#and then they broke containment and I’ve been sort of waiting for the fallout ever since

[not-available-for-comment]

Ah, I have been waiting to see if anyone with more knowledge of Twitter bots than me would have a debunking for this. Happened to scroll through the tags this morning when I should’ve been asleep and here you go.

Spoofing the phone clients sounds like so much work! But I guess they must be harder to detect and throttle that way.

I do think the general chaos of the previous week could’ve had a suppressive effect on Elon’s engagement either way, but it’s good to know my initial guess was definitely wrong.

Honestly a relief to see someone be really nice about my unintentionally viral post being inaccurate! Thank you for the extra info, @tevruden!

lmfao this is so funny 😭

[moonlitwing]

It’ll Be A Picnic

When they were 14, Steve Palchuk and Eli Pepperjack went into the woods of Arcadia to look for goblins. While out there, they ran into Jim Lake ... and Bular.

Contains death and implied gore.

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Steve was taking selfies the first time he saw a goblin. Since he was starting high school next week, his mom finally agreed he was old enough get a cellphone. He was messing with the camera in the backyard and saw something moving behind his back.

He turned around – which meant the thing wasn't on camera anymore – and squinted. It was green, and climbing a tree, and looked more like a monkey than a raccoon. Steve switched the camera settings and got about three seconds of video before the weird creature was hidden in the leaves.

He watched for a while, but it didn't come back out. Then his mom called him in for dinner.

Steve didn't say anything to her about the green monkey. If he tried showing her the video, she'd probably think it was a camera filter he'd been playing with.

The first person he told was Eli Pepperjack. Pepperjack was some kind of conspiracy nut. If anyone was going to believe Steve wasn't just messing with them, it was him.

Besides, Pepperjack was the one to approach Steve.

Sort of.

"Things in this town aren't what they seem!" Pepperjack insisted, trying to pass out fliers to passing students in the hallway between classes. "Join the Arcadia Investigations Club and we'll get to the bottom of this mystery! All the mysteries!"

"Don't you need a teacher to sponsor a school club?" asked Jim Lake, who was trying to get around Pepperjack to reach his locker.

"Um … well, it's not an official school club yet." Pepperjack took a step back from Lake and bumped into Steve. "Hey! Want to uncover Arcadia's hidden secrets?"

The flier had four blurry photos framing the club name. One of them might've been a flying saucer, or a dark out-of-focus cloud. The second was of some kind of animal tracks. The third, Steve couldn't make out what it was supposed to be. The fourth showed a green blur leaping into a bush, one leg almost in-focus. It was the same shade of green as the monkey-thing.

Steve took the flier and found Pepperjack after school.

"I've seen one of these," he said, pointing to the green picture. "In the woods behind my house."

"Really?" Pepperjack's eyes and smile widened.

"I got it on video." He got out his phone. Pepperjack actually squealed, making Steve flinch at the sudden high-pitched noise, when the video played.

"I can't believe you actually got it on camera! This is the clearest image of a creeper I've ever seen!"

"Creeper?"

"That's what I've been calling them. Things that creep in the night! Arcadia is a hotbed of paranormal activity. Where exactly did you see this one?"

Eli came to Steve's house after school. His mom was thrilled he'd 'brought a friend for dinner'. They went out to the backyard and hopped the fence – well, Steve did; Eli needed help.

The creeper wasn't hanging around, and it hadn't left any footprints or claw marks that Steve could recognize, although Eli excitedly photographed some scratches on the trees.

They went deeper into the woods.

It started to get dark.

Steve was starting to think he should just leave Eli to it – the woods weren't all that interesting if you weren't already into nature and stuff – when something ran through the branches above their heads.

"After it!" Eli yelled, and went running. Of course Steve had to follow him now. If Eli fell and broke his leg or something, someone had to call an ambulance.

Did he even get service out here? Steve would check once Eli slowed down enough that Steve could actually stop and still keep Eli in sight. Getting lost in the woods would be bad enough. Being lost alone would be worse.

There were more things in the trees now. Steve could see them sometimes when they were on low enough branches. Fat, long-limbed, shockingly fast, all going in the same direction. One of them looked at him and hissed. Its eyes glowed red and yellow. Its big pointy ears made it look like some kind of mutant cat.

The trees thinned out a bit. Steve saw someone standing ahead. He grabbed Eli by the shoulder and yanked him back.

"What –?!"

"Ssshh!" Steve pointed at the … person? The cat-monkey-creepers swarmed around them. The figure started passing stuff out, which the other creepers ate. Steve couldn't see what exactly it was.

