#That brain is also in this old drawing but he looks ugly and also I'm going to redraw him so you all dont get to see that

[st4rstudent]

An old Misty drawing from last year May

[hornkerling]

(The gorgeous art was a commission from leylses, who does not seem to to have an active tumblr any more - if you know where they now live please let me know for proper attribution! )

I have papers to mark, but also the upcoming game has my brain in a vice and I found myself going through my old tags to see where and how I'd left everybody, so I'm bringing back a few of the stories that meant the most to me, inspired by @thievinghippo. I have resisted the urge to re-write this beyond fixing a few of the more egregious fragments and parenthetical asides (damn, I loved a parenthetical, didn't it?). So it is here mostly in all of its old age and earnestness.

Look after each other

Isabela is the love Hawke expects. She is the one shaped to old childhood hopes and the words of all Liadan’s favourite songs, and the world turns to lurching delight and fumbling hope as the two circle each other and stare and glare and smile. Liadan grows wilder and Isabela more centred as they each, in their own way, say: let me in. Let me touch you. Let me love you, at least a little bit. And then just a breath more.  

Isabela draws her. Delights her. Lust tangles up between them, the pirate’s hands at her throat, lip caught between her teeth in concentration.

(“I have you, sweet thing. There you are.”)

***

Fenris is different. They rarely look at each other directly. They are too busy, heads bent over books or maps, her words caught between his teeth as she teaches him the silly memory songs that made words stick in her mind.

(“I’m sorry, Fenris,” she tells him, when they have three months of lessons behind them. She is delighted at his progress. It’s better than hers. Better than anything she’s ever seen. She’ll ruin it.

“I forgot how bad I was at this,” she says. “I never learnt well. Just ask Carver. We were both appallingly stupid at this. I—”

“—You,” he says, looking up from his work, hair sticking up from where his hands have tangled, “Are a better teacher than you think.”

Fenris is always surprised when he smiles, the warmth in his face flickering as he realises it’s there.

Liadan is never tired of it. She is never prepared for the answering tug his smiles always call up in her.

They look at each other sidelong, and one of them always looks away first, but there no pattern.

***

Together, all three fight well. Liadan is used to Isabela’s ruthlessness, has learned to use her magic in arcs that the pirate can exploit with a kick or a cry or twin, shining blades. She has learned to spot rare gaps in Fenris’s guard, and let that same magic be as blunt and brutal as the sword in her friend’s hand.

Force magic is ugly stuff that no one expects from the reedy singer with poor eyesight and freckles up her arms. She uses that surprise and feels Isabela’s pride and appreciation. She loves fighting from the back mostly because it means she can watch the others come back to her, Isabela kicking at bottles and pebbles and Fenris grimacing as lyrium fades back into his skin.

(“I don’t want to hurt you,” she’s said more than once. “If the magic is—”

“—It’s yours.” A shrug.

He does not look at her and Hawke wants to force it. Wants to hunker down and tilt his chin up and see. A part of her knows she could use her height for this, her self, to demand understanding, but when she feels that, she also hears Isabela’s voice in her head, and their oldest and sorest and most familiar fight twists up her guts.

“People aren’t problems, Hawke. Sometimes? Just back. Off.”

She holds back, jaw clenched.)

***

When Leandra dies, when every second breath tastes like bile, and my mother is dead repeats as the bass beneath her heartbeat, they are there. Isabela first, kissing the corner of her mouth, warm and scarf askew and never still. She looks at Liadan in all her tired hopelessness and does not turn away, but her eyes are half pleading, half embarrassed.

“I’m not good with this,” Isabela says, and Liadan doesn’t have the words to say I know or thank you. She just lets her head rest on Isabela’s chest, lets herself shake. Laughs a little at the other woman’s small huff of relief that they’ve gone bodied and wordless in the dark.

Fenris is a small knock and heavy step, and Isabela shifts to make room.

(“Are you any better at saying sorry than I am?”

“I…Is anyone?”)

Hawke lets them talk over her. She lets herself feel warm and hopeless and lost and loved and nothing, while Isabela eases her into her lap and Fenris lets one mercifully un-gauntleted hand rest on her hair.

***

She and Fenris do not want each other. Not the same way. They’ve never quite said it—never tugged at the difference between their easy company and the shiver-hope-want of Isabela’s lips on her throat, Fenris’s hands at Isabela’s hips.

They never say, You are my best friend.  I love you, and I love that you love who I love. Isn’t it gorgeous? Let’s keep being gorgeous. There is no need. Their voices blend, and in time he reads to her, her clumsy teaching turned beautiful as he shares verse and ghost story and Varric’s latest worlds.

Isabela soars over them both, and catches them both in their laughter. 

***

Liadan wonders if she can ever find words all the world’s different sorts of need. 

She watches them together. Delights at the catch in her breath, the little, happy flip inside at the sight of Isabela’s scarred, clever fingers twining with Fenris’s over a table at the Hanged Man.

In songs, Hawke knows, she’d be jealous.

She reaches out. Covers their hands with hers.

There should be new songs.

***

“You don’t even like men,” Carver says, wide-eyed and credulous as his ten-year-old self even as he looms over her in Templar armour. 

“Well observed.” 

“But–”

“–It’s none of your business, little brother.” Liadan smiles at him, rueful and soft. “I know I say that too much, but in this? It’s true.”

Leaving him at the Gallows, her staff a heavy, anxious weight across her back, Liadan worries that she must grow used to the question. 

She wonders if, given time, it’ll be easier or harder to squash the urge to punch people in the face. 

She chuckles. Easier, she hopes. If not, she’ll need to learn better aim. 

***

Liadan is a better sailor than she expects. She’d assumed she’d be terrible. 

(“You always assume that, sweet.” 

“Hush.”)

Grief does not drift away in the small boat’s wake, Kirkwall’s ashes still clinging to her skin, but it feels like it might. Finding balance is beautiful. She loves the creaks and cries and the strange gurgling noises that sneak into her daily thoughts, the music in her head. She loves the loosening of Isabela’s shoulders. Her strong, heavy body gone light in the rigging as she throws familiar words around in desperately strange ways. Tacking and tying and mainsailing and boarding stars or ports. 

Liadan relishes the slow feeling of her world changing, splitting, and making sense. 

***

Fenris’s skin burns and darkens. Her own only burns. They both catch themselves staring at the blisters on each other’s hands, and they exchange stories of stars as Isabela steers them toward Minrathous.

“Did you think you’d go back?” she asks.  

“Not like this,” he says. “It is–I do not know if it–”

“We’ll help,” Liadan says, hating her own earnestness even as Fenris presses a kiss to her cheek, just above the bone.   “You know that, I hope?”

She catches him smiling–more a crinkle about the eyes than anything else. 

“You did always say I’d never need to ask you to hunt slavers.” 

“You’re teasing me.” 

“Yes, Hawke.” Fenris murmurs. There is wonder in it. 

***

Minrathous almost becomes a home. Isabela grumbles–port taxes are brutal, and harder than most to evade. But there is something astonishing in the decaying finery all about them. Liadan’s songs turn learn new stresses that come in groups of six and sevens and full of unexpected tonal fractions. Isabela finds her a stringed instrument that fits across the lap, and Liadan is lost for hours trying to match interval to thought. 

(“I didn’t even steal it, Fenris.” Muttered delight in the corner of a small, dockside room, the sunlight turned thick through bright orange curtains.  

“You sound very proud.”

Liadan looks up as they kiss. She lets them get their breath back before she tells them to hush.) 

***

They are not always together, of course. Isabela is growing in boats and restlessness. A day in the market for Fenris becomes two weeks in Qarinus, Isabela and Liadan squinting in amazement at his bold, sparse handwriting when he lets them know he is following traces of Varania that pricked at him with hope he is not sure he can bear. 

Liadan writes more than songs. Varric’s answers grow thicker and more frequent, paper piling up whenever she has a fixed address, 

(“If I knew what dreaming felt like,” Varric writes, “It might be something like this. The red lyrium’s still here. Still other damn places, and it’s not going away, Hawke. I think the years are turning strange on us. Don’t know what that means.”)

***

Merrill visits. She moves through Minrathous with her energies coiled tight, movements too quick and eyes too large. “It’s lovely to see you all,” she says, while Liadan plays the treasured dulcimer and Fenris avoids her gaze and Isabela, face softer than they’ve seen in years, slips an arm about her waist.

“All of you,” she repeats. “Even you, Fenris.” 

Fenris catches Merrill’s tiny smirk. It distorts in the wine bottle he has brought out for the peculiar table. Merrill holds her glass. It splashes, thick and near-enough-to-blood that he should, he thinks, be appalled. But he’s chuckling, and when he does raise his head to see those ridiculous eyes on his, they’re warm with surprised approval.  

The next day, Merrill asks Isabela a favour. 

“Can you teach me how to spit?” 

“I’m sorry, kitten?” 

“Please,” Merrill says. “Pirates are good at that sort of thing, aren’t they?”

Isabela laughs and complies, Liadan watching with wide eyes at the serious discussions of aim and phlegm and head-tilt. 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“You love me, Hawke.” 

“Always true.” 

“You’re so sweet,” Merrill says, and Isabela’s laugh turns from raucous to soft. 

“You are,” Merrill says. “Also, you’re staring a little.” 

“I’ve missed you, kitten,” Isabela says. 

Liadan watches them. Catches the faint flush growing on Merrill’s face. Knows that swallow of Isabela’s. The small shifts of muscle that say the other woman is trying very hard, just this once, not to touch. 

She stands, walking between them to kiss the corner of Merrill’s mouth, smiling as the elf turns her head and lets it slip.

“That’s two of us, you know,” Liadan says. She feels bold and open and scalded as her bravery turns into a blush. “If you like.” 

“Sometimes,” Isabela mumbles as Fenris sighs with affectionate exasperation and picks up a book, shaking his head at them, “I really like my life.” 

***

Fenris catches Merrill later, small body tense as she stands at the base of the grand imperial library, looking up at the columns and statues of magisters-past. 

He wants to pull her back. The urge surprises him, sharp and worried as the pricking on his skin from too many eyes in this public place, the skin too tight over his cheeks at his wrists. 

He stares as she spits at the feet an archon. She watches her efforts drip down one enormous, silverite boot, and then turns away. 

He catches up to her. They are silent as the crowd opens and swallows them, his shadow careful over hers as she wipes the back of her mouth with a shaking hand.   

“I’m not as sweet as they think,” she says, after a while. 

“I know.” 

“I think you do,” Merrill’s smile is lopsided. “I’m glad I came, of course. It’s been so good to see everyone; it would have been even without–” her blush flares up. Fenris watches as the blood seems to sink back into her skin, markings stark. 

“Even without all of that,” she says. “But Tevinter. I hadn’t thought. Not really. Seeing all this knowledge. All this old power, and most of it’s nearly dead, but my people died first. For that mural, maybe. Or that statue. It’s all–”

“–Merrill–”

“–pointless.” 

She stops to breathe, glaring at the city-shadows, and Fenris isn’t sure who is more surprised when he pulls her into a rough embrace. 

“I do not understand,” he says. “Not fully. But nothing you do is pointless, and there are many reasons for rage.” 

Merrill looks at him. He does not flinch when she cups his cheek. They are of a height, her eyes dark and locked with his. 

It breaks when she smiles. Her eyes close. He catches small, bright teeth and a half-laughed breath. 

“You love them very much, don’t you?” 

Fenris squirms, 

“Yes.” 

“Good,” Merrill says, stepping back. Her hair has grown in the years since Kirkwall. “You’re all very nice together.” 

***

“I have to go back,” Hawke says, in the end.

The rift light tinges everything. Their skin and their teeth; the street and the oily water of the port. Even Isabela’s jewellery picks up a layer of corpse green, and Fenris tastes magic at the back of his throat. 

“Yes,” Isabela says. 

“No,” says Fenris. 

They glare at each other, and Liadan holds back a sob. 

“It’s her choice, sweet thing,” Isabela says, tugging gently on Fenris’s hair. “She’s a big girl.”

“Varric needs my help,” she says. “And if it is–”

“I cut off the magister’s head,” Fenris says. “I pulled out his heart and cut off his head. We all checked–”

“–Twice,“ Isabela sighs. 

“And if Corypheus is still alive,” Liadan says, “Then I’m the one who’s fought him. Feels only right to do it again.” 

“You,” Fenris mutters, words thick, “Are a fool about this.”  

