get to the debate of genre fiction versus literary fiction, which I think is a stupid fucking debate and literary fiction needs to get off it’s damn high horse with it’s “holier than thou” complex or whatever. Or maybe it’s not the literary fiction itself so much as the people who praise it. Like yes, I get that literary fiction is contemporary fine art and nuanced and shit but sometimes I like stories about vampires and ninjas and teenagers with weird names and social anxiety. Literary fiction is fine and all, but let’s face it, genre fiction is way more fucking fun and that is why I chose “fiction” over “short stories.”

65 Questions You Aren’t Used To

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

If I’m going to be brutally honest, sometimes. Hell, sometimes I even question my own existence but I guess that’s just the depersonalization aspect of anxiety talking.

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

With 1 being the lowest and 5 being the highest, I’d say I’m at about a 3? I’m not as afraid of the dark as I used to be, but it’s situational. If I’m alone and it’s dark, then I get panicky because my awareness is impaired and I’m admittedly a very visual person so if I can’t see and I suspect there’s something going bump in the night, I’m going to freak out. Even hearing something, even when logically I know exactly what it is, freaks me out because I can’t know for sure unless I’m looking straight at it but if it’s dark, I can’t do that. I prefer to sleep when it’s like fully dark, though. I even used to wear a sleep mask to help with that and because the feeling of something soft over my eyes was comforting??? I don’t know, like I can sleep perfectly fine with the lights on, too, and sometimes if my anxiety is bad that’s what I’d prefer to make things easier on myself but for the most part, I guess it’s situational. I also feel like this is an appropriate place to say I have a duck nightlight in my bathroom, which doesn’t really have anything to do with being afraid of the dark so much as darkness in general but I also have a thing for rubber ducks so having a rubber duck nightlight is very on brand and I love it.

12. Who told you they loved you last?

Probably my boyfriend. He’s the one whose always here anyways. If not him, then from my mother but I don’t particularly want to think about her right now because I’m kind of upset with her so we’re just going to go ahead and say my boyfriend.

Sensory Asks

[sight]

1. favourite colour(s)?

Red is my top fave, and has been since I was three. I think it was when I got a red VW Beetle for my Barbie dolls that I really fell in love with the color. All the accessories that came with it were red plastic and looking at them just filled with me a lot of energy and joy, which I later realized I felt whenever looking at red in general. It also helps that I can now make the joke whenever I’m asked this question that I love red “like the blood of my enemies,” which is always fun.

2. least favourite colour(s)?

I’m really not a fan of yellow, chartreuse, and tan/beige. I can handle yellow in certain instances like with sunflowers or lemons or sunshine related stuff, but I prefer gold over straight up yellow. I don’t dislike yellow nearly as much as tan/beige, though. That one I can also handle in certain instances but for the most part, it reminds me of a time I got sick as a kid so looking at it for too long brings back that nausea. Chartreuse is the end-all, be-all of the colors I’m not big on, though. It just...reminds me of snot. It feels really unappealing to look at for me, too.

[smell]

12. favourite scent?

Clean laundry, hands down. I love nothing more than the smell of fresh laundry, like sometimes I’ll catch myself literally sitting at my laptop sniffing my shirt because I love the smell so much. It’s just so comforting, and I think that’s because it reminds me of this doll I’ve had literally since birth. I called her Baby Doll and she was just a basic baby doll with a plastic head and cloth body that my grandmother got from Avon and I was so damn attached to it as a kid. I brought Baby Doll everywhere with me, even in my backpack on my first day of preschool. I slept with her for way longer than I’d like to admit, too. But she smelled like fabric softener, and when I was a little kid and was having bad anxiety attacks (which I’ve been dealing with since I was three), I would hug her really close and the smell was just really comforting. So now I have to get it from my own laundry because I still own Baby Doll, but I’m a grown-ass adult and she’s very fragile now (and also currently in storage for safe-keeping). So yeah, clean laundry hands-down.

Fashions Asks

1. What season has your favorite looks?

Fall! I’m such a sucker for big cozy sweaters and jeans. Back to school fashion lowkey excites me, too, and besides: I feel like it’s a lot easier to find appropriate outfits for my personal fashion sense that fit cooler weather than the seventh circle of hell 106-degree-heat-index I’m currently living in. I adore oversized sweaters, leggings, skinny jeans, combat boots, creepers, hoodies, layers, all that good stuff but you can’t do that when you feel like you’re dying of heat stroke even standing in front of the fridge butt naked. Not that I do that, but it’s hot enough here that I could if I wanted to. That’s not an issue in fall, though, which is super fucking nice. I just really love being cozy all the time always.

2. Formal or casual?

Casual! As much as I love the look of formal clothes, I am chronically ill. I am anxious. I am depressed. I want to be comfortable all the damn time, and I just can’t be genuinely comfortable in formal clothes. For example, I attended my cousin’s wedding last spring and wore these really cute Mary Jane heels that I love. They fit my aesthetic and make my legs look great, too, if I say so myself. I was able to get through the ceremony with them on but after the fact, they started getting so damn uncomfortable that I went to the car and changed into my ratty five year old combat boots like a total punk because comfort. At least they still looked good with the dress I was wearing, though, so that’s a plus.

