#the ending of this puts a new twist on the ending

[murdrdocs]

disclaimer: this is a piece of fictional work. although based on real people, the characters—and circumstances—presented are entirely fictional and should be treated as such.

jack decides to take things slow. they're both switches; oral (f receiving); hair pulling; cowgirl MDNI 18+ w/ JACK SCHLOSSBERG

you and jack are versatile.

there are the times where you're both overcome with the need to constantly have your hands on the other, curious fingertips pressing into muscle and reaching under clothing, body heat searching for mutual warmth through layers of clothing. desperate make outs followed by even more desperate grinding.

but then there is the slower intimacy. the kind that comes about at the end of the day when you're both wound down, sunken into the bed with some show playing on the TV across from you.

these times are so slow, agonizing, aching deep in your chest and pressing on your nerves, attempting to trigger them. if you were receiving even just a bit less, maybe you'd really be pissed. but jack has been keeping you stimulated enough.

even though he's playing with his food.

pinching the hem of your tee shirt between his teeth, lifting it up as he starts his slow climb, only to let it fall right beneath your tits. pressing his large hand on your stomach, but not pressing down. letting a big hand just sit there uselessly, fingers spread wide, reaching across your belly. warmth against warmth, adding kindling to an unpredictable fire. it burns, then simmers, then burns higher than it did before.

you've done the same to him before. that's why you're compliant, letting him take his time and explore a body he already knows well. maybe sex therapists would agree that this was a good way to keep interest in the bedroom, adding something new that won't break up the dynamics already created. you don't think that is jack's intention. really, you think he's just having fun.

he kisses below your navel then starts a journey up. you don't get your hopes up. you don't allow yourself to think that this will finally be the time when he'll reach an actual destination and not some freckle or scar marked in your skin.

but he does.

he pushes your shirt the rest of the way up and then wraps his lips around one of your nipples. he sucks and flicks his tongue over the bud, looking up at you, gauging your reaction. it might be minimal, but he knows you well enough to see the glint of satisfaction in your eyes.

you can see and feel him smile around your skin. his hand comes up and gives attention to the other half of you, pinching and tweaking your nipple between bouts of gentle groping. it's such minimal attention, but any attention at all right now is dizzying for you. paired with the sheer amount of devotion he's putting into each press of his mouth and hand, you might lose it before he even gets your panties off of you.

although not completely unappealing, the thought makes you groan. "jack," you whine, even though you initially intended for the syllables to come out more frustrated than wailing.

the laugh he lets out infuriates you. but the string of spit that connects his mouth to your breast when he pulls back excites you.

"i'm getting there," he says, his words reeking of cockiness with an undertone of exasperation, like he's the one being tortured.

he knows what he's doing to you, it would be impossible for him not to, but the fact that he's completely reveling in having the upper hand for once makes you want to take it away from him.

you consider it for a second—twisting your hand into his hair, pushing his head down to your cunt, knowing his instincts will take over and he'll act on impulse. it would be satisfactory, but it wouldn't be fulfilling.

you decide to be good.

still, you do make a half-hearted attempt to push his head down, your fingers stuck in slightly-greasy strands without much commitment behind the grip.

he glares up at you from where his chin rests on the center of your abdomen, his stare challenging, as if he's daring you to continue. you do, for just a split second, but his stern "uh-uh" is all it took for you to change the intention of your grip, now holding onto his hair to anchor yourself instead of encourage him towards what you want most.

but when he finally does make his way down there, he's understanding. he knows you can't help it when your legs lift and your knees draw together. he knows it's your instinct to scratch his scalp and pull at the roots of his hair. with his genes, this would be the only way he could go bald, a product of your pleasure-ridden reactions. he doesn't mind. you think he actually contently whimpers when he comes up for air once.

he's looking up at you, his jaw moving as he works you, his nostrils flaring with controlled breaths. you can see the gears turning in his head as you notify him of your orgasm. you know what he's thinking, it's obvious when he pulls back and licks his lips, replacing one natural shine with the other. but you shake your head, and you beg, and then he's making you cum on his tongue.

and to thank him, you climb onto his lap afterwards, sinking yourself onto his cock and riding him with your tits in his face. but you do have to get back at him for taking so long to give you what you want, so you keep his hands above his head, glued to the mattress with your hands as the adhesive.

[ladykailitha]

The Hellfire Exotic Club Part 14

Here we are again at the end. I'm sad to see this one go. It was a real challenge to see if I could write heavier smut and the answer is "eh, so-so". There should have been more nudity and sex in this thing than there was, but after the fight with Tumblr over the stripper tag I just gave up trying to even tag things properly anymore. Because of the fucking purity police.

But this gets racy. As racy as I get.

So thanks for one hell of a ride!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

~

Steve flopped on their sofa with a whine. “Robin... dancing with him just the two of us is going to kill me. I just know it.”

Robin looked over at him from the kitchen with an impressed eyebrow. “You know who to blame.”

“Chrissy,” they said together.

“If she had been dating you,” Steve huffed, laying lengthwise on the sofa and putting his right arm behind his head, “this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Hey!” she protested. “There is no way that that literal goddess is ever going to date a peon like me.”

Steve lobbed a pillow straight at her head. “Only one of us gets to mope at a time, and it’s my turn. Plus you aren’t a pee-on or whatever it was you called yourself. I bet she thinks you’re hot.”

Robin came over with the two bowls of stew she had reheated and handed one to Steve, who promptly sat up straight so she had a place to sit.

“There is no fucking way,” she huffed around a bite of carrot. “Did you see the way she danced with the new Wrath? Micaela has all the right moves, who would want me when they could have that?”

Micaela looked like a Greek statue come to life. She perfect olive toned skin, deep brown eyes and the perfect pout to her lips. She was also married to a guy named Paul, who did construction for a living and didn’t care about the stripping as long as it made her happy.

“I’m pretty sure Paul would take issue with that,” he huffed. “Besides, I’ll make a bet. I’ll ask her tomorrow if she thinks you’re hot and when I win, you have to do laundry for the next month.”

Robin shrieked in outrage. “There is no way, Mr. Clothes Horse that I am going to wash that many clothes for a month.”

“Oh so you agree,” Steve said batting his eyelashes, “that you know she thinks you’re hot?”

She began sputtering and squawking, finally she settled down with her stew and very mumbled, “Curses foiled again.”

Steve kissed her cheek and turned on “Unsolved Mysteries”.

“This show was creepier in the eighties,” she huffed. “Now most of the time it’s just supernatural shit. Robert Stack would appalled.”

Steve waved her off, “Shush! I want to hear about the Chicago Moth Man.”

~

Steve bounded up to Chrissy the next day, grinning from ear to ear. “Hey-ya, hot stuff!”

Chrissy threw her head back and laughed. “What’s happening, yourself, you goober?”

“So...” he began, rocking back on his heels and then back on his toes, “so I have this bet with Robin. If I win she has to do the laundry for a month and if she wins, I have to tell Eddie I like him.”

“Oohh,” Chrissy said, rubbing her hands together, “I almost want to see you lose so you have to tell him. What’s the bet?”

“That you don’t think she’s hot. I said you do, she thinks you don’t.”

Steve smirked as he saw the complete indecision warring on her face. “Damn it.” She stomped one foot dramatically. “That’s really not fair, Steve...”

His grin widened and he knew he had won. “I’ll tell you what, you let me win the bet and I’ll have you help choreograph a dance that will knock all of Eddie’s clothes right off.”

“Tell Robin that not only do I think she’s hot,” Chrissy said returning his grin, “but also tell her to be ready next Tuesday at seven, because I’m taking her out on a date.”

Steve gave her a fist bump and walked away, back to where a very anxious Robin stood, twisting a cloth napkin to death.

“I win,” he said smugly, “and you have a date on Tuesday at seven. Dress nice, but not fancy.”