Liadan sighs. “Please,” she says. “Look after each other.” 

“No,” Isabela says. 

“Yes,” says Fenris.

The three hold hands as they look toward the end of the world. 

[charlie-ver]

anyway since i am here. hi. i'm redoing perseus' scar sheet because old one is so ugly lol (i will not show it, you can dig for it. pointing at u)

he will also have one new scar, he may be a blood magician but there are circumstances under which he can't prevent scarring/can't actually heal it via magic entirely but can only help to speed up the process. (if you desire the Yaps.... you know what to do <: )

and yes i flip left/right because it's easier for my brain to process what's what when the way you're looking at my art is like, you are the viewer in the situation. i think it's the superior way to draw actually. just makes more sense

[measuringbliss]

Spider-Man Read-Through 022: The Master Plan of the Molten Man... and Dracula is also there (ASM 132-133, GSSM 1)

MASTERPOST

In this duo, we see an old friend... or two. And then, we meet a vampire. OoOoOh~!

I really enjoy the Molten Man's new design! Gorgeous cover.

It may be January in the Marvel-verse, but we're in May 74, publication-wise!

Liz is back! Hasn't been seen since issue 30, which explains why I keep mistaking Betty and her.

I don't know why, but I remembered this specific (and very ugly) maid. Poor lady.

Anyway, Raxton is hot, there I said it, we can get on.

When I first saw those panels, I thought it was exactly like how Romita would draw Liz... then I checked the credits again... and it's him! His soapy style is gorgeous as ever. Peter says she never got on with MJ, but given that MJ appeared for the first real time in #42... I don't know what he's on. The art of the retcon!

Ned, who's investigating the maid's intel on Raxton, almost dies as Raxton (actually the Molten Man) makes his room explode. I like that Ned (and the rest of the cast) are more involved! I miss them.

The Molten Man has apparently not been seen since #35, which checks out. It's the occasion for the artists to put gold, which is a shade we don't see so much.

Look, is this a safe space? Can I say what's on my mind?

The feet are really nice. I'm not particularly into feet (I know, TMI) but I'm really impressed by how it looks good. And the rest of Raxton's body is obviously quite well-done too. I'm not saying that Spider-Man comics made me gay, but they sure aren't beating the allegations.

Ned is very badly aged, but I like the damsel in distress look.

Raxton's radiation has a bad influence on Peter's metabolism, and he might very well die by the next issue...

Oh, who are we kidding?

In the readers' letters, it seems like Gwen's death has now mostly been forgiven, and someone is praising MJ--and she deserves it!

Even men want to see more of Peter! I'm afraid the situation isn't exactly adapted, however.

As a matter of fact, Spidey has already planned to party in a sauna with another man. Better luck next time!

(I love those smoke effects.)

Liz reveals that Raxton is her brother, which I completely forgot about.

We rarely see that kind of comedy, hahaha.

So. Um. It's a classic story of Spidey kind of being a jerk. Um. So Liz's brother is dead. For now. Maybe. Oof.

In the comments, there's also people talking about Russia's attack on Ukraine. Gerry Conway's run is really provocative, huh! I'm kind of loving it. His shaking of the status quo, not the attack.

I wonder if we'll get to see Liz's reaction :(

I'll do Giant-Size 1 later, it's currently more than 3 am. Hey, do you know what we'll get next time? A big batch... and Harry's big moment as, you know, the, the...!

Oh, you'll just have to wait!

______________________________________________________________

And here's the late addendum of Giant-Size Spider-Man #1!

I'm into that, actually!

So May's dying again (isn't she always?) and Peter needs to get her a vaccine. Ross Andru thus entertains us with a brilliant perspective shot.

Their homoeroticism never fails. Reading the summary of Marvel Team-Up 23 actually was a treat, because I finally got the answer to a years-old question of mine: did Iceman really rob a bank in the first few pages of this issue?

No, he didn't, folks!

Yes, you're getting a ton of screenshots for this part, since I know there's no more issue in this batch after this one.

Anyway, Dracula... Could you please breed me?

To me, Peter and Dracula crossing paths was like, an interplanetary event. It gave me chills. In fact, it still does and I think I should write Peter/Dracula smut now so thank you to the whole team, you've made a mess out of my brain, ARE YOU HAPPY?!? (It is 3 am.)

At least three factions are out there to find Maxfield, either to kill him (Dracula), use him for bartering (the Whisperer and Simian), and naturally Peter just wants to heal his aunt.

I remember that exact cosplay!!!! Funny what the brain remembers and doesn't. Sir, if you thirst so much, maybe I could come to your aide. You just need to ask. Okay, that's actually optional.

The Whisperer's men have a run in with Dracula and think he's Maxfield, which totally offends Dracula. As revenge, he decides to homosexualize his assailants.

Muahahaha.

The writing team then attempts to gaslight me into thinking Dracula isn't hot as fuck.

They're not doing a good job, I can tell you.

A woman is attacked by Dracula, Peter hears her, alerts the captain, who makes Dr. Maxfield come... and Simian follows them.

The fake Hawkgirl attacks one of them and is knocked unconscious. They escape with the man, Peter escapes too...

I'm all giddy!!!!!! Don't know why, but I love that "oh it's not the end yet... or rather, at all! I'm loving this romp. It's a complete joy.

In a great feat of misdirection, Simian and his men find Spider-Man... but actually, he's just a rando in a costume! That's funny and foreshadowed (given that everyone's in a costume anyway). And if I remember, this isn't the only misdirection...

The guy on the right is a fun one.

Meanwhile, Dracula is just as uncomfortable watching Babylon's first 10 minutes as I was. (It's a great movie, go watch it.)

Great mise-en-scène! The Whisperer has trapped the guy, but a bat follows... and hits Simian with its gay ray. Hurray!

Gosh, Dracula is such a girlboss. "I have been harassed--attacked--INSULTED..." Iconic.

Dracula eventually escapes, convinced that he just threw Maxfield overboard... but Spidey caught fake Robin Hood!

And thus, the biggest twist arises!

What a girlboss too.

And that's how it ends. A stellar issue! Loved it.

[mahiiimahiiii]

Could I get a matchup?

I'm a 5ft tall straight woman with freckles (like a lot) (I'm pale as heck and I don't tan I just burn and then get freckles) , green eyes, medium length shaggy dyed black hair with bangs (naturally brown). Short and chubby with an hourglass figure.

I am a Sagittarius (tho I don't really belive in that sort of stuff) and have a mediator personality on the Briggs scale.

I love to bake, sew, crochet, draw, etc... Basically anything where I get to create something. I love seeing an idea come to life. I'm constantly making things and I like to fidget with anything I get my hands on (meaning I have a habit of breaking stuff) (often)

Baking and cooking in particular because I like to give things to people and it's a lot less weird to randomly gift cookies or a meal instead of a plushie.

I also keep freshwater aquariums and love the process of building tanks and decorating them. I especially love shrimp because they are adorable. And plecos.... I love my babys

I also keep insects and a gecko. I love them all. I make little hats for my gecko because he tolerates me too much..

Can I include pictures.... I'm including pictures

The first one is my favorite ugly boy, Groot. Second is Carlos who hates my face. Leo is the gecko, he is precious. Domino is the Betta. And ki-ki is my one eyed old woman.

I constantly crave affection (but will never admit to that) I really love cuddling, and am definitely touch starved but anyone who knows that has figured it out themselves. Because for some reason my brain thinks I don't deserve any of it. I really want to just be held one day. big strong man.... Or just a man really

Thanks ahead of time... Sorry if this is too long.

hello!!! i love your menagerie, please give your cat a kiss on her head please. plecos are adorable i do love their mustaches. i also love your geckos hat, he is looking rather dashing!

for you it feels slightly obvious that Halsin would be the best choice. (don't think i didn't see that last part /lh)

your menagerie already speaks for itself! he would most certainly be at home in that environment!

the scent that i'm getting is jasmine and monoi oil, there's a song called "forever" by the little dippers, and that's the vibe i'm getting. very sweet and dreamy!

Halsin is a very affectionate guy, he would all but melt away all needs for any other touch as well. (get onto hugging people!! it helps manage stress!!!)

for food i feel like a nice salmon with lemon and herbs du provance. salty, refreshing, and a yummy spring and summer meal. (if this makes sense my brain makes weird connectionsss)

i think for y'all it would be a craft date, this could mean going to a fabric or wool store. or sitting in a shopping cart in a home depot while he looks for silly home renovation things to do.

i feel like it could also be a lot of parallel play with soft music, doing your own thing together.

overall this sounds really cozy.

hope you enjoyed!

[jonny-be-gewd]

Hey is everything ok you haven’t been active much lately?

Awww, I really do appreciate your concern. REALLY REALLY. I've been here for like 12 years. I've been an Aidan blog for 9 of those years. Rarely ever did anyone check up on me when I went MIA.

I mean, it didn't really bother me too much, but it's still nice to know someone is paying attention.

I'm okay though, anon. I had a really busy weekend. I had to do my youngest son's birthday party. (He's 11 now). And my 17-year-old, Aiden, was in Daytona at his very first ever music festival, first concert ever too. So half of my brain was there with him. It's the first time he's ever been that far away from me for that long (four days), without being with another family member.

When I got some time to rest I did make some more GIFS. You're Ugly Too. I look through all of my movies and interviews when I want to GIF and just GIF whatever seems to draw my attention in the moment. Eventually I want to have every single frame, of every single thing he's been in, GIFed.

Also, my inbox is so full it's overwhelming me. In all my years on Tumblr my inbox has never been as full as it is now. I have about forty-some inbox. All but maybe one or two are about Petyr. I'm picking and choosing which ones to answer because many of them have already been discussed before. So, if anyone wants to see them just search "anon" on my blog, maybe "Petyr Baelish". I try to tag most of them as anon but sometimes I'm in a hurry and I don't.

Okay, as usual this is getting too long. I'm too fucking wordy.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Imaginary Friend : Bonus Scene - Part 2

Yennefer suggested that they take Potoo Head Geralt on a trip into town. She was happy when Jaskier excitedly agreed, glad that he was finally getting comfortable with leaving the house again.

"You-you're coming too, right, Geralt?" he asked, looking at Geralt. He started nervously fidgeting with that one corner of his blanket that he had wrapped around his shoulders. Geralt could hear his heartbeat speed up, and smelled the hint of anxiety.

"I'm coming," he assured him.

"That's what she said!" Jaskier laughed.

Geralt and Jaskier snickered, Yennefer sighed in mild annoyance, and Potoo Head Geralt stood there looking confused.

They agreed upon the story that Potoo Head Geralt was a Witcher friend of theirs who had been cursed while working a contract and was staying with them while Yennefer looked into how to break it. If anyone asked, his name was Jacek of Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had rolled his eyes. He already had a 'Dandelion' and now he had a 'Hyacinth'. If this kept up, he was going to end up with a bouquet of friends.

He didn't think the name fit Potoo Head Geralt at all, but Yen and Jaskier thought they were being clever, so Geralt just went with it. It wasn't worth an argument over.

Potoo Head Geralt stuck close to Jaskier, who used Yennefer's mental link to keep up a running commentary with 'Jacek', answering his questions and reassuring him if he was feeling apprehensive. Jaskier kept close to Geralt, like he had been doing anytime he went out. He still had bad moments, and needed his Emotional Support Witcher, but he could also tell that Geralt was feeling a little bit jealous, and a little useless.

For being such a Big Bad Witcher who "Needed no one", he sure did need a lot of attention.

Yennefer mentally shook her head in amusement as she watched them. She noted that Geralt was wearing his ratty Emotional Support Hoodie even though he had his Emotional Support Bard with him. She knew from the way he had pulled the hood up, that he was feeling very uncomfortable from all the attention Potoo Head Geralt was drawing to their little group.

Most people could tell that Geralt was a Witcher, and that Potoo Head Geralt was Witcher-shaped, so they avoided them. While most people didn't hate Witchers like they used to, they were still nervous around them and avoided them when they could.

Jaskier purposefully tried to make Geralt jealous after a man at the grocery store had (after watching Potoo Head Geralt go 'mwawp' everytime the scanner beeped when someone scanned an item) asked if the curse had affected more than just their friend's appearance, and Geralt had shrugged and muttered "Bird head, bird brain."

Now Jaskier was leading his dream creature around like a small child, handing him things he expressed interest in, and explaining what it was.

In retaliation, Geralt started paying more attention to Yennefer.