12. What fashions do you hate?

Okay, I feel like a lot of people might get on my case about this but I really can’t stand Birkenstocks. They just...look like what your overbearing uncle would wear with socks to the summer barbecue to me. I don’t know, in certain cases they’re at least fitting for a certain look and I commend the people who can pull them off but as for me? I just can’t wrap my head around them. I dislike them even more than Crocs, which I am also not a fan of. But then again, like...I’m also not big on today’s fashion trends in general. There are some things I do like, like oversized t-shirts with leggings especially if they’re a band t-shirt, and those cute Japanese uniform style pleated skirts (I admittedly own one and I love it). The whole ethereal quirky pastel modern grunge e-girl shit, though, just doesn’t vibe much with me. My fashion sense is more on par with Luanna Perez’s alternative looks and the 2007-2012 era of the emo/scene style, as well as some pastel goth, genuine 90′s grunge, and kawaii/lolita inspired stuff. Like I will gladly tease the hell out of my hair, add in extensions and coontails and a little pink bow, and throw on a pink polka dot dress with fishnets and creepers or something. I don’t know, I just feel really disconnected from what’s considered trendy in today’s fashion sense. Maybe it’s because I tried so hard for so many years to fit what was in style despite it not feeling genuine to who I was personally, that now that I’ve finally mustered enough confidence to leave the house wearing what makes me happy even if it is unorthodox and alternative (like black lipstick!!!), I just can’t get on board with what everyone else is doing. Sure, I feel a little weird dressing like it’s ten years ago when everyone else is walking around wearing like those dinky crop tops that say “I have no tits” or have like applique roses on them or whatever and anything else that’s considered modern on-trend but like...in the wise words of Kurt Cobain, “I’d rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I’m not.” I’m tired of trying to fit the status quo and doing what everyone else is doing. If I want coontails and snake bites in 2019, then goddammit I’m gonna go for it (though not gonna lie, the 20NINESCENE craze has me crying because I regret not having “the phase” in middle school that everyone else did so much sometimes that it’s physically painful so to think that there are still people out there rocking the thick side fringe and heavy eyeliner and the RAWR MEANS I LOVE YOU IN DINOSAUR shit makes me feel like maybe I’ve been given a second chance to be true to myself and become a part of a community that means something to me, rather than what I was actually doing in middle school being dragged through the mud trying to redeem myself of some sense of popularity because I was losing my best friend to the alpha female clique mentality and I was so damn unhappy, I legit had a breakdown in her pool about it once so you bet your ass I’m going to say screw it and do everything I wanted to back then now that I actually have the confidence and stopped caring what people thought about me.)

#this got so long i am so fucking sorry xD #answered asks #ask memes #lasaraleen

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trinitymarrow · 7 years ago

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MOONLIGHT SEDUCTION: Preorder Launch + Chapter Reveal!

Title: Moonlight Seduction by Jennifer L. Armentrout Release Date: June 26th, 2018

SYNOPSIS:

The de Vincent brothers are back—and so is the intrigue that surrounds them—in New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout’s sizzling new novel...

Nicolette Bresson never thought she’d return to the de Vincents’ bayou compound. It’s where her parents work, where Nikki grew up... and where she got her heart broken by Gabriel de Vincent himself. Yet here she is, filling in for her sick mother. Avoiding Gabe should be easy, especially when so much of Nikki’s time is spent trying not to be stabbed in the back by the malicious hangers-on who frequent the mansion. But escaping memories of Gabe, much less his smoking-hot presence, is harder than expected—especially since he seems determined to be in Nikki’s space as much as possible.

Gabriel spent years beating himself up over his last encounter with Nikki. He’d wanted her then, but for reasons that were bad for both of them. Things have now changed. Gabe sees more than a girl he’s known forever; he sees a smart, talented, and heartbreakingly beautiful woman... one who’s being stalked from the shadows. Now, Gabe will do anything to keep Nikki safe—and to stop the de Vincent curse from striking again.

Chapter One Reveal + Preorder Links + Campaign under the cut

Chapter 1

Six years later . . .

It took every ounce of self-control for Gabriel de Vincent to stand back and do nothing. Just stand there and watch him being led away, but that’s what he had to do, because that’s what he’d promised and Gabe tried to be a man of his word.

Sometimes he failed at that. Failed at that in ways that haunted him late at night, but he wouldn’t go back on this.

He’d promised them three uninterrupted months. That’s what he was going to give them. His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it as the Rothchilds walked back into the restaurant. He didn’t take his eyes off them, not until he couldn’t see them anymore. Only then did he look at the slip of paper.

Looking down at the drawing of puppy on a piece of blue construction paper, he felt the worst mix of emotions. Sadness. Pride. Helplessness. Hope. Fury that he’d never tasted before. He had no idea how one person could feel all of that at once, but he did.

A wry smile tugged at his lips. There was definitely talent in the drawing. Real skill. The de Vincent knack for the arts was still kicking around it seemed. His gaze flickered over what was written in a blockish handwriting. He’d already read in three times, but couldn’t bear to read it a fourth time. Not right now. He didn’t want to fold the paper and created creases in it, so he was careful as he carried it back to where he was parked.

“Gabriel de Vincent.”

Frowning at the vaguely familiar voice, he turned around. A man stepped out from behind a truck. Dark, square sunglasses shielded half the man’s face, but Gabe recognized him.

He sighed. “Ross Haid. To what do I owe the honor of seeing you in Baton Rouge?”

The reporter for the Advocate gave one of what Gabe assumed was a trademark half grin; the kind that probably got him into a places and events he sure as hell didn’t belong in. “Headquarters are here. You know that.”

“Yeah, but you work out of the New Orleans office, Ross.”

He shrugged a shoulder as he neared Gabe. “I had to come up to headquarters. Heard through the grapevine that a de Vincent was in town.”

“Uh-huh.” Not for one second did Gabe believe that. “And you just happen to hear that I was at this restaurant?”

The smile kicked up a notch as he ran a hand over his blond hair. “Nah. Seeing you here was just luck.”

Bullshit. Ross had been sniffing after his family for about two months now, trying to get to one of them when they were out at dinner or at an event, showing up at nearly every damn function one of them was attending. But back home, in New Orleans, Ross had trouble getting near them. Well, he had troubled getting to the one he really wanted to talk to which was Gabe’s older brother.