Eli shook Steve off and got closer, getting out his phone and shining a flashlight at the creeper picnic. The green things hissed and scattered. The big one whipped around, ears up, pupils slitted –

"Jim?" said Eli.

"Eli?"

It was Lake. The face was different, but still sort of similar. The hair was about the same, discounting the horns sprouting out of it. The blue sweatshirt was the same.

"Oh, man, you just ruined the shot," said Lake. "Tobes and I are doing a mockumentary on the Billycraggle. Hence the costume," gesturing at his blue face and big stuck-on pink nose. "It took ages to train Nana's cats for the … baby-billies scene."

That made no sense. A bit more sense than supernatural creatures, but still.

"So where's Domzalski?"

"Wha – Steve? You're here too? How many people are out here?" Lake squinted past him. Those creepy slit pupils widened a little. "Toby's … in the trees somewhere. I kept looking into the camera so now I'm not supposed to know where he is exactly."

There was an uncomfortable beat of silence while Steve and Eli waited for Domzalski to reveal himself and confirm Lake's excuse.

"… Maybe he needed a bathroom break." Lake shrugged. "He'll be back. It'd be super awesome if you guys'd just … go … and pretend this didn't happen."

"If you're doing a Billycraggle movie, I should be a consultant." Eli pouted. "I'm an expert on everything that goes bump in the night."

There was another awkward pause, and then the green things came swarming back.

Those were definitely not cats. They were laughing, and making a repeated low noise like a chant; "Boo-la … Boo-la …"

Lake's ears went back – Steve refused to believe that was a costume, it was too twitchy, too alive – and he shivered.

And a monster came out of the woods.

It was big. It had yellow-red eyes like the green things. Steve could only tell because the eyes were glowing. Everything else was just a hulking shadow.

Could – could he outrun that thing? Through the woods, in the dark?

Eli turned his phone light on it. The monster growled. It was buff, with horns and tusks … and swords.

"Explain, Impure," it snarled.

"Lord Bular …" Lake's voice wavered. "I … I hope you're hungry. I brought you something to eat."

Eat?!

Steve made a run for it. Eli, behind him, also tried to run – the light from his phone shook wildly, flashing in all directions.

Wham! Steve tripped on the uneven ground. Something heavy pinned him. Behind him, Eli screamed. There was a wet crunch and the light went out. Steve struggled and started to cry.

"Please … please …" Steve blubbered. Eli wasn't screaming anymore. Don't kill me I won't tell anyone I swear I'll do anything just please – "Please!"

Lake, the stone monster pinning him, hauled Steve to his feet and offered him to the other, bigger stone monster.

+=+

Jim checked himself carefully for blood before going home.

He hadn't known Bular would be close enough for the goblins to call over. He wasn't sure there was anything different he could've done if he had. Maybe he could've stolen Steve and Eli's phones and told them to run, and dealt with the fallout of being seen later.

If a human catches sight of Bular while you're with him, say you lured the human there for him to eat. He won't believe you but he'll let it slide.

He didn't know Eli or Steve that well. He would be able to plausibly claim ignorance if anyone questioned him after they were reported missing.

Thank the Pale Lady that it hadn't been Toby or Barbara who'd followed Jim to the 'goblin picnic'.

+=+

I'm using the same Changeling!Jim model, for looks and personality, as I do in 'Becoming the Mask'. Those who read the main fic will notice it is set two years after this, and that Eli and Steve are still alive as minor characters. The events described above did not happen in that timeline, but they could have.

[imaginedmelody]

I think I’m finally ready to try and write my “The Magicians” season finale reaction post.

I’ve been collecting my thoughts on this for the last almost-week, because I knew that this post would be a difficult one; it’s hard to sort through all the opinions and feelings and put them down in a way that makes sense. I’ll try to hit on my major takeaways under the readmore. Bear in mind that my reaction is mixed. Conflicted is the word I’ve been using. I really sympathize with the pain that much of the fandom is feeling, even if I don’t feel it on a level that’s the same (or perhaps comparable) to theirs. I’ll try to dig into that in this post a bit.

I’m a new viewer to this show, as I’ve said many times before. I tried to watch it two years ago, and found it confusing in that I felt like it failed to resonate with me even though I still felt strangely drawn to it. I would watch an episode, feel unsatisfied and only barely interested, but then the next day I would feel oddly compelled to watch the next one. After about 5 episodes of season 1, I gave up. I picked it back up again about 9 weeks ago; I guess I was one of the many viewers who came along because of 4x05, although I didn’t realize that was why I was pulled back in- I just started seeing more and more about the show on my social media again, and it was enough to make me want to give it another try.