Robin sputtered and stammered. “I would have thought at the very least she would have gone my way if for the very reason one of you to boneheads needs to say something because even long time regulars are starting to notice the friction between the two of you will light this place on fire.”

“Oh I totally bribed her,” Steve said, smirk never faltering for a moment, “I told her she could help choreograph a dance to actually seduce Eddie.”

“You are so smug,” she said through gritted teeth, pinching his cheek. “I don’t have anything to wear, you know this right?”

Steve waved her off, smacking her hand away. “Go on a shopping trip, it’s not like you’re broke. Hell, we’ll go tomorrow before work. Make you the prettiest butch lesbian there ever was.” He patted her cheek firmly. “Now, I’m going to go shake my ass.”

He walked off as Chrissy walked up to her. “Hey, gorgeous,” she purred, “I’m assuming Steve told you about our date?”

Robin nodded, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you thought that about me.”

Chrissy leaned over the counter, putting her boobs on display. She played with one of Robin’s many necklaces. “I thought that when you got hired, sweetie. This is just me finally taking the plunge.”

She licked her lips slowly as Robin’s cheeks turned bright red, causing her freckles to really stand out.

“Oh.”

Chrissy chuckled. “Such a pretty little thing. I think you have me a disadvantage, Robin.”

“How’s that?” Robin asked, amazed it didn’t come out as complete gibberish. Her cheeks were flushed and she couldn’t even see straight, every fiber of her being was focused on that single point of contact where Chrissy had a hold of her necklace.

“You’ve seen me naked and covered in chocolate sauce,” Chrissy purred, “and I was curious to see if that was on offer.”

How Robin didn’t immediately devolve into a complete buffoon, she had no idea. “Never on the first date.” She almost squeaked when she realized the words that had just come out of her mouth. That’s it. This wasn’t Hellfire Club, this was Heaven. She had died. Clearly.

“Duly noted,” Chrissy said, straightening up. “You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

Robin nodded and Chrissy waved goodbye over her shoulder. Joe who was the head waiter and her boss patted her on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it too personally,” he said with a huff of laughter. “I’ve seen lesser lesbians turn into gibbering hound dogs when she does that. She’s just a softy, really, she just also loves to blue screen the hell out of potential dates.”

Robin turned to him. “Why is that?”

“Because she wants to set the expectation that she is a stripper,” Joe said with a shrug. “She’s good at her job and she isn’t going to quit for anyone. So if she goes super sexual out of the gate and the person doesn’t mind it, then she knows it’s a safe bet.”

“Oh.”

That made more sense than it didn’t. But now she had figure out how to date the hottest woman Robin had ever met. No pressure.

Right?

~

To say Steve was nervous would be an understatement. He was about to turn an already sexually charged dance between him and Eddie and turn the dial all the up to eleven. He’s not even sure if it could be called “simulated” sex, when they were both going to get naked for a crowd, but it was definitely going to be something.

He had been slowly ramping up the tension between him and Eddie with each week and it was the last Saturday of the month and he was about to blow something. Eddie’s mind or his fucking job.

He really, really hoped it wasn’t his job.

They did their trio dance and Lilith slunk off stage, leaving behind Lucifer and Samael. The looks they were giving each other could have set that stage on fire. Steve was already most of the way red and his wings were tattered. It would not take much for Samael to fall. And fall tonight, he most certainly would.

Steve started out slow. He wanted to make Eddie come to him. He ran his hands all up and down his chest. One hand went up to his throat while the other dipped to press the heel of hand against his aching erection.

The moaned he released was not faked.

Both hands touched his cheeks and then dug into his hair, his hips thrusting out. The audience was hooked but the person he wanted was Eddie.

Lucifer watched with hooded eyes as Steve made love to himself. Then the water fell on Steve’s head and he ripped off his top. The wings were skeletal now, the last bit of feathers having been washed away with all the white.

He was standing there in red boots and g-string, head back and chest out.

The growl from Eddie was primal and Steve wasn’t sure if it was Lucifer or Eddie who made the sound.

But it didn’t matter, it did the job.

Eddie stalked across the stage and pulled their bodies flush together. He lifted one of Steve’s legs up and unzipped the boot, gently pulling it off. That leg went tightly around Eddie’s waist and he did the same with the other leg.

Soon Steve was only wearing the g-string, completely wrapped around Eddie, who was still fully dressed.

With his hand firmly on Steve’s back, Steve lowered himself backwards, arching his back, like those Renaissance painting of fallen angels and deposed saints.

With his free hand Eddie ripped off the harness with the wings tossing them aside to be picked up by one of the other dancers. Then that hand slid over Steve’s chest, down to the front of Steve’s thong and ripped that off as well.

The gasp from the audience and then the roar when Eddie tossed at them was loud.

Not that Steve could hear them over the rush of blood to his head. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely due to hanging upside down or the fact that the only thing that separated him from Eddie was the leather pants he wore as Pride.

Steve wrapped both arms around Eddie’s neck and began to grind against him.

Eddie forcibly set him down and pushed him away.

Steve had nothing to worry about because he knew this was part of the dance and turned toward the patrons.

He danced, reveling in his now naked form, showing off and simpering to the crowd. Then he’s yanked back, into Eddie’s arms.

He smirked and pushed Eddie away, turning back to the crowd. Eddie yanked on his arm again but instead of pulling him close, he pushed him to ground.

Steve stared up at him, propped up on his elbows as he scooted away from Eddie, toward the edge of the stage.

Eddie pulled on his tear away leather pants, leaving him only in the black combat boots he wore.

He stood, straddled over Steve and then knelt on one knee, running his hands over Steve’s torso and then pushed him all the way to ground.

Steve’s arms came up and his hands roamed over Eddie’s legs and ass. Eddie’s other knee hit the stage with a loud thump, causing the audience to jump. They were that enthralled with what was going on on stage.

Eddie slithered down Steve’s body and they both moaned together.

Steve was no longer sure where his body ended and Eddie’s started. It was like they were one.

Eddie stood up and as he straightened, he flipped Steve so he was on his stomach. He knelt back over Steve’s prone body and lifted his head by his hair. Steve knew to rise with it so it didn’t actually hurt, but fuck it was sexy as hell.

And the crowd thought so too.

Steve rose on his arms, stretching his back, like a mermaid pose, head back. Then he went straight down again slapping the stage to make it sound harder than it was.

He rolled over and looked up at Eddie. Eddie beckoned him to him and Steve followed, hypnotized. Entranced.

They danced together, their bodies moving as one.

Then with the dying beats of the song, Eddie dipped Steve, kissing him firmly on the mouth.

The audience went...well wild was too tame a word. Feral. They went absolutely feral.

Someone handed them garters for them put on and get money stuffed into. Once all the money that was stuffed the garters and thrown on the stage was gathered up, Steve and Eddie stumbled into Eddie’s office/dressing room.

Mouths and hands everywhere as they tried to touch as much as possible. As they were already naked or mostly there all it took was a quick tumble onto the sofa and they were really going at it.

“Baby,” Eddie huffed. “I was so hard, I almost came twice.”

Steve moaned underneath him. “Only twice? God if I didn’t have an ex-boyfriend who liked edging me I would’ve come several times.”

Eddie propped himself up on his elbows to look Steve in the eye. “We going to unpack that later when we are both sane again, but for right now I need to see you come!”

“Deal!” Steve cried as Eddie ground down.

The sex was short and explosive, as they had been turned on pretty much from the get go.

Eddie collapsed against Steve’s cum covered chest causing him to let out a pained huff.

“Where the fuck did you learn to dance like that?” Eddie complained. “Have you been holding back on me?”

Steve chuckled. “I had Chrissy help choreograph that in exchange for getting her a date with Robin.”

“That sneaky little minx,” he said with a fond shake of his head. “She is in so much trouble for that.”

“Hey,” Steve protested. “It worked didn’t it?”

There was silence for a beat.