Didn’t require any leap of logic to figure out what was going on. Somehow Ross had heard that Gabe was here, and that’s why Ross conveniently ended up here. Normally he could tolerate Ross’ incessant questioning. Hell, he sort of liked the guy, appreciated his determination, but not when Ross was here and something he didn’t want a reporter finding out mere feet away.

Lowering his sunglasses, Ross eyed Gabe’s ride. “Nice car. Is it one of the new Porsche 911s?”

Gabe raised his brows.

“Family business must be going well. Then again, the family business is always going strong, isn’t it? The de Vincents are old money. The one percent of the one percent.” Gabe’s family was one of the oldest, linked all the way back to the days the great state of Louisiana was being created. Now they owned the most profitable oil refineries in the Gulf, coveted real estate all around the world, tech firms, and once his older brother married, they’d be in control of the one of the largest shipping industries in the world. So, yeah, the de Vincents were wealthy, but the car and nearly everything Gabe owned, he bought it with the money he worked for. Not the money he was born with.

“Some say that your family has so much money, that the de Vincents are above the law.” Ross straightened his sunglasses. “Seems that way.”

Gabe really didn’t have time for this. “Whatever you want to say, can you stop beating around the damn bush and get to it? I’m planning to head home sometime in the next year.”

The reporter’s smile faded. “Since you’re here and I’m here, and it’s damn hard to talk to you all any other time. I want to chat about your father’s death.” “I’m sure you do.”

“I don’t believe it was a suicide,” Ross continued. “And I find it also convenient that Chief Cobbs, who openly and publicly wanted your father’s death investigated as a homicide ended up dead in a freak car accident.”

“Is that right?”

Frustration hummed off Ross about as loud as the damn locusts. “Is that all you got to say to me about this?”

“Pretty much.” Gabe grinned then. “That and you have an overactive imagination, but I’m sure you’ve heard that before.”

“I don’t think my imagination is nearly vast enough to compete with all the things the de Vincents have had their hands in.”

Probably not.

“Okay, I won’t ask you about your father or the chief.” Ross shifted his weight as Gabe opened his driver’s door. “Also heard some interesting rumors about some of the staff at the de Vincent compound.”

“I’m started to feel like you might be stalking us.” Gabe placed the drawing facedown on the passenger’s seat. “If you want to talk about staffing, then you need to have a chat with Dev.”

“Devlin won’t make time to talk to me.” “That doesn’t sound like my problem.” “It seems like it is now.” Gabe laughed, but the sound was without humor as he reached inside, grabbing his sunglasses off the visor. “Trust me, Ross, this isn’t my problem.”

“You may not think so now, but that’ll change.” A muscle twitched along the man’s jaw. “I plan to blow the roof of every single damn secret the de Vincents have been keeping for years. I’m going to do a story that not even your family can pay to keep quiet.”

Shaking his head, Gabe slipped his sunglasses on. “I like you, Ross. You know I’ve never had a problem with you. So, I just want to get that out of the way. But you have got to come up with some better material, because that was cliché as shit.” He rested his hand on the frame of the car door. “You’ve got to know you’re not the first reporter to come around thinking they’re somehow going to dig some skeletons out of our closets and expose us for whatever the hell you think we are. You’re not going to be the last to fail.”

“I don’t fail,” Ross said. “Not ever.” “Everyone fails.” Gabe climbed in behind the wheel. “Except the de Vincents?” “You said it, not me.” Gabe looked up at the reporter. “Some unasked for advice? I’d find another story to investigate.” “Is there where you’re going to tell me to be careful?” He sounded oddly gleeful by the prospect. “Warn me off? Because people who mess with the de Vincents end up missing or worse?”

Gabe smirked as he hit the ignition key. “Doesn’t sound like I need to tell you that. Seems like you already know what happens.”

Nikki stood in the center of the quiet and sterile kitchen of the de Vincent mansion, telling herself that she was not the same little idiot that almost drowned herself out in the pool six years ago.

She sure as hell wasn’t the same idiot who had spent years making an utter fool out of herself, chasing after a grown man. An act, which resulted in one of the worst ideas she’d ever had in the history of bad ideas.

And Nikki had a remarkable history of making not the brightest of all decisions. Her dad said she had a bit of wild streak in her, taking after Pappy, but Nikki liked to blame the de Vincents for the recklessness. They had this really bizarre talent of making everyone around them stick one toe into Recklessville. Her mother claimed that most of Nikki’s bad decisions came from having a good heart.

Nikki had the habit of picking up strays—stray cats, dogs, a lizard here and there, even a snake, and humans, too. She was a bleeding heart, hating to see anyone she cared about in pain and she was oftentimes a bit overly affected by the troubles of strangers.

It was why she avoided the TV around the holidays, because they always played those heart-wrenching videos of freezing animals or children left to starve in war-torn countries. She hated everything about New Year’s Eve because of that and spent the week between Christmas and the first of January moping around.

There was a lot of Nikki that was the same as she was the last time she walked through this house. She still got emotionally invested in animals that didn’t belong to her—that was why she volunteered at the local animal shelter. She still couldn’t turn away from someone who needed help, and she still found herself in weird situations but reckless? Wild?

Not anymore.

Not since the last time she’d been in the house, right before she left for college. That had been four years ago and now she was back, and nothing and everything had changed.

“You okay, hon?” her father asked.

Turning to find her father standing just inside the large kitchen, she pulled herself out of her thoughts and smiled widely for him. Goodness, her dad was starting to look his age, and that scared her—truly terrified her. Her parents had her late in life, but she was only twenty-two, and she wanted another fifty years or so with them.