This time, I was hooked. I marathon-watched the whole show in probably 4-5 weeks and loved almost every moment (except for a couple of the really distressingly disturbing ones). I was so moved by 3x05, “A Life in the Day,” that I wrote this post about how the show felt like a missing piece had slotted into place at the end of that episode; like a photo that you don’t realize is slightly out of focus until someone adjusts the resolution and it just resolves. I got caught up enough to livetweet somewhere around episode 7 or 8 of season 4, and have been enjoying my integration into the fandom, although I’m still very peripherally a part of it.

I say all this because, as a new viewer, the fallout of 4x13 has been...confusing. Not confusing as in “I don’t understand why this is happening,” but in the sense that the fandom’s collective grief can feel kind of alienating to new viewers. That’s not intentional on the part of seasoned fans, and it’s not something that anyone should feel responsible for or obligated to change. It’s just difficult because we have only just invested in the show. We may be devastated at the loss of Quentin, many of us for the same reasons longtime viewers are (the loss of queer representation, for instance, or the way it seemed to counteract the positive development of a mentally ill character). But at the same time, a lot of us are more positive overall, even if we think killing off that character was a bad choice. We’re still kind of wrapped up in our enthusiasm, so that our grief just feels like another strong emotion we’re feeling, rather than a betrayal. And it can be awkward because we don’t want to express that too boldly or strongly, because we don’t want to appear to be trivializing the grief of other fans. I think that’s an unfair position that the show, not the fans, puts us in. We’re already new to the community, and now we feel less engaged in what is very much a communal emotional response. Positivity feels like rubbing salt in other fans’ wounds. So we’re not sure where we stand.

I was in shock when the show killed off Quentin. Like most viewers, I couldn’t believe it. I waited for them to find a way to reverse it. It was like a hole forming in my heart when they didn’t. I mentioned on twitter later that night that I cry all the time when I watch TV and movies- literally, if something is in any way beautiful, or sad, or exciting, or happy, I’m getting teary-eyed. But once the credits roll and the story is done, my emotional response is usually finished too. If I’m gonna react to it in any other way, it’ll be intellectual (through meta or fanfic) rather than emotional.

But when this episode ended, I finished my cup of tea, went upstairs, and got in the shower. And all of a sudden, before I even knew it, I was crying. It had been 15 minutes since the episode ended and I was still emotional enough to cry. Since then, because I’m a glutton for emotion who likes to lean into anything that makes me feel strongly, I’ve rewatched the episode once and the “Take On Me” scene like eight times- and every single time I’ve cried, even if it’s just a little. It touches some raw emotional place in me that very few shows get to. And I think I’m in awe of that as much as I’m in pain because of it.

I never quite got to the outrage that other fans did, though. That could be for a number of reasons- less prolonged attachment as a new viewer (although I feel very attached to the show and characters); greater privilege to not feel personally attacked by the loss; just having more emotional energy to engage with the scene. But I felt simultaneously anguished and energized by the episode, including the death. It broke my heart, but it also pulled me in. It’s very confusing. I’m angry at how things increasingly seem to have been mishandled, and I’m disappointed at the fallout this has for the show and the fans, and I’m in disagreement with the validity of the choice. But I still feel engaged and almost excited by it. That’s a hard balance to reconcile.

It really does seem to me like the writers dropped the ball. The fact that they knew they were killing Quentin off bothers me, but actually, the thing that I find most galling is that the other actors weren’t in on the plan. We have it on good authority that they filmed a fake scene, where presumably Q comes back somehow, and all the actors were led to believe that was what was in the episode until two days before the finale, when they were told the truth for the first time. My question is: why? Did they not trust the actors to keep the secret? I can kind of understand faking out the audience, but why play that mind game with your actors, who are part of the creative team and should know what’s going on? Why deprive them of the chance to say goodbye to Jason Ralph as a fellow cast member? So far, in every interview, no one has really explained what the point of that fakeout was. If I was an actor on the show, I’d feel really upset about that.

The other thing that’s really been grinding my gears is something that I saw mentioned in comments before I ever saw it in context in the article (and thank you to everyone who helped me find the source). It’s a quote from John McNamara, one of the showrunners, from an article in the Hollywood Reporter, in which he says this about the decision to kill off Q:

“... in a way, I'm not sure what we would have done with the character had he lived.”