“It did work, right?” he asked shyly.

Eddie raised his head to look him in the eye. “I guess that depends on your end game, if I’m honest.”

“I’m in love with you, Eddie,” Steve said his voice shaking just a little with the raw emotion of it all. “I want to take you dates, I want to wake up next to you, I want to know how you take your eggs so I can make you breakfast in bed. I want it all, with you.”

Eddie sat up and pulled Steve with him. “I want that too. I’m love with you, too. I’ve always been attracted to you. You’ve been nothing but kind to Chrissy, you defended my club against Nancy and Jason, you made it possible for me to really turn this club into something really special. It was good before you came, but you made it great. Of course I want to be your boyfriend, Stevie. I’d be upset if you didn’t want that, too.”

Steve surged forward and kissed him firmly on the lips. “Okay.”

Steve really didn’t feel like walking through the throng of people waiting to get paid, so Eddie loaned him some clothes.

When Eddie opened the door everyone cheered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie huffed. “Just remember I’m still your boss. Speaking of which, let’s get you people paid.”

Jeff and Chrissy came forward the locked box and the tip jar. Eddie counted the money, but instead of Steve on the other side of the desk like he used to do, Steve sat on the corner of the desk watching Eddie work.

After everyone had gotten paid they all shuffled out except Robin, Chrissy, and Jeff.

“Nice to see you two finally worked it out,” Jeff said with a huff of laughter. “I was about to embarrass the hell out of Eddie if something didn’t change by tonight.”

Eddie shuddered. “Glitter and stickers. So many stickers.”

Jeff grinned broadly.

Robin handed Steve a bag. “This has all your stuff in it, like your clothes, wallet, cell phone, and keys. I don’t want to see you home until sometime tomorrow.” She cocked her head to the side. “Mainly because I’m making out with my girlfriend tonight and really don’t want you there.”

She winked at him and then grabbed Chrissy’s wrist and hauled her out of there. Chrissy squawked and wave goodbye, yelling her congratulations over her shoulder as she was dragged along.

“And that’s me out of here, too,” Jeff said jutting his thumb at the retreating pair. “I’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”

Once everyone was gone, Steve smiled down at Eddie.

“Tomorrow,” he said wistfully. “I like the sound of that.”

“I like the sound of an infinity of tomorrows,” Eddie replied.

“Me too.”

They kissed again and walked out to their cars. Steve followed Eddie to his apartment, and just like in the rest of Eddie’s life, just never really left.

Soon he was spending most of his time over there, sometimes for sex, but mostly just being himself.

One Tuesday night when they were curled up on the sofa, Eddie asked him to move in for real.

“I’d really like that,” he murmured against Eddie’s lips.

Steve thought back to that fateful day when Robin came home from getting the job at the club, telling him that a dancer position just opened up and they were desperate. He hadn’t really stripped in a long time, the stripper-cize classes excluded. Those really weren’t the same thing as actually stripping.

But money was running out and he was out of options. So he auditioned using that silly song, hoping to stand out just enough to get the job.

And it instead changed his life.

“I love you, my little devil,” Steve purred.

Eddie’s returning smile was blinding. “And I love you too, angel.”

They kissed happily in their ever after.

~

Tag List: STORY COMPLETE!

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup @micheledawn1975

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @garden-of-gay

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @novelnovella

[signanothername]

If someone had found baby corrupted nightmare and taken him in, raised him, like, say for example, blue, how differently do you think everything would have ended up?

(*COUGH COUGH* totally not just pushing my dad swap agenda nope nuh uh *COUGH*)

i just imagine nightmare sneaking into his room at night to curl up near his bed like a dog, and IMMEDIATELY skedaddling when he senses him wake up.

This poor kid is freshly dead (alive? Born?) he is in Desperate need of comfort 💀 but it's not like he's gonna ask for it outright.

And i horrendously need someone to hold him and give him warm food and new clothes and toys to play with and blankets and tuck him in at night and Hold Him and feed him medicine when he's sick and read hin bedtime stories and rock him to sleep and give him a comfort plushie or blanket or item of sorts and HOLD HIM and-

ahem, so anyway, what do you think? How differently do you think he would've ended up? Cuz i think it'd be a lot different if nightmare was shown care by someone for once and comforted by someone who wasn't a fellow traumatized six year old.

And, yknow, was an adult who knew what they were doing and didn't hate him for no reason 💀

Ooooh :D

Yeah I definitely think he would’ve grown up a much different person, cause he wouldn’t have relied on himself to survive, he wouldn’t experience the constant fear of the many ways he could get hurt or die

He definitely wouldn’t have starved on negativity cause he didn’t know how to balance it anymore

And if he was actually raised by a loving parent that’s actually present in his life to guide him through it enough to find a healthy outlet for the horrors he experienced, as well as help him with his emotional, mental, and physical health a lot better, his life would be a lot easier

I think he still would be a lot more grumpy and a bit aggressive than he was before the corruption, and the Apple incident would still have a great impact on his psyche, he’d still hold a bit of fear inside, but that fear won’t end up guiding all his actions, and it definitely wouldn’t lead to him becoming power hungry, doing whatever he deems necessary to obtain it

Hell, even with how the corruption twists his happiness from something pure to finding joy in the misery of others, I still think with a loving parent raising him, he will find healthy outlets to his emotions, whatever they may be

I think he might eventually tell his parent figure about what happened with him, with his mother, with his twin, maybe even Dream would find himself in a lot better circumstances when he awakens from stone, finding a brother patiently awaiting him, finding himself waking up in warm welcoming arms, I definitely think it’ll contribute to the twins’ relationship being a lot better, a lot healthier

Their trauma would still put a few wrenches in their journey, but it definitely wouldn’t go so sour and bitter, Nightmare would be a lot more open towards Dream’s love and affection, hatred won’t taint his heart and cause their relationship to go so wrong

Generally, I definitely think it’ll be a lot more fluffy and slice of life-ish, which is super wholesome to think about

Now as for Blue specifically being the father figure, only two words, FUCK YES.

But I feel like, as a very traumatized lil child who doesn’t know any better, who had adults hate, hurt and even try to kill him, Nightmare would simply not trust Swap, not immediately

So it’d be really fun to see Nightmare actually warm up to Swap first way before he takes Nightmare in to raise and take care of him, it’d be fun to see what Swap might do to gain Nightmare’s trust enough for Nightmare to even let him within 10 meters without running away immediately or attacking him

May I also present some suggestions for another parental figure that could be really fun to explore? Color, I’d love to see him take care of a little newly corrupted Nightmare dhhdhdhd

Anyway *cough* this is such an adorable possible multiverse *cough*

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet + ch 45

a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... all chapters

WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: NSFW, SEXUAL CONTENT, VIOLENCE, YANDERE SH!T. Plz take care. I luv u all. 😘

45. halcyon daze

With Christmas on the horizon you take a break from your Persephone-inspired series to work on a present for John. There’s not a thing in the world you could buy him that he couldn’t buy for himself; but you have two hands, some talent and creativity: things that can’t yet be bought on Amazon. You’d noticed that he’s been working on an old set of Russian Fairytales. 

It still never fails to destroy your heart, that John favors mending the binding of children’s stories, as though he can recapture and sew back together some aspect of his own broken youth. 

Some of the illustrations in this edition are faded, one is even half destroyed, the paper torn. The writing is in cyrillic, you haven’t learned to read it yet, but with some [you hope] casually peppered questions, you manage to glean enough information to look up what they’re supposed to be. You make some replacements for him, and in the case of the Knight of Night in the story of Vasilisa the Beautiful, the warrior in black might bear more than a passing resemblance to your own dark assassin.  

When he opens this gift the wonder in his eyes is priceless to you. “I didn’t make you anything,” he apologizes guiltily, and while you are sitting amidst the piles of your freshly bestowed loot, which you still can’t help but feel guilty about. He bought you a stylish new motorcycle jacket, a fresh set of artist series gouache tubes and paper, an antique gold art nouveau lavalier necklace in the form of a flowing narcissus flower with glowing enameled accents and a dangling pearl –you are filled with so much love you fear your heart might burst.