Nikki knew that wasn’t going to happen. Especially now. She forced those thoughts from her head. “Yes. I’m just . . . it’s weird being in here after being gone so long. The kitchen is different.” “It was remodeled a few years back,” he replied. The mansion was constantly being remodeled it seemed. After all, how many times had this place caught fire since it was built? Nikki had lost count. Her father drew in a deep breath, and the lines around his mouth became more pronounced. He looked so tired. “I don’t know if I’ve said this to you or not, but thank you.”

She waved him off. “You don’t need to thank me, Dad.”

“Yeah, I do.” He walked over to where she stood. “You went away to college to do something better than this—better than cooking dinners and running a household. To become something better.”

Offended on his behalf, she crossed her arms and met his weary gaze. “There’s nothing wrong with cooking dinners and running a household. It’s good, honest work. Wok that put me through college. Right, Dad?”

“We take great pride in our job. Don’t get me wrong, but what your mother and I did all these years was so you could do something else.” He sighed. “So, it means a lot that you would come home to help us out, Nicolette.”

Only her dad and mom called her by her full name. Everyone else called her Nikki. Everyone except a certain de Vincent who shall remained nameless. He and only he called her Nic.

Her parents had worked for the de Vincents, one of the wealthiest families in the States and possibly the world, since long before she was born. It was weird growing up in this house, being privy to a lot of strange stuff—things the public has no idea about and would probably pay a large sum of money to learn. And personally? It was like she had a foot in two different worlds, one absurdly wealthy and the other middle working class.

Her father was basically a butler, except she always had a small suspicion that her father had . . . taken care of things for the de Vincents that no normal butler did. Her mother ran the day-to-day functions of the house and prepared the dinners. Both her parents loved working for the family and she knew both had planned to continue to the day they died, but her mom . . . .

Nikki’s chest squeezed painfully. Her mom was not well and it had happened so fast, coming out of nowhere. The dreaded C word.

“Honestly, this is perfect. I got my degree and this will give me time to figure things out.” In other words, figure out what the hell she wanted to really do with her life. Get to work or go for her master’s? She wasn’t sure yet. “And I want to be here while Mom is going through everything.”

“I know.” His smile wobbled a little as he brushed a strand of blondish-brown hair out of her face.

“We could’ve hired someone else to step in while your mother—”

“No, you couldn’t have.” She laughed at the mere thought of that. “I know how weird the de Vincents are. I know how protective you two are of them. I know how to keep my mouth shut and not see what I’m not supposed to. And you two don’t have to worry about someone new not keeping their mouth shut and not seeing what they’re not supposed to.”

Her dad arched a brow. “A lot of things have changed, honey.”

She snorted as she took in the white marble countertops with gray veining. Mom had filled her in on some of those changes during one of her chemo treatments. After all, what else did they have to talk about while she was being pumped full of poison that would hopefully kill only the cancer cells building in her lung?

Things in the de Vincent mansion that had changed.

For starters, the patriarch of the family, one Lawrence de Vincent, had hung himself a few months back. An act that had shocked her because she figured that man would’ve outlived a nuclear bomb. And Lucian de Vincent apparently had a live-in girlfriend and they were about to move into their own place. That was even more insane, the idea of Lucian settling down.

The Lucian she remembered put the play in player. He’d been an incorrigible flirt, leaving a string of broken hearts across the state of Louisiana and beyond. She hadn’t met his girlfriend yet since they were away on some kind of trip; the rich rarely seemed to have much of a schedule. She just hoped whoever his girlfriend was, she was nice and nothing like Devlin’s fiancé.

Nikki might not have been around the de Vincents in four years, but she remembered Sabrina Harrington and her brother Parker.

Sabrina had just begun seeing Devlin the year before Nikki had left for college and that had been a year’s worth of snide comments and rather impressive disdainful looks. Nikki could deal with Sabrina though. If she was the same woman as she was before, she could be as mean as a cornered rattlesnake, but Nikki normally didn’t even register on her scale of people to pay attention to. Parker though?

Nikki suppressed a shudder, not wanting to worry her father who was watching her like a hawk.

Parker had often stared at her the way she’d wanted Gabe to look at her, especially when she had grown brave enough to move from a one-piece bathing suit to a two-piece.

And Parker . . . he had done more than look.

She drew in a deep breath. She wasn’t going to think about Parker. He wasn’t worth a single thought.

What happened to Lawrence, and Lucian’s new romance weren’t the only things her mom had told her. She filled Nikki in on the whole sister reappearing and then disappearing again thing. Something that she knew the general public had no idea had even happened. She didn’t know the details around it, but Nikki knew that in typical de Vincent fashion, it had to the most drama-llama-est thing possible.

And she also knew better than to ask questions about it.  Her father stepped back. “The boys are all out.” Thank God and baby Jesus. “Devlin should be back this evening for dinner. He likes dinner to be ready at six. I believe Ms. Harrington will be joining him.” Well, thanking God and baby Jesus lasted all of five seconds. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and make a gagging sound. “Okay.” “Gabriel is still in Baton Rouge, or at least, that’s the last I heard,” her father continued, ticking off the brothers’ schedules while she wondered what Gabe was doing in Baton Rouge. Not that she cared. She totally didn’t care whatsoever, but she wondered if it had anything to do with his woodworking business.

The man was talented with his hands.  Really talented.  Her cheeks flushed as an unwanted memory of how his calloused palms felt pierced her straight through the chest. Nope. Not going there. Absolutely not. There were examples of Gabe’s skill all around the house—the furniture, chair rails, and trim, even in the kitchen. All of the woodwork was designed and created by Gabe. As a little girl, she’d been fascinated with the idea of picking up a piece of wood and turning it into something that was truly a work of art. That fascination had turned into quite the hobby for Nikki.

