#inspired by me currently trying to learn french on my own

[shyravenns]

Sorry, but I'm stuck thinking about how long it must have taken Price to become semi fluent in Russian, and how hard it must have been for him to hide his progress from Nik 😭

[odusseus-xvi]

hi!! this is kinda a weird question but ur post about characterization for french ccs is rlly helpful for writing, so i was wondering if u had any like . tips or advice about speaking patterns or like. common terms or phrases they use and stuff like that. i have a lot of issues with auditory processing and other hearing stuff that makes it like . hard for me to always understand speech patterns or just like . what people are actually saying so if u have any like . advice or info about like How They Talk that u could put in text or like specific that would be cool. no worries if u dont/cant btw i completely get it i just remembered that u were the one w the previous helpful post ::D

Yeah, no problem I could try ! :D Now keep in mind again I'm not necessarily an expert, and I'm just doing this because it's fun. I still might make some mistakes, and miss some important details, but 'Ill do my best. SO

Let's go for HOW DO THE FRENCH (and swiss) CCS TALK :

Let's start with

ETOILES : So I feel like it might be the easiest because he's the clearest to me. He tends to speak at a normal space and in english with a noticeable slighly french accent, but not an extreme one. He likes to crack jokes constantly when he speaks with other people (most of the time hyping up others, and self deprecating, you know the "You are a legend, I am dumb".) . He can drop pearls of wisdom randomly through ridiculous metaphors ("You don't need to worry, My name means stars, that means that when you look I'm here." "It's like crossing the road, you have to, and there is cars, you need to be careful, but it can't be all you focus on. Wait I'm not sure about that one...") and sometimes actually genuine and inspiring, but more often that not in the tone of discussion, it doesn't sound like he's dispensing "wisdom of the elders", he's just a humble guy talking with you and giving a random advice. He often says in french "Wow a flop" when something doesn't work. Or "c.s.c." (Contre Con Camp, a football term meaning scoring against your own team) when he comments on someone being a tryhard for example ("WOW such a tryhard (csc)"). He'll often makes the joke that nobody likes him when they don't answer in chat to himself, (or chat) and will directly tell them "You want me to die irl don't you?" ensues a myriad of "holy shit you want me to die for real" answered by the "NOO" of the other one. Two last details that came to me, he rarely actually answers by "no" or "yes", he often use "Yeh yeh yeh", or "no no no". He also uses a lot of "euuuuh..." when looking for his words when speaking.

AYPIERRE : He is fairly simple too. He has a very relaxed tone, speaks slightly slower than most people, and has slightly noticeable french accent but less so than others. His tone differenciate between three states : Focused (while building or infiltrating a base), relaxed, and humourous. Note that he's never fully serious, he has that constant gremlin energy and smile that makes him want to make jokes that will make everybody cringe (his favorite pastime.) The only time he's been serious and slightly upset was when he earned gegg died or when he learned that the federation was trying to replicate his wine (there you can see his priorities). Most of the time people are assuming the worst when it's his countless time he starts a conversation with "So, I did something..." and is the type of guy to say "*known illegal act* is a strong word, let's say it's more like *not necessarily better*". I don't follow him as much, so I currently have no other mannerism in mind.

BAGHERA : I feel like she is a bit harder to pin down. When speaking in english she has a very noticeable accent, especially when she is tired. And talks a bit fast, especially in french. Though she doesn't crack jokes constantly, she has a constant chaotic energy that makes her say random things at times. She often say "Oh Yeaaaah" when she is happy or hyped about something, mostly when she is with other people to show them she is happy too. When she is ashamed or not understanding something she likes to take a voice we call the "Antoine Croute" voice (a character she played in a Rp series on GTA V), it's high pitched and really shy. (imagine a little "wut... ?"). She can be really serious, especially when investigating. She almost nver express vocally, in tone at least, her anger. Instead she sounds incredibly cold, like she was with ElQuackity. Her voice when serious drops a bit, and she speaks a bit faster. There is probably plenty more but I'm starting to get tired.

ANTOINE : He is the hardest to me because it is even hard to pin down in french. He has most of the time a very serious tone, while he ironically constantly making either dark jokes based on irony and cynism OR a pun. Because of this, it's sometimes hard to pin what's a joke and what's serious. His accent alternates between horrible french accent OR almost ProPeR eNgliSH. Even when discussing absolutely batshit insane things he sounds serious (he is not in reality, but it's a form of humor in itself). OCCASIONALLY he'll break and cracks a smile, and sometimes, even the heartiest laugh you've ever heard, a very vocal and deep "AHAHAHAHA" that you can hear a mile away (but it happens rarely.) Though I didn't specify, most people, including the french, stutter at least a little bit, and search their words, (like I said for Etoiles' "euh".) but Antoine tends to have a very clear speech, only occasionally looking for a translation. In the same vein, he also has a very quick reaction and can answer with a pun almost instantly (very impressive, especially when it's not his native language.)

That's pretty much all I can think of right now, and I'm tired. Maybe it's not exactly what you asked, but it's what I can muster. Hopes that helped :D

[jullbnt]

Bonjour! I'm a big fan and your art inspires me so much. I'm currently learning French to communicate with my friends, do you happen to have any tips on learning another language? I'd love some advice. ^_^

Bonjour bonjour ! Thank you for gracing my inbox with such a cute little Time, I adore him 🤩

And I'm glad I can inspire you!!

About your question I don't really have unique advice on learning another language, I guess you're asking me because I happen to be French? ^^

I'd say find lessons to learn the basics first, and maybe use an app or something to learn vocabulary (I did that for Japanese a few years ago and quiz apps make things a lot easier and fun! I'm still a beginner though, I don't have enough time but I'd love to start again). There's an app called Anki that lets you create your own quiz cards to test yourself with, or you can download pre-made decks (search for "Anki French decks" and you'll find what you need). I've used Anki a lot for studying, I love it!

Once you're comfortable enough start having basic conversations with your friends, and you can also try watching the French version of a movie you know well (or I don't know... try playing a LoZ game in French for example haha). If you already know the dialogues it can help! Maybe you can also listen to French youtubers that share your interests? I'm sure you'll find lessons from native speakers on Youtube too :)

And then of course consume French media, read in French, listen to French music... That's how I learnt English for the most part, I didn't really try (and the language classes we get in French school are really unhelpful). But I guess it's much easier with English cause it's everywhere and very much needed to get involved in fandom stuff online.

(Also be careful about comments from French users on social networks, sadly a lot of us make a lot of spelling or grammar mistakes so don't trust everything you read... I don't see the same thing happening in the same proportions with English speakers, I guess French is hard for natives too).

And lastly, we're always pleased and impressed when a foreigner bothers to learn our language, even if it's just a few sentences, and you don't need to speak flawlessly to be understood! French can be hard but don't put too much pressure on yourself ^^

I'm not sure this was very helpful, but I tried haha. Good luck with your learning and I hope you'll enjoy speaking French!

Passe une belle journée :))

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

About Sophia's origin

Ok so I'd like to clear this up cause when I make mistakes I admit them most times. Some time ago I made a post about Sophia and my being pissed that even though she appeared Greek, Reverse's team didn't seem to have tried as hard to find a native or sb with an at least understandable accent for her Greek spell but it appears this wasn't necessary because Sophia is most likely not Greek (or she's half).

For context, when the current patch came out I could guess from the aesthetic the inspiration would be either Greek or Roman and then by the focus on Pythagorians I could tell it was indeed Greek inspiration, but I didn't expect there would be a single character that'd actually use the language, like for example French characters do. So when it did I was excited but also disappointed cause unless you read the subs, you couldn't tell what Sophia was saying.

Anyway long story short, from Sophia's mentions in 6's story, she appears to be Anatolian. And while the inspiration could be mixed, time-wise, cause anyway we're in 2007 in the game but everything else is based off ancient Greece, I think she too is supposed to be from the ancient version of Anatolia, therefore neither Greek nor Turkish but either Hattian or some other Anatolian ethnicity of that time. It is said that people at the shores of Asia Minor back then did speak Greek, probably cause of the trade situation with Greece and all, therefore it now makes sense to me that they went with the broken Greek option since she is not supposed to be native.

There. These are my "findings", or rather realizations. So yeah I apologize, I didn't know and I hope she is Anatolian and neither Greek nor Turkish cause that brings in the forefront ethnicities that went extinct and adds even more diversity in the game. However I have to admit I'm a bit sceptical about the choice of hair colour as well. 37 has light blue hair and Sophia firey red so this couuuuuld be addressing one is Greek and the other Turkish, or maybe's it's me overthinking xD. Cause some of you might say oh then why 6 and 210's hair aren't significant. Well, the men's duo doesn't seem to bring a cultural contrast in the forefront but one of authority and social roles and standards. It's the common sense of the island vs the one that wishes to not follow stuff blindly. 37 and Sophia's focus though has to do with cultural contrast and differences and Sophia's adjusting to the mindset of the island through observation of the common ways (island people) and 37 (sb's different and independent approach to the common ways), while also stressing the significance of learning from each other and finding a middle ground like when 37 also tried to play, in her own way, and try to understand more about Sophia through her father's notebook.

That's all. At the end of the day, games and storytelling are artforms, so unless we have specific mentions of things, everything is up to the viewer's interpretation. That was mine.

[randi-the-author]

How Harriet the Spy Taught Me How to Write

As a child, I was obsessed with the Nickelodeon version of Harriet the Spy. Harriet taught me how to be a writer. She carries a composition notebook around with her everywhere, writing down all she sees. “I learn everything I can, and I write down everything I see. This is why I am a spy,” Harriet says at the beginning of the movie. I too am a spy, a spy of the word around me. While I use a more discerning approach to what I write down, I too always have a notebook with me, albeit not always composition. I use my notebook as a central capture bucket for ideas, thoughts, quotes, lessons, overheard conversations, unique situations, new words, anything of remote interest to me. And those notebooks I fill are a goldmine!

A word to the wise: a cautionary tale we learn from Harriet: unless you are directly quoting some, anonymize what you write about people. Harriet’s notebook is misplaced then found by her classmates who read it, out loud, publicly to each other. Harriet had written commentary on all her classmates and unfortunately for her, she names names with those personal opinions. As you can imagine, it doesn’t go over well.

If you too “want to remember everything [and] …want to know everything,” as Harriet says, take some advice from her nanny Gully: “knowing everything won’t do you a bit of good unless you use it to put beauty in this world.”

Here’s some ways to fill your notebooks like Harriet the Spy: raw material, commentary, contemplation, and a memory bank.

Raw Material

Raw material comes direction from a source other than yourself. It could be:

research (definitely notate your sources when writing down research.)

books you read.

YouTube videos (again, cite this source if you quote someone),

interesting phrases people say,

new words you learn and their definitions,

anything that piques your interest.

Commentary

Commentary is your expanded thoughts and feelings on raw material. What I like to do is notate a few keywords and phrases about my own thoughts and commentary in the moment, then later I will sit down and write out my thoughts in full, usually in a different, typically larger, notebook. Commentary is different from raw material because it is your first-person account. Raw material is second- or third-person accounts of events. To keep clarity on your sources, try using different color pens to denote whether a thought is yours or not.