You crawl across the floor, into his lap. He barely has time to set the drawings aside before your mouth is on his, and you are toppling him back almost into the Christmas tree with your ardor. By the time you are finished with him, you’re pretty sure he knows how happy he makes you, but just in case you tell him for good measure. “I love you more than I know how to say.” 

***

As winter drags on you look to John’s in-house gym to get exercise, even though you despise running on the treadmill. You feel like a hamster, jogging your ass off to nowhere. You try to keep up with your yoga practice, though you rarely get to finish a session. Somehow, John always manages to time walking in on you when you have your ass in the air. “Have mercy, I’m only a man,” he teases you, like this is an excuse for toppling you over and pinning you down with his body and his mouth on yours. 

It’s hard to get too mad about it, considering. 

You suppose you do still get a stretch and a workout, not to mention a belly laugh, in the end. 

Continuing your training stays interesting, although he wasn’t lying before when he said he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you. More often than not when you spar, you end up fucking on the floor. He’s never more beautiful than when his dark eyes glitter with anticipation of the hunt; you’ve learned a lot, but you know you stand zero chance against him. 

Maybe it’s not fair, when he loses patience and uses his experience and his size to put you down on the ground, sweeping your legs or twisting your arm behind you while he pulls down your leggings, baring your ass to the room. But he finds you soaking wet every time he claims his prize, guiding himself inside you, your growls quickly turning to moans for the way he fills you up and takes you down. “I fucking love it when you fight me,” he admits breathlessly, thrusting until you both cum loudly, your face pressed into the rubber floor.

It’s a game you love to lose.   

***

Winter starts to thaw, and you have cabin fever, ready to go outside. John is engrossed in a binding project: you finished your illustrations, and now he seems just as engaged in his side of the collaboration as you were yours. You find him smiling at a rendition of Dog as Cerberus with three heads when you pop into his workshop. “Want to go for a hike?”

He looks around at the mess he’s made on his worktable. “I’m not at a good stopping point,” he admits, and you understand that perfectly well. “You can go, just don’t be gone too long, alright?”

He could have pushed you over with a feather, you are so surprised to receive this clearance for a solo trek. 

You kiss him on the cheek in thanks. “I’ll be back soon,” you promise, still hardly able to believe your luck. 

“Y/n?” he calls as you’re at the door. “Take Dog?”

“I’m going too far for him.” Long walks hurt his paws.

“Then take your pistol.” You nod before disappearing up the stairs. Once upon a time, the thought of going around casually armed would have seemed like pure insanity to you. Now it’s simply a fact of life. You don’t have an official license for concealed carry, but after your intensive training at the Continental you feel perfectly confident that you won’t shoot anyone–unless you mean to. You live in John’s world now: survive first, worry about getting caught later…and pay off the appropriate officials if you have to.

That’s just the thug life, you suppose. 

The air outside is crisp and fresh, leaves and pine needles perfuming the woods in a way that intoxicates you more than any man-made scent. You take off down the trail at a brisk pace, feeling like you have wings on your feet. Knowing you could walk for miles and miles in this mood, you set a timer on your phone so you don’t forget yourself. Scaring John after he’s given you this confidence will not bode well for the future. Once upon a time such a leash would have chafed, but now you understand so much better what his fears are rooted in. You’ve peered into the darkness behind the curtain; there’s no going back. 

It’s the middle of the day in the middle of the week and you haven’t seen a soul, and on such a fine day as this, it is easy to forget that there’s a bustling, seething world of human strife out there. Or so you imagine, as you are sitting on the outcrop of your favorite overlook, your feet dangling out over oblivion. Yet, when you think you hear voices coming up the trail a sudden instinct kicks in to hide, to avoid being seen. Without really even thinking about it you tip yourself off the ledge, grabbing a branch of an ancient tree growing out of the rocks to break your fall, and dropping down to conceal yourself flat upon a narrow ledge.

“Dude, where’d she go?” you hear from above, your heart pounding in your chest, the blocky hardness of your little Beretta pressing into the small of your back as you lean against the stone face of the cliff a reassuring comfort. You realize then that John is not the only one with a residual paranoia from your misadventures. As you listen to the obviously harmless hikers above, you feel utterly ridiculous, and you wait for them to go so that you can make your way back in peace. 

Maybe it’s good to be alert, but at what point does one just have to get on with one’s life? If you live like a paranoid little rat scurrying around out of sight, then Dante has won in a different way. You think about this a lot, as you make your way home up the mountain. 

***

Perhaps it’s fitting, that with the renewal of spring all around you, John finishes the binding of your book. He calls you into the basement to inspect his workmanship, standing behind you as you behold the finished tome. The cover is embossed black leather with gold leaf. There is no title, just a design of an upturned skull grown through with blooming narcissus flowers. Slowly, you flip through the pages, enchanted with how he transformed your loose paintings into something so refined. 

“I love it,” you tell him, caressing a page bearing his likeness, the God of Death embracing his consort (that may bear a passing resemblance to you) in a Klimt-esque kiss. He nuzzles into your neck, kissing behind your ear. “But you didn’t sign it,” you complain, noting the lack of his usual This Book was Bound by John Wick plate. 

“I thought���we could do it together, as a wedding present?” he offers. You realize he means signing it with your joined name, and maybe it’s silly, but the thought makes your belly erupt into butterflies. You haven’t really talked about the wedding much. Though you wear the ring happily, he hasn’t really mentioned it at all, giving you space or otherwise occupied, you’re not entirely sure. 

“I would love that,” you agree, tilting your head for a kiss. His fingers dig into your hips as it deepens, a low moan called up from his throat. 

“Have you thought about what you might like?” he asks, kissing your neck again, his hands slipping under your shirt. 

“I don’t want anything fancy,” you admit breathlessly. “All I want is you.” You find the thought of bringing your dysfunctional family together in celebration only inspires anxiety. You have no lasting affiliations with any church–you do not feel the need to seek any god’s blessing of your union. You find you are just ready for it to be so. 

You feel him pause behind you, letting out a shuddering sigh. You wonder if he’s thinking about the journey you’ve taken, to get where you are today, together. You certainly are, looking at your book, and the allegory it tells of your tumultuous courtship. It wasn’t easy, and you can’t say anything so trite as you knew it would turn out–but you realize you did have the naivety to hope. For once…maybe your forgiving nature has finally paid off for you. You feel like you’ve been living in a halcyon daze, you are so happy. You hope it never changes, even if deep down you know it will. 

Change is the only certainty we’re ever afforded.

“Surely you want something nicer than a trip to the courthouse,” he pries, certain there’s something you’re not telling him. You do still feel embarrassed sometimes, about spending his money on things, even though he gives you free reign with unparallelled generosity. 

“I really don't want a big ceremony,” you assure him. “But…would you like it, if Winston married us?”

John huffs behind you, and you hear the smile in his voice. “I'm not sure that's something he does.”

You giggle at the thought, and you can tell John at least likes the idea of his father figure–one of his few remaining friends, being there. And, you like Winston too. “I bet he’d do it for you, John.”

“Hmm. We’ll think on that.”

It’s not a no.

“You know what I do want?” you pose, turning a page of your new book.This illustration is a rather explicit one, Death kneeling at her feet with his face buried in her pussy, her back bowed in sweet agony, the dark waters of the river Styx glittering behind them. He offered her the most exquisite pleasures, but withheld release unless she agreed to be his forever. Though deep in her heart she knew she loved him immeasurably, still she refused.

Neither John nor you are immune to the effect of perusing this pornographic work together; his long fingers dip into the waistband of your jeans, his fingertips just nearly caressing your mound.   