I took issue with that statement for two reasons. The first is from a writing craft perspective. I understand wanting to take risks and shake up expectations, and I understand that “kill someone off” is common writing advice when you get stuck in a project. But it’s my firm belief that the main character (and even on an ensemble show like this, yes, there is a clear lead character) should pretty much always be safe. Because the premise of the show is structured in some essential way around him; that’s why he’s the lead. And that’s why almost every show that gets rid of its main character, either by recasting or just removing and replacing with other characters, goes downhill in quality- because that original character was integral to the story.

I’ve said before that literally the only story I can think of that is better for having killed off its protagonist is friggin’ Julius Caesar. When I teach that play, we discuss at that moment in Act 3- and then again at the end of the play- what it means for the narrative if your title character dies halfway through his story. What it means that Marc Antony is the lead for the rest of the play. How Caesar is still so central to the plot even though he’s dead. Part of the reason this doesn’t work on TV- the reason the plot can’t still centralize the character they killed in the narrative- is because a play is a single self-contained entity that you consume all at once, and a TV series is, well, serialized. The show can’t keep centering a character who’s no longer present, because it wouldn’t resonate in a long-form narrative that you consume in small installments. That’s why shows that kill off characters don’t keep bringing them up. They throw in a couple of heartfelt moments that directly or indirectly reference the character, and then they move on and you’re supposed to let them go. A protagonist has to live to keep being important to the story.

So I am of the firm belief that if your main character has outlived his usefulness, the problem is with your narrative as a whole, not with that particular character. If you can’t think of anywhere meaningful for that character to go, you don’t need to kill him off- you need to restructure your whole story so that it’s responsive to him again. It doesn’t have to revolve around him all the time- the show has frequently centered around other characters prominently and effectively, and Q doesn’t have to be in the spotlight all the time- but if he’s no longer relevant? Your whole story has a problem.

But the second thing that aggravates me about that comment is this: not only do I think Q should not ever become decentralized and disconnected from his show’s narrative, I don’t think he has. The events of this season provided so much room to develop that character. He learned his discipline (minor mendings), which has tremendous practical usefulness as well as symbolic significance. “Escape From the Happy Place” reopened a potential relationship that contains a whole wellspring of emotional resonance as well as complication. His father died- you can do a lot with the grief related to that. His reconnection with Alice felt hollow to me, but even that could be useful narratively (especially if she goes on to lead the Library, which could create a layer of separation and potential for either teamwork or conflict of interest that could sustain several intriguing narratives). Even his tendency toward suicidal self-sacrifice could have been brought up; the conversation he had with Penny about whether he was trying to be a hero or just finally finding a way to kill himself could be had after a failed self-sacrifice attempt just as meaningfully as a successful one.

Quentin has been filled with potential this entire season in the storyline. All of this plus his emotional reckoning with Fillory in the scene where he brings the garden back to life... it seemed like the writers spent the whole season re-establishing all the potential Q had. It didn’t read like a season in which the writers didn’t know what to do with him any more. So the decision to kill him off does seem purely like an effort to challenge themselves as writers and wrong-foot the fans. Which I don’t think is enough of a reason to do it.

Because here’s the thing: I’m a writer too, and I understand that the dichotomy of pursuing your own writing vision and capitulating to the fans’ wants and needs is a delicate one. Writers hate being told what to write, and with social media and fan conventions and other very close forms of engagement, fans have more ways to make their desires known than perhaps ever before. They have every right to make the choice that supports their creative vision, and to do things that force them to stretch their limits as creators. But this feels like it went wildly off its mark. It feels less like an experiment and more like a careless move, and I think they could have approached it a lot better.

I wouldn’t rule out seeing Q again on the show one day. I think if they’re willing to fake us all out once, they’d do it again. I’m comforted by the fact that they appear to have consulted the author early in the process and gotten his blessing, although his comments since then seem to walk back his involvement or contradict what the showrunners have said. (Whether that’s because they’ve overstated his involvement or enthusiasm, or whether he was involved in the decision and is now trying to distance himself from the fallout, it’s impossible to say.)

What is less heartening for me is that some of these writers/creators come from Supernatural, a show that has gone on for far too long and has been retreading tired old ground for years. I only watched to about season 8, but it just feels like an endless cycle of similar plot arcs and killing off and resurrecting the same characters over and over again. The Magicians, admittedly, feels a lot more well-crafted, so I don’t think they’d get as lazy as SPN seems to be- but it’s still a worry, all the same.