Contemplation

Contemplation is very deliberate commentary. This is not only expanded thoughts on scenarios, but particularly scenarios that haven’t or have yet to happen. I like to take raw material and apply different “what if” scenarios. For example: Say you are writing at a cafe, and listening to other people’s conversations for inspiration. The couple at the table next to you are arguing over whether the pastry they are splitting is a chocolate croissant or a pain au chocolat. They decide it doesn’t matter, but they definitely need to order a second one.

Now let’s apply a what-if scenario: What if Person A is French? Would Person A vehemently declare that there is no such thing as a chocolate croissant and only pain au chocolat? What if Person A feels so strongly about this that they become physically violent with Person B? What if they brawl in the middle of the cafe? How could this fight be stopped? What if a barista flings a hot latte on them both to break up the fight? How hot is it? Do they need medical attention? Or was the latte just enough to break the tension and cause the fight to dissolve.

As demonstrated, a single “what if” scenario can bring about an entire scene, if you let yourself play with the character, play with the setting, and let your brain have fun creating. “What if” opens the door to creativity.

Memory Bank

These are the things occupying your mind: your current fixations or hyper focuses, special interests, what you’re currently reading or listening to, watching, ideas and comments to review or research later, media recommendations, anything that fills your brain other than your writing. Empty your mind of extraneous material irrelevant to your writing session.

I find writing the same things over and over as they pop into my head helps me to release it in the moment, and allow other thoughts to flourish. If this practice sounds similar to a commonplace book, that’s because it is! A commonplace book, as casually defined in the modern era, is a collection of information. For more in-depth info on commonplace books and what technically defines, I cannot recommend the Notebook Czar himself, Parker Settecase, enough. This video in particular does a great job of breaking down what types of notebooks have what, if you really want to be technical about it.

What’s in my notebooks, you ask?

Journal entries

Meeting notes

Writing drafts (like this blog post)

Learning/note-taking

Life events/record

Project planning

Quotes, thoughts, ideas

With all this information collected, you have your own personal goldmine! These ideas lead you to the stories you will write. Let them sit, stew, and cook. When you least expect it, ideas will jump out at you–eureka!

Right on, write on.

RIP Michelle Trachtenberg (1985-2025)

<<original post>>

[mac-cheez]

My Guide To Surviving The Waynes

This is inspired by an earlier post of mine and will be in an epistolary/Dracula style in the view of said uni student. I hope y'all like it!

Thxs @arrowheadedbitch for proofread and confidence.

Pt. 2 Pt. 3

--------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Diary,

I'm not a diary person really. I was always told it helps you relax or work through your feelings, but it never seemed worth it...... well not till now. Not till a "normal" morning for me was eating cereal while shouting goes through the house and under threat of death if I finish the milk. This is what's currently happening as I write this on my laptop trying not to spill said cereal. As I listened to another argument between Tim and Damian about something inconsequential (something about galleries robbing banks?), I finally caved and started writing. I figure this could be useful for reference or advice or even study (these bitches are weird as hell). Maybe I should start with how I got here?

I grew up down South. The bible belt was a weird place, but I survived I guess. My parents are loving and as understanding as they can be with their own experiences and opinions. My father is Army so we were lucky to not be on wheels at all times. My only major move was my sophomore year of high school. I decided to apply for the exchange program and was picked due to my fluency in French. I was sent to Paris and, loved it so much I decided to stay. I was able to stay till graduation and still keep in touch with my friends. I know, picture perfect right?

After graduation, I applied to many different Universities and programs hoping for a good criminal justice program to learn in. Forensics was the main interest I was looking for. It just so happened that Gotham University's Forensics and Criminal Justice Facilities just got updated by the Wayne Foundation (probably to deal with the crime problem). I saw that it met all of my criteria and applied not thinking about it. A couple of my picks fell through, but most came back as acceptances. I was about to accept one of my local Universities when I got the Gotham U acceptance letter. It said the usual spiel of "we'd love to have you, blah, blah, blah", I was about to throw it in the pile when I saw one specific detail, "We boast a 95% employment rate of our Science-based graduates."

After some research, I found out that it was true. Most GU grads get hired straight out of school if they have a scientific degree. That paired with the brand new facilities made me reconsider. I talked with my parents, and they agreed that it was likely the best option, but they were concerned about me living in the dorms or an apartment in a place like Gotham. I was about to suggest living in a city nearby and just commuting when my dad asked us to wait for a minute. He made some calls while I talked with my mom about other things concerning the move. When he came back he said he had a friend from work who I could stay with. He told me he had a couple kids my age and plenty of room. It wasn't till I was in the limo with a very nice elderly man on my way to said friend's house that I realized he meant Bruce Fucking Wayne. Once he parked (his name is Alfred btw) I got my luggage out and kinda just stared. He asked to take my bags but I just said no thank you. He hummed and led me to the door. It was quiet when he opened the door which I thought would be normal, but the worry on his face told me otherwise.

Suddenly from the hall, two boys ran by one yelling "MERCY" while the other smaller boy chased him with a sword and........ pink hair? I was concerned, but Alfred seemed more at ease so I tried not to think about it too much. Behind them, a guy came from the same hallway snickering at his phone.

"Master Duke, would you mind filling me in on the situation at hand?" Alfred asked him.

"Oh yeah Alfred, it was hilarious," 'Duke' said laughing, "so Tim put pink dye in the shampoo for Dick and then-," he stopped looking at me. "Uhhhhhhhh, Who's the girl?" He asked.

"A guest of Master Bruce," said Alfred.

"Oh! Oh. Uh, You're not......... ya know..... a guest," he asked.

"No god no I'm not that broke yet," I explained hoping the humor would land.

It seemed to because he immediately brightened and started introducing himself as Duke Thomas, one of Mr. Waynes Wards. I introduced myself and why I was there. It seemed like he was going to ask something when there was a crash and he said he should "make sure no one gets stabbed again".

"Well that was eventful," I said looking towards the hall he exited through.

"I'm sure you'll get used to it," said Afred, worrying me a little. This wasn't an occasional thing?

He started leading me-;skjfbsgdpibzebERROR++vbvnjkm;n;mxcvz;'anrvbA:----

[sleepsentry]

Hi hello I just popped by to tell you just how much I absolutely LOVE your art. The dynamic poses, the color, your shapes, you’re very much an inspiration to me for my own art. I was curious if you’d be willing to share your own inspirations/process in drawing? No need to if you don’t feel like it though. Again, thank you for sharing your art with the world.

Gosh, I'm not sure where I'd even start for that...

I don't think I can get into process atm because it changes so much in such tiny ways all the time. I have a basic skeleton of a process, but the rest is all over the place.

As for insperations:

I follow many many artists online and have picked up many small things just from looking at their work and trying to "reverse engineer" their process in my head.

I've noticed I tend to subconsciously "study" artists just by thinking "how do I draw this? Oh this artist drew it that way! Lemme try..." and I do that many many times while drawing.

Example: I look at the way an artist draws hands, then I look at my own hand and try and mimick the position in the artwork.

I study both and try to connect the dots between them. I feel the way my hand moves and the way the bones and muscles flex and relax.

I try and draw broad shapes, then the underlying mechanics of the hand, then I finish things by drawing what we actually end up seeing on the surface.

I dont draw the bones and muscles of a hand and then the skin just to be clear! I just try and keep them in mind as a draw the outlines.

Like a sculpture having a "skeleton" made of two bits or wire. I don't draw the skeleton, I draw the rough blueprint of where everything goes in quick simple lines. Then I build the "clay" on top.

I don't go that in depth every time but it helps to stop and "be more considered" if you have the time and energy.

Now that I think about it, watch sculpting videos!

It's a very similar process to drawing but 3d instead of 2D! I recommend clay sculpture but I'm sure 3d modeling has similar principles too, even if a very different approach overall.

Here are some channels I recommend:

For cute character dioramas with ridiculous fidelity while being very stylised

For impressive fake food that really shows just how much of an illusion art is

For amazing Dino statues with an eye for detail and convincing naturalism

For 2d artists I follow current professional and/or hobby artists, or even old masters who's work is archived in artbooks and social media accounts. All ranging a wide variety or styles, cute, horror, cartoon, realist, ect... and most importantly, the styles wich aren't as easily definable.

The variety of influences is great! As long as you figure out how to pick and dissect the elements that drew you to the work and how to apply your findings to your own work.

My biggest inspirations as a kid where animation (Disney, pixar, ghibli, ect...), manga, Belgian/French comics my dad had as a kid.

I didn't have the patience or means to learn to animate, but these comics had so much life and motion in their panels! I always found American comics really stiff and more difficult to read because of the detail and "realism". I know American comic art can be very expressive and fluid, but for my undiagnosed eye/brain issues...

This:

Was leagues more "readable" than:

They where literally easier to read.

That comic cover takes me a good few seconds to dissect and process, whereas the two examples above it are instant.

I'm terrible at studying from life due to my poor eyesight and spacial awareness issues, also I have ADHD so, not only is the information my eyes are giving to my brain suboptimal, but my brain is also terrible at processing and reconstructing that information.

Also tracing is a valid way of studying btw, that's how I learnt as a tot and it can be great to try and reverse engineer a finished peice and break it down to it's construction.

Obviously it's not the same as building something from scratch but we're talking within the realms of practice.

I also started trying to "re-learn" some art fundamentals in ways that work better for me, and it's been massively helpful.

I'm already working with fuzzy simplified abstractions of the world around me, so it's horrible trying to see accurately and THEN re-simplify it onto paper.

So something that has helped a lot and I mean A LOT with teaching my brain art basics in a digestible, step by step way, has been:

ART ACADEMY for the DS!

It's great for walking you through art fundamentals in a way that is digestible and no where near as overwhelming as just jumping straight in to a massive, complex, digital art programme.

It gets all the fuss of materials and subject and reference out of the way and let's you just focuse purely on the process of making art itself.

THIS:

WAS MADE WITH THIS:

This is the first drawing lesson:

This is the lesson after that:

This is all with the original DS version!

On a tiny screen with very primitive approximations of pressure sensitivity and no opacity or pen size options.

It mimics traditional art making in the sense that you make what you can with what you have and that limitation allows you to focuse on practice rather than get overwhelmed and over correct everything digitally.

These where tiny, crunchy, microcosmic, simplifications of digital art making back in 2009!!!

It's so refreshingly accessible and manageable.

I haven't even started the newer 3ds game that came out.

So if anyone reading is struggling with their art I highly recommend this little art exercise giver! It's helped me a lot.

OK hope that's readable and helpful. ^^

[mangobeast]

Hello Blair!

I am so sorry about you in ER. Hope you will be okay soon!

I have a difficult question to ask and though I would be so happy to have your advice, please feel free to ignore it. (Plus, I am French, so I hope I'll be understandable, so sorry by advance)

Your "On Thin Ice" content is wonderful, I adore everything about it - the fic, the artworks, the "behind-the-scenes" details, everything. But it seems like you need a lot of time for writing the next chapters (and you are so right, please take your time!). And sometimes it seems like writing is difficult for you. So, do you have some advices about how to resolving it?