“Anything,” he tells you, nibbling at your ear. It takes you a moment to remember what you were talking about, your clit throbbing in answer to his seeking fingers and his other hand up your shirt. As a result your answer comes in breathy bursts. 

“I want…to go on an adventure with you. A long honeymoon,” you tell him, writhing against him as his hand finds your breast, toying with the taut peak of your nipple. You know he likes to travel as much as you do. Wouldn’t it be novel to go somewhere and not even need to assassinate someone in the interim?

You feel him chuckle behind you, more than hear it. “I might have guessed. Where do you want to go?” He asks you this while his fingers tease your curls, so close to touching you where you need him most. You are past shame, when your voice cracks. 

“Where can we go?” You assume most of Europe is off the table these days. 

“Hmm. You still have a yen for South America?” 

You nod, and he laughs again, though he catches your mouth in a tooth-counting kiss before you can answer–ie defend yourself from the usual allegations. At last his middle finger dips into your wet slit, and the sound of relief that escapes you is barely human.  

“Young lady…” he growls, nipping at your ear. “This is quite a dirty little book you’ve drawn. Do you know how many times I had to come find you while I was working on this?” You moan as he swipes up your juices, finally circling your clit as his other hand dips into your bra. You feel his erection straining against the curve of your bottom; you press yourself back against him, wanting what’s yours. Your answer is part laughter, part moan–for the umpteenth time, you feel like life is perfect with this man. 

“Probably as often as I had to come find you while drawing it,” you answer cheekily, arching back to hold his neck, opening yourself completely to him. Your knees threaten to buckle as he touches you, but soon you find yourself bent over his table, his corded forearms braced like columns on either side of you as he fucks you silly amidst the smell of old books, leather, and binding glue.  

It really doesn’t get any better than this.

***

When warmer weather comes you start to take out the bikes again. After a few outings you feel sufficiently refreshed, and more than ready to take your test. You make your appointment for next week, and you feel like a teenager again, full of nervous energy for the impending exam. John finds this amusing. “You can ride, sweetheart. And if you fail, you can just take it again.” 

But the perfectionist academic in you wants to ace it on the first go. When you express the desire to go for a practice ride while John is working on a new project he nods, not even looking up from his worktable. “Be careful.” 

“Take your pistol. I know,” you tease. This has become a broken record between you two–remembering a time when he wouldn’t have dreamed of letting you out of his sight, you do not mind. He narrows his eyes at you playfully, before letting you off with that slight smile that still squeezes your heart in your chest. 

You gear up in your kevlar jeans, boots and jacket, gloves and helmet. Concealed carry is ridiculously easy, with such bulk about you. You feel a bit like a commando, every time you put on the jacket with its armored panels. You fire up the Kawasaki and potter down the driveway. You like this bike, it’s been great to learn on, but John has been teasing you about an upgrade if you’re a good girl. 

Considering you feel where he’s been inside you every time you sit down, you’re pretty sure you’re meeting the requirements. You think about this with a smile as you hit a straightaway, and let the machine open up beneath you. 

It really is the closest you can get to flying on the ground. 

Exhilarated, maybe even feeling a little cocky, you make your loop of the mountain roads and then decide to make a quick stop down in town. You’ve worn out your three favorite paint brushes, the chisel tip, the angle shader, and the tiny 3/0 you favor for small details. Mr. Morton will get you squared away. 

You park in the lot behind the art store, and carry your helmet inside. You don’t dally long, even though the smell of oil paint and linseed oil inside the little store is a marvelous thing. You chat with Mr. Morton, pet the shop cat, and tuck your score into your inside pocket before walking back out to the parking lot. 

It’s totally cliché, but the rest goes by in a blur. 

A black SUV rolls up beside you, screeching on its brakes, a man jumping out of the backseat making a B line for you. Too late, you realize your rookie mistake. Your jacket is zipped up to your chin–you can’t draw your pistol under your arm in time. But you have your helmet in your hand, and without hesitation, you introduce it to his face as hard as you can. 

“At least offer a girl some candy first, asshole!”

The driver spills out next, cursing and trying to grab you, dodging your second swing with the helmet. You side-step him, but he manages to snag your jacket. Rather than pull against his hold you let him drag you to him, meeting his groin dead-on with your knee. As he crumples you hit him in the face with your armored elbow, and run for your bike while shoving your helmet onto your head. 

Maybe you should have run back to the shop, to the thoroughfare, to the safety of witnesses. But all you can think in that moment is that John might need you. You have a terrible feeling that something bad could be happening at home, and so you start your bike and tear off faster and more recklessly than you ever have before. The handlebars wobble in your haste but you manage to get a hold of the machine, concentrating on working the clutch and the gears to pick up speed as fast as you can. If you look back, you know you’ll crash. You run a stop sign, veering around a car by the skin of your teeth, leaving the sound of screeching wheels and honking horns behind you.  

Out of town, you drop a gear and take off like a rocket up the mountain, passing cars where you definitely shouldn’t. I’m coming, John. Maybe it’s ridiculous. How much help could you possibly be to John Wick? But you won’t rest until you set eyes on him again. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised, when the G Wagon roars up next to you again. In your peripheral you see the passenger in the window, his extended arm, the blocky black shape of a gun. They veer at you, trying to run you off the road. You brake the bike, letting them whip past you, nearly going off the pavement themselves in the confusion. You decide to turn off onto a sideroad, a winding death-trap of a paved goat trail that you know like the back of your hand, though you’ve never ridden it before, only drove. You hope you’ll lose them in the snarl of tight curves. It will take longer to get home, but if worse comes to worse maybe you can abandon the bike and lose them in the trees. 

Home turf advantage, you tell yourself, not entirely convinced. These guys mean business–and you’re fairly sure the driver’s accent was Italian. 

You don’t really hear it past the roar of your engine and your heartbeat in your ears, when they come up behind you. You do hear the shot, and you flinch, ducking low to make yourself a smaller target. But he wasn’t aiming for you. 

He was aiming for your tire, and when it blows the bike goes wild–and you really get to experience flying.

It’s almost exhilarating, sailing through the air, until you hit the pavement hard, skidding across the unforgiving asphalt, rolling to take some of the momentum. You lay there on the tarmac, alive, but completely stunned. You tell yourself to get up–but your body doesn’t listen. You see the shadow of a man over you. It’s Helmet Man–his face is a mask of blood; it looks like you broke his nose, and he’s pissed about it.

He kicks you in the side before shoving a needle through your jeans, into the meat of your butt. On the verge of puking in your helmet, the world swims, then goes black.

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

*author's note: Full credit to @discoscoob for suggesting that Winston should officiate, I love it, you're brilliant! 😘 And the yoga scene is totally @treedaddymcpuffpuff 's fault. I love our unhinged conversations boo 🤣 The Brain Rot would not be so strong or so FUN without you!❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ :)))))))))))))))))

**maybe i should also add that certain eXplicit panels in the BRZRKR Bloodlines comic inspired a great deal of this dumpster fire 🥵🤣🤣, y'all should definitely check it out, the artwork is great!

--------------- 

all chapters

[nocifer]

Who are the romantic options in Shattered?

Hi, I've made a list of all the confirmed ROs so far, there might be just a tad of spoiler, so if anyone would prefer to keep the mystery intact, pass this by!

Loran, the Huntress (she/her): Peerless huntress and loyal companion, the first and certainly not least of our unfortunate pawns of causality. Thrown into strife no one could have prepared her for, she faces impossible odds by your side, fighting tooth and nail to survive. Beyond kinship, perhaps a brighter flame can light her heart. If you prove deserving of it.

Visamere, the Slayer (she/her): Beast on a yoke, warrior stripped of honor. Though the slayer chafes at her restraints, she will do what she must to earn her freedom and return to her people. Even should they spurn her. Though her fierce heart might find itself yearning for one she never imagined could move her.