Then they started trying to put things in the trolley that were not on their shopping list. It escalated until Yennefer saw them both running towards her with arm loads of non-list items. She'd frowned and said in her best Mom Voice," PUT THAT SH*T BACK!"

All around the store, children (and several husbands) had rushed to comply.

They decided it would be best if they avoided taking Potoo Head Geralt on long errands, or to places with lots of people. There were plenty of hole-in-the-wall places in Oxunfurt, and Jaskier had a soft spot for those kinds of places. They were small and cozy, quiet, and they reminded him of his University days.

The park had been fun. Potoo Head Geralt had enjoyed the swings, and Jaskier and Geralt had only aquired minor scrapes and bruises from getting thrown off the old-school merry-go-round.

When Geralt had said he was going to spin it 'super fast', he'd f***ing meant it. Yennefer had ugly laughed from the swings and yelled 'Dumba**!" when Geralt had gotten it spinning, jumped on, and almost immediately flown off. He'd bounced, then skidded across the grass on his face in the classic 'scorpion pose'. He'd gotten up with a scraped elbow and a scrape right in the middle of his forehead.

Jaskier had started laughing the second Geralt had gotten thrown off and followed seconds later, hitting the ground and ragdolling arcross the grass, then laying still. Potoo Head Geralt had run over immediately, thinking he was dead because he wasn't moving. Jaskier had sat up seconds later, gripped his lower leg dramatically, and squeaked, "Ow, my knEEEEEE!"

The Voice Crack worked on Potoo Head Geralt just as well as it worked on Yennefer and Geralt. The potoo-headed creature grabbed Jaskier, eyes bulging in panic, and started 'mwwaaawwp' ing like a car alarm. It had taken them several long minutes to convince him that Jaskier was fine.

The 'dumba**' band-aids had been handed out and they had gone home. Geralt was finally starting to kind of warm up to the creature. It was kind of fun watching him experience things in their world.

But he was also struggling to fit in. Geralt could see it. The thing was overwhelmed with how this world worked. He was not made to live here, among people who barely tolerated Witchers. He wasn't used to being stared at either. Back in the dream world, weird creatures were completely normal. They were far from the weirdest things to exist, especially in Jaskier's dreams.

The day finally came where Jaskeir had to make The Decision. Geralt had driven them to a little curry shop tucked back in an out of the way place. It was one of those little shops that was all but hidden from view, and you had to walk down the gap between two buildings to get to it. The path was narrow, but it opened up into an almost fae little courtyard with string lights and little tables, moss between the cobbles, and ivy on the walls. And the food was amazing.

Jaskier and Yennefer were watching Potoo Head Geralt wolf down his curry, while Geralt took pictures and vidoes. The couple on the other side of the outdoor area watched in mild amusement.

Two young men had come in and started causing trouble for the staff, harassing the young women behind the counter, and complaining about there being Witchers present. Geralt had ignored them. Jaskier had started getting that look in his eye, so Geralt had kicked him under the table, and Yennefer had shoved a spoonful of curry into his mouth with a casual "Eat your curry, darling."

Things went to sh*t when the two men decided to come over to their table and start bothering them. Geralt had slowly stood up, intending to leave so as not to cause anymore disruption, when one of the men swung a chair at him.

Potoo Head Geralt had gone into Witcher Mode. Jaskier had been a mess afterward. The event had triggered flashbacks, and when the police arrived and wanted to take Potoo Head Geralt, he'd had a panic attack and Geralt had to take him off to a quiet corner to calm down.

Yennefer had quickly explained that 'Jacek' wasn't a monster, he was just cursed, and she was working on it.

The witnesses had vouched for their innocence, and the staff had showed the police the video of the man attacking Geralt, and Jacek defending him.

They had returned home, and after a brief discussion, they had all agreed that it would be best for Potoo Head Geralt to go home. It just wasn't safe for him here. Someone, sooner or later, would come after him.

Yennefer started crafting a spell to return him to the dream world. She took her time, wanting to give Jaskier a little more time with his friend before he had to say goodbye.

When the spell was ready, they gathered in the living room. Jaskier had hugged Potoo Head Geralt, trying not to completely break down. It had been painful to watch. Geralt had put a supportive hand on his back, rubbing slow circles and letting him take his time with his farewells.

Once they were finally ready, Yennefer cast the spell.

And nothing happened.

She made a slight adjustment to the spell, and tried again.

And again.

Then one more time.

"Er...Yen?"

"Mwaawwwp?"

"Hm."

"Well, f**k..."

[browzerhistory]

tips for beginning artists from someone who's been drawing since he could first pick up a crayon:

1. anything worth doing is worth doing poorly

scared the drawing you want to make will turn out ugly? nervous you won't do the angle/character/lighting/etc justice? do it anyway. do it scared. do it weird, do it anatomically incorrect, do it uncolored, but whatever you do, draw that thing. it's better to get the idea out on paper/canvas/etc than to leave it in your brain to eventually fade away. if you still really love the concept, you can come back to it later with better skills, and if you end up disliking it, well, now that you've drawn it you don't have to ever again!

2. get a little silly with it

experiment with your art. go to a color palette generator and make something with the first thing you get. make ocs with complicated designs and weird backstories. change things about your style just to see how they look. the more things you try out, the more things you'll find out you like (or dislike), and your art will start to really feel like yours. i'm not sure if the Youth of Today get as hung up over not having an art style as i used to, but if you do, there's only one way to get it: fuck around and find out.

3. always cheat

listen. there are many people who will tell you that tracing a reference or color picking from a photo or whatever is cheating. those people are lying to you. obviously there are limits (like don't trace/recolor art and post it without credit), but the vast majority of the time, tracing and taking inspiration from other people's art is how you get better.

(one way to stop yourself from plateauing is to trace a reference, then try drawing it by hand. you can also try breaking down a pose into basic shapes/lines; if this seems confusing, just pretend you're making hitboxes for it video game style.)

4. take a goddamn break

if drawing is starting to feel more like a chore than a hobby, or if you feel like you've run out of good ideas, stop for a couple days. pursue another hobby, eat good food, observe local flora and fauna. even if you love drawing with all your heart and think you'll never get enough of it, your brain needs a refresher every now and then to come up with new cool stuff to draw. trying to push past burnout will most likely just ruin the fun of it for you.

5. make a mary sue oc immediately

there's way too much hate on mary sue characters, especially when so many stories introduce protagonists by going "what if there was a guy. and he was the Specialest Guy Ever." having a character who's sexy and smart and powerful is not only fun, but good for the soul, and nobody gets hurt when you make one. plus, it's hard to overstate how good it is to have a character you love to draw in lots of different outfits, poses, and situations.

6. your art is good because you made it

now this one will probably be controversial, since a lot of artist memes are about feeling self conscious about or straight-up hating your own art. but you've gotta find pride in what you make. you've gotta look at your drawings and say, "this fucks actually and i did an amazing job." for me, even if i don't like how a drawing turned out, i try to find at least one thing i really like about it, like the shading or colors or emotion. making self-deprecating jokes stops being ironic the more you do it, and the same applies to jokingly tearing your own art apart.

7. keep your old art

a very good poster once said that throwing away/deleting your old art is like walking up a staircase and smashing every stair behind you. even if you're very high up, you won't see it because it looks like you're just on the first step.

personally, i have sketchbooks going back to early 2018, when i first started regularly using them, and i keep some of my first ever digital pieces in an archive on my tablet, but i get that that sort of record keeping isn't possible for a lot of people. the gist of this advice is just to have some reminder of where you've been, so you can look forward to where you're going.

8. make furry characters

beyond the obvious (you're probably a furry and it's nice to be able to draw your fursona), doing furry art is also a great way to find community in art. whether you do commissions, comics, or just draw yourself for fun, furry art is a wonderful method of self-expression that has the added bonus of being basically limitless. my main fursona is a bug, my secondary one is a gastropod. follow your dreams.

there may be more i add to this list later, but these are the main ones i can come up with. obligatory disclaimer that i'm just one guy with one experience; this advice might not work for everyone; etc etc. i've just tried to base this off of what i wish i knew when i started getting into art seriously.

[separatist-apologist]

I know this isn’t your usual thing but did you like acosf? Why or why not? I love Nesta and was disappointed with it!

It has been SO LONG since I've ranted about ACOSF. Can you believe there was a time when like, I was knee-deep in Neris and was really critical of the IC? It feels like forever ago.

Did I like ACOSF? Brain off, yes, I liked it a lot. It's very much an SJM novel in which centuries old men get to tell near-teenage women what they do/don't need, put them in danger as life lessons, and any bad behavior on said man's part is erased by the fandom in favor of vilifying the woman in question. And before someone tries to come for me, this happens with literally ALL the ACOTAR woman LI's (so save your breath).

Did I like ACOSF? Brain on, no. Cassian is the picture of petulant asshole unable to reign himself in for 5 minutes. Nesta is so successful in pushing the buttons of the general to the night courts armies that you have to wonder how he even got the job?

The plot is thin and falls apart the moment you examine it. Cassian is GENERAL to the NIGHT COURT. And Rhys asks Cassian why he doesn't want more. Why SHOULD he? Does Rhys want more than being High Lord? Does Azriel want more than being spymaster? Cassian holds the highest position for his profession, why should he have to play courtier, too? It's necessary to move the plot forward, since Nesta is effectively trapped in the house of wind, but it bothered me from the jump. Cassian is supposed to be the most powerful warrior, and the idea that somehow its under vauled to...what? Arguing with Eris? Hilarious.

I also dislike a lot of the romance beats in the book. I don't care about the sex/sex plot line, but Cassian spends a lot of time seemingly breaking Nesta down when he internally is aware that she is punishing herself for things that are not her fault. Like he'll think that, he'll feel sympathy...and then he'll laugh when she falls down the stairs. Azriel asks early in if a facial injury Nesta got is an accident, implying it could have been Cassian and that was an ugly moment to me. It pulled me out of the book like oh my god?

I have spoken so much about that hike scene that I'm not touching it here again, but the idea that it was supposed be therapeutic frustrates me. Cassian has no business punishing Nesta for the problems between herself and her sister and literally cant' help himself it seems. Hardly a good look.

Finally, the whole Eris/Cassian/Nesta plot. While I think that people would have liked the Neris pairing regardless of how Eris acted, SJM was working overtime to make Eris sympathetic for her upcoming plot while also making Cassian...what we saw him as...which made people wonder why Cassian was somehow the better person. Because he's IC? Friends with Rhys (who petulantly hates Nesta over her childhood with his wife)? It was hard not to draw comparisons with their situation and think they could have helped each other.

There are a lot of things I liked- Cassian learning to dance, Cassian and Nesta in the prison, Cassian crying when Nesta confesses she doesn't think she's good enough for him because he's so overwhelmed anyone things HE is too good for THEM.

I was never a Nesta hater, and Cassian was my favorite of the bats, so ACOSF was rough for me. I'm doing a big re-read with LB and I admit, I am both excited and dreading getting back to it.

I think ultimately while SJM's personal journeys are her own, the way she conceptualizes trauma and how one moves through it definitely leaves an ugly taste in my mouth. Themes of being broken, ugly, unwanted and damaged and healing through being broken down further by a man who is your forever soul mate have never sat right.

[gabrieldrawsstuff]

Aight fellas, I'm doing a list of canon descriptions of dw characters for future reference, might do a second part with more minor characters

SPOILER ALERT OBV

STRANGER

-THE JOURNAL : "Somehow I'm wearing a coat, so I must've changed my clothes on my way here. I don't recognize myself anymore. I can barely hold this pencil. Has my body changed?"

-DOCTOR : "I see you haven't regained your speech. You need to find another doctor."

-SNAIL : "Your face... What happened to you?

The snail's jaw falls so low, it almost detaches itself from the rest of the body.

You scared me... You barely resemble a human... You should cover yourself..."

SNAIL : "You're so ugly, I feel like puking... You barely resemble a human being..."

THE CRIPPLE : "You, lad. You've got your hands and legs. Strong arms. I beg you!"

MAMA ELEPHANT : "Can't you speak? Did someone take away your voice?"

MAMA ELEPHANT : "Your gob looks like that because of this fiendish air, do you know? I bet you can't speak, because you didn't keep your mouth shut when walking through the woods."

MAMA ELEPHANT : "(...) I know you want something, you leper demon."

MUSHROOM GRANNY : "(...) But you're young and strong."

CHICKEN LADY : "Whaddaya need, poor soul? Hungry, eh? I'd give ya some stew, but what good will it do?"