It had started one long, fall afternoon when she was ten and she’d found Gabe outside, whittling away on a piece of wood. Out of boredom, she’d asked him to show her how he did it. Instead of shooing her off, Gabe had given her small scrapes of wood and showed her how to use a chisel.

She’d gotten pretty good at it, but she hadn’t picked up a chisel in over four years. Nikki refocused on what her dad was telling her. “We’re a little understaffed right now,” her dad continued. “So there’s a lot of dusting in your near future. Devlin is very much like his father.”

Great.

That was not a compliment in her book. “Is it the ghosts?” She half joked. “Scaring off the staff?” Her father shot her a look, but she knew damn well that her parents believed this house was haunted. Hell, they wouldn’t even come here at night unless it was a dire emergency. None of the staff would and everyone in town knew the legends about the land the de Vincent mansion sat on. And who hadn’t heard about the de Vincent curse more than a time or two? Being in this house as much as she had been in the past, she had seen some weird things and heard some stuff that couldn’t be explained. Plus she grew up within minutes of New Orleans. She was a believer, but unlike her friend Rosie, whom she met in college, she wasn’t obsessed with all things paranormal. Nikki operated on the whole if- you-don’t-acknowledge-ghosts-they-can’t-bother-you theory and so far it had worked so far wonderfully.

Then again, Nikki had only come here at night once in her life, and that had not turned out well at all. So maybe ignoring ghosts didn’t work, because she liked to think she was possessed by one of ghosts that supposedly wandered the halls, and that was what provoked her to do what she’d done that night. Nikki was well aware of how the house was run because she’d spent most of her summer vacations in the house watching her mom, so she got to work pretty quickly once her father left her.

First thing first was tracking down what staff they did have at the house. Understaffed her butt! The only staff they had left was her dad; the landscaper who was constantly mowing grass it seemed or re-mulching; the de Vincent driver; and Mrs. Kneely, an older woman who’d done the laundry services since Nikki was a little girl.

Beverly Kneely actually owed her own laundry business and only came to the house three times a week to take care of the linens and clothing. According to Bev, whom she found in the large mudroom at the back of the house, packing up clothing that needed to be dry-cleaned, over the last couple of months, nearly everyone had quit.

“So, let me get this straight.” Nikki smoothed back a few strands that had escaped the knot she’d pulled her hair up in. “The waiters are gone, as are the maids?”

Bev’s buxom chest heaved as she nodded. “It’s just been your parents for the last three months. I think all that work was wearing poor Livie down.”

Anger flashed through Nikki. Hadn’t the de Vincents noticed how thin and tired her mom had been getting? How quickly she got out of breath? “Why didn’t the de Vincents hire someone to help?”

“Your father tried, but no one around here wants to come close to this place, not after what happened.”

She frowned. “You’re talking about Lawrence? What he did?”

Bev tied up the bags. “Not like that wasn’t bad enough, but that wasn’t the straw the broke the camel’s back around here.”

Nikki had no idea what she was talking about. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve been updated on all the crazy. What else happened?”

Looking around the room, Bev arched her brows as she headed toward the side door. “Walls got ears. You know that. You want to know what’s been going on here, you ask your father or one of the boys.”

Her lips pursed. She was so not asking the boys.

Bev stopped at the door and looked back. “I don’t think Devlin is going to be happy when he sees what you’re wearing.”

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” It was jeans and a black tee shirt. No way was she going to dress like her mom or her dad. Her willingness to help her parents did not extend to wearing uniforms.

She looked down at herself and saw the hole just below the knee. Nikki sighed. Devlin was probably going to have a problem with the hole, but what Nikki wanted to know was what the hell had happened in this house to drive almost all the staff away? It had to be something. Not just because the de Vincents paid extraordinarily well, but also because her father hadn’t told her.  And that meant it was something really bad.

Moonlight Seduction is out June 26th, 2018!

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youswiminmywater · 5 years ago

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learning humanity from a pile of rocks

hello! i know i haven’t written in a long time, at least not here on tumblr, though i’m almost certain there isn’t anybody left that reads what i write here anyway, so this is mostly for my own benefit. writing on a keyboard just allows for me to get everything out a little quicker before i lose the thought entirely. i hope this doesn’t disturb anyone’s dashboard too much (i tend to write quite a bit when i do), but then again, i’m not all that concerned about that.

i’ve been thinking a lot about art lately, which, i understand, is a totally pretentious way to begin any conversation. it’s just been sparked by my bothering to pick up a book and read again, something that always helps me crawl out of periods of depression and sluggishness. it’s a form of self-care, really, and not something that people normally think of as self-care. sort of like how cleaning your room can make you feel better; giving your space to think about something other than your own life can, weirdly enough, make you feel a lot better about your life. oftentimes the best ways to care for yourself are doing things like this, doing things that don’t cost any money and just make you Feel Good, period. and then continue to Feel Good afterward, things that don’t have a bad aftertaste. cleaning your room is always a good example, it fixes a problem that you had and holds the promise of continuing to be fixed as long as you work at it, or at least vow to do it again in the future.

anyway, i’m already getting away from my idea! so i’ve been reading plays, namely edward albee, because he’s my favorite playwright, and plays are, well, not easy to digest, but generally short enough to consume without losing your attention. and when reading a play, i might stop and go to the back of the book to see the sketches of the stage, and then try to imagine what it would look like to see the play performed, imagine the impact of where the actors are standing or how the set was designed. and then from THIS i might go online and try to find a video of the production, or at least a clip or a trailer or something, or i might go to the wikipedia and see what the playwright said about the play, or what the critics said, or what awards it won (or didn’t win), and yada yada, i go down a rabbit hole, right? and then i end up watching a video of the playwright just being interviewed at a college talking about whatever, creativity or writing or their opinions on other playwrights, and it just gets me more and more interested in learning about that world. same process could happen with anything! you could watch a video about sharpening knives and want to learn about that, or listen to a podcast about people talking about, i don’t know, sawing wood, and realize that there’s a lot more to sawing than you initially thought.