The Paladin (he/him): Strange are the twists of fate one might follow for their beliefs, though he would not let such a paltry thing as doubt lead him astray from a burgeoning quest. A big guy with a big heart, who might find himself in more trouble than he bargained for. And perhaps someone worth dedicating another oath to.

The Assassin (he/him): An unwilling hunter is sent on one last pursuit to repay his debt. He may finds himself given an opportunity to claim everything he wishes for all at once. Glib and amused by this new maze fate has seen fit to weave for its favorite plaything, he only wonders whether enough time will remain for him to fulfill his promise. And perhaps roguish charms and morbid humor will earn him even more yet?

The Investigator (she/her): A mysterious seeker of truth and perhaps an unlikely ally. She carves her way through the circles of power, eager to find out what stands at the center of her questions. Through her honeyed lies and clever facades, will she gain more than answers on her path?

The Nightwarden (he/him): A dedicated and tireless pursuer, he has sworn his heart to putting down the target of his hatred. A vengeful warrior who wields glaive and sorcery with equal prowess. As one of the emotionless and deathly loyal nightwardens, who could alter his course now?

The Rival (any/any): A familiar foil catching the scent of an old foe they thought done for, they once again throw themselves after the rival they've always longed for. Avid to meet again, they'll pull off any and all audacious folly to get their way, hoping this time that things end differently.

The Veteran (he/him): The old warrior thought his days of fighting far behind him, but war has a way of plucking its survivors back to the pit. An act of kindness has set him on a collision course with what he always feared most, but perhaps there's something to be gleaned for an old and scarred heart on the way.

[sgiandubh]

Caitriona didn’t mention Tony. Seems the ‘reporter’ utilized Google. 😂

Dear Didn't Mention Anon,

It's always a sarcastic pleasure to see tension climbing for literally nothing across the street. Some other Brazilian Anon, just like you (best way to convey your thoughts was, in proper English, 'the reporter used Google' - not the Portuguese semantic calque 'utilized'...), even speculated we must be hiding this shattering press article, since no reaction and/or discussion happened as of yet.

Brazilian Anons would certainly have made better use of their time and grey cells if they simply presumed that in another time zone people really have other (simple and boring and prehaps even endearing) things to do. While Brazilan Anons were probably sleeping or having breakfast, someone else was just about to end a shorter Friday work schedule, buy Chinese takeaway on the way home, have a light lunch, take out Baby the Lab for a short pee stroll around the block. And mercifully collapse in flannel sheets for a blessed siesta, waiting for the first snowy day of the year. But enough about me, Anon, you are not here for this: you are here for that article - https://www.mindfood.com/article/caitriona-balfe-looks-ahead-to-life-after-outlander/

It is also an amusing factoid that C's PR and/or *** very often seem to favor second-tier media outlets in order to keep spreading around the Narrative Word. Pinoy regional gazettes, borderline clickbait/gossip websites and now Mindfood, a vanity/hybrid press magazine based and edited in New Zealand and Australia by McHugh Media Group, which main activity, at least in Oz, is (🥁🥁)...paper mills and paper manufacturing - of course.

[Source: https://www.dnb.com/business-directory/company-profiles.mchugh_media_australia_pty_limited.6ded585ed8e21b347589059682b44143.html]

Within that group, the Mindfood project is but an apparently lucrative subsidiary ('integrated media company', LOL), despite some dire client reviews ( 2 out of a resounding global 3, how odd!) on Google:

'Rank amateur's' [sic!] (...) What sort of magazine publisher doesn't have a manned office? (...) They'll go broke very quickly like that.' '(...)pretty shabby treatment of a customer.'

😱😱😱

But let's assume I am twisting again the plot (I don't, I do not need to). Let's assume I am evil like that and I give credence to two very negative (but brutally clear, too) user reviews only. Perhaps I am wrong, you might say. So, let's also have a look at some company figures, shall we?

Nay contest, it's them.

[Source: https://rocketreach.co/mchugh-media-profile_b5d2097af42e3bbb]

Now, my lovelies, how can I put it without offending anyone? What we are looking at, here, is a small company with 5 (five) employees, few web hits (164.480 hits is ridiculous, when we are talking about press/media!), but a comfortable revenue (7 million AUD - about 4.5 million USD). May I remind you that a company's revenue is roughly its gross income, before subtracting operating costs, wages and taxes. But given they have only 5 employees, wage expenses & operating costs must be marginal and taxes are rather friendly in New Zealand, where their HQ is (to the point there was, three years ago, an ongoing debate in order to determine if the country was a tax haven: https://thespinoff.co.nz/business/06-10-2021/is-nz-a-tax-haven-for-the-rich-and-dodgy-the-pandora-papers-reignite-the-debate), you do the maths. Therefore, how can this rather substantial profit be explained, otherwise than by a very friendly editorial policy towards paid and/or sponsored content and product placement galore (Lifestyle, anyone)?

Its immediate competitor is a supermarket chain in-house bulletin/leaflet, Campbell's Cash & Carry. The kind of thing that always lands somehow in your shopping bag and then directly in the kitchen trash:

This is enough to show their real reach and place on the market, I believe.

All this for what, Madam Knife? All this to say that paper is probably paid by the talent's PR/***. I will not go into useless detail, because there is very few new-ish/relevant information (e.g.: 'With a long season seven concluding in January, the Outlander epic will close out within the next 18 months, taking the episode total to 101. '). But I will, gleefully even, point out two tiny details, all of you patiently read this long rant for, in fact.

As always, McGill doesn't even deserve a quote, only reported speech that is, in fact, snowballing prior reference (this is exactly where copy/paste comes in very handy, you see). And a clumsy one at that, sugar on top - hence the copy/paste certainty and this is so, so rude, I could cry (nope...):

But... but... such a nice, thoughtful touch for her Stans, who spent DAYS in a row proving he was not a music producer, but the Night Media Manager (and I have to say, delivered actual quotes - still No Face, No Name, No Number, though):

[Tait rhymes with hate, alright - I know, darlings, it pisses you off to no tomorrow 😉.]

Copy paste/Goes to waste. Finally, I had to snort (not a pretty, nor feminine sight) when I realized Mindfood takes its readers for complete, amnesic idiots:

So she became 'a mother in August of 2021', but she did film 'the sixth season of the drama while pregnant'. Granted, this paper is written for casual OL viewers, the kind of people who did find C interesting/beautiful/clever/extraordinary, but who don't remember her name when prompted on candid camera, for example. The kind of superficial audience who will never do the maths and never question the fact a pregnant actress was filming beautiful (but steamy) scenes with her... ahem... with her co-star she is now 'consciously uncoupling' from.

ROFLMAO.

Not even sorry for the length, Anon. There you go, let's say good bye with a merry little song - I am told I have the best tunes on Tumblr (SMH). Really, Mindfood's client could have curated and tailored better the Retconning Operation - but perhaps even PR has trouble taking that man and his narrative role seriously?

[anon-sect]

Picture source: anonymous

Danny was really getting annoyed with his supervisor. Both him and Evan applied for the same job. He was more qualified for the position, but they end up picking Evan. He later found out that Evan got the position because of a secret bribe. He was so pissed off at that. To make things worse, Evan used his position to make work almost a living hell for him. He would give him way more task than others while the slackers got even less than before. He would sometimes give him near impossible deadlines to meet, knowing that would cause him to work a lot of late nights while he was out partying and having fun. It really got to a point he couldn't take it anymore. He wanted to teach Evan a lesson that would equal the same amount of torture he gave him. He had the perfect idea of how to do it.

Evan arrived at Danny's office after he refused to meet one of the near impossible deadlines. "You know I could have you fired, but I might give you a second chance." Evan spoke with a twisted grin.

Danny was waiting for to come to his office. "I have the finished report here. Just take a look." He spoke as he turned the computer screen toward Evan. He took out his phone and set up the TF Pro app out of view of Evan.