Let me just explain why I am asking this: I am French and I started to write fanfictions 20 years ago, when I was 15. It was great, it was easy most of the time, and sharing my stories was freeing me. Never have to learn how to write, it was just here, and it worked, people were enjoying my stories a lot and so do I. Music works a lot with me, it helps me, it unleashes my brain and for each story I had written, I can tell there is one or several musics behind it (that's why I am asking you, because you speak about music in your story and I love it)

I have some chronic pain issues, and it will last until the end of my days - it's ok, I am ok with it most of the time. But in 2020, I had a burn out at work and clinic depression. Met several doctors, tried a lot of meds. I was a mess. Didn't write during 3 years, I just couldn't, as if my brain was broken.

Now I feel a little bit better. I can write, but it feels like the spark is gone. Music still helps a lot, but writing is so hard. When I succeed in writing, I am unpleased with what I wrote. Everything seems so bad, or so OOC, or it's too slow, or "readers won't be interested", or "It's useless, what's the point?"

Sometimes I feel lost, I'm scared, it feels like I'll never be the same again. My friends told me it's ok, told me I just grown up and now I am stricter about my stories and it is not a bad thing. People here and there told me to stop to try to write, and to heal first.

I love to write, I love to tell stories. I am just tired to wait to heal, because doctors told me that maybe I'll never be completly healed. So?

Can I ask your advices about it? How will you manage?

Thanks a lot just for reading this. I wish you a lot of courage and a better health.

And thank you so much for shearing "On Thin Ice" and keep us dreaming about our dear ineffable husbands.

Elenthya

first of all, thank you so so much for your kind words and i am so sorry for waiting awhile to answer this (i'm not in the ER anymore!) but i wanted to properly sit down and dedicate all of my brain power to answering because a lot of what you said here resonated with me

yes, writing is very difficult for me. sometimes i just find it very hard to convey what i want to get across, other times it's my own insecurities keeping me at bay. i get stuck in this feeling of being too scared to write because i feel like i'm bad at it and i don't like being bad at things. brains are weird. i don't really have any way of getting over this other than forcing myself to actually sit down and write, and other times i will get a sudden jolt of inspiration (like for particular scenes). i don't understand it! maybe i just don't like connecting the dots lol

and YES, i love music! i think the reason why a figure skating AU resonates with me so well is because music is a sole component of the sport, and i work really well with music in the same way! a lot of my art is inspired by songs or specific lyrics, not every piece, but there is a good chance i had something in mind for certain things. music is a huge part of my AU so i've put a lot of thought in choosing the musical compositions for their programs that are relevant to the current story i'm writing. and i'm really eager to share that at some point

as someone also dealing with chronic pain, i'm really sorry you're going through it as well. i also had a very very low point, i want to say 2018ish. i have a cervical nerve injury that kept me from drawing for almost a year. there was a long time where i also felt lost and scared, as if things would never be the same. and for me, things are still not the same. i have had to learn how to live with a chronic injury, and working around it is one of the most frustrating things i deal with. i had to learn to be kinder to myself, take things slow, listen to my body, and try not to give myself a hard time when i couldn't do things when i wanted to. it's easier said than done because i still have days where i'm just so frustrated with myself. i am at the whims of my body, i can't do things how i did them before and that sucks because that makes finding the balance between the needs of my body and the needs of my mind pretty tricky. and learning how to live with that took a lot of time, sifting through a lot of anger and bitter feelings, at myself and the unfairness of it all. i know waiting around to heal is torturous. my injury will never heal so waiting is out of the question for me

but!! that's another reason i started writing my AU, because i channel all of that frustration into my version of crowley in that story, who doesn't know who he would be without the thing he's done his whole life, who equates his self worth to that thing, who struggles with an injury and being kind to himself. this is one of the many ways i manage, i think

you say that when you do manage to write something, you feel that it isn't good, or there's something wrong with it—i feel this too, and i know the difference between that and what it feels like to LOVE what you're writing, that spark you're looking for. i have a very hard time getting to that point, and i think what helps me here is to just keep spitting stuff out. it's like when i draw, i make a ton a very bad sketches that will never see the light of day, so i also have a ton of drabbles that will also likely never see the light of day, but nine times out of ten something has come from it. for art, sometimes i redo the same thing, sometimes a whole sketch, three or four times to get to a point where i like it, for writing i do the same thing with sentences, paragraphs. it's SO hard and discouraging to look at the bad stuff you make sometimes but the important thing is (if you are able) to keep going, keep trying, but don't push yourself. you do have limits, just don't give up. personally, i know if i just sit down and do the thing then i will at least get something done. progress is progress, after all

i do hope something in this huge chunk of text was useful to you, i'm not as eloquent as i'd like to be on stuff like this, but thank you for sending this ask and i sincerely hope you find your spark again (i have faith that you will) and soon 🤍

[casuallyodd]

I just recently watched The Monuments Men and while it was fine as a movie, some of the things from it really stuck with me.

I had heard a little about the real story behind it before. How people had tracked down stolen art from the Nazis. But really, not much more than surface level knowledge.

The film is based on the 2007 non-fiction book The Monuments Men: Allied Heroes, Nazi Thieves and the Greatest Treasure Hunt in History by Robert M. Edsel and Bret Witter. It follows an Allied group from the Monuments, Fine Arts, and Archives program that is given the task of finding and saving pieces of art and other culturally important items before Nazis destroy or steal them during World War II

I'm aware that the movie is just that, a movie. Character based on. Events inspired by. So I'm not taking the movie as history.

But it did do a few things well for me that made me think. Made me feel. Possibly because of where we seem to be in history right now. Facts I had known and felt I understood on some level but which I'm really sitting with and feeling. Maybe it is our current reality and the parallels to the past that holds my thoughts.

I'm not claiming these are great cinematic masterpiece shots; it's not like these topics haven't been covered by better movies or books. Fiction and non-fiction. But afterward, I did want to learn more of the real history of the events. And those real events weigh on me.

-An establishing shot of Paris with the Nazi flag prominent

- A child soldier, trying to kill people and terrified when a gun is pointed at him

- A large group of Hitler youth and other child soldiers in a camp jail

- A barrel of wedding rings and one of gold teeth

- The systematic theft, cataloging, and storage of so many things, primarily from Jews.

- Not just art works or obvious valuables but more every day things

- The artworks lost because someone didn't like it enough to save. Not even ones that offended them. Just not worth leaving to others so might as well destroy it.

And then to read about some of the real people that inspired this story

Rose Antonia Maria Valland (1 November 1898 – 18 September 1980) was a French art curator, member of the French Resistance, captain in the French military, and one of the most decorated women in French history. She secretly recorded details of the Nazi plundering of National French and private Jewish-owned art from France; and, working with the French Resistance, she saved thousands of works of art.

And this paragraph in her Wikipedia that feels...buried and vague to me.

Following the end of the Second World War Valland began a relationship with Joyce Helen Heer (1917-1977), a Liverpool born secretary-interpreter at the Embassy of the United States. The two women shared an apartment on rue de Navarre in the 5th arrondissement of Paris. The relationship ended upon Heer's death of breast cancer whereupon she was interred in Valland's family vault.

Exactly the kind of person that would have been sent to the camps to die. Fighting to save her culture.

[sohushygrayness]

Project Number 28: Learning to Speak Arabic

Introduction: (Project Number: 35; Project type: Task/Story/Epic/Initiative/Strategy/Goal/Vision; Goal: to learn to speak fluent Arabic).

Planning: (Materials: Duolingo Application; Time: 2 hours; Budget: £0)

Learning: (Research: Duolingo, Wikipedia; Skills: languages).

Execution: (Recently, I was browsing the Wikipedia for 'Mint' which then led me to a page that showcased all the information for Mentha. It was on this page that I found references to Limonana. Although I'll make that drink later today, the combination of the picture which showcased a drink served in Damascus, Syria and the recent attempt to make traditionally Turkish food inspired me to want to learn Arabic. I begin by checking whether DuoLingo offers the language as a course. It does, and I start by learning about pairing letters with their sounds. Arabic is read from right to left which is something that trips me up at first.

Edit: 06/08/2024. I have, to try and support myself in being more empirical in these entries, including a chart which rounds up the time that I've committed to learning Arabic.

Edit: 11/08/2024. Last night I did some lessons on learning the alphabet. I find doing so beneficial because then I am not just pairing sounds against symbols but rather trying to improve my understanding of the script. Last night's lesson focussed on short and long vowels. I was relatively comfortable with long vowels but learning how to accent correctly for shorter vowels I found to be beneficial.

Edit: 21/08/2024. One of the nicest things about learning Arabic is learning a new script. English uses the Latin script so when you're learning a new language, such as French or Spanish, you find yourself vaguely familiar with the script. In Arabic, you have to learn new letters altogether. I find that being bad at something inspires me to want to be better. I'm quite stubborn in that respect. So lately I've found myself checking the leaderboards on DuoLingo more often than I should to see where I am.

Friday, 23 August 2024. Today I have been largely focused on practicing letters rather than words. I’m becoming more confident identifying the difference between the symbols for dh, j, k and z. One key component of Arabic that I like is that is that vowels such as aa have their own symbol, and then when it’s a single vowel, it’s accented instead. I’m also finding though that learning the Arabic script is half the challenge, the other challenge is learning to write the letter in a way that does justice to how it should be written. Especially letters like K.

Saturday, 24 August 2024. Today I have been focussing on trying to get my head around the order of words in Arabic. I know that it’s written from right to left and in Duolingo it shows as verb then noun, e.g. cold house. However, when it comes to the mini quizzes, I have to do noun then verb. So even though it’s still technically cold house, I need to write it as house cold. I’m also struggling to remember Arabic words. I think I rushed past that section when I should have been paying attention so now, I’m catching up.

Sunday, 25 August 2024. No update today due to sickness

Monday, 26 August 2024. Today I have spent more time on learning Swedish through Duolingo rather than on Arabic. I’m a huge fan of the Nordic countries and Swedish is a language I’m already familiar with. Well, I’m familiar with the Latin script as we all are in Western Europe, but I also know a few words. Given the familiarity, I’m able to speed through the first 3 units and I’m currently top of the leaderboard on Duolingo. A few words are reminiscent of synonyms, such as an alternative word for Dog is the Swedish word Hund. I like that.

Tuesday, 27 August 2024. Today I have once again been focussed on learning Swedish. I’m currently working my way through the section that covers ‘talk about food and drink’. I feel like I have a generally good grasp on the basics here, varm pizza, kall sallad, etc. Later this evening I’ll do a little bit more letter practice with learning Arabic as I have slacked with it over the past few days. I think my antimotivation is coming as Swedish is simpler for me to understand which makes me feel more at home with the language as I work through.

Reflection: (Outcome: successful completion of 5 lessons; Lessons: that Arabic is written from right to left and that the script has taken a lot of practice on my part.

Edit: Thus far it's been a rewarding experience learning Arabic and now learning Swedish. I think that Arabic is tougher than Swedish at this point in time. Largely because you have to learn an entirely new alphabet. So, whilst you're learning about different letters you're also learning how to pronounce them and the rules that govern their use).

[thesimplyluxuriouslife]

361: 33 Decorating & Construction Lessons I Learned Customizing Le Papillon (a 3-year journey)

The journey of customizing Le Papillon, my house and home in Bend, Oregon, since September 2019 has providing much opportunity for learning both about the actual and practical purpose of home remodeling and decorating but also about much opportunity for self-growth. Over the past nearly four years, an abundance of experiences, discoveries. lessons and wow moments have been collected which is why I wanted to share today's detailed and lengthy (90 minutes) with listeners of The Simple Sophisticate podcast.