simply put, you’re exercising your ability to learn. not to be a parrot (thought there is some value in that, too), but in this talk albee said something to the effect of, the point of formal education is to teach you how to learn about things after the formal education is over and done with. which does make sense to me, and i get a lot of enjoyment out of learning, and a find a lot of personal value in it as well. it makes me feel like i’m growing as a person, and feeling like you’re growing, or working towards something, is what helps drag you out of dark periods of your life where you feel like you’re stupid, you’re nothing, you’re not producing anything of value or doing anything important. essentially wasting your life. there’s always an opportunity to climb out of it, maybe not forever, maybe not for very long, but it can be done, and it can be done quite easily.

i remember when i was in high school, we had one class called “theory of knowledge,” which i found to be a very interesting class. it was part of the IB program (international baccalaureate), which was kind of like AP i think, in which at the end, they’d test you on various things and then ship off your answers to sweden or the netherlands or somewhere and have an examiner there grade your work. well, on one such occasion, one of the examiners was in our theory of knowledge class giving a lecture about ART, or rather, guiding a classroom discussion about ART. just the basic, age-old questions What is Art? What Can Be Art? What Can Art Be? stuff like that. and it was a fun class that i still remember because it went on and on, everybody’s opinion could be challenged and we basically reached no conclusion. so it’s something i think about, from time to time, whenever i get an idea about what the conclusion could be. my answer is usually always different, and usually informed by something i had just experienced, but i don’t know how often i’ve written it down.

anyway, on this edward albee interview video, there’s a comment that goes like this:

“ It's sad to see there's so few views of this. A cat sneezing gets 10 million views, this is partly what's wrong with people today.”

followed by:

“oh you nailed it!”

firstly, i think it’s kind of fun to read the second comment as sarcastic, though it probably wasn’t intended to be. a lot of albee’s interview revolved around being very precise and exact in your writing, all the way down to the punctuation, because it gives a different meaning when said or performed aloud. “oh you nailed it!” sounds very chandler-y, while “oh, you nailed it!” sounds more sincere, to me at least, maybe because the second one is closer to being correct english, i don’t know. even still, “oh you nailed it!” sounds even more sarcastic, but perhaps that’s just my perception. secondly, i, forever being a devil’s advocate (and an often intolerable stinker), read the first comment and wanted to challenge it a little bit, at least to myself. you see this kind of comment a lot on academic videos.

so, say you watch a video of a cat sneezing on youtube. what have you done, what has happened? it was funny, it was cute, you laughed, maybe you showed it someone else, or mentioned it at work a month later or had a period of deja vu when you saw a cat sneeze in real life. whatever. maybe you watched it a few more times and it was still funny, cute. maybe you watched it later and it wasn’t really that great anymore, lost its value. its life cycle ends at that point and you move on from it, and you likely didn’t change much from it. maybe it cheered you up or something, but even that fades away as life goes on, it’s just like a bodily function in your brain.

ok, so say you take this video of a cat sneezing on youtube and you show it to a classroom of film/visual media students. now it has been repurposed, hasn’t it? maybe now you show the video and you start dissecting it, you look at the setting, the way it was filmed, the timing of the comedy, the type of cat, the age of the cat, the length of the video, and you basically use it as a teaching device. you get other people thinking about it in a way that they wouldn’t normally think about it if they had just found it out on their own in a vacuum. and by doing this, you’re allowing someone’s perceptions to be altered, you’re making them conscious of something of which they were not previously conscious.

i think that this is what Art Is, if i may be bold, and it goes hand in hand with teaching. that is to say, probably anything CAN be art, but it’s not always art in every scenario. if it lives and dies and doesn’t change anything in anyone, it’s wasted (which, now thinking about it, might not even be the case in the first situation i detailed, lol). it’s a hard concept to define, as usual. but this is the basis of a lot of Modern art, isn’t it? like, especially the art that people don’t really consider to be art. like if someone just piles up a bunch of rocks and then puts it into an art gallery. a lot of people look at it and go “that’s not art, that’s stupid, my kid could do that, i’m being tricked, this whole thing is a farce” etc etc. it’s not necessarily the piling up of rocks that IS the art, it’s the act of putting it into another setting that makes it art, “elevates it,” so to speak. while some people are going “that’s not art,” there will be other people who are thinking “surely it is, though?” and will start examining it more thoroughly to find a hidden meaning. they’ll think about details, about why the rocks were laid out in precisely the way that they were, the color of the rocks, how they were on display in the gallery, what the NAME of the piece is...maybe they’ll even go so far as to read the plaque or google the artist or talk to the artist, if they’re present, and try to make sense of it. maybe they’ll learn something or see something or pay attention to something they previously didn’t, and maybe they won’t. this is the way even a pile of rocks can become art. you can call it trickery, i suppose, but...i don’t know, i feel like this invites people to take this sensibility with them OUT of the gallery and examine other things in the same way. it is essentially teaching you a new way to think about ordinary objects in everyday life that you might not have known about, might not have practiced, and that’s where the art is. in the teaching how to learn. you can even apply this idea to things like how we judge other people, strangers, or the people we know and love. teach us to pay attention to people in different ways and be more compassionate, or at least more attentive to who they are and what they want. can a pile of rocks make people more compassionate? sure, why not. it all depends on perception too, and how deep into the rabbit hole you’re willing to go, and whether you end up anywhere that actually has any use or value anyway...