(Side note: I am often adamant that unless it’s a legacy franchise like Doctor Who, most shows should intentionally be constructed to be a maximum of 5-7 seasons. I think a lot of broadcast shows are less high-quality because they are just vague pitches that get riffed into a show; the writers and creators don’t come into it with an endpoint in mind, so the show goes on as long as they can add any material at all to it or until they get cancelled, whichever comes first. That means that the plot feels aimless and unstructured. The difference between “prestige TV” and “regular TV” is not just better writing and acting overall- it’s that those shows tend to have a very defined arc, and they know where they’re going, so everything is in service of a common idea. Not just a vague and easily sellable premise that can have a ton of stuff derived from it with little effort. I think The Magicians sits above most broadcast shows in quality, but this is where it is starting to show its weak points. And that’s why I think the creators need to be very deliberate about making sure everything going forward contributes to a very defined arc.)

So that’s where I am right now. Emotionally a wreck; disappointed in the process of this choice and feeling the grief other fans feel; strangely invigorated at the same time? Unsure where to go from here, really. Still committed to watching the show as much as I ever have been, but wary at the same time. It’s complicated. But I’m ready to embrace the complexity of it.

[neriad13]

Tagged by @darknessfactor! =D

Rules: List the first lines of your last 10 published stories. Look to see if there are any patterns that you notice yourself, and see if anyone else notices any! Tag up to 10 friends!

1. In the attic of Dunwall Tower, there is a graveyard of sorts.

The eyes of dead emperors peer out from faded portraits. Last year’s fashions overflow from overloaded chests. There is a case of tarnished cutlery, a whole host of old light fixtures abandoned to the mess when the palace staff replaced them, a box of china that had once belonged to the Olaskir dynasty and has not been used in a banquet in some fifty years.

There is one corner with a darker purpose. Here is stored the remainder of the old Lord Regent’s things. His clothes were distributed to the poor and his valuables, invested in the rebuilding of the city. His books were thrown out and his furniture, used for kindling. What then, remains to be hidden away in the sole place in the tower that emperors never set foot?

His secrets.

- The Road to Arouraíos Póli (Dishonored) 

I actually wrote this one earlier than some of the others on the list, but eh, I’m going by AO3 posting dates.

2. In the beginning was the Void and in the Void was the Serpent.

All that existed rested in the coil of its body, in the glimmer of its scales. Unborn worlds strived to be free from its flesh, but time and again they were crushed beneath the weight of the Serpent’s body - squeezed to nothingness before they even had a chance to exist.

The worlds cried out for something to save them, to let them out, to let them be...

But the Void was silent and still.

All aid had to come from within. And come, it did.

- Ugo-no-Nyumbani (The Elder Scrolls)

3. He doesn’t sleep - not quite in the way that humans are able.

For one, the tanks on his back prevent him from lying down comfortably. They’re always in the way, lifting his upper body off the floor, forcing him to sit upright even when his legs are falling out from under him. On top of that he has a pervasive fear about damaging something that was not designed to bear the weight of his bulk - the delicate valves and gauges that keep him alive, the glass tanks that contain his supply of ADAM and EVE.

They're an obvious target that splicers go after all the time. He hates how they glow, how easily broken they are compared to the rest of his gear and how, because of them, he's forced to take almost fanatical care in guarding his back.

And so, he does not ever lie down, though a nagging muscle memory, one of the many relics left behind by slapdash splicing, begs him to do so constantly.

- A Man With No Face (Bioshock)

4. “Goooooooood mornin’ Mr. Topside!” an overly chipper voice with a slight Irish accent yelled, much too loudly.

He heard the door slam against the wall and no sooner had he opened his eyes than the light flicked on and blinded him. He groaned, the noise coming out in a deep, gravelly rumble that still sounded as though it were coming from the mouth of someone else.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Toppy!” the voice crooned, half-mocking. “I’ve got brekkie, saline, steroids, plasmids. All the good stuff. Albert, jus’ what in the name o’ God are you waitin’ for? The Rapture? A-ha. Get in here.”

- Good Morning, Herr Delta (Bioshock)

5. Morgan knew she was dreaming because she was standing at her full height in the middle of a darkened corridor, her hands empty of weapons. Not creeping, not cowering, not huddling in a crawlspace waiting for the slithering footsteps to pass. Standing. Breathing. Her head clear of fear, the nigh-constant buzz of anxiety gone from her ears.