As I share at the beginning of today's episode, while it has been a dream of mine to customize my own home, I never actually planned to spend the past 4 years doing so, but the timing and opportunity presented itself to continue moving forward once my first "must-do" project (the kitchen) was completed, and now with the installation of the front porch screen door you see a glimpse of above, the journey is complete and I am eager to share with you 33 lessons I have learned below so that you can confidently and more enjoyably take part in your own customization of your sanctuary that will, when you dare to trust what you discover and learn how to do, provide priceless refuge, rejuvenation, inspiration and joy.

No doubt, the journey has its headaches, stresses and questions along the way (for example, when will the bathroom ever get done!), but I share here and in the podcast episode, without any hesitation, it was worth it, to be able to call home and live my life now in a home that works with me, nourishes me and helps me feel secure but also confident enough to try to soar and explore when I step out the door into the world.

So let's begin! In the Show Notes below I have only included the 33 bulleted points and left the detailed conversation, examples and ideas solely in the audio section as otherwise, this post would have been loooooong. To thank you for your patience as there was no new episode on the 1st Wednesday of this month, I have two Petit Plaisirs to share with you today and I look forward to sharing those with you at the end of this post and episode. Now to the episode!

~Note to readers: Be sure to tune in to the audio version of this episode as I talk in detail about each of the 33 points below.

~Explore becoming a TOP Tier Member of TSLL International Community and the many benefits as well as read testimonials from current members to be able to view the exclusive content of all of TSLL's home tours that will be linked below and were mentioned in the episode.

~I mentioned throughout the episode that even more tips for my approach to decorating as well as budget ideas were shared when I was a recent guest on podcast Decorating Tips & Tricks with Anita Joyce. Here is a link to that episode.

~The link to learn more about Rita Konig's interior decorating course offered on CreateAcademy.

Making the Best Decisions for You

1.Patience is key for knowing what will work best

~take the Office Tour here~

2. If you aren't sure yet, keep searching. It will pounce on you when you do.

~Look for the foyer and entry (interior and exterior) house tour at the end of this month.

3. Choose an item (piece of furniture, window, work of art, item in your kitchen - the stove) that is the star and everything else will support that.

~

La Cornue: Why This French Stove is the Best Fit for My Kitchen and Life (take a full tour of the kitchen as well)

4. Metal finishes don't have to be all the same exact finish, but they need to be in the same family.

5. Dismiss trends. Follow what speaks to you and makes you feel at home. Design from that space and you will be happier far longer.

6. Invest in the sofa, recover high quality hand-me-down chairs.

7. Know how you live best in your house.

8. Choose color combinations that work well in Mother Nature naturally. Stick to a few in each room - not too many.

Take a tour of the Dining Room and the Curtains, inspired by Provence. How to Frame a Room in an Open-Floor Plan.

Working with Others (Contractors, Designers, Subcontractors, etc.)

9. Patience is also key when working with your many subcontractors, experts and contractor.

10. Buy as many of the items directly rather than have your contractor do so. It will save you money.

11. Make sure every item arrives that you ordered immediately upon arrival. If not, call and get it sent ASAP.

The Arts & Crafts Guest Bathroom Reveal tour

12. Have pictures of exactly what you are thinking - design of tiles, placement of fixtures, style of curtains, etc.

~Tour the Primary Bathroom here.

13. Get ready to find your voice. You will need it.

14. Check each invoice to confirm correct itemization for charges for the retailer and your contractor's percentage charged

15. Be willing to live in your house or visit it everyday if you can to ensure quality of work and correct work is done - speeds up the process.

16. Don't take their word at face value. Come prepared. Know your house and be comfortable walking away and finding someone else.

17. Keep checking in.

18. "Man-splaining" will likely happen. Be prepared for egos to be bruised when you speak up. Do so with grace, but with strength. It's hard, but will help you sleep better.

Skills that will Give You Options

19. How to choose and coordinate prints (wallpaper and upholstery).

Take a Tour of the first room to be remodeled and redesigned - The English-inspired Boot & Basket room.

20. Lead the eye into the next room by creating interest visually.

Take a tour of the Parisian Elegance + English Country Comfort Primary Bedroom

21. Details matter. Tend to them as you can afford.

Small, Yet Significant Everyday Details at Home

22. Shop consignment and barter.

5 Tips I Learned during my First Brocante Visit (in France)

23. Invest in quality fabric for curtains, BUT you don't need an interior designer if you know what you want. This will save you money. Find a seamstress you trust and work directly with them.

Curtains for a Reading Nook, English Cottage-inspired (living room)

24. Just because you haven't done something before, doesn't mean you cannot teach yourself to do it.

25. Wallpaper is powerful and immediately adds a signature to a room. Dare to do it. Start in a small room first to gather your nerve.

~Click here to discover how to Wallpaper all by Yourself (yes, you can!)

What Makes Le Papillon Feel Like My Forever Home

26. Don't ask others to approve, look to those who understand design and ask how something works, then begin making decisions with this gained wisdom

27. Prioritize the entries of your home - the front (exterior and interior) and how you enter your home (from the garage, for example), if different.

28. Acknowledge where you spend most of your time. Start there.

29. Let the light in.

30. Create multiple Snug areas throughout the home (outside too)

8 Tips for Styling Your Own Snug and Take a Tour of TSLL's Newly Finished Office

31. Fresh flowers

32. Include details that make you smile.

33. Tech and clocks have their place, but none of them glaringly obvious or obstructive.

Petit Plaisirs

~Foyle's War

~Seaside Hotel (originally titled Badehotellet)

~Explore more episodes of The Simple Sophisticate podcast here.

Tune in to the latest episode of The Simple Sophisticate podcast

[kacyblacky]

Bombing Afghanistan back into the Stone Age' was quite a favourite headline for some wobbly liberals. The slogan does all the work. But an instant's thought shows that Afghanistan is being, if anything, bombed out of the Stone Age.;Christopher Hitchens;age 399;Oh, if I had been loved at the age of seventeen, what an idiot I would be today. Happiness is like smallpox: if you catch it too soon, it can completely ruin your constitution.;Gustave Flaubert;age 400;English people don't have very good diction. In France you have to pronounce very particularly and clearly, and learning French at an early age helped me enormously.;Vivien Leigh;age 401;Children also have artistic ability, and there is wisdom in there having it! The more helpless they are, the more instructive are the examples they furnish us and they must be preserved free of corruption from an early age.;Paul Klee;age 402;Of course, the ideal scenario for parenting is obviously two parents of a mature age.;Jennifer Aniston;age 403;You know what makes me feel old? When I see girls who are 20-something, or the new crop of actresses, and think, Aren't we kind of the same age?;Jennifer Aniston;age 404;I think love can happen at any age... it has no age.;Shahrukh Khan;age 405;Elizabeth Peyton, the artist known for tiny, dazzling portraits of radiant youth, is now painting tiny, dazzling portraits of radiant middle age.;Jerry Saltz;age 406;I'm inspired by people who keep on rolling, no matter their age.;Jimmy Buffett;age 407;By Time and Age full many things are taught.;Aeschylus;age 408;I was taught from a young age that I had to serve, so that turned into me thinking I had to save the planet.;Alanis Morissette;age 409;If you've got to my age, you've probably had your heart broken many times. So it's not that difficult to unpack a bit of grief from some little corner of your heart and cry over it.;Emma Thompson;age 410;My mother enjoyed old age, and because of her I've begun to enjoy parts of it too. So far I've had it good and am crumbling nicely.;Lionel Blue;age 411;We're saying no changes for Medicare for people above the age of 55. And in order to keep the promise to current seniors who've already retired and organized their lives around this program, you have to reform it for the next generation.;Paul Ryan;age 412;It's sad, actually, because my anxiety keeps me from enjoying things as much as I should at this age.;Amanda Seyfried;age 413;I felt a tremendous sadness for men who can't deal with a woman of their own age.;Michael Caine;age 414;This is the first convention of the space age - where a candidate can promise the moon and mean it.;David Brinkley;age 415;Revenge is the naked idol of the worship of a semi-barbarous age.;Percy Bysshe Shelley;age 416;I think I don't regret a single 'excess' of my responsive youth - I only regret, in my chilled age, certain occasions and possibilities I didn't embrace.;Henry James;age 417;Our Age of Anxiety is, in great part, the result of trying to do today's job with yesterday's tools and yesterday's concepts.;Marshall McLuhan;age 418;I'll tell you, there is nothing better in life than being a late bloomer. I believe that success can happen at any time and at any age.;Salma Hayek;age 419;Man arrives as a novice at each age of his life.;Nicolas Chamfort;age 420;Live your life and forget your age.;Jean Paul;age 421;I can't look in the mirror and look at fake things. I just can't. I'd rather age.;Heidi Klum;age 422;The surest sign of age is loneliness.;Annie Dillard;age 423;Learning to dislike children at an early age saves a lot of expense and aggravation later in life.;Robert Byrne;age 424;Confidence is something you're born with. I know I had loads of it even at the age of 15.;Hedy Lamarr;age 425;We accumulate our opinions at an age when our understanding is at its weakest.;Georg C. Lichtenberg;age 426;I got to experience soccer at the highest level at a young age I decided I wanted to be part of that for as long as possible.;Mia Hamm;age 427;Living in an age of advertisement, we are perpetually disillusioned. The perfect life is spread before us every day, but it changes and withers at a touch.;J. B. Priestley;age 428;Age, like distance lends a double charm.;Oliver Herford;age 429;Utility is the great idol of the age, to which all powers must do service and all talents swear allegiance.;Friedrich Schiller;age 430;Anyone who writes an autobiographical work at the age of 34 is, at best, presumptuous. It occurred to me that it was time to set the record straight.;Jessica Savitch;age 431;New needs need new techniques. And the modern artists have found new ways and new means of making their statements... the modern painter cannot express this age, the airplane, the atom bomb, the radio, in the old forms of the Renaissance or of any other past culture.;Jackson Pollock;age 432;One of the tough things about being an actor, probably the hardest thing, is getting your foot in the door, and my father handled that for me at a very early age.;Jeff Bridges;age 433;Any role that big is going to be a challenge for any actor, but for an actor of a young age, it's going to be even tougher.;Jeff Bridges;age 434;Now is the age of anxiety.;W. H. Auden;age 435;I think it's pretty crazy to say you've been typecast at the age of 20 before you've even really started getting going.;Tom Felton;age 436;At the age of four with paper hats and wooden swords we're all Generals. Only some of us never grow out of it.;Peter Ustinov;age 437;My inspiration was my mom. She's a great cook, and she still cooks, and we still banter back and forth about cooking. Growing up in a mostly Portuguese community, food was important and the family table was extremely important. At a very young age I understood that.;Emeril Lagasse;age 438;The great book for you is the book that has the most to say to you at the moment when you are reading. I do not mean the book that is most instructive, but the book that feeds your spirit. And that depends on your age, your experience, your psychological and spiritual need.;Robertson Davies;age 439;Age gives you a great sense of proportion. You can be very hard on yourself when you're younger but now I just think 'well everybody's absolutely mad and I'm doing quite well'.;Steven Morrissey;age 440;If the nineteenth century was the age of the editorial chair, ours is the century of the psychiatrist's couch.;Marshall McLuhan;age 441;American youth attributes much more importance to arriving at driver's license age than at voting age.;Marshall McLuhan;age 442;I think a child should be allowed to take his father's or mother's name at will on coming of age. Paternity is a legal fiction.;James Joyce;age 443;Old age is the most unexpected of all things that happen to a man.;Leon Trotsky;age 444;You get to a certain age where you prepare yourself for happiness. Sometimes you never remember to actually get happy.;John Mayer;age 445;Being a father at a later age is different from when I had my other two daughters when I was in my 20s and 30s. If you're in your 60s and you're with the kid every day, you're dealing with the mind of a child, so it opens up that childishness in you again.;Martin Scorsese;age 446;A moment comes, which comes but rarely in history, when we step out from the old to the new when an age ends and when the soul of a nation long suppressed finds utterance.;Jawaharlal Nehru;age 447;There is nothing in socialism that a little age or a little money will not cure.;Will Durant;age 448;If you age with somebody, you go through so many roles - you're lovers, friends, enemies, colleagues, strangers you're brother and sister. That's what intimacy is, if you're with your soulmate.;Cate Blanchett;age 449;With age, you see people fail more. You see yourself fail more. How do you keep that fearlessness of a kid? You keep going. Luckily, I'm not afraid to make a fool of myself.;Hugh Jackman;age 450;I'm not skinny for the wrong reasons. It's not because I'm bulimic or anorexic or doing drugs. Compared to a lot of actresses my age, I'm actually overweight.;Lindsay Lohan;age 451;It seems that when you get to a certain age you almost give yourself permission to misbehave and say what you think. People allow it, with very old people.;Julie Walters;age 452;I'm not as far along as Jack Nicklaus was at this age, but I'm trying.;Tiger Woods;age 453;When superstition is allowed to perform the task of old age in dulling the human temperament, we can say goodbye to all excellence in poetry, in painting, and in music.;Denis Diderot;age 454;Peace is the one condition of survival in this nuclear age.;Adlai E. Stevenson;age 455;What could be more beautiful than a dear old lady growing wise with age? Every age can be enchanting, provided you live within it.;Brigitte Bardot;age 456;You'd think that in this age, especially in the 21st century - especially with all the technology and all the discoveries that we've made - that we would figure out how to tackle abuse.;Tori Amos;age 457;Here comes 40. I'm feeling my age and I've ordered the Ferrari. I'm going to get the whole mid-life crisis package.;Keanu Reeves;age 458;At a young age winning is not the most important thing... the important thing is to develop creative and skilled players with good confidence.;Arsene Wenger;age 459;We live in an age where the artist is forgotten. He is a researcher. I see myself that way.;David Hockney;age 460;I lived the true American dream, because I was able to pursue what I set as my goals at a very young age.;Mario Andretti;age 461;Everybody looks like clones and the only people you notice are my age. I don't notice anybody unless they look great, and every now and again they do, and they are usually 70.;Vivienne Westwood;age 462;Photography suits the temper of this age - of active bodies and minds. It is a perfect medium for one whose mind is teeming with ideas, imagery, for a prolific worker who would be slowed down by painting or sculpting, for one who sees quickly and acts decisively, accurately.;Edward Weston;age 463;I never - you know also one of the things that would save me for a man my age, it was not that easy to lose that much weight and fall down and look like something draped.;Karl Lagerfeld;age 464;I wish I'd gotten sober at a younger age.;Janice Dickinson;age 465;Middle Age is that perplexing time of life when we hear two voices calling us, one saying, 'Why not?' and the other, 'Why bother?