Evan looked at the computer screen and saw nothing but an empty page. He was about to ask what that was about when he saw a flash from Danny's phone. There was an instant change of view. He was in a different form and could not move or speak. He had a limited view form what his new form was. He could hear Danny close his office door. "I turned you into boots. My partner loves boots. I am going to gift you to him for a while. It will be long enough for them to hire a new more qualified supervisor." He heard Danny laughing as he was placed in shoe box and the top put on it. He was trapped in the dark as his fate was already determined without his consent.

The next time Evan saw daylight was the top was removed. He heard Danny's voice, and he was talking with another guy.

"What do you think of them, babe?" Danny asked his partner Valin. He watched as Valin took out the boots and examined them.

"They look perfect. Where did you get them?" Valin asked as he continued to examine them.

"My supervisor had bought them, but they didn't fit his feet, so he thought you might be able to make use of them." Danny answered back, knowing full well that Evan was hearing every word. He smirked at that thought.

"Tell him I appreciate this. I have been wanting knew boots to wear. And the way they fell makes me want to wear them nearly every day." Valin spoke as he hugged his partner.

Evan was mentally screaming at both of them. He didn't want to be worn on his feet every day. He didn't even want to be boots at all. He watched in horror as a dingy white socked foot entered one boot and pressed down on his insole face. He had to endure the same scene as Valin put on the other boot. Valin did a couple of stomps and began to walk around in him. The dingy white sock had a strong odor to it. He so wanted to get away from them so badly. The pressure of being walked on made his insole face experience extreme pain, nothing like he had ever felt before. Each step was pain renewed over and over.

Danny watched as Valin walked around the room in his new boots, simply enjoying how they felt on his feet. The thought that poor Evan was being walked on without a single thought from his owner made him smile. He really must be suffering under my partner's feet; he thought to himself. Serves him right, he also thought.

For a straight two weeks, Evan found himself subjected to Valin's feet every day. Valin wore him to work, out shopping and hanging out with friends and his partner. Sometimes, Valin wore clean socks and other times, it was dirty and smelly socks. After a few days, he had already developed a strong foot odor from Valin's foot sweat. Every speck of material on the inside reeked of his owner's feet. He was really sorry now how he had treated Danny at work. Experiencing the excruciating pain every day as his face was an insole and smelling like Valin's feet all the time was torture beyond measure. All he wanted now was for Danny to turn him back to normal. He promised he would be a better supervisor if he did so.

ONE MONTH AFTER TRANSFORMATION....

Danny came back home smiling and exicted. "I finally got the supervisor position that I have been filing in for the past month, babe. They finally made it permanent." He hugged Valin. He looked down to notice he was still wearing his special boots he gave him, even after a whole month.

"Congratulations, babe. You deserve it. Especially after putting up with that ass hole of a supervisor for so long." Valin spoke as they both sat down on the couch.

"You know, I have been hiding a secret from you the past thirty days." Danny spoke, rubbing his partner's legs.

"Oh and what's that?" Valin asked as rubbed around Danny's neck, looking into his eyes.

"You remember my ass hole of a supervisor and how he suddenly went missing?" Danny paused as he kissed Valin on the lips. "Well, he technically wasn't missing. I know exactly where he has been the past thirty days.' he added, smiling with glee.

"Where," Valin asked him, being curious now.

"On your feet. I turned him into a pair of new boots and gifted him to you until I got the position." Danny smiled back, looking down at his partner's boots.

Valin looked down at his boots as well. He was silent for a moment to really think about that. "Are you really serious?" He finally asked. He saw Danny nodding back in affirmation of his question. "No wonder they felt so good on my feet."

"But now that I have the position, I can change him back now." Danny spoke, but to open the TF Pro App on his phone.

"No, you will not. I like my boots; babe and I want to keep them." Valin paused, wiggling his toes in his boots. "They are the most comfortable footwear I ever owned. Besides, you gave them to me. It's my choice of what happens to them, right?" Valin tried to reason with his partner. He really wanted to keep his boots, despite knowing the truth now.

Danny thought about it. "Okay, if you want to keep the boots, I will let you." He deleted the reverse data from the app. "But you know fully about the boots, now. Yet, you still want to keep them." He added.

Valin nodded. "That doesn't matter. He is my property to do with as I pleased ever since you gave him to me." Both of them laughed at that remark.

Evan mentally cried, hearing the whole conversation. Valin had completely decided to keep him as his boots and Danny got his job. He now was nothing but a pair of boots for the rest of his life and no one was going to change that.

[possessiveandobsessive]

A Cat for Her Crow

Pairing: Lucanis x fem!Rook

Synopsis: Lucanis Dellamorte has a soft spot for two things: cats and a certain red-headed elven mage that goes by Rook

We've reached the end! This is the final part of this story! I hope you all enjoy!

Part 7: The Rook, Her Crow, and His Demon

When Lucanis's gaze next met hers again, his eyes were Spite's. She grinned at him, "Hi Spite. Lucanis said you wanted to talk to me too?" Spite curled Lucanis's mouth into a twisted, devilish grin that belonged to Spite alone.

"Rook is ours now? Rook will stay with us? That's what she said. Yes? That's what Lucanis said." Spite sounded relieved, but within that relief, there was a fearful questioning. He wanted to believe her. Lucanis needed Rook, and Spite liked Rook too. She was his favorite. She didn't treat him like a dog, or like he was evil. Rook treated Spite as another individual and Spite had never experienced that with another human. He couldn't love Rook the same way Lucanis did, but he loved her the way a Spite demon could. He'd kill anyone who hurt her. So yes, he realized that he, a demon tethered to a human soul, was afraid of losing this woman too.

Rook smiled warmly at his eager questions. Right now, he reminded her more of a puppy than a Spite Demon. She was no fool though. Rook heard the hint of fear, of anxiety in his tone. Spite was afraid of losing her too. The thought made her sad, but she understood it. She had been afraid too, so afraid she almost didn't say what she felt. Rook needed Spite to understand she wasn't going anywhere, and that her loyalty lay with them.

"Yes Spite. My place is at both your sides. I'm not going anywhere." She shot him another grin and winked, "I'm not scared of the big, bad Spite Demon." Rook then became serious again, "I couldn't hurt Lucanis. Not if my life depended on it. Betraying him, losing him, is the worst fate I can imagine." Spite's already glowing purple eyes lit up even more in response. Lucanis's/Spite's expression morphed into a much gentler one. When he smiled, it was warm. This wasn't the smile of a calculating demon, this smile conveyed love.

"Rook saved us. Saved him. He needs you. Needs your strength. Spite likes Rook too. Rook is powerful and her soul burns brightly. Kills well. And smells good. Rook sees Spite, not just a demon. Not just Lucanis. Spite will protect Rook always. Nothing will harm her. Rook is Lucanis's heart."

It was the most she had ever heard Spite speak at one time, and it floored her. Spite was so much more than a demon now. He and Lucanis were connected by more than just the standard possession/blood magic that was common for mages turned abominations. The two of them shared a soul now. Their souls that existed independently before, now were twisted and wrapped around each other so tightly, it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. Spite was influenced by Lucanis's humanity, and Lucanis by Spite's overwhelming and raw emotion. Neither of them could truly control the other. Together they experienced life and its challenges. Together they protected one another and the things they loved. They existed as one being now, something new. Rook couldn't deny that fact, just as much as she couldn't deny that she loved Lucanis. They were all in this together, in a way no one else could, or needed to understand.

Rook put her hand on one of Lucanis/Spite's cheek and Spite made a low sound from his throat in response and leaned into her touch. He looked completely at ease.

"Feels nice." Spite said closing his eyes. "Thank you Rook."

A moment later when those eyes re-opened, they were Lucanis's beautiful brown ones again. So much emotion swirled behind them, and Rook swore if she looked closely enough, she could see tiny flecks of purple flashing within them.