(I think in polish version it was closer to 'how will you eat it' although I can't be sure)

MIRROR : "You are one ugly bastard. I guess you got what you deserved."

MUSICIAN : "This is our doctor, yes? He is just as brave and good as you are!"

MUSICIAN : "You're not af-fraid of anything!"

WOLFMAN : "Even from afar I can smell your putrid stench. Be glad I don't have an appetite for carcasses, Meat"

WOLFMAN : (after the church dream sequence) "Meat, what's with the big eyes? Hehe... Scared?"

WOLFMAN : (when you nod to a question if you're making a joke of him) "You're a brave piece of meat... and what's more important, one with a sense of humor. 

WOLFMAN : "Are you pretending to be human, or are you just cracking jokes?"

WOLFMAN : "You look tired, Meat. Busy night?"

WOLFMAN : "Have fun, Meat... Just remember to hide that disaster of a face or it's no dancing for you"

WOLFMAN : (when you spare the sow) "My heart sings with joy when I see such selfless kindness. Tell me the truth, Meat. It was you, wasn't it?"

vvvvv

TRADER

-A man, roughly my size, is standing before me.

I can barely make out his disturbingly familiar features through the matte visor of his helmet...

The massive helmet is covered with an old sack and seems to be an integral part of the unnaturally pale body.

-The man reaches out to me with his black hand. It's covered in charcoal... There's something written on his worn, woolen glove.

-Visibly struggling, the man drops the sack from his back and bends in half, as if out of breath. He shakes the dust off his clothes, then rolls up the sleeve of his, seemingly too small, jacket. 

-The old sack covering his body slides down, revealing his chest, covered in horrid growths. It is fused with a porous helmet, pulsating to the rhythm of his breath.

vvvvv

WOLFMAN

THE JOURNAL: "If I'm not delusional, the man whom I met... had the head of a wolf."

FIRST ENCOUNTER: The figure hides its face under the hood. It smells of wet soil and fur.

WOLFMAN: "(...)I barely believe my beautiful eyes... (...) The Wolf smiles, revealing a row of sharp teeth.

AT BARN RUINS: The Wolf makes a quick leap and, bouncing against me with his swollen belly, he puts his paws on my shoulders. He ostentatiously licks his face. (...)

-I notice fresh bloodstains on his fur and feel streaks of his saliva dripping onto my coat. 

-The Wolf takes two steps back. I can only see a row of filthy, sharp teeth underneath his hood.

-The Wolf squeezes my arms and starts licking my face. Once from the left side, once from the right side. (...) His breath stinks of rot.

WOLFMAN: "Thanks to you I feel fulfilled! I got my girl, my sweet little lady back."

-Suddenly the Wolf sends me back with a powerful push and reaches into his coat pocket.

WOLFMAN: "(...) and then nothing wil keep you from getting the fuck out of my part of the woods! Do you get me, Meat? You will pack your bags, dive into that stinking hole of yours and dissa-fucking-pear!"

-Finally he snorts, his thick, yellow spit landing on the photo.

-The Wolf grabs the box and starts sniffing it from every angle. I could swear I've heard his tail moving under his coat.

WOLFMAN: "And what am I supposed to do with it? Bite it until it opens? Your brain must be rotting if you think I will break my fangs for this shit."

WOLFMAN: "An electronic game, eh? About a wolf stealing chicken eggs... hehehe. Good one!I've a soft spot for games, how about you?"

-As I produce the key, the Wolf's pupils widen with excitement.

WOLFMAN: (about villagers) "Those selfish, deceitful wretches! They think they're superior, because they have human gobs. They treat us like lepers! But you know what? Fuck them. We're buddies, aren't we? And them? They deserve to be punished, Meat..."

-The Wolf pierces me with his look and grins. A string of saliva lands on his hole-riddled jacket.

-The Wolf puts his paw on me. I can feel his claws puncturing my skin.

WOLFMAN: (about piotrek) "Meat! Fucking hell, seen that? Hahaha! Seen that? Hahaha! Off he flew, didn't he? OFF HE FUCKED!!! Hahahaha!"

WOLFMAN: "If you wish to spend some more quality time basking in the striking, yet natural beauty of my features before you head off to the Silent Forest, you will find me in my camp in the Dry Meadow."

vvvvv

DOCTOR

THE JOURNAL: "What I do know is that the insane fucker took my key. My only chance to get out of the woods. He also tore out all the pages from my journal."

THE JOURNAL: "The doctor has escaped. So be it. He would only be a hindrance anyway."

CHICKEN LADY: "My sisters! Where did ya find it? It's all that godless quack's fault - devil brought him! All he did was prescribe this and that, scribble this no-good drivel! To hell with them papers!"

-I can feel the doctor's cold hand grab me by the jaw, (...)

-He removes his dirty glasses with a trembling hand and freezes.

DOCTOR: "First they begged for help, now I need to hide from them! I'm just an ordinary doctor! How the fuck was I supposed to help them?! How?!"

-With shaking hands, he reaches for the cigarrete butt between his yellow teeth.

DOCTOR: "I used to come here to treat people. I pulled out kids' milk teeth, delivered babies... (...) Last time I came here was three or four years ago. Then the trees blocked the path."

-The Doctor is visibly pleased with himself and his theory. His hands are no longer trembling. He produces a hand-rolled cigarette and lights it.

DOCTOR: "(...) I have no idea where it leads. I'm a shitty diver. (...)"

-The Doctor stares right into my eyes. Mud drips from his face. He hasn't blinked in over a minute.

- (...)His glasses are so dirty, I barely see the eyes hiding underneath.

-A chunk of mud falls down on his exposed tongue. He chews it slowly and swallows with satisfaction.

-The Doctor puts the muddy hand into his mouth, grimaces and pulls out a yellow tooth. He puts it into the pocket of his torn trousers. The tooth falls through a hole. He does not notice this...

-Slowly he bends down and grabs a thick branch from the ground. He starts biting the bark off of it. He swallows the bark with an effort, but also great satisfaction. He places the stick among other ones sticking out of his mud-covered head.

WOLFMAN: "Well, well. I know this quack. A nonentity, a third-rate witch doctor. Useless fucking clunker... But he still managed to screw you over with that key. Eh, comrade?"

MUSICIAN: "This is our doctor, yes? He is just as brave and good as you are! He helped me. He is helping all of us! He gave me this beautiful mask, so I could be healed of my afllictions. Maybe you could have one too..."

vvvvv

vvvvv

MUSICIAN

THE JOURNAL: "I met a boy in the village. He told me that the "Chicken Lady" keeps the "Pretty Lady" locked in her house. The boy really wants to see her, but the old woman won't allow it."

THE JOURNAL: "I decided to give the key to Chicken Lady's room to the little boy. He thanked me and asked me to bring him his mom's violin (it's hidden behind the wardrobe). He's afraid to go himself, as his parents are supposedly angry with him."

THE JOURNAL: "The boy sure was happy to see the new violin. (...)The kid also told me I should visit him in his parent's home someday."

CHICKEN LADY: (after musician's death) "Maybe it's just that me ears are getting worse, but it's been a while since I've heard that monster outside me windows..."

CHICKEN LADY: "Holy Mother, this creep again! May the devil take him and his blasted violin!"

MUSICIAN: "The Pretty Lady? S-she's... the most beautiful lady in the w-world! I w-watch her through the cracks in the window. S-she ch-changes when I watch her... g-gets more beautiful. I p-play for her... I want her to be h-happy..."

MUSICIAN: "I fished out the Pretty Lady's w-wreath from the river! (...)Oh yes, I will become the Pretty L-lady's husband! We w-will walk hand in hand, s-sir. I will play for her, mister s-sir."

-A skinny little hand emerges from beneath the tractor and grabs me by the ankle.

MUSICIAN: "They will not l-listen to me, they w-won't hear how sad I am, sir..."

-One of the strings securing his mask falls off, together with his ear. The boy reattaches it as if nothing happened.

MUSICIAN: "My m-mom has this beautiful violin! I would ask her to b-borrow it to me, but she's too angry with me... Could you p-please c-convince her to b-borrow it to me? I'll g-give you a card with drawings for her. To apologize."

-The boy turns the game in his hand for a while, but he can't find a way to reach the buttons with his overgrown fingers. The game slips out of his hand and drops to the ground. The wannabe musician freezes.

MUSICIAN: "(...) maybe you could take a wee piece of... m-meat for me? I've never eaten a pig and I've h-heard it's very tasty! W-would you take s-some for me?"

-The boy sniffles and rubs the mask with his deformed hand.

-From beneath the mask you can hear a horribly distorted, resounding voice... of a child?

-The figure tries to turn its head, but its enormous neck makes this task impossible to complete.

MUSICIAN: "P-please let me stay. P-please, don't chase me off. I've got nowhere to... go. The villagers don't a-a-allow me to live in the camp. I p-p-promise I won't p-play anymore! I'll be quiet. You can c-cover me with something, if you don't w-want to look at m-me..."

MUSICIAN: (after gifting you a rat) "(...) I mean, she jumped on my hand and s-started nibbling on my f-finger! I quickly clasped my h-hand and b-bit through its neck!"

-The corners of the boy's mouth turn up in a grotesque smile, exposing rows of overgrown teeth, which even his mask couldn't hide.

-The boy clumsily grabs the ball in his hand. He carefully hides it under his legs, so that it doesn't roll away.

MUSICIAN: "S-sorry! I didn't want to! T-this thing is coming out of m-my body. I... I tried to stop it, but I don't think I can... N-now the whole room is covered with... this. I didn't want to make a mess, I s-swear! Please, don't t-throw me a-away!"

-The boy leans over the violin lying next to his overgrown left hand. He plucks one of the strings with his right hand, clumsily trying to keep the rhythm.

MUSICIAN: "Recently, I've grown quite a bit. My mom always used to say that I need to be b-big and s-strong... to help her out in the field..."

The boy tries to hug his frail knees with the disproportionately massive torso.

"But I... I don't want to be big anymore. It's v-very hard being big. You need to be so... so strong! To even walk.Now my v-violin is... too s-small for me!"

vvvvv

vvvvv

[sienna-writes]

Butterfly Blood || novel update

chapter three

I initially had a lot of trouble with this chapter. It’s been through about three drafts and it’s still nowhere near perfect, but I’m working on just moving forward with the novel now and am trying to quit obsessing over revising because... it’s unrealistic to expect a first draft to be perfect. 

The first draft of this particular chapter, though, was basically all dialogue, and all very poorly executed dialogue. (Dialogue is absolutely the weakest aspect of my writing but I’m working on it.) On my second attempt at the chapter I initially attempted to create an outline, thinking this would help me find a direction. However, in my next writing session I ended up totally ignoring the outline and just winging it, and the second draft was formed. I really liked the events in the chapter now but still wasn’t happy with some of the individual scenes so I reworked it yesterday morning. The argument between Rowan and Karmen still needed revision  because Karmen’s character within it was totally inconsistent to his usual disposition. So! The final (for now..) draft is a more stripped back, since Karmen is too disassociated to get as angry as he did as quickly as he did, and I think the tension and the build up is a lot better timed and more... muted? It’s less overt, more subtext heavy, and I'm relieved because that is what I had been trying to achieve all along.

Again, it’s not perfect, but it has evolved and it is definitely better than before. 

The chapter is just over 3000 words now, but I am only going to be sharing the main, gritty extract. The other scenes are less exciting, but I also suspect they need the same amount of work till they're even remotely sharable. (I was going through a bad writing slump in this chapter lol.) I really hope you enjoy it? I'm ultimately quite proud of how it turned out in the end :)

excerpt:

[Rowan has missed her GP appointment + her dad uses it as an oppurtunity to also be angry about her slacking in school]

    “I’ve booked another for tomorrow morning. You’ll miss some school, but I figured that’d be an incentive since you don’t seem to care about that anymore.” There is now an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

    Rowan visibly flinches, digging her fingernails into the supple skin of her palms. The dents purple then fill with blood. She locks eyes with her father, searching for the reason for his sudden anger. He has struck a nerve and he knows it.

    “Miss Phelps called.”

    She pushes her toes into the dirt, white sneakers now blotted with dust. “Oh.”

    He doesn’t ask for an explanation, simply straightens his back like an ancient scroll unravelling itself and meets her gaze finally. Karmen stands with his chest puffed out and his chin pointed forward. It is apparent that he won't ask her side of things. He’s heard enough, and has his made up his mind about her already.