[melancholypirates]

Trying to work the courage up to post my OC's here so I'm going to start with my newest DND character for my brother's Metal Gear inspired campaign

This is Damon McCormic, he's a 27 year old French-Canadian assassin who suffers from a lot of addiction problems and a lot of mental illness.

He's the youngest out of two children, his older sister's name is Marie. The two were never particularly close as Damon always felt as if he lived in Marie's shadow. His sister's success set expectations that he could never reach for his parents and he was told 'try harder next time'.

At the age of fourteen, Damon ran away, no destination on mind. He just wanted away from his family. Shortly afterwards, a group of assassin's named 'Ragnarok' found him trespassing. Instead of killing him, the leader of the assassin's offered him a place within Ragnarok, granted he would have to become an assassin to do so. Damon agreed. He began learning the way of the assassin was then given the Ragnarok brand, the Norse compass, on his back.

However, the place Damon started to call home once again, started to feel like a prison. The leader he had grown to view as a father, began to remind him of his own. Despite all of this, Damon stayed due to his own selfish reasons.

Damon finally decided to leave at the age of twenty-four. Taking any assassination job that payed well enough. Trying to hide his identity and past ties with Ragnarok, getting a skeletal tattoo down his back to try and cover the brand upon his back. As well as a butterfly on his face, wanting to find any form of freedom from his past.

A few years passed of him doing this and the leader of a military group found him and offered him a position for a mission. Damon only agreed after being told how much he was going to be paid if the mission is successful. It was there where he was given the codename, 'Creed'.

At the base he meets five others who were chosen for the mission. Yaksha, a Russian spy (Codename: Whitefox). Nano, a Russian scientist (Codename: Supernova). Anya, a Russian assassin (Codename: Composer). Chionia, a Russian pirate (Codename: Ranger). And Yeuri, a Japanese Samurai (Codename: Spector).

Now, I'm not gonna lie; all of us were high while playing the first session a few days ago so I really don't remember a lot of what happened other than, the team all got to know each other a little, Nano threw a knife at Damon and it stabbed his shoulder so he threw on back in return, Chionia is truly the only moral and logical one, Yaksha gives off 'come on guys it's me, everyone's friend' vibes, the mission was successful, Nano took in a child and my friend and I are currently in debate on if we want Damon and Yeuri to have a rivals to lovers thing happen.

So yeah. That's Damon. He's still very much in the works but I tried.

Here's the link to the picrew creator

[silma-words]

Another prompt for Adrian and MC...

Number 5 / "say please"

not sure how you want to take this one, but I thought the smut could be next level... have fun! 😂