Broken consoles sparked on the blood-splattered walls. Shadows of bodies lay here and there on the floor, all their identifying features hidden, blurred in the way that dreams lessen terrible things witnessed in the waking world.

As she walked down the empty corridor, her footsteps made not a single sound. Gone was the familiar creak of her suit, the squeak of her soles and the rumble of abandoned machines in the facility below.

- Weaver (Prey 2017)

NSFW below the cut!

6. Billie couldn’t remember why she’d initially stopped masturbating with her right hand.

She was right-handed by nature - had been all her life. She’d learned to hold a sword in that hand, shoot from that hand, write from that hand. It was the one that held silverware when she ate, the one that scrubbed down the mess in the galley kitchen, the one that passed the whiskey to the next drinking buddy over.

Likewise, it was the hand she’d once trusted most to get the job done.

- Billie’s Hand (Dishonored)

7. The tap on the door broke him out of his haze. With a start, he looked away from the screen to see pale sunlight peeking through the edges of the radstag hide tacked over the empty window frame. Another night gone, just like that. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, the old chair creaking under him as he scooched it out from under the desk. When he turned away from the searing green text of the terminal screen, the rest of the room seemed dark and formless, the unlit edges of his perception cloaked in shadows deeper than they ought to have been. Synths have no need of sleep. Their organic processes can run almost indefinitely without pause. They do not tire and they rarely relent once they latch onto a task. But there was something appealing about breaking up the march of days with long bouts of unconsciousness to N4. It added a rhythm, a greater sense of purpose to the quiet hours he spent locked away in the dark. On nights where he became so absorbed in what he was doing that he slaved away through the rising of the sun, he always felt as though he had missed something. He had no true experience of sleep deprivation, but going without always left him more restless and irritable than he had been before.

But for now, he was afraid.

- Nate (Fallout)

8. Lucy was the one who first saw the smoke rising from Sanctuary. It was early in the morning as she stumbled blearily out the door, meaning to milk Clarabell and use it to make a good portion of razorgrain porridge for breakfast. Her bucket was not where she had left it. Quietly grumbling to herself, she circled around to the other side of the house, in the hopes that her mother had forgotten it by the pump again.

And there it was, clear as day. A thin, gray line against the blue sky. A campfire in Sanctuary.

Someone was over there.

- A Shield Against Sorrow (Fallout)

9. “I could help you.” the doctor says sweetly, her bubblegum-pink smile a slash of color within the stark white walls of her office. Her lab coat is blindingly white. She wears heels that have never tramped across cracked soil, never sunk in the muck of a radioactive marsh. She peers out at you over a set of horn-rimmed glasses with lenses so thick that they nearly hide the glint in her watery eyes.

You feel small and dirty before her. Your boots dragged the filth of the Wastes in with you, smudged the gleaming floors upon which you walked. Your jacket is riddled with bullet holes that you have patched - more often than not - with duct tape. Your armor is cracked and burnt, taken from the bodies of those who would hurt you (were they human?) slaughtered by your own hand. Your gun (you say you keep it because it is reliable and well-made but you know that is not the whole of it), rests comfortably on your hip, close at hand, should you need it here, in the sole bastion of safety in the Wastes of the Commonwealth.

You are almost positive that she isn’t joking. No, the tone of her voice is too sincere, the curve of her smile, too beseeching. She means what she says. She desires what she proposes.

Why?

- N4-73 Revamped (Fallout)

10.  Skadi slammed Loki against the hallway wall, cracking the cheap plaster up to the ceiling. It’d been crumbling for years, dropping white dust on the filthy carpet whenever she trod down the hall with too much force, her heavy footsteps shaking the building to its foundations when she launched into a run. The extent of the damage was also entirely irrelevant to her because the landlord was known to be a spineless weakling who flinched and whinged at the sight of an angry giantess towering over him.

She leaned down, pinning Loki to the wall by the chest with one thick hand, kissing him roughly, her knee grinding against the bulge in his pants. Her other hand she used to tear out the side of his neatly tucked shirt from his immaculately-pressed pants and grope the pale flesh beneath, pushing the stiff fabric up to his ribcage with her beefy fingers.

“Mmmmnphf…” Loki groaned into her face, “Mmmnphf!”

Oh! she realized with a jolt. He wanted to talk.

- An Evening With Skadi (Norse Mythology)

I seem to enjoy starting off with a short hook and then elaborating upon it. 

But the dialogue starts are extra fun to re-read. =0

Tagging: @logicalfangirl, @sorrowsfall, @flyingpurplepizzaeater, @tragic-unpaired-electron