    Rowan pushes past him to get inside. Karmen doesn’t shift as she squeezes by his statuesque stance. His face twitches like a camera shutter, so fast she can barely believe the change in his expression. She convinces herself it didn’t happen and throws her bag onto the couch, almost tempting another lecture. A tamer one. Something he could murmur through his daydream fog before slipping back into his silence and letting everything remain undiscussed. Like it normally is. Her slipping grades. Her laziness in class. Not writing a single word in an entire school day. Talking back for little to no reason.

    He turns as her rucksack lands, his footsteps looming behind her. Something sharpens the air between them, but she can’t tell what. The elephant is in the room and it is wrecking the place. They watch the destruction mutely, each waiting for the other to intervene and consequently letting the walls crumble into ruin. The old house audibly creaks, it is so quiet. Finally, Karmen speaks. “What’s the matter with you?”

    Rowan runs through all the excuses she can think of. I was dropped as a child. I was a premature baby, so my brain must be under-developed. The content is so easy it feels obsolete. I’m being bullied. I’m just not as smart as you thought, dad, sorry. Teachers are liars and we both should have known this.  “There’s just too much.” She says instead, through gritted teeth, moving into the kitchen. “I can’t focus on school and have to be there for everyone.” It is limp and she knows it. It flops between them weakly like a helpless fish. She takes a glass from the cabinet and closes it softly.

   He consumes the lie like a starved ghost, though. Proving he doesn’t know her. Doesn’t know how absent a friend she has been of late. How she has become her father at school, numb and quiet. How, secretly, she enjoys the façade because people avoid her, don’t ask difficult questions, don’t tackle her with unnecessary comments about her long-lost mother. “Then stop being there.” He says simply.

Rowan scoffs. “I do enough of that at home.” She studies her dad’s face—clenched jaw and squinting eyes—as if it hurts to look at her. “Everyone’s always telling everything how things must be. I must participate, I must be smart not emotional, I must not slack for exams I know I will pass without a glance at my books”—suddenly an urge to twist the knife into his gut overwhelms her, she draws out the moment as she fills the glass with a thread of water from the tap—"I must deal with a stranger for a Dad and a god knows what for a mother. A shrieking banshee? An abusive fugitive? She’s probably become a social worker just to scorn us.”

    He rolls his lips, lowers his gaze and chews on the inside of his cheek, sucking it in. Rowan’s breath catches in her throat. In this moment he looks shockingly hollow. Did she empty him? Wind him with her blows? Spoon out his entrails with an ice cream scoop? Carve him like the roasted corpse of some great beast? Karmen puts two hands on the back of the chair opposite her, clutching it as if he might just fall over. His stare is cold and unsympathetic when he raises it toward her. “Don’t you want to make something of yourself?”

Yes. “What?” She laughs bitterly, placing the tumbler on the counter with a satisfying thud. “Like how you made something of yourself?” There is a terrible moment where he sits in the midst of the cruelty, shrinks into himself as if absorbing it, before his mouth creaks open and he lets out a broken shriek.

“GOD DAMMIT ROWAN!” Rowan flies back, arms sheltering her head instinctively as he reaches for the glass she placed on the counter, spins, and throws it at the wall. One big horrific movement. A cutting arc of his arm through the air and then the shattering. “Are you ever even listening?”

    Millions of glittering fragments of her life laid out before her, encircling her bare feet. She thinks of the sneakers she slipped off at the door, wishing she had them now.  Something about naked feet look so naïve, so vulnerable. Her toes shrink, curling inward. Her breath quickens and her hands begin to tremble. All this broken glass. All these fragments like a lifeline stretched between them. Her eyes blink away tears in different shards, her reflection is fragmented, her features lost and bobbing about as if at sea.

    “Are you, dad?” Rowan asks in an empty voice, staring at him till he flinches. He stares at the glass on the floor in shock.

    “I...” He crouches, sifting through it with his bare, shuddering, and unsure hands. “I don’t know why I did that...”

    Rowan gets a sudden urge to have the last word. Except she doesn’t speak. Her eyes settle on the glass and the idea flourishes like a flame in her mind, burning everything rational, everything he might think. To hell with appropriate. To hell with acceptable. One unsteady step. She expects a crunch or a crackle, but instead there is a damp muffle and squelch. Her spine rattles and her teeth prickle in response. A sunrise in her chest warms her throat but she presses against it with her palms, forcing it down. It is a scorching, molten pain. Third degree burns and all she swallows rays of light till she is drowning, gorging. Slipping through furnace tongue flames. Rowan gags. Bile and acid boils her tongue and the bright, burnt out orb slips into her stomach. She gulp, gulp, gulps every atom of the blaze that consumes her. Till she is heavy. She walks across the broken glass as he yells out. Let there be outrage. Let the sky fall. Its clouds embrace her limbs, draining everything fluid from her, letting her grow limp. Letting her rain. Heavy. As she moves away from the kitchen, she feels her footsteps peeling from the floor, warm and wet. And she is so, so heavy. Then she stumbles, splintered feet unable to keep her up—her legs can no longer hold her and her lava—as the pain erupts within her fierce and sharp and sudden. Flashing its ugly teeth. Catching one last glimpse before her vision goes dark, she sees a red ocean seeping into the living room. How could one body hold so much? Fast and gushing the rapids wash her dregs of consciousness away. It was just a few steps...

soo... yeah. Rowan walks on glass because, oh lord that girl has no impulse controls. 

I'm not going to lie, although it was a pain to get this scene to the stage I have just shared, I think it's one of my favourites in the book so far. I'm proud of how much it's grown. Also, I love me some dramatic descriptions of pain and characters being nasty... :”)

I hope you enjoyed this update! (if you did, reblogs really help me out, but absolutely no pressure <3) I’m also still looking for people to add to the tag list, so if any of this interested you, feel free to send me an ask, message or comment. :)

Tag list under cut (ask to be added or removed):

@alicewestwater @elaz-ivero @coffeeandcalligraphy @hanwatchingmovies @sirfitzroys @chloeswords @nev-953

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Forgotten Gods: 8

1   2  3  4  5  6  7

MASTERLIST

Loki Laufeyson x Plus!Size Reader

Words: +4,400

Loki Laufeyson X Plus!Size Reader

Warnings: Cursing, implied rape, mental break down.

A/N: This is the last chapter! I may do an Epilogue, not sure yet but this is the Finale for this fic but I have plenty more to write! & thank you @beets1 for the prompt! I hope I did it justice! Italic are memories. Also, as to the implied rape, yes I understand that a frost giant is A LOT bigger than any Asgardian, that said, my theory is magic or in this case seidr. I HOPE THIS DOESN’T FEEL RUSHED OR HALF ASSED!

Loki had hoped Y/N would sleep peacefully but something ate at him, telling him that it wouldn’t be that easy after the day they had. A shrill whimper drawing him away from the parchment that he looked over to focus on the shivering mass on the matters curled & clutching to the sheet in pain.

“Look at you little one,” Laufey snarled over top of a crumpled heap that once resembled Y/N, “so fragile for a Norn half-breed.”

“When…when…Loki,” her voice quivered before the giant toed her over harshly to her back-causing Y/N’ skull to make an audible crack on the frozen stone.

“You think I fear him or any of the others,” Laufey sneered, kneeling down to snatch her up by a shaking bicep, his biting touch causing her to yelp out in pain as he held in his face.

Head swimming, trying to focus, to speak, to bite back at the ugly bastard violently, spit in his face how he would be put to death when she was found. Opening her mouth to speak but nothing coming out but large clouds of vaper & pleading whimpers for him to let go.

“Don’t worry, you’ll forget all of this soon enough,” the giant sneered showing yellowing fangs, thrusting her back to the stone at the feet of a mage.

Body shaking as the mage’ seidr took hold of her, seidr that dug into her brain, searing through tissue & memories like hot needles. Needles that dug in slow, carving away piece by piece of something that she would give anything to remember. Yelping out & trying to use her own to fight back but was no use.

Rushing to Y/N’ side, Loki sprung into the bed, reaching out to pull her into his arms & heart breaking the moment she cringed & whimpered at his touch. Undeterred, the god pulled her to him, watching her eyes shoot open, but glazed over as he got her to her knees. Shocked as she knocked him to his ass to scramble into his lap like a beat dog seeking forgiveness.

“I yield,” Y/N yelped, despite her large frame made herself smaller in his lap, curling into him.

“I promise master, no more, I yield,” she whimpered out loudly as if someone was continuing to hurt her.

“No,” she yelped out silently, Loki moving his hand along her back to soothe over shivering body.

“Y/N wake up pet, it's only a dream,” Loki cooed down to the shivering creature that clutched at his shirt as he shifted to hold to her comfortably, filling her flinch at an unseen assailant.

“No! I'm sorry Laufey,” she panted out in a whimper, clutching to Loki’ clothes tighter, the gods concern taking over.

“Come now Y/N, wake up for me love,” he tried to sound calm, reassuring but it was full of panic at not being able to get her to come out of it.

Shifting around once more, forcing Y/N to her knees in front of him, taking her face in his hands to look into eyes of that of the dead, all color drained from the iris, no life, making him shake with fear he had lost her once more. Though he wasn’t about to give up, speaking to her, coaxing her to come back but evident she couldn’t hear him as she folded over in pain with a loud scream.

The door to his chamber slamming open, Thor entering worriedly with Eira in tow. Loki taking one look at the healer, knowing she seen what he was about to do as another scream ripped through Y/N. Hands still holding to her cheeks as she stayed crumpled in the bed. Eira yelling to Loki to stop, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t let his Sigyn continue to suffer.

Screaming was what he fell into, slamming into the frozen stone floor in what looked to be a dungeon, looking around to spot Y/N not long after. Pushing to his feet at the sight of Laufey standing over a naked & bloody Y/N. Arms chained to the ceiling above her dangling like a piece of meat. Blood streaking down bare back, buttocks to drip & freeze on the cold stone.

“You need to remember your duty sorceress,” Laufey’ gravelly voice snarled, blue hand shooting out to steady the spinning of the chain.

“You are mine to do with as I see fit. That said, when we are done here I will have you in my bed again & again & again. Until you realize YOU have no say in the matter,” the giant laughed in her blood splatted face as he bent over to look into her eyes, body turning so that Loki got a glimpse of the blood that ran down the inside of her thighs.

“Yes,” a weak broken voice choked out, tears streaking through the blood splatter.

“Yes WHAT,” he laughed once more running the vicious looking whip that Loki now realized he held along her side, making a shiver rip through her so violent the chain rattled.

“Yes master,” she quickly amended in a shaky voice, Laufey hinting to someone in the shadows to come forward, an old giant with broken horns, a mage?

In moments the nightmare faded away, Y/N dropping to the floor like a dead piece of flesh, quivering in the floor a bloody heap, Loki swallowing his fear to run to her, pulling Y/N bloody knees as he fell to his own.

“Y/N, this isn’t real,” Y/N could hear someone speak, a strong grip pulling her to her knees while the same voice begged for her to look at them.

“Loki,” her shattered vogue breathed in familiarity, but not the kind he hoped for, bloody hands gripping to his forearms as she finally looked up at him.

“Yes lover, it's me, I need you to wake up for me, your dreaming,” he cooed to the bloody creature that clung to him with tear drenched eyes, his own threatening to spill.

“I'm…I'm sorry! I can’t remember…. I can’t remember you,” the broken creature shivered out pulling closer to him to fall into his arms a sobbing heap.

“I can see it in your eyes,” she sobbed in his arms, “you know me & it kills you that I don’t recognize you, that I don’t know what you should mean to me & I to you! Would you tell me? Please tell me!”

The wretched creature pulling up to look into emerald eyes that flowed with tears, Y/N could see the answers burning in his eyes, what he wanted to tell her to show her, but why wouldn’t he!?

“Please Loki! My soul is shattering! I can feel the pain you are in because of all this,” she sobbed, head dropping to watch the cold stone fall away to silken sheets.

Looking up into emerald eyes, once hazed eyes back to bright Y/E/C gazing up him in pleading, fisting the material of his shirt as she straitened, tears already beginning to flow. Quickly releasing his shirt to reach up to lay her hands around his neck, thumbs caressing over tensing jaw, something his Siggy used to do when he would go into a rage around, pulling close to him. Shimmering Y/E/C orbs searching his face & feeling his own hands reach to cup her face whipping away the tears that where breaking free.