N/A: Omg I cannot thank you enough for this prompt @mssukeyna! This was so much fun, and a great prompt to push me a little out of my comfort zone! I literally woke up 2h earlier every day so that I could write more before work ;) I hope you’ll like it!

~~~~~

Choices: Bloodbound

Pairing: Adrian Raines x MC (Ellie)

Rating: Explicit (NSFW, 18+)

Genre: Smut.Smut.Smut

AU Chronology: Bloodbound AU (after book 1 – the events of book 2 never happened) – ‘Inevitable - Arc I: Before we part’ (Masterlist)

Summary: “We are travelling for business, Ellie, we’ll have to behave like professionals”, he had warned her, although he did not look so convinced about it himself….

Inspired by the following nsfw-prompts: #5. for sex in public / “say please”

Words: 4200

**Disclaimer: Characters and background plot are the property of Pixelberry.**

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Down to business (Part I?)

Getting to travel was one of the perks Ellie enjoyed the most about her job as the CEO’s personal assistant. She never really had any opportunity to get out of her small town before she moved to NYC, and had always been of a curious nature. This job was a dream come true on that matter. But some trips were better than others. The ones that revolved around business negotiations, although exciting in their own ways, were not her favourites. By far, the ones she preferred were the ones that were meant for networking, for Adrian to maintain his relationships with previous business partners. There had not been many of those since she had started working at Raines Corp. but she loved those very much. These business trips revolved mostly around socializing. And socializing was one of her strengths.

But the reason she liked these trips the most was not because of the fancy dinner parties, the pricey hotels, or the designer dresses she got to wear to play the part. No. What she liked the most were the times she could have to herself in between social events, to explore around and satiate her curiosity about ‘the rest of the world’, and the times when she could get Adrian all to herself. He was more relaxed during these trips. More light hearted. More playful. As well as more tuned to her cues than when they were travelling for more serious business. And that, she loved to play around with. A lot.

Adrian was always doing his best to keep up the façade of the boss-assistant interactions between them when they were in public. And she completely understood why. Truly. But that was also so tempting for her to do her best to weave her way through that invisible barrier he was tentatively setting between them.

She would brush his fingers when he would hand her a drink. Sneak a hand up his thigh under the table at dinner. Fiddle with her long strands of hair to attract his attention to her neckline. Oh, his poker face was good. Spot on. Decades of practice truly paying off. But whenever she played her cards well, she could see that façade slowly crumble down. His cheeks slightly changing colour as she would whisper sweet - well maybe not so sweet - nothings to his ear. His Adam’s apple moving slightly at the sight of her legs shifting as she would change position on her seat, her skin exposed through the slit of her dress. His speech suddenly stammering slightly as she would slowly caress the inside of his calf with her foot, whenever she had been sitting across from him at dinner and had felt bold enough to risk reaching blindly under the cover of the table cloth.

She always made sure to keep her face composed so that the other guests would not notice how Adrian’s reactions were directly connected to her. But she would also cast him a challenging look as soon as the moment had passed, to make it perfectly clear that the game was on. And never once had she received back any kind of response that would indicate that Adrian was not on board with this. He might play the game by pretending that this behaviour was totally unprofessional, but they both knew that Adrian had never been anyone who cared much about the rules.

This time, their ‘socialising trip’ had led them further from home than ever before. Ellie was finally given the chance to fly out of the country and get a glimpse at Europe, with their first stops leaving her in awe at the wonders of the Italian countryside where they had stayed for five days to catch up with a couple of Adrian’s old ‘friends’ who had chosen to retire there. She did enjoy the socializing parts way more than she had anticipated: who would have dared to complain about the exquisite cuisine, the tours of the vineyards, the breath-taking views over lakes and mountains, and the luxurious guestrooms they could discreetly retreat to when the schmoozing was getting boring and the yearning had become too much.

The last part of their ten-days trip had also reached beyond of her expectations: she had always dreamt of discovering France, and although their journey would not grant her her secret wish of seeing Paris, she found out that the luxurious hills and valleys of the South-West of France were as equally magnificent as what she had seen so far over the last few days. There was so much history around, old medieval castles and ancient caves that she wished she could explore, that her curiosity and excitement seemed to be only matched by Adrian’s nerdy enthusiasm. European history was not necessarily his strongest suit, but he did know quite a few things about it, and gladly shared with her his knowledge about the places they travelled through. His expertise on French wines was definitely spot on though. And kind of sexy too.

Their guest was – unsurprisingly – a wealthy investor who had inherited a prosperous estate from his great-grandfather who was, originally, the business partner Adrian had been trading with at the beginning of the twentieth-century. Pretending to be his own descendant was apparently something Adrian was quite used to. Even though their current host – Emile – was pretty obnoxious.

They dined, visited local investors, attended a couple of art exhibitions grand opening nights. And indulged on wine, local delicacies, and smouldering gazes in between polite handshakes and casual conversations. Ellie’s French was not really up to the challenge when other guests could not speak English, but luckily Adrian was doing quite well in that department – another sexy trait to add to that very long list that Ellie kept filling up in her head.

That night, their host had been planning a special treat for his guests – Adrian and Ellie among a larger group of about thirty: a tour of his private ‘art collection’, followed by a fancy garden-party on his estate. Ellie had been looking forward to it, until the tour had started and she had realised that most of these ‘pieces of art’ were actually ancient remains that Emile had bought from lucky ‘discoverers’ around the world and snatched from the hands of archaeologists and museums to fill up his own little private gallery. As the tour was going on, she kept grumbling by Adrian’s side, drawing the attention of a few other guests that were marvelling at these stolen relics and obviously did not care much about how these had been acquired. As the group proceeded to move on to the next room, Adrian discreetly motioned her to move aside and slow her pace, grinning at her once they had managed to place themselves at the tail of the touring group.

“I know this is grating you, but this is quite a common thing these days – there is no point sulking about it now while there is not much we can do about it”.

“You’re the one to talk, ‘Mr-I-glare-at-that-old-British-dude-for-buying-an-original-John Trumbull-canvas-to-decorate-his-guestroom’!”, she retorted challengingly. “These objects are as important to historians as those Revolutionary War paintings you keep talking about. They shouldn’t be kept in here only to be displayed once a year to a bunch of rich morons who care more about how much he paid for it than about what these objects were”.

“I know, I know…” Adrian admitted with a sight, raising his hands in surrender. “But as I said, there is not much we can do about it now. Let try to survive through this tour and enjoy the night.”

Rolling her eyes, Ellie let out an annoyed sight and finally nodded, her tensed shoulders still betraying her frustration.

The tour proceeded, Adrian and Ellie sharing eye rolls and annoyed looks every time Emile would brag about the price of a unique item. They always kept behind when they could, making a point of looking at some of the glass panels in detail to at least try to learn a little something out of this display of wealth. But that revealed to be a nearly impossible endeavour. There was barely any labels or information attached to these objects whatsoever. Nothing there to keep them distracted from that never ending tour. Well. Apart from each other.

It started with just the tingle of his breath in her neck as he was hovering above her to look at an old grease-lamp from some ancient cave. And then continued as she would casually hook her arm through his while staring at the antic statue of a Roman god. And a brush of his fingers down her spine as he stood behind her pretending to listen to Emile’s dull blabber. Her hand sneaking along the side of his thigh as they followed the group around. The light pressure of his hand on her lower back as he led her to move past him into yet another room.

Pretending to pay attention to their host was increasingly difficult. Preventing their faces from betraying their very unprofessional thoughts even more so.

“I know I have said this before but…”, Adrian whispered in her ear, a playful smile forming on his lips, “I love that little tempter of yours… it makes me feel… a lot of things”.

He could hear Ellie’s heartbeat race in her chest at his words, even though she was keeping her eyes trained on the display panel before them, doing her best to keep her composure while the predatory tone in his voice was making her knees tremble slightly. The other guests were buzzing around them, pointing at glass display cases here and architectural features there, oblivious to the heat surrounding the two secret lovers as if the bubble Adrian and Ellie had formed around them had turned them into two of those trinkets exposed around the room that nobody was truly paying attention to.

Trying to break through the thick air that had been lingering between them, Ellie shifted on her heels to follow the flock of people that were regrouping to move along, casting a knowing smile at Adrian, and holding his gaze for a few seconds before walking away.

But before she could turn left into the next corridor, she felt his arm wrap around her middle, only to swiftly whoosh her aside to a secluded corner of the room, out of sight from the rest of the group thanks to one of the strong pillars that supported the roof of the exhibition room. A gasp escaped her lips as he sprung her around, pressing her back against the cold marble as he eagerly captured her lips in a searing kiss, his hands pressed against her neck, and his torso edging closer to her chest as she was gradually yielding to his powerful embrace.

Trailing her fingers up his neck until they reached his hair, she eventually gave a gentle tug so that she could make a break for air, their lips just a few inches apart as she teased, breathless: “I thought we had to keep our public appearances strictly professional, Mr Raines?”

She felt his grin against her mouth more than she could see it. “Well, what we are doing now is purely professional, Miss Reed. If there was anyone left around to see us, I’d just explain how I was telling all about...” he paused to nibble at her lower lip for a few seconds, “... about the sturdiness of these eighteenth-century pillars...”.

“Eighteenth century, han?” she giggled against his lips, her voice catching in her throat to form a silent moan as Adrian’s mouth began to trail down her chin to follow her jawline.

Her mind struggling between the will to keep her eyes open to check that no one was in sight, and the tantalizing swirls of his tongue against the skin beneath her ear, the shivers that were running down her spine quickly sorted that battle for her. She let her eyelids drop and her head fall back to rest against the stone behind her, focusing only on Adrian’s touch and on the way his hands had now started to drift from her neck to her shoulders, inching lower and lower as his mouth tasted the salt of the skin down her neck and along her collarbone.