i’ve been thinking about this concept in respect to my own relationships, both the idea of learning compassion, and the idea of gleaning knowledge or growing from being around other people. i think i’m getting into kind of a heady space about something that already exists in simpler terms; for instance, i see posts on instagram all the time of people saying things like “if someone in your life is bad for you, cut them out. don’t waste your time on toxic people, don’t waste your time on toxic thoughts, do what makes you fulfilled and happy.” things of this nature, which are things that just make sense instinctively. i’m admittedly not that great at cutting people out of my life, and sometimes of even recognizing when people need to be cut out, and sometimes of even agreeing with the notion that people should be cut out at all. part of me believes that you shouldn’t ever give up on anybody, unless they’re very actively and obviously tearing down your self-worth or impeding your life as a whole. but this doesn’t really address something like a friend that just doesn’t make the cut anymore; it’s really a gray area, and kind of a moral dilemma. when is it right to cut someone out for being just so-so?

oftentimes, i’ll approach doing something with someone else like this: if we experienced something together, spent time together, and it brought us closer together in some way, it was worth it. it being time. even if the thing we did had no, let’s say, persisting value, like if we’re just consuming mindless media together, it’s still WORTH something because it added to our friendship. the thing we did is not the important part (the pile of rocks), it’s the fact that we spent time together that matters. it demonstrates that we care enough about each other to put aside time for one another, something that is very previous, and help each other de-stress or just socialize and feel like a Normal person that makes the whole thing Worth It. and in this process, it can sometimes go even deeper than that, like if you’re having an interesting conversation or helping someone process emotions or something, but i won’t go into all of that.

i find that one of the worst feelings, though, with this in mind, is hanging out with someone, communicating with someone, and feeling like it was a waste of time. like the thing itself had no value, and the act of doing the thing with someone else also had no value. i usually characterize this as “feeling lonely even when you’re not lonely.” getting the feeling that you’ve wasted your time with someone after being with them not only feels bad for the loneliness, but also because it feels like a very cold and Calloused™ way of thinking about other people. even writing about it makes me feel like i must dissociate with people all the time, just the fact that i sometimes think this way about people. i don’t know if it’s the right way to think about relationships or if i’m totally off the path and just overthinking, as i often do. i think i’m just trying to make sense of why i feel lonely in certain scenarios, or why i might get upset and lash out at people when they don’t see anything that should be wrong. the idea that you’re getting nothing out of your relationship is a very tough pill to swallow, and an even harder idea to make an acting decision on.

but, it’s just been something i’ve been thinking about. i generally think of myself as an optimist, so even when i do think about things this way, my instinct is to say “surely this isn’t the right way to go about it. try looking at it from a different angle and maybe you won’t be so dissatisfied with some of the relationships you’ve put so much time into.” that’s another thing too, the idea that putting time into a relationship means it should pay off in some way. ugh, another ugly thought, something that i don’t even want to touch on right now. maybe it is indeed just a problem of perception, like a lot of things are, outlook. you probably never stop learning how to take care of yourself, or how to be a good person. it’s tough, man.

#personal #blog

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iiasha-archived · 5 years ago

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#5 is a good pick! #2 would help me cause say i'm drawing a pirate on a ship, then i could automatically get a male model with long dark hair who is 6 feet tall with a slim/muscular build. I could dress him up and have him do so many poses! #3 would help cause if the future drawing looks bad I can skip drawing it altogether! lol #4 would save my wallet and #6 is great if i get a hand cramp or injury, or even just get tired, cause i could always still draw! I could lay on the sofa and draw!

!!!! oooo good points, here are my thoughts on all of them. under the read more because it got a little long (i got unnecessarily excited about answering this omg). my thing for 3 is very important to me i could talk about it forever 😂

it’s honesty hour, ask me anything

instantly draw faster: honestly this would be useful to have in any situation, i’m personally a very very very slow painter so this would be so helpful in terms of just… saving time to do more art 😂 5 was just the better option overall but this would have definitely been my second choice

live models appear whenever you need them: i can definitely think of several situations where i wish i had this, sometimes its really hard to find the exact reference picture you envision for your piece. i just didn’t feel like this one had much of an overall benefit because at the end of the day there are millions of references on the internet and you can always hack up your unique reference together or make compromises or just like. learn to draw well enough you don’t need the reference to begin with 😂 we getting there, we getting there

can see what your finished drawing will look like before you even start: okay my counterargument: that completely defeats the purpose!!!! okay let me go off for a bit because this is like my whole THING like my entire high school thesis capstone thingy ma jig was about process art and how the process of creating art is oftentimes a lot more important than the final result!! like you shouldn’t obsess over what the final result SHOULD look like because then you’re forcing the piece to be something maybe it shouldn’t be!! i don’t know how many times i’ve started a piece with INTENTIONS of what it should look like, but then it led me somewhere else and that result ended up being much better than anything i could have imagined!! let the art speak to you!!! it should be a constant push and pull where you work together with your art and whatever is the result. that’s the result. and if the result doesn’t end up well you still learn sooo much more from working together with the art and just throwing intentions out the window than if you try to force something. it can get so frustrating if you have a specific end goal. just let your art run wild man!!!

endless paint and canvas for free: okay this would be like. convenient. but at the end of the day this is just a money issue 😂 but like yeah our poor wallets… god why are art supplies so expensive…

a photographic memory: already kinda spoke on this but again, this would just be so fucking convenient for so many things in and outside of art?? also like going back to having live models whenever you need them… fuck it you see it once in real life and you’re SET. no but for real this is the best option for me hands down, i see absolutely no downsides to this and it’s convenience is god tier

the ability to transmit art from your brain onto paper without using your hands: again for me this would kind of defeat the purpose of making art to begin with 😂 for me making art is a physical process and it’s just not the same as… like imagining it onto paper?? although that’d be really neat and awfully convenient for a lot of things jflkdajlfd idk i want to take art HAND CRAMPS AND ALL!!!! i personally love getting covered in paint too. actually i tend to use my own skin as like… a towel to wipe paint off of fjdkladjfk it’s a bad habit but is also kind of fulfilling in a way?? but yeah there are definitely times where i was like god i wish there was some way i could lay on my back and still draw jklfdajklfsd

#asks #ximenapaints #anyways thanks for being an art maniac with me :D

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westelfirewing · 8 years ago

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Character Profile

Full Name: Westel Araseid Firewing Other Names: West, Wes, Firewing, Captain, Ranger-Captain, West Wind

Universe They Exist In: World of Warcraft

Gender and Sexuality: Cis male, heterosexual (bi-curious???)