“Please, show me, please it hurts,” Y/N pleaded quietly so focused on Loki she never realized the healer stood by him informing him that it was too soon.

Heart thudding, almost stopping in her chest when he began to pull away, hearing what Eira told him, hands tightening but falling away from his neck to catch his wrist, pleading silently for him to explain. Watching him closely as emerald orbs searched over her face for something familiar.

“I don’t care if it kills me, ruins me,” she roared out, anger showing itself her own seidr engulfing them, holding him in place.

“Show ME! I can’t handle anymore of this,” she now whimpered allowing his wrist free, but he didn’t pull away .

Reaching up to put one hand on pale cheek the other reaching to card through disheveled hair & watching her seidr calm instantly.

“Calm down love,” he cooed continuing his actions, seidr residing now as she relaxed to lean back on her feet.

“I need you calm. I can’t show you anything you are upset,” he continued slouching forward with her still soothing over her gently.

“Please,” she whimpered hands settling onto his thighs, grounding herself.

“You’ll break her mind,” Eira spoke up at Loki’ side, Y/N looking up at the healer worried that she would prevent Loki form showing her what she needed to know.

“It's already broke,” Thor chimed in bedside Y/N, looking to the healer, Loki’ gaze locking on his brother.

“She needs to know,” Thor nodded to Loki who nodded back in agreement.

“Breath for me,” Loki began, watching Y/N take a breath before he took her in to his memories.

A young woman, a young Y/N & a younger Loki sat under a beautiful willow by a stream, that overlooked the beautiful golden palace of Asgard. Y/N looked to be in her very early 20s while Loki looked slightly older, by 2 or so years. The two sitting close to each other, legs crossed, Loki’ arm out behind Y/N back who was using it as a prop at the moment, the young Y/N finally looking up at him.

“My father told me that the Alfather spoke to him of your intent with me,” the young woman spoke, watching Loki intently.

“That so,” he smiled sheepishly, “then tell me, my sweet Y/N, what pray tell are my intentions?”

“Courtship,” she smirked back to him, “although… I'm still not…”

Young Loki froze, eyeing her suspiciously curious to the little shield maidens play.

“What is there to be sure of,” he retorted the two having discussed the thoughts of courtship, he thought they were already in agreement, siting up strait to face her head on .

“Y/N, you know my intentions, is it something your father said? Does he not approve, because if not I can….,” he began almost in a panic now but the young woman reaching up wrapping slender fingers around his neck, cherishing tense jaw.

“Norns Loki! Calm down, you're always so serious when it comes to me,” young Y/N spoke in exasperation towards the young god.

“Shouldn’t a man be when it comes to the woman he loves,” Loki admitted with a smirk, reaching up & taking her hands in his to lay on his legs.

“Then it would put my father at ease to know that, since you are courting his daughter openly,” the young Y/N smiled happily.

The young raven-haired god became overjoyed, jumping forward to wrap lithe arms around the young woman’ thick frame, jerking her back with him into the tall grass. Capturing her lips when they landed, allowing her to up to prop on his chest to look down at him.

“Father is upset because you didn’t choose Thor,” Loki lamented with a laugh as he let go of Y/N to push her hair out of her face.

“He has plenty of suitors,” Y/N smirked, leaning down to peck his lips, “besides my father would much rather I court you because of your intelligence.”

“Is that so  my little enchantress,” Loki smirked holding his hand palm up on his chest at Y/N’ nose a golden necklace just like the one she wore appearing in his palm.

“It is,” she giggled, sliding off his stomach to sit up, allowing him to do the same but sitting on her knees between his legs, the god leaning up to put the pendant around her neck.

“Consider that the first of many gifts love,” he smiled at her before the image faded to another.

This scene looked to be the same day or possibly a few days later, the young gods standing before a golden throne, Odin sitting in the seat, Frigga on one side & her father on the other, Loki making a point to explain to Y/N who each person was.

“You two have sat the date & are sure,” Odin spoke to the two, Loki holding tightly to the young Y/N.

“Yes Alfather,” Y/N responded looking to her father Lyall & Frigga.

“Then so be it,” Odin smiled ramming the golden scepter to the floor, echoing through the throne room, before being snapped to another scene, Loki apologizing for the harshness.

The two standing in front of golden chamber doors, Y/N walking in, time spinning to Loki walking in, coming out angered, upset, she could feel his rage, his fear, it was making her sick. Head reeling look up at Loki, begging for him to make it stop, it was to much, the echo of someone telling her they were sorry, apologizing.

“For what it's worth I'm sorry,” echoed in her ears, opening eyes to look up at Loki who was holding her in his arms, in their chambers, talking to her but she couldn’t hear him, just the voice of another in her ears as she was losing breath.

“Y/N, dove, please, breath,” Loki spoke to the trembling creature he held in his arms, trying to get her to focus, Eira moving to take the woman.

“DON’T TOUCH HER,” Loki snarled at Eira, pulling Y/N up to his chest.

“I’m sorry, it's to save Midgard, it has to happen,” the words that, once echoed felt like they where choking her, darkness creeping in, trying to focus on Loki, her lover, he was hers, HER Loki!

Y/N could hear her own breathing echoing through the room as she awoke, moving heavy limbs so to sit up, the previous breakdown & realizations flooding her senses to make her head throb. Sitting up to what she took as an empty room, noting the stillness of the air, it felt odd, not of Vannaheim. Pulling herself to the edge of the bed to get to tingling feet but almost jumping out of her skin as large hot hands laid on her shoulders to make her remain seated.

“Please, lay back,” came Thor’ quiet voice as he finally came into focus, noting that he wore a different style of clothing not of Vannaheim or Asgard.

“Loki,” she breathed out in question, allowing him to help her sit back against the pillows, calling out to someone, F.R.I.D.A.Y, to tint the windows.

Following Thor as he moved about the bed, fixing pillows so that she could remain sitting, making sure that she was covered before taking a seat next to her.

“He’s back in Vannaheim,” Thor explained reaching to the table to take the glass of water to hand to her.

“I bought you here, to Midgard as his urging,” Thor admitted as Y/N took the glass gently & taking a much-needed drink.

“Blyster,” Thor began.

“I knew he would cause trouble as soon as he sat foot in Vannaheim,” Y/N spoke quietly handing the glass back, looking down at the pendant reaching to it twist it & make the opal dance.

“He still loves you Y/N,” Thor reassured her watching her close.

“How could he? After all he seen….,” Y/N hesitating to say more as she caught Thor’ gaze.

“You know deep down that none of that matters to him,” Thor spoke trying to lift her spirits.

“Loki has been through a lot himself, so don’t shut him out. I haven’t seen him in good spirits like this since you agreed to wed, allow him to help you, to take care of you,” Thor explained, lightly reaching out to take her free hand to caress over her knuckles as if trying to reassure his own self that she was really there, trying to keep his anger down at the fact Strange had done this to her.

“It makes me sick I still can’t remember anything other than what he has told me, except… I heard a voice,” Y/N began, Thor pausing to look at her, curious to where this was going, but hinting for her to continue.

“After Loki showed me that we were to be married, after I stepped into his chambers when I disappeared, I heard a man telling me he was sorry that it had to be this way, that it was to save Midgard,” Y/N puzzled herself, searching Thor’ face over, it was obvious that he was understanding her, his features hardening.

“Did… did this voice tell you why? Did you ever see a face, who they were,” Thor asked cautiously, worried that if she heard it than Loki may have as well.

“No, he didn’t say why & no I never seen a face, but I believe that who ever he is could help,” Y/N spoke, watching anger cross Thor’ eyes, thunder sounding outside the compound.

“Thor, do you…,” she began, his hand tightening around hers & obvious he was watching a different scene play out behind his eyes.

“Thor are you ok,” she asked, shaking his hand, snapping him out of it, troubled blue eyes locking onto her & painting on a leery smile.

“Sorry Y/N, you must be hungry, you’ve been asleep for 4 days now,” Thor began, quick to change the subject, thumb caressing her knuckles.

“4 days? Where is here on Midgard,” Y/N began, following his lead & leaving it for another day.

“The Avengers compound, Eira did explain that much to you before you left didn’t she,” Thor asked her, forcing himself to put on a cheery facade so that he could keep her calm, though he was already planning on calling Strange to the compound & making him fix this.

“She did,” Y/N smiled, beginning to look around the room noting the color scheme was Thor’ along with several artifacts, pausing on a dagger & sword in a glass case that tickled at her psyche once again, filling him let go of her hand to follow her gaze.

“Those are yours,” Thor admitted, getting to his feet & starting to the case to fetch them.

The god all to happy to take them out of the case & carry them over to Y/N. The bewildered woman’ eyes sparkling as he started towards her with them. Y/N recognizing them from the vision of she & Loki before Odin. Reaching out to them like an excited child hoping that touching the blades would bring back something.

Thor couldn’t help but look at her in awe, letting her take the blades to lay them her lap. Watching nimble fingers tracing over the snakes on the dagger, moving the sword to trace the wolves engraved on the guard, smiling at it, brow furrowing. Watching her pause as if listening to something.

“I have a gift for you Sigyn,” a voice, the young voice of Loki spoke as she stared down at the blade.

“What is this,” her own voice spoke, she sounded younger, tracing the sparking eye of the wolf, it was a symbol of her mother wasn’t it?

“Yours,” a young Loki smiled behind her eyes, tears stinging at them, continuing to follow the running wolves, tracing the snakes with her eyes, the dagger was his, gifted to her when they agreed to court.

“It is beautiful,” the young maiden breathed out to the weapon on her lap, not registering that the bed sank next to her, Thor watching her intently, but not daring to stop her from remembering.

“Not as beautiful as you,” young Loki breathed out to her.

A tear falling to the blade, heart thudding in her chest, why would someone do this to them? It made no sense in her throbbing head, why was the man in her head telling her he was sorry? Just what did he do to her to make her forget, for her to end up in Laufey’ hands to be a…

“Thank you love,” Y/N breathed eyes snapping to Thor, swallowing hard as she traced along the blade, looking back down.

“You’ll understand when it's all over, I have to leave you here, but not for long, I’ll come back for you and make it right. I'm sorry I don’t have time to explain,” the man’s voice now began, trying to take in a breath, catching in her throat unable to swallow.

That voice, Norns that voice, if she could just see his face, tears streaming, something told her to ask Thor, he may know.

“Thor take the blades, please,” Y/N voice shook, watching the god do as she asked, quick to take them, putting them up, hurrying back to watch her closely.

“Y/N,” Thor began, looking into troubled eyes.

“The voice I hear, you know them don’t you,” Y/N spoke, watching the war in the gods eyes.

Did he tell her, did he bring Strange here, force him to make it right, or did he play stupid & hope neither of them found out.

“I… wait here Siggy,” Thor breathed hurrying to his feet & out of the room.

Stepping out to the hall Thor spoke out to the AI, demanding that Strange be contacted & that he make an appearance. In moments the air sizzled, the sorcerer stepping through for the god to grab hold of him & slam him to the wall.

“She remembers you! So, you fix this,” the god snarled in his face, the sheet rock cracking around where the sorcerers body slammed into it.

“There is no….,” he began, trying to keep his own voice calm, shit she was never to regain that much back.

“She hears a mans voice telling her that all this was to save Midgard, you are the only one that could have said that to her! Fix it sorcerer or I will end you before Loki does,” Thor snarled, falling into the wall as Strange fell through a portal, but Thor sure to spin on him the moment he emerged.

“Does your brother know? & where is he,” Strange questioned, looking around quickly, the god breathing down his throat.

“NO! But he should! He arrives today & I suggest you try to help her now,” Thor snarled, lighting coursing over his body ready to end the sorcerer if he refused.

Y/N looked up the moment the door opened, Thor stepping in with a man in a red cloak following behind. The woman getting to her feet shakily, the man familiar as she wobbled weakly over to them, Thor reaching out grab her before she fell.

“This is the sorcerer Strange, he is here to help you remember,” Thor spoke glaring down the man who finally looked at Y/N.

“It's been a long time Y/N,” the man spoke the one from her memories, seidr flashing in her eyes.

“You robbed us,” Y/N breathed, mint green seidr taking her, fueled by anger of a past with a lover she could barely remember because of this man.

“Y/N, calm down,” Thor spoke, trying to calm her.

“No, I want,” Y/N spoke eerily calm.