Her hands unconsciously travelling from his hair to his back, they suddenly grabbed his shoulders a little tighter to press him closer as she felt him reach for the fabric of her dress to bunch the black silk over her hips. It took all of her will to remain silent when Adrian wedged his knee between her legs, her lips tightening in a thin line to repress a whimper as his fingers trailed down one of her thigh to her knee so he could lift her leg up against his hip, pressing himself forward to conquer the empty space between them.

She could feel his grin against her windpipes when her hips started to grind against his of their own accord, the tight grip of his fingers against her rear sending waves of heat down to where their bodies met.

“I think one of us should keep an eye on that corridor, in case anyone is sent out to look for us” he whispered against her skin, before lifting his gaze back to her, his golden eyes glimmering with mischief. “Would that be a mission you’d be happy to take on, Miss Reed?”

“Of course” she manages to answer, her voice croaking from anticipation.

“Good.” he grins. “Then, you’ll have to face the other way…”

She barely had time to register what he meant before she felt the heat of his body replace the cold marble that had been pressing against her back. She instinctively reached forward to place her palms on the pillar as Adrian resumed his pressing touches eagerly, one arm wrapped around her chest to keep her close, and the other finding its way between her thighs.  

She could peek at the corridor ahead of them from where they stood, most of their bodies hidden by the imposing column that seemed to edge closer and closer to her as Adrian’s touch became more insistent. But being able to see ahead did not mean that she was actually looking. Even if she had wanted to fulfil her ‘mission’, the pressure of his left palm against her thigh and the hand that slipped under the fabric of her cleavage made it near impossible to focus on the task. The soft bites and kisses her neck were subjected to were not helping either.

Not being able to see or touch him was like torture, his quiet groans vibrating from his chest to her ribs, and his arousal pressing firmly against her back like a wicked promise that was for now beyond reach. Her back arched involuntarily when a firm hand grabbed her breast, his warm breath beneath her ear betraying his grin as the fingers on her thigh started to wander towards the edge of her underwear, playing with the seam of the lace before sneaking underneath with a deliberate slowness that had her whimper behind her tightened lips.

The light graze of his fingertips against her swollen nerves was all that was needed to weaken all muscles in her body, making both of them dangerously tumble forward as her arms gave in, removing the only leverage she had against Adrian’s pressure in her back, which had been keeping her so far from being flushed against the cold marble with no room to escape the sweet torment of his heated caresses.

Even though her eyes were now shut, she knew that Adrian was watching closely her features when she let her head fall back to rest in his shoulder, her brain going into overdrive when his touch became more pressing, kneading her breast and drawing lazy circles against her centre relentlessly. It was not long before she lost the last bit of control she had left over her own body, her lips parting slightly to let a moan escape, quickly muffled by Adrian’s mouth covering hers in an attempt to preserve the silence around them.

That might have worked perfectly, if only he had been able to kiss her with more restraint. Instead, his tongue had quickly found its way through her parted lips, brushing hers in patterns mirroring the movement of his fingertips between her legs, swallowing her whines as if he could taste her own pleasure through the ragged sounds that he was drawing out of her.

She was itching to touch him. One of her hands had left the cold surface of the pillar to find its way to his head and tangle in his hair, her entire body squirming against his to seek the friction that she was craving for. She knew he was trying to make her lose her mind. And it was working. She could feel his fingers slide gradually further down against her core, dipping into the wetness of her folds before retreating back, drawing growl after growl each time.

She could tell Adrian was relishing this by the way the corners of his mouth curled against hers. It was only when he suddenly pulled away from her swollen lips that she finally opened her eyes again, the lust and wickedness of his gaze sending a shiver all the way down to her toes. He had stopped moving, simply holding her petite form against his chest as tight as deemed possible, his golden eyes anchored to hers with an unmistakable gleam of challenge and promise.

“Adrian…” she mumbled feebly, desperately trying to grind against him but unable to resist his hold on her.

He smiled, remaining silent for a few seconds, before finally breaking the stillness with a low, husky voice, in a tone that was somehow both inviting and commanding: “Say please”.

There was no hesitation in her response, no control, her rasped voice echoing around the room as she begged, breathless: “Adrian, pleeeaaase…”

Thankfully, he did not make her say it again, barely waiting a few seconds before plugging a finger into her dampened slit, followed nearly immediately by a second, resuming his circular patterns over her swollen clit with the pad of his thumb. Withdrawing and dipping back into her with maddening slowness, she could feel her muscles clench around his fingers and her knees start to quiver as the pleasure was slowly building in.

Her dilated pupils could not tear away from his golden eyes, silently begging for more as he increased his pace, his hips grinding voraciously against her back, his mouth inches from hers as if resisting the urge to kiss her so that he could revel in the sweet music of her feverish whines echoing around them.

“Adrian… this is… so…” she tried to mutter between her gasps.

Adrian’s eyes flashed with a voracious gleam as he purred against her lips with a proud smirk, “so… good?”.

Her lips pursed weakly to form a teasing grin. “So… unprofessional”.

His smirk only widened further at her words, his hands suddenly moving away from her burning skin to grip her hips, making her head jerk up from his shoulder in surprise. She was about to complain when he swiftly swirled her body around and crashed his lips onto hers, pushing her back against the pillar, the contrast between the cold marble and the heat of her skin making her jump a little in his grasp.

It was not long before Adrian’s hands had found their way back beneath her dress, his fingers reaching hurriedly for the hem of her thong as his mouth started to descend from her mouth to her chin, roaming over her neck and her collarbone, until he sunk to his knees before her, skipping the parts of her that were covered by fabric to head straight for the space right below her navel. Dragging her underwear down her legs, he only broke the contact between his warm lips and her skin so that he could guide the lace over her heels, quickly shoving the fabric in his pocket before capturing her pulsing nub between his lips, not wasting any minute before expertly starting to explore her aching core, nibbling and suckling with an unmatched dedication.

Her hands were roaming all over his head, tangling her fingers in his hair and pushing her hips forward to demand more, her lower lip caught between her teeth to repress the urge to cry out with every stroke of his tongue, or every time the deft fingers that were slithering up and down her inner thigh came close enough to tease her entrance before retreating back wickedly. As much as part of her wanted to pull him back up to his feet and beg him to take her now, the other part could not even fathom the idea of making him stop his godly work between her legs.

There was no more coherent thought going through her fogged brain. Fragmentary visions of heated memories and unspoken fantasies were flashing before her eyes, mingling with the rousing sight of Adrian down on his knees before her, tasting her fervently in every way that she had ever dreamt of being tasted.

When she felt the intoxicating warmth of his mouth suddenly leave her centre, her mind unconsciously thanked him for ending this sweet torture, expecting the yearning in her core to be satiated soon enough when she would finally get to feel him inside her.

But that sweet release never came.

It took her a few seconds to realise that Adrian had jerked back up to his feet and hurriedly pulled down the fabric of her dress, unceremoniously grabbing Ellie’s waist to move her away from their hiding spot, releasing his grip once she was standing beside him in front of one of the display cases, their back turned away from the corridor.

She had to grip the edge of the display case to keep herself steady, her knees still trembling from Adrian’s handywork just a few seconds before, her eyes opening and closing at a maddening pace to try to clear her clouded brain and regain her senses. It was only when she heard the distinct sound of a pair of heels echoing towards them that she finally understood.

“Monsieur Raines?”, they heard a woman’s voice call out at a distance.

Adrian’s cheeks were flushed, and his hair completely tousled, but he made a quick work of fixing it as well as fixing his shirt with a smirk, mastering the art of regaining his composure in a flick of an eye, like the annoyingly perfect businessman that he was. Ellie fumbled around in an attempt to do the same, fully aware that she would never be able to be as efficient as Adrian, especially in the state of desperate yearning that he had just put her through. She was still panting, her heart thumping in her chest, pupils dilated and cheeks hot from so much blood rushing to her face, both from arousal and from the embarrassment that she knew was about to come.

Ellie jumped a little when the woman’s voice finally reached the room they were in: “Ah, Monsieur Raines! Je vous ai trouvé! Le buffet va commencer, si vous voulez bien rejoindre les autres invités dans le jardin?”.

Ellie had no clue what the woman had just said, and was in no shape to turn around and let the woman see the state of her. She was so grateful that Adrian knew exactly what to say and how to behave casually to buy her a few more minutes to sort out the mess he had made of her… although hearing him speak French was not helping much getting her arousal under control, as he politely answered the woman: “Merci, nous vous rejoignons dans quelques instants.”.

Ellie sighted with relief when she heard the woman’s footsteps retreat, turning around to face him, glaring at him with her best attempt at a reproachful scowl.

“That was….” she started, before being interrupted by Adrian’s mouth on hers, as he pressed a soft kiss on her swollen lips, before pulling away slowly with a grin.

“… unprofessional?” he teased, earning a falsely unamused eye-roll in return.

“We better get going, the party is starting, and all of the other guests are gathered in the gardens now” he announced, translating what the woman had said, but not releasing Ellie from his embrace just yet.

“I am in no state for socialising now” she admitted with a grimace, although she could not fight the teasing grin that was starting to form on her face. “I will never be able to focus properly after this… all I will be thinking about is sorting out this… hum, unfinished business…”

Adrian’s hold tightened a little more around her waist at her words, his eyes still gleaming with mischief and never leaving hers when he stepped slowly away, grabbing her hand to start dragging them both away from the room.

His voice was husky and full of promise when he casually answered with a teasing smile: “Well… unfortunately, we’ll have to play along a little bit longer I’m afraid… but I will certainly be looking forward all evening to the second part of this… unfinished business…”.