Pronouns: He/him/his

Ethnicity/Species: Sin’dorei

Birthplace and Birthdate: Born on his family’s estate in Quel’thalas roughly 140 years ago.

Guilty Pleasures: “Bodice ripper” novels as he calls them, bubble baths in extravagantly large tubs, silk.

Phobias: Large social gatherings, rats, storms at sea, deaths of loved ones, falling off the wagon

What They Would Be Famous For: He is probably most well known as a long-time member of the Farstrider Rangers, among those who remained in Quel’thalas during its reclamation and reconstruction.

Was once infamous in certain circles of folks who spent time in Brill (pre-renovation) for his rude, oftentimes aggressive behavior.

What Have They / Would They Gotten Arrested For: West has been arrested for assault a couple different times, once for the assault of a Silvermoon Magister. He was never formally convicted, however. He’s also had to spend the night in jail once or twice on drunk and disorderly charges.

OC You Ship Them With: I’ll forever ship him with his wife, @easierbythree's Astoreth. The S.S. Westoreth is a beautiful ship. I’m pretty fond of the ship some other folks have taken up of Westel with @sophysa-the-hunter and the forbidden ship with @meganhaner‘s Arcevus.

Your Favorite OC Relationships: West has had a lot of great different relationships. His friendship with Astoreth before they eventually gave way to romantic feels was simply amazing. Once more @sophysa-the-hunter is a great friend and drinking buddy to Westel; I feel like they really get each other on some kind of special level and West just loves being a bad influence on Soph. I love that @thedragonisaprincess has allowed for a longstanding relationship between Nuellen and West. They love each other in ways only two soldiers who trained together could and their antics never fail to amuse. Westel and @monster-pirate‘s Vivvienne have a wonderfully developed relationship that could have gone really sour but instead came to be a great friendship to the point where Viv trusted West as the godfather to her children. Having been in the Burning Tusk Tribe together, West sees her as family and as such is comfortable around her and with her presence in ways most folks don’t get to see in him.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Astoreth, to be quite honest! Along with potentially anyone else in Azeroth. West has a special gift of inciting murderous tendencies in people.

Favorite Book Genre: West doesn’t read much; he somehow does not have the patience for it. He sneaks in reading sessions with Astoreth’s trashy romance novels. You can also find him reading up on battle strategy or pouring over an atlas.

Least Favorite Book Cliche: Anything overly verbose. History.

Talents and/or Powers: Westel has a natural talent for archery, but has also worked incredibly hard over the past century or so of his life to perfect what he considers an art. He is an especially talented cook and baker and finds preparing food to be an almost meditative process. West also has an artistic streak, but doesn’t tend to have the attention span or time to really dedicate to exploring it very far. He focuses it mostly into map making.

When it comes to magic, West can’t seem to tap into whatever it is he needs to utilize it. It’s there, like any other elf, but he has no talent with it whatsoever.

Why Someone Might Love Them:

I think folks tend to like Westel for his loyalty and determination. They like him because he’s a team player, rarely acting as if he’s full of himself or necessarily better than any one person. He has a charming streak, when he really wants to, and that also tends to lure people in.

Why Someone Might Hate Them:

He can be a real dick. While most of the time, his standoffish, brooding demeanor has more to do with how nervous socializing makes him there are times when Westel is deliberately being a jackass. West is incredibly judgmental, as well, and quick to make decisions about people. He is less quick to change his mind. How They Change: Oh gosh how West has changed in the past (nine or so?) years I’ve played him. He started off as a real piece of work; deliberately antagonistic and always looking for a fight, West was not well liked in his early days (on the Kirin Tor server good lord). Having a daughter really changed his attitude and outlook on life, even if that took a while to be evident to the rest of the world.

I was really glad for that story to have occurred as it turned West into a far more well rounded character. He has developed to be a much gentler man than he used to be, and far more thoughtful as well when it comes to how he interacts with folks. He is leagues better in social settings than he used to be. And one of the biggest changes I’ve seen with West is how he views himself; he used to be so incredibly negative and self-loathing and has come a long way in having a better self-image.

Why You Love Them: I love Westel because he’s a huge fucking dork. He’ll typically seem so serious but he’s these ol’ softy of a dork in reality. I too really love how dedicated he is; to his morals, to his loved ones, to the causes he fights for. I like that he’s such a romantic. I love that he’s so taken with his children. I love that West does nothing by half-measures but rather goes all in on any commitment he makes. I find his fierce love for people and things (wife, friends, the environment, pie) to be very admirable.

Why you Hate Them: Ugh West can be so hard to play when it comes to meeting new people. His social nerves and general misanthropy are a large part of why I joined the Sunguard, but even there he’ll be difficult leaving his comfort zones and meeting new folks.

The black-and-white way he often views the world can be frustrating and is often what leads him to leaving a bad taste in others’ mouths. I also hate how West gets himself into frequent trouble with women. It’s absurd the amount of awkward and painful situations that could have been avoided if he just minded himself.

Was excited to do this meme as started up by @forever-afk!

#rp meme #character meme #profile

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