Eyes flaring bright, grabbing the sorcerer by his head the moment he tensed to step away. The man letting out a yell of pain, it was worse than what Ebony Maw ever thought of inflicting on him. The cape, nothing he had to stop her, he was powerless. The angered sorceress or better yet fate.

“Show me that day,” Y/N shouted, Thor trying to pull her off of the sorcerer, shouting something at her & only catching Loki’ name.

It was vivid, the fight with Thanos, the discovery that Loki had to fall form the Bifrost, the plan that he had came up with, only revealing it to one other, a Tony Stark. The vision of him watching her chase Loki through the palace, all before he took her from the baths to dump her in Midgard. Tears streaming, she couldn’t let go, he ruined THEIR life. It saved untold others, but it still didn’t excuse the fact it was ruined, they where robbed of a lifetime with each other.

“Let go love,” a voice spoke in her ear.

“He robbed us,” she sobbed out, cool hands ghosting up to the ones that held to the sorcerers head the man screaming out in silent agony.

“I know Siggy, but you need to let go dove,” he coaxed, strong body pulling to her back tightly, his seidr wrapping around her, watching her own intertwined like old lovers.

“He… I can’t… I'm sorry… Loki stop me,” Y/N cried out, a sob jerking thorough her body as his hands wrapped around hers to pull them from the sorcerer, folding them into her chest as he pulled away with her to the bed, collapsing back Y/N turning to sob in his chest.

“Breath for me love,” Loki cooed into her ear, feeling her finally take a breath, clutching to his shirt, holding tight.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t fight it enough, I didn’t… I didn’t try to remember…,” Y/N cried out, pulling close to Loki, the god sitting up to pull her with him, taking her head in his hands, not hesitating to pull her lips to his.

“No, I was the one that didn’t fight it,” he gasped on her lips.

“Kiss me again, I missed this,” Y/N breathed out.

He didn’t hesitate, he knew what they both wanted, both needed, pressing their lips together in a bruising manner, tongues begging for a taste of the other & Loki letting her take the lead. Y/N getting to her knees to push him down to the bed. The two others leaving quickly but they paid them no mind. The maiden not hesitating to hover over his body deepening the kiss and allowing him to pull her to straddle his waist, Loki swallowing the moan that escaped, bodies not forgetting.

“I love you Y/N, my little Siggy,” Loki breathed when she allowed him to.

Her hands around his throat cherishing his jaw as she leaned up to look down into emerald eyes & seeing the young god looking back at her, cocking her head at him with a smile he hadn’t seen in millennia.

“I love you Loki,” she breathed, brushing over even longer raven locks continuing to hold his gaze.

“Marry me,” he blurted, reaching up brush her hair back pulling her for another kiss that she was all too happy to deepen.

“Now,” Y/N breathed, looking over to the glass case at the dagger & sword, looking back to the god with a smirk.

“We don’t need a ceremony… wife,” he smiled at her mischievously, pulling her close to his lips.

“Then kiss me husband,” Y/N breathed before he pulled her to his lips to roll her on her back reversing their rolls but she wasn’t about to fight it.

If you want to be tagged or not let me know!

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@whovianwookie86-captainxev@jazzieomega

[thejellybeanboys]

You. Explanation. On. What. U. Are. Now! Also I'm hungry for candy now.

Luis: “Oh yeah right we have to like properly introduce ourselves, Hoagie @ the rest of everyone in here so we get introductions started!”

Hoagie: “Got it! @everyonejellybeanboys Luis wants intros.”

(Codeyy, Dragongurl34, BennyB, Music_sniffer logs in) (the whole gang is now online)

Luis: “cool.cool. we are all here now. I'll start. I already introduced my self but I guess to give an example for the others, I'm 13. He/him, uh I draw and code, actually mostly I hack and draw but whatever. I'm like the best gamer to exist, no competition f*ck you. I guess the most notable thing and what I can't prevent from you all finding out is that my dad is Tobey McCallister.”

Hoagie: “Hoagie the youngest sandwich making guy--yes that's my full name. Uh I cook/bake! Making pastries, dinners, creative food requests, and of course sandwichs for the internet! Want to eventually get multiple platforms for my cooking videos. I'm 13, he/him, and my uncle is Chuck the evil sandwich making guy!”

Jeremy: “Jeremy Hevaer or JJerm321 if you know me from streaming already. I'm 15, go by he/him/they pronouns, Uh I actually have a channel already where I mostly do improve or game...is it successful? No not really. My idol is the ever great doctor two-brains! He really inspired me, well kinda. I actually cosplay as him regular in most things, which has kinda left people thinking that I am him somehow. Unfortunately no, as much as I would love to be, I never met him yet but one day I'll will 🥰 ”

Mason: “....My name is Mason! I like posting vids about oddly satisfying stuff, making stuff about it. I also just do things like pour lava on glass cause it's cool...uh hydraulically pressing my toys cause it's cool... Heating up my knives and tools cause it's cool... Uh yeah! My pops the Butcher! He's like known for the whole meat stuff. I don't eat meat but pops says I'm still a good griller so he won't disown me yet. He/ham, I'm 14 and yeah.”

Codey: “Oh good you didn't immediately f#ck up the blog I had to create for you. Well let's get this over with. Codey here. She/her, 16. I'm a software developer and I can code the shit out of anything my autism be dammed. I'm mostly just behind the scenes doing all i can to keep this whole thing running, you know typical stuff of the real beautiful intelligent computer woman doing the work while the only slightly charismatic yet incredibly ugly looking guys get all the credit.”

Luis: “ Thank you for perfectly explaining why I like hanging out with you ❤️/pos”

Cecil: “¡AH! ITS HERE NOW AND AN ASK⭐‼️ Oh okay introductions!! I'm a level 24 half dragon, 11 dexterity, 14 charisma-- jejeje okay okay kidding, I promised Luis I wouldnt describ myself or make too many DND jokes kekeke. Cecilia Vázquez Montes at youre service! I'm 15 and a she/her now, I attend an all girls school so Im not online all the time. As you could see I mostly do DND and roleplaying gaming stuff. I also love love making clothes and cosplay✨! I just moved from Puerto Rico recently and I just started learning Ingles so aplogies if I spell or say something little bit wrong, Codey helps in trying autocorrect stuff for me.”

Otty: “🌸🌸❤️❤️🐇🐇💞 Hello everyone! So good to be here :)) My full name is Otty Monnie Smalls, my family is known to be pretty wealthy and be all boring business. Um the most infamous person I'm related to is my older cousin Big or well he tells me to call him Mr. Big, but my dad calls him Shelly? Idk its complicated. I'm 12 years-old, he/him, and my favorite thing ever is to make my friends happy! Which is why I'm here because they told me I could be here if I give them money. A lot of people say I'm cute but the real cute thing ever is my stuffed bunny Mr. Wabbit! He's all pink and fluffyyy!”💖💖💞

Leroy: “Don't know how I'll complete with that but schyeah. Sup dudes my name is Leroy Vázquez He/They, 13, yeah Cecil over there is like my half sister but we don't gotta get into that...Uh I wanna be a DJ, eventually get signed on for something. I'm kinda sensitive to outside noises so I regularly wear these headphones I stole from Luis's dad. Oh yeah Luis is my main man! My top bro. Besties for life. My passion is music i make it, if you think my tunes sound like a printer going through a meat grinder you just don't get it.”

Wil-Liam: “Name is Wil-Liam. I'm pretty sure I'm 13. Uh. I think I'm a he/him. Oh yeah I just checked I am. Uh. Definitely sooo human bro......... All you gotta know about me is that I'm definitely a better gamer than Luis.”

Luis: “I still have no idea how you got here, I didn't even invite you!”

[janeaustentextposts]

Question! I noticed - maybe I'm wrong - that in all the adaptations, the casting for the main characters is similar: Darcy is dark haired, and so is Lizzie; Jane is blonde and (for some fascinating reason) Bingley is ginger-y. Is there a reason? something in the books that I missed? Some extra source? It seemed too much a coincidence (although I do love Ginger Bingley) thanks!!!

First off, I’m going to refer back to Mullan’s What Matters in Jane Austen? again, because he’s done a whole chapter on what her characters look like (and starts off with a basic examination of casting choices in adaptations and the admiration or outrage which always follows.) “How people look is often suggested rather than specified in Austen’s novels.” He then goes on to quote Sterne’s Tristram Shandy, “…paint her to your own mind–as like your mistress as you can–as unlike your wife as your conscience will let you.”

All we know of Jane is that she is considered very beautiful–as much is said by Bingley, her mother (who has no difficulty criticizing her children when they displease her,) and even Darcy must admit it as a fact. Looks are important in novels where often penniless girls must rely on other attractions in their manners and person–”…words used so frequently about characters when we first meet them: handsome, pretty, gentlemanlike, elegant…”. And yet she avoids specifics–perhaps as a reaction to other novels of her era, where a heroine’s precise points of beauty are totted up among her other virtues to make her a peerless wonder. Austen’s heroines are often described by other characters, rather than the narration, as it’s important to consider who is looking, and how, when looking at their judgements. Some people use a mention in Jane Austen’s letters about Jane wearing the colour green and Elizabeth preferring yellow to be some kind of marker of what their haircolours must have been in Austen’s mind’s eye, but that’s a tenuous argument at best, and if Austen had wanted the world in general to know imagined particulars about Jane and Elizabeth, she would have set them down in the text.

We know Elizabeth’s eyes are fine, and dark, but beyond that, we are given no details. On a genetic level, dark eyes are far more likely to occur in people with darker hair, but Austen wasn’t working with genetics–and dark eyes paired with lighter hair can sometimes be a rare sign of remarkable beauty, as in the descriptions of Irene in Galsworthy’s Forsyte Saga books. (A description which was entirely ignored in the casting of my future wife Gina McKee, but then Irene’s beauty and her allure is such a pivotal force in the novels that to pin it down as necessarily belonging to certain shades of colouring is to make it more trite than it truly is. Irene’s beauty is something beyond what one sees at first glance–it is transcendent charm.) Dark could mean brown, or also a very dark blue or grey–it’s impossible to tell, exactly. Anne Elliott’s eyes are mild and dark, Fanny Price’s are soft and light, Harriet Smith’s are blue, Jane Fairfax’s a deep grey, (and her lashes and eyebrows called dark, giving us some notion of the likely shade of her hair,) Mary Crawford’s are sparkling and dark…eyes are often the only thing near to a solid description we are given of physical attributes, and even then half of the description is more to do with the expression of the personality or feeling of the character through their glances and gazes, rather than specifically the colour of their irises. (Only Emma Woodhouse’s exact eye-colour is known–they are “hazle” and no adaptation so far has given enough of a shit to make certain of casting.) Marianne Dashwood has very dark eyes, and there is a general comparative description of the figures of the two sisters–but casting directors rarely, if ever, I think, take specifics of figures into account beyond an ‘acceptable’ level of Hollywood slimness.Now, for the casting trends (exceptions to the pattern you laid out being the 1940 P&P’s Greer Garson being a dirty-blonde/light brown Elizabeth, while Maureen O’Sullivan’s Jane had very dark hair; and the 1980 miniseries with Elizabeth Garvie’s Eliza also having light brown hair while Sabina Franklyn’s Jane was several shades darker–but indeed, the two more recent and well-known adaptations of 1995 and 2005 have the colourings you mentioned,) it’s probably just down to Hollywood mechanics where you’re going to have to combine the tropes of a comparative Ugly Duckling sister as well as a Best Friend/Beta Couple plotline. Coding a blonde woman (or man) as ‘good’ and a darker-haired person as ‘less good’ has been a Thing since long before cinema showed up on the scene. There’s a reason Laura Ingalls spends so much time inwardly (and outwardly) bitching about her sister Mary’s luck in being blonde (and also better-behaved, though this is never explicitly tied to the fact that Mary is blonde, but just ties INTO the overall notion that Mary is The Better Daughter.) Dark-haired heroines throughout older literature have bemoaned their lack of golden locks (notably also in LM Montgomery’s works, with Anne Shirley’s famous sensitivity about her hair being red, but also briefly in Emily Starr’s contemplation of her own black hair and atypical looks, which gets a bit of verse thrown at it which I can’t find sourced anywhere else so must have been made up by Montgomery herself: “If the bards of old the truth have told the sirens had raven hair. But over the earth since art had birth, they paint the angels fair.“So culturally, in the west, there’s a pervasive notion (especially when it comes to women,) that dark-haired women are the ‘darker’ side of their humanity…the temptresses, the more-likely-to-be-bad. (Though any reasonable reader would be like “…well, they’re human, you see, not out-and-out evil.”) But of course anyone compared to the fair-haired saintly paragon of womanhood would look bad–and so equally is the angelic blonde woman a trope in literature, often but not always used in comparisons against her brunette foil.