~~~

N/A: If anyone else is as eager as Adrian to see how ‘Part II’ of their little ‘public indiscretions’ is going to play out, let me know, and I’d be happy to oblige 😉 This prompt has inspired me way too much, thank you so much for the ask @mssukeyna 😉

~~~

Tagging @adriansbiss , @itsjustwinter , @shanzay44 , @purvishraick, @thefrenchiemama

@choicesficwriterscreations

[swanimagines]

first up, CONGRATS YOU AMAZING HOOMAN! 2k is a lot and you deserve it! I know we've only been mutuals for a short while but I hope we can be friends <3 I'll wait with cookies!

I just read the self-ship guidelines three times because I didn't wanna get anything wrong but feel free to ignore this if I did miss out on something important! 😭🤚

—————

Name: Astoria, but all of my friends call me ash or tori <3

Appearance: I'm reasonably tall (I'm the second tallest in my class and it's the only thing I'm proud of hehe). I have waist-length black hair, light brown skin, and hazel eyes! I adore makeup and use it wherever I go, especially my eyeliner. I do double strokes, I love it. I'm not that well into fashion though, but my wardrobe is filled with dresses by my friend who has AMAZING taste. Elegant is my go-to style but I wear casual t-shirts while I'm in chilling at home!

Pronouns: she/her

Personality: ENFJ | The Pottermore quiz sorted me to Slytherin - I like being friendly to anyone I meet, but people have often described me as intimidating. I do try to be tough but pls I just want hugs I'm nice. I like being in charge of events too! I'm that one person who tries to do EVERYTHING, and obviously can't and gets very exhausted and if someone asks me to take a break, I will NOT. I often try to organize community events for climate change, which I couldn't do for the past year cause yk covid. I can't concentrate on my academic works though.

Hobbies: definitely writing, reading and researching. If I get obsessed with a book, I'll research everything about it. (Especially if it's based on real events) I love watching true crime documentaries (I cried while watching The Keepers) and yup, I make charts and try to solve cold cases on my own 😭(which I obviously never could because I get too invested in the people instead of the case)

Dislikes: anyone who judges people based on anything about them. It pisses me off to no end. I'm not a big fan of spiders and almost passed out when I saw a big one years ago. I hate mean people too, the ones who just wanna be rude "for the aesthetic" which is just - dumb.

Random facts:

If someone catches me off by surprise and compliments me on absolutely anything, I. will. cry. [maybe not in front of them, but I WILL]

I've never been hugged before😭🤚

I have a lot of friends, but I also feel stressed to make sure I talk to every one of them every day.

I have more guy friends irl than girlfriends, because my school has a staggeringly low amount of girls.

I know three languages, but I'm always interested in learning more (I started on Korean, Spanish, French, and Latin and now I don't remember anything from any of them)

I still have a Da Vinci research chart over my bed from when I was obsessed with the Da Vinci Code book.

Random acts of kindness make me cry 🌹

Who I'd like to be shipped with: I'm currently catching up on marvel movies and I LOVE peter so peter parker it is!

Type of ships: I love drabbles/oneshots/headcanons/anything! You can do whatever you feel inspired by, and make it as long or short as you please! If you can, please make it fluffy or angst to fluff 🥺

Thank you for reading/considering love <3

As a licensed hug machine, it's a huge violation in my affection programming that you've never been hugged before.

Ash met Peter when she moved to New York and started attending the same school. And when Peter first raised his gaze to look at her, he knew he was done for, he had a new crush and it was the new girl at her biology class.

MJ befriended Ash surprisingly quickly, and MJ also picked on Peter's longing gazes almost immediately. She smirked Peter's way, snapping him out of it as he had been caught and Ned laughed, nudging him with his elbow.

"Go talk to Ash, seriously dude," Ned said one day. "I can't watch you two pining over each other any longer."

"Me? Pining? Pining over Ash?" Peter snorted, restraining himself from glancing her way. "Oh, you've gotten it all wrong."

"Yeah, riiiight," MJ suddenly said, having appeared behind them and the boys flinched, seeing the girl leaning back, watching them with a smirk and rolling her eyes, pointing towards Ash with her french fry. "That's what Ash says too. Can't believe her for a second."

"W-wait, you've talked about me?" Peter asked with flushed cheeks and MJ rolled her eyes again.

"She's always talking about you, fangirling about you like you'd be the lead in a rock band or something." she sighed and glanced at her friend. "She might seem intimidating at first, but I promise she's nice. Just go talk to her already, I start to grow tired about how all our discussions are like Peter Peter Peter, oh Peter is so smart... she's nice company otherwise but I'm not the type of girl to fangirl with about boys."

Peter gulped as he looked at Ash's back turned to them at the diner, her hair in a long braid - she looked like a Disney princess with it, along with her beautiful dress. Peter felt like Ash was way out of his league. But as Ned and MJ stared at him, he slowly stood up and made his way to Ash. She looked up from her book when she heard someone approach, turning to look at Peter, before her eyes widened. Peter hoped that the shock in her eyes was positive shock.

"Uh... hi. Um, can I sit with you for a moment? My friend uh... has private business to take care of." Well that's not questionable at all, Peter thought and wanted to slap himself after saying that. "I- I mean that he got a phone call. A private phone call."

He felt so stupid, but fortunately Ash looked like she was just as lost with words, before she nodded and Peter eagerly sat opposite of her.

"What are you reading?" he asked, and Ash smiled.

"These are just silly old books about cold cases around the world, I have a weird hobby of wanting to solve stuff like that..." she muttered and let Peter take a look.

"Huh," Peter frowned. "I like solving crime cases as well. I mean, in a way."

"Really?" Ash's eyes lit up and Peter blinked, staring into them for a moment and almost getting lost, before blushing and looking away.

"Yeah, maybe... we could try solving something together sometime?" he suggested, almost regretting for being so straightforward but Ash's excited smile told him everything he needed to know and he smiled back, hoping that this could lead to something greater...

[theblackberrygirl]

Dead Hearts

Summary: The Red Room is destroyed and Natasha has some unresolved goodbyes to say.

Author’s Note: alright I wasn’t super happy with this bc I felt like it was kinda OOC but my beta reader said she rly liked it so here it is!

Warnings: torture, death, death of children, hypothermia, grief. It’s sad alright

This is a song fic and it’s inspired by Dead Hearts by Stars

Tell me everything that happened

Tell me everything you saw

They had lights inside their eyes

They had lights inside their eyes

“JARVIS, show me the article,” Nat asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

“Of course, Ms. Romanoff.”

The headline streamed across the TV in her room. Russian training academy, Red Room, has been destroyed and burned by the US government.

Her stomach dropped. No. It can’t be true. The Red Room doesn’t just get destroyed. That’s not possible, it’s not true.

But it was. It was true. The Red Room had been reduced to a pile of burning cinder blocks.

She felt a strange feeling in her heart. She definitely wasn’t nostalgic. The Red Room had kidnapped her from that house fire when she was 4, leaving her parents to die. They tortured her, made her into a killer, messed with her mind and memories.

They made her kill her friends.

When she had escaped when she was 16 and Clint had found her, she never looked back. She ran and ran because running was what she knew, it was all she knew.

But now, she couldn’t run away. No, for once in her life, it was time to run towards something.

“JARVIS, is the quinjet fueled up?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff, but-”

“Get me 29 roses please. I’m leaving in 10 minutes.” JARVIS didn’t answer her, but she knew he was listening.

It was late, around 2 in the morning. Tony would be in his lab. The others would hopefully be asleep. Clint… well, he was a wild card at night. He could be anywhere. But she had known him for years. She knew how to avoid him.

She threw some essentials in a bag before heading towards the quinjet. JARVIS had been listening, because a bundle of blood-red roses laid on the countertop.

She picked them up on her way out to one of the jets. She needed to do this. Not just for herself.

But for them.

-

Did you see the closing window?

Did you hear the slamming door?

They moved forward, and my heart died

They moved forward, and my heart died

-

“Mr. Stark, Ms. Romanoff has just entered the roof.”

“What? Why?” Tony asked, actually pausing his newest project to listen to JARVIS.

“She asked me to make sure one of the quinjets had fuel and to get her roses.”

“That’s helpful,” Tony grumbled. “Is Barton still up?”

“Mr. Barton is currently downstairs in the archery range.”

“Typical. Tell him to come up here, will ya J?”

“Right away, Mr. Stark.”

Tony didn’t go back to his tinkering. He wanted to give Natasha her space, since she’d probably kill him if he didn’t. But at the same time, if this was something important, he didn’t want her to be alone.

“Tony? What’s up?” Clint had arrived in the lab, his bow on his back.

“Hey, do you know if today is anything important for Nat? An anniversary or something?”

“...no? Not that I know of anyways. Why? She alright?”

“I’m not sure, Katniss. JARVIS just told me that she was going up to the jet with roses.”

“Where is she going?”

“The GPS coordinates are set for an area approximately 50 miles West of Vorkuta, Russia.”

“Russia? Why would she be going back to-”

“JARVIS, how many roses did she want?” Clint interjected.

“29, sir.”

“That’s specific,” Tony commented.

Clint didn’t say anything. He wordlessly picked up one of the laptops Tony had laying around and typed something into the search bar.

“Oh no, Tasha… I knew you talked about it doing something, but...”

“What? What is it?”

Clint spun the laptop around for him to see. “The Red Room. It’s gone. And I think I know why she’s going back”

-

Please, please tell me what they looked like

Did they seem afraid of you?

They were kids that I once knew

They were kids that I once knew...

-

Even in a quinjet, the ride from New York to Northern Russia was pretty long, giving her plenty of time to think and contemplate.

She did not want to think. Not about the Red Room, or Madame B, or the other girls, anything.

You owe it to them to remember.

All of her memories before 16 were jumbled. But some things… some things can’t be erased or altered by drugs.

She remembers their names. All of them. All 29.

She had been the youngest girl in her class of Black Widows. Some said that was a weakness. Others said it was an advantage.

But when they brought little Natalia Romanova to that place, still covered in burns and ash, she didn’t care about becoming the Black Widow. She wanted her mother, and father, in their little one-bedroom apartment, with her stuffed rabbit Alexei. It was always cold in that apartment, but when she was snuggled between her mother and father, she felt safe.

She learned quickly that safety was not a feeling in the Red Room. That was something for children, and she was not a child. She was Natalia, made of marble.

On her first night there, when she had silently cried from the pain of cold metal handcuff cutting her wrist, one of the older girls had helped her. She was 8. Her name was Nadia.

Nadia had stolen one of the handcuff keys from the guards. She had unlocked the cuffs and hugged her. Made her a makeshift doll out of an old sock and toilet paper. Told her stories of magic and heros.

In the morning, they found out about what Nadia had done. They punished her until she couldn’t scream anymore. Just before they killed her, she looked at Natalia. “It’s ok”, she whispered. Just before they pulled the trigger.

Magic had not been in that place in a very long time.

After Nadia had been killed, Natalia funneled her grief and fear into her training. She rose to the top, taking down girls who were twice her age and twice her size. She used untraditional methods on the mat, using her legs to take them down since that was where she was strongest.

Her handlers were very impressed with her sudden prowess. She became the best dancer, best fighter, best liar. She picked up the languages quickly. She was as stoic as stone, never flinching or backing down from the threat of a punishment.

They never knew what fueled her excellence. Never knew that she was motivated by rage and grief. For her parents. For Nadia.

When she turned 9 years old, she decided that it was time to repay her debt to Nadia. There was a new girl, the last one for their class. The thirtieth. Sasha.

No one knew what had happened to Sasha. But they did know that she was good. She was unwavering, unmoving. During the day, anyways.

At night, Natalia could hear the girl in the bed next to her trying to muffle her cries. She took out the key that one of the guards had foolishly left in the washrooms. She carefully unlocked her own cuff and Sasha’s.

She rubbed her back silently. Rebraided her French braids that had come undone in the night. Made her a crude doll out of an old sock and toilet paper. Just as Nadia had done for her.

The next morning, Natalia had waited all day for someone to take her to a room to be killed. But they never did. They hadn’t been caught.

Sasha and Natalia continued their routine every night. It was nice to have a friend in a place where friends were a myth.

They were friends for 2 years. They learned to master sneaking around. When Sasha turned 11, someone took her into a room alone. They did this all the time for training, interrogation practice, or just a mental test.

When Sasha didn’t come back that night, she knew something was wrong.

She never saw Sasha again. She didn’t know what happened to her. She still didn’t.

“Landing in 10 minutes,” the jet intercom told her. A wave of anxiety washed over her. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to turn around, go home, and never come back.

She hated the memories associated with this place. This was the closest she had ever been in the 12 years since Clint saved her. She avoided it like the plague.

The clearing the jet had landed in was still about 2 miles from the old academy. She pulled her coat and hat on and began her march through the barren fields and forest.

Tank tops and shorts. No shoes, she thought to herself. When she was 13, Madame B had given them all black tank tops and shorts. She took away their combat boots and forced them out into the bitter winds.

“Only the strongest will survive this challenge. Only those worthy of the Black Widow title will make it through this. If you are not ready, well, hypothermia isn’t a bad way to go,” she had told them. 2 girls out of the remaining 18 had died that day.

Then they had gone inside to train. The cold made their muscles achey and stiff, but the Red Room was not a place for complaints.

Then they did it all again the next day.

By the end of the week, 7 of the remaining 18 girls were dead, either from exhaustion or the cold. 11 remained from a group that was once 30.

Anastasia. Irina. Svetlana. Alina. Manya. Eva. Kyana.

Their dead hearts were everywhere. The lights inside their eyes extinguished. They’re still out there. And she still cares.

She always will.

-

I could say it, but you won't believe me

You say you do, but you don't deceive me

It's hard to know they're out there

It's hard to know that you still care

-

Pepper, Tony, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Steve, and Fury had all boarded a jet to Russia as soon as Clint told them what had happened. They weren’t going to let her go through this alone.

Natasha Romanoff liked to pretend she didn’t feel things. But they were her family. And family helped each other.

They all sat in silence. Natasha only had an hour on them, but that was still an hour where she was alone and hurting. Even Tony didn’t say anything.

Clint was playing with the spider necklace he always wore. Natasha had a matching one with an arrow. It was a symbol of how deep their friendship went.

Fury was completely still. He had his arms resting on his knees, looking straight ahead. His lips were more downturned than usual, and his forehead was more tense. You could only tell if you had known him for a long time, but Fury was upset. Upset that the woman he looked at as a daughter had to relive this. That she even had to live through it at all.

Clint and Fury were probably getting hit the hardest. They knew the most about what went down in the Red Room. They knew the most about how painful this had to be for their friend.

As the jet lightly set down in the field near the jet that Natasha had taken, they all prepared to walk the 2 miles in the cold weather.

The ground beneath their feet was completely frozen. Permafrost. Snowflakes rushed around their faces. It was painfully beautiful.

The sound of dried grass and leaves under their feet was the only sound on their walk. The wind whistled in their ears. The cold air bit into their exposed skin like needles.

Clint’s breath caught in his throat when he saw her.

She was standing on a pile of rubble with her back to them. Her flaming red hair was flying in the wind. In her arms was the bouquet of roses. Each rose had a note attached, written in Natasha’s small, elegant penmanship.

As Clint looked closer, he saw what the notes were. Names. All of them.

If Nat had realized they were there, she made no move to acknowledge them.

She just stood there. As if she was in shock. To be honest, she might’ve been.

“Sometimes, I swear I can see them,” Natasha spoke. She sounded so… broken. “Everywhere. In the reflection of a window. When I heard a door slam, it was like they were right there like they used to be. Like how they were in here.”

They all stayed quiet. She needed to get this out.

“It’s like they’re following me. Protecting me. I miss them. I miss them all.”

“Inna, Katrina, Larisa, Polina, and Oksana were the first 5 to go.” She held the 5 flowers tightly in her hand, like if she squeezed it tightly enough, she could bring them back. “5, 7, 6, 4, and 8. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” she whispered. Her emotions were coming to the surface, hidden by a thin veil of control.

“Raisa, Sonya, Ulyana, Vanka. I didn’t know any of you. Not personally. But all of you deserved so much better than what you got.”

“Luda, Lubov, and Klara. You were 8 years old. Triplets. Nothing could come between you three. Not the Red Room. Not even death.”

Clint started to move closer towards his best friend. He could see the way she was shaking.

“That week when we stood outside for hours. The cold and exhaustion took 7. Anastasia, Irina, Svetlana, Alina, Manya, Eva, Kyana. I hope that you weren’t in pain when you died. I hope you’re finally resting.”

Only 10 roses were left in her arms, the other 19 laid out on the ground in front of her. The bright red petals contrasted sharply with the grey cinder blocks and white snow.

“Yelizaveta. Liz. We were in actual hell together, and yet you somehow managed to make me smile with your fucked-up sense of humor. In a place like that, dark humor is the only kind you have.” A small smile joined the tears running down her face. “I hope I’ll see you again one day.”

“Taisiya, Sonechka, Nikita, Mischa, Maya, Luda. You were all so smart. And so strong. You fought harder than everyone. Even now, I have yet to meet someone as smart as you six, and 2 of my best friends have more than one PhD,” she laughed.

She was down to the final three roses. Clint put his arm around her. The dam was threatening to break any moment now.

“Nadia.” She let her tears fall for Nadia. “I wouldn’t be alive without you. I wouldn’t have gotten to meet my family. I wouldn’t have gotten to become an aunt without you.” Clint had already been crying, they all had, even Fury, but that had struck him deep in his heart. “I owe you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she choked out. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she gently set the rose down on the ground.

“When I was 14, we had to do torture training.” Pepper let out a small gasp. “After I had finished the whipping and electrocution day, Anya split her bread with me. She cleaned the cuts that I couldn’t reach. In the morning, I-” Her voice began to crack. “They made me be the one to kill her. She was 15.” She set Anya’s rose on the ground next to the others. “You didn’t deserve it, Anya. You were always so good. Better than I ever was.”

“Sasha. Sasha and I were best friends,” she let out a small bittersweet laugh. “When I was with her, I felt like, maybe, we could lead normal lives. Escape. Be happy. One day, when we were 11, they took her away and never brought her back.” She held the rose with Sasha written on it in her hand. “I’m sorry, Sash. I’m so, so sorry. For everything.”

“You forgot one,” Clint whispered. He held out one more red rose. “Natalia Romanova. A little girl orphaned in a fire, who did what she had to do to survive. Who walked through hell and back and still found herself a family and a home.” He set the rose down with the others.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she cried. Clint hugged her tightly as they sank to the ground.

“We were all so young. We were all kids. Just kids,” she sobbed into his shoulder.

Years upon years, over 2 decades worth of grief, sadness, fear, rage, and pain came pouring out. She had been bottling these feelings up for 24 years, shoving them down, and now they were finally being released. Finally being set free.

“They were kids that I once knew. They were kids that I once knew...”

-

Now they’re all dead hearts to you.

They were kids that I once knew

They were kids that I once knew

Now they're all dead hearts to you

Now they're all dead hearts to you

They were kids that I once knew

They were kids that I once knew

Now they're all dead hearts to you...