In cinema, quite often it’s just to better differentiate between characters, and to use these assumptions which are deeply entrenched in our cultures to play upon our immediate and almost instinctive reactions to visual cues. Jane is super-good, so she’s blonde. Bingley is likewise a bright and easy-going character, with more elements of comedy about him, so he’s got lighter hair, too, either as a strawberry blonde or redhead–but he is definitely the sidekick. I, personally, would be all for a ginger Darcy. Or a ginger-everybody P&P. (But that’s not going to happen, because redheaded men are culturally de-sexed/made less masculine or attractive, whereas redheaded women are more inclined to be overly-sexualized. Humanity is weird.) Darcy is a brooding brunette, because darker hair in the case of a male character gives them gravitas and mystery. It’s that damn Byronic thing coming into play. Dark hair, dark secrets. It’s a visual construct we’ve trapped ourselves into, at this point. Also, when you’ve got two love-stories running more or less concurrently, an audience needs visual markers to help them quickly identify and individualize (and therefore emotionally-invest in) the characters. More morally-dubious and fascinating hero and heroine Elizabeth and Darcy are brunettes because we see them making mistakes and drawing our attention by being fuck-ups. Lizzie can’t be the Prettier Sister, so she’s more automatically made the Brunette Underdog. Darcy is brooding and mysterious–so it’s very easy to make him dark-haired. Their contrasts are in their secondary characters–Jane and Bingley. Jane is prettier, and good-hearted (moreso than Eliza, anyway,) so she ascends to Blonde. Bingley is the Good Friend, and seemingly with fewer social defects compared to Darcy, so as the Nice Man, he gets lighter hair to also differentiate him from Darcy and make him more matchy-matchy with Jane. Our brains are making these connections based on visuals even before we’ve gotten half a dozen words of dialogue from any of these people.

This happens often in films and TV shows–in Coppola’s Dracula, Sadie Frost (a natural brunette) was made a vibrant redhead as Lucy to contrast to Winona Ryder’s more sedate and mysterious Mina. (Though this also had the fun effect of tying in a possible reference to the historical link between redhaired people and vampires, and the whole mythos of redhaired women in particular and sexual allure/witchcraft/spiritual evil–particularly as THIS version of Lucy is much more heavily sexualized compared to her book counterpart. I don’t know how much of the hair-colour-change was on purpose from Coppola’s perspective, and largely it’s just handwaved as being so people could really tell apart the ONLY TWO MAJOR FEMALE CHARACTERS IN THE FILM, but personally I think it’s an interesting choice–particularly compared to Katie McGrath’s blonde Lucy.) Again, we see the contrasting of virtue coded in hair-colouring, as Lucy is a character known for her sweetness and purity…as well as being a secondary female character to the heroine, and hence her more-virtuous foil…with lighter hair. Mina’s place as an educated, working, and married woman, with a more active part in the narrative, particularly as her brushes with dark forces mark her as ‘unholy’, makes it easier to code her as ‘complicated’, i.e. a brunette. Interestingly, this is set on its head in Penny Dreadful, where Mina becomes the blonde, doomed damsel, and her friend/lover Vanessa is the raven-haired woman at the center of a maelstrom of fucked up shit full of vampires, witches, and devils. Essentially if you want your heroine to go ‘bad’ a little (or a lot), give her a better-by-comparison blonde friend and have at it.Of course, since these tropes are so pervasive, we do see stories where this is purposefully mirrored or mocked, where the icy blonde is the femme fatale or turncoat who uses her appeal to deceive others–but this relies just as heavily on the initial assumption that a fair-haired character is intrinsically ‘better’ on a moral level.To conclude, this is why I think we see that general trend with colouring when it comes to casting/styling these characters in cinematic adaptations, as we have really very little in the text to go on, but from the characters themselves there are long traditions to draw from for visual cues to quickly and adeptly condition audiences to draw certain assumptions about these characters which enable us to rapidly bond with and understand them to some degree. I want to specify “Western” audiences because the blonde/brunette thing is at its roots kind of a colourism thing which is grossly pervasive in a white supremacist society going back for centuries, and Caucasian beauty standards do not and should not apply globally; but as the media most of us are familiar with is dominated by this white heteronormative patriarchal history, these tropes and codings exist for ultimately gross reasons. Frankly we could all do without them from this day forward, but change can be slow and so these stereotypes continue to exist and blonde people on-screen for now often continue to be the tacit code for ‘these people are the purest bestest people’ while the darker-haired people are almost always more morally-grey, complicated–even troubling–and made more ‘fascinating’ by their more flawed natures. It’s a shitty way of doing things, but we’ve been culturally conditioned to respond to things like that, and so it works.Anyway, thanks for asking this one–my answer went to places I wasn’t fully expecting me to go, but I enjoyed blowing the dust off my film studies qualifications and I always love yelling about culture.

[ashley-virginia]

Alright I'm gonna be "that guy" and be totally annoying, but for the unusual asks thing, answer all of them (or whatever ones you want to/have time for) bc I'm honestly genuinely curious :)

Ahhhh thank you so much! I actually love you a whole bunch, because this was so fun and I never really get to do things like this!!

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? spotify

is your room messy or clean? my room at home is messy as hell, but my dorm is pretty neat and pretty.

what color are your eyes? brown, but like a nice chocolate brown!

do you like your name? why? i guess i like it, i think it’s kinda adorable when people mess up the pronunciation and add an extra syllable in the middle. so they say ash-uh-lee instead of just Ashley.

what is your relationship status? s i n g l e 

describe your personality in 3 words or less calm, friendly, shy

what color hair do you have? brunette

what kind of car do you drive? color? white ‘99 solara. i named him caspar :)

where do you shop? target, forever21, kohls (if i’m feeling like dropping big bucks), lush

how would you describe your style? terrible. i have zero style whatsoever. but i guess it’s classic? trendy? what words do you even use to describe style??

favorite social media account tumblr or twitter

what size bed do you have? queen i think

any siblings? only child!

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? somewhere warm so i don’t freeze my butt off, and my skin gets super dry when it’s cold out. so like maybe florida or cali. the outer banks is pretty nice in the summer, they have great beaches

favorite snapchat filter? the butterfly crown thingy

favorite makeup brand(s) COLOURPOP, maybelline, ulta brand?, nyx, too faced…(i have a ton of favs)

how many times a week do you shower? usually 7 because i work out quite often so i don’t want to go to work or class smelling gross like some people do 

favorite tv show? gotham, the flash, supergirl, ouat

shoe size? 6 or 7

how tall are you? 5′3

sandals or sneakers? sneakers because i have ugly, wide feet

do you go to the gym? not really, i usually go on runs or use the treadmill/elliptical that i have in my house. but since there’s a gym on campus i might start going, but it’s also out of the way so idk

describe your dream date cute lunch or dinner at a cute cafe. i’m sipping some hot chocolate and munching on a soft pretzel or muffin. and my date, whoever he or she is, is munching on their snack, telling me about a book their reading or something that makes them happy. maybe afterwards we’ll go on a walk and find a quite place to read

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? maybe like $30? about to be like 10 after i get my lab notebook

what color socks are you wearing? maroon and white

how many pillows do you sleep with? at home: two regular pillows, a body pillow, two pillow pets. at school, one pillow, three decorative pillows.

do you have a job? what do you do? i work part time at an agriculture company, currently at school though, so i work during breaks. but i help with harvest and such, i don’t really know how to explain it without going into major details

how many friends do you have? not a lot. it’s kinda embarrassing to put a number to it 

whats the worst thing you have ever done? give my phone to two of my friends while they prank called some guy that had called one of them while he was very drunk (the dude not my friend). it turns out he was in a very high position in our state, and we all got in a shit ton of trouble :/

whats your favorite candle scent? classic vanilla i suppose. or anything fall themed

3 favorite boy names noah, adam, jonathan (and any variation of it)

3 favorite girl names carrie, zoe, dorothy 

favorite actor? river phoenix or cameron monaghan. i could go on and on about why i picked them

favorite actress? i don’t really have one, but i like emma watson and elizabeth taylor

who is your celebrity crush? probably cam or river

favorite movie? stand by be, the mummy, and et are all collectively number 1 on my list

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? i’ve read 7 books in january so i guess i read a lot. and right now my favorite would probably be The Raven Boys (i’m patiently waiting on the rest of the series to arrive so i can binge read it)

money or brains? brains

do you have a nickname? what is it? sadly i have a very plain nickname. It’s Ash, just the first three letters of my name. but i do like it, usually on my family and few friends call me it, so it’s kinda special to me

how many times have you been to the hospital? oh yikes, proably like 15-20

top 10 favorite songs 

sexual by NEIKED

shout out to my ex by little mix 

anything that dodie calrk sings lol

all i ask by adele

make you feel by love (the glee version)

the dear evan hansen sounddtrack (it hasn’t been released yet but you know i’m gonna love it)

human by darren criss

driftwood by cody simpson (basically the whole album, free, is a bop)

last night on earth by green day

girls like girls by hayley kiyoko

do you take any medications daily? yep, nothing serious just stuff to keep me healthy

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) usually oily, but during very cold days, it can get very very dry

what is your biggest fear? probably being alone in life.

how many kids do you want? maybe 2 or 3

whats your go to hair style? well considering i have short hair, i just shower and let it dry

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) i guess it’s small, but before i left for uni, i was in the process of moving into a slightly bigger house, so now i guess it’s a medium sized house

who is your role model? lea michele

what was the last compliment you received? some girl in my psych class complimented my blue jacket

what was the last text you sent? “i love you” to my dad

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? 7, i saw one of my presents that had yet to be wrapped in the back of my dads truck, and then on christmas day, i opened the exact gift and it had said it was from “Santa”. i didn’t let my parents know for a couple more years.

what is your dream car? idk, i kinda like the one i have now.

opinion on smoking? it’s bad for you and your health, you shouldn’t do it

do you go to college? yep, just started my first semester on monday

what is your dream job? either a writer or an actress, i’m going to school for neither of those things

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? suburbs was always the dream, but i am starting to like more rural areas.

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? no, but my mom does

do you have freckles? yep, on my shoulders and face, though the latter are more prominent in the summer

do you smile for pictures? usually

how many pictures do you have on your phone? 37

have you ever peed in the woods? yep!

do you still watch cartoons? not really, but sometimes i’ll watch old pokemon episodes on netflix

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? i don’t think i’ve ever had wendy’s nuggets, but i’m sure they’re much better than McDonald’s

Favorite dipping sauce? BBQ or ketchup

what do you wear to bed? usually sweatpants and a tank top, but i’ll switch to shorts if it gets too hot

have you ever won a spelling bee? i’ve never been in a spelling bee

what are your hobbies? singing, acting, writing, reading

can you draw? nope

do you play an instrument? ukulele and a bit of guitar

what was the last concert you saw? hunter hayes in 2014

tea or coffee? tea

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? starbucks

do you want to get married? yeah, i’d like to

what is your crush’s first and last initial? JC

are you going to change your last name when you get married? maybe

what color looks best on you? i’ve been told dark green and blue?

do you miss anyone right now? yeah, my dog and family

do you sleep with your door open or closed? closed, i like to think that it keeps the bugs out

do you believe in ghosts? hell yeah

what is your biggest pet peeve? body odor

last person you called my dad

favorite ice cream flavor? vanilla or pistachio 

regular oreos or golden oreos? regular

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? rainbow sprinkles

what shirt are you wearing? not wearing a shirt ;) lol i’m actually just wearing a sweatshirt

what is your phone background? my date for prom and i

are you outgoing or shy? depends, if i’m with good friends, i’m outgoing, if not, i’m usually very very shy

do you like it when people play with your hair? not really

do you like your neighbors? not really

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? morning and night

have you ever been high? nope

have you ever been drunk? nope

last thing you ate? a granola bar for lunch

favorite lyrics right now literally the entirety of Waving Through a Window. like i relate to that so much it makes me cry half the time i listen to it

summer or winter? i guess summer, but i prefer fall to all seasons

day or night? day

dark, milk, or white chocolate? dark

favorite month? october

what is your zodiac sign cancer

who was the last person you cried in front of? probably my dad