Upon seeing that it was once again Lucanis she was holding, she put her other hand on the other side of his face and pulled him in to kiss her. Finally. They both sighed and prepared to deepen the kiss when an indignant "mew!" came from Lucanis's single bed behind the pair. They separated and Lucanis turned to look at the irritated looking kitten sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked judgemental and very unimpressed with what she saw. The black tuft of hair mewed again and stretched before sitting back down and staring at them. Her tiny tail flicked in annoyance at being forgotten.

Lucanis chuckled in disbelief. "She is an odd kitten that's for sure. Look at how irritated she looks." His smile said he wasn't bothered in the slightest. 

"You're going to have to hold on little one, I have to clean up the mess you made of poor Rook's skin first. Then we can get more acquainted, and I'll find you some food." 

Rook laughed at how seriously he spoke to her, like she was another person. He really was special. She had gotten lucky at last. "Luck turns kid, you just have to be patient and keep going until it does." More of Varric's wisdom came into her mind. He was never wrong it seemed.

Soon her hands, wrists, and the spot on her neck were cleaned and bandaged. It had been so long since someone had tended to her so reverently. Rook felt like she was home. She hadn't had one of those since she was a child living with her clan and her grandmother. It made her chest ache in the best and worst ways, but she knew her grandmother would approve of her new haven. "Mar vhenan juver ma vhenas, ma' esha'lin" Your heart will take you home, my child.

Lucanis finally turned back to the kitten with his hands on his hips and then bent down to pick her up. At this point, Rook was not shocked to see that the kitten didn't put up even a little bit of a fight, but instead settled into Lucanis's hold right away. She was purring in seconds. What did surprise Rook, was Lucanis bringing the kitten towards her and grinning.

Rook took an involuntary step back, that kitten was fast and not afraid to use its weapons on her. Lucanis laughed lightly and assured Rook, "I'm not going to let her get you mi corazón, but she's going to have to understand that you are always going to be at my side. She needs to learn to be nice to the one holding my heart." The last part was spoken while giving the tiny black fluff ball a sidelong glance. 

Lucanis took the last step to close the distance between them. Now the kitten was a foot away from her, still pressed into Lucanis's chest. A single violet eye opened and narrowed at her, but before the kitten could do anything hateful, Lucanis began speaking to her lowly in his native tongue. While he did this, he slowly moved Rook's hand to rest on her the soft black fur. Keeping his own on top of hers, Lucanis and Rook petted the kitten in unison. Rook tried not to look wary, but she was pretty sure she was failing based on Lucanis's encouraging look. Soon enough though, that suspicious little eye closed again and the tension seeped out of her little body. The kitten began to purr contentedly, seemingly having accepted Rook's touch. Rook looked at her and then to Lucanis in wonder. 

"That was amazing!" She whisper yelled, "She hated me so much and then you got her to let me pet her! She's purring Lucanis!" Rook beamed triumphantly and continued to gently stroke the baby in Lucanis's arms lovingly.

Lucanis smiled warmly. "I just had to explain to her who you were and that you brought her to me. She knows now that you're my equal, my partner. The Little Talon will not hurt you again."

"Little Talon?" Rook asked, eyebrows going up.

Lucanis's smile became a grin, and he then said, "Well her name is Talon, she is just also little right now. How could she be anything but Talon with how you showed up here? She's already taken on someone who's planning to kill gods." He chuckled before adding, "She's got the fiery spirit of one destined to be a Talon, and she belongs to a Crow. So she is a Talon. Our Talon." Lucanis looked incredibly proud of himself for the name, so much so Rook had to force herself to swallow the laugh that built up in her throat. He deserved this moment.

Rook smiled gently at the kitten one last time before pulling Lucanis into another kiss, this one chaste, but carrying a promise. They stood together for a moment; forehead to forehead, eyes closed, with a kitten pressed between their chests. Rook and Lucanis both knew what was still to come. They both knew that the danger was high, and that, for the moment, this bliss was temporary. The fight to come would mean death for many, and they'd have to fight hard to protect the people they loved. So they cherished their moment of peace. All 3 of them.

Later that night when Rook returned to her room, she was startled to see it now contained a bed big enough for two adults (and a kitten). She just smiled. Lucanis was going to throw a fit when she told him he couldn't stay in the pantry anymore, but after tonight, she didn't think he'd really mind sharing her space. 

* * *

Lucanis had never felt so well rested in his life. The past few nights he had slept completely through the night. A full 7-8 hours per night! No Spite takeovers, no sleep walking, just sleeping next to his love and with his new baby curled up top on his chest. It was astounding and so relieving to be able to sleep. When he was preparing to head out with Rook and Davrin that particular morning, he decided to ask Spite about it. 

"Spite" Lucanis called. In the mirror he was staring into as he strapped on his blades, he watched his own eyes go purple.

"Yes?"

It was still incredibly disconcerting to see his own mouth move in the mirror without being the one to speak the word. "How come you haven't been trying to get up and go somewhere the past few nights? Do not get me wrong, I'm grateful and I need the sleep. But you used to always try to get out and run around while I slept, even after we came to our new agreement. You were so eager to get out, explore, and no doubt cause panic, why is now different?" 

Spite stared back at him in the reflection for a moment before surprising Lucanis with his response, "Can't wake The Talon. Or Rook. But We can't move to get up without waking The Baby Talon. Baby Talon needs rest." He paused, "And Spite likes being with Rook. She is comfortable. Don't want to go anywhere without her, and Rook sleeps. So Spite stays here. Makes us feel... home."

Lucanis stared at the mirror in blank shock. Spite wasn't getting up to cause mischief because... he didn't want to wake the kitten on Lucanis's chest? And because Rook felt like home? Actually, he couldn't fault him there. Lucanis wouldn't want to disturb his kitten either, and Rook WAS their home. 

Shaking his head ruefully, Lucanis just said, "Thank you Spite. You're exactly right."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Epilogue: Mar Vhenan Juver Ma Vhenas

It was finally over. All stories have an ending, and this one was no different. The blighted Gods were dead. The impossible had been achieved through the combined strength, effort, and lives of the many people who had taken up Rook's cause. The Crows, The Veil Jumpers, The Mourn Watch, The Lords of Fortune, The Grey Wardens, and the Veilguard had all stood together in the face of a power that without all of them, they couldn't have hoped to match. Together though, they brought down a god, his army, and his Archdemon, saving the world as they knew it. And Rook, together with the Inquisitor and Mythal had gotten through to the Dread Wolf. Convincing him to put it right, the three women got Solas to tie himself to the Veil. He would keep the Veil between worlds, what he once viewed as one of his greatest regrets, in place and protecting the people of Thedas for the rest of time. Fen'Harel acted for the better of the new world and her people, not for the one lost to the ages and struggles of thousands of years passed. The Dread Wolf came through in the end, as the Inquisitor and Varric both knew he could.

As for Rook, she was just grateful the dark times were over. She'd lost so much. Varric, Harding, and so many she once knew died fighting for this cause. "Whatever it takes", they'd all agreed. For some, it truly took everything. The losses were agonizing at first, especially in the days immediately following the final battle. Rook had to send many letters notifying Harding's family and loved ones as well as Varric's friends that they had made the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of Thedas. There were tear stains on the pages, evidence of how much the words pained Rook to write down. It made it all too real. But it was real. Rook knew now better than ever, that holding onto regret and hiding from the truth only trapped a person in grief and pain. She had too much to live for to do that to herself.

Lucanis and Spite had been there when the battle finally ended and Solas finally made ammends. She was immediately pulled into a crushing hug when the dust settled and the quiet calm fell over the scene of death and destruction.

Lucanis had said her name over and over again as he held her, his voice full of relief and reverence. "We did it Rook." he said, finally pulling away enough to look her in the eyes. "You did it mi amor. You saved the world." Lucanis had never been so grateful in his life. He thanked every god, spirit, demon, and power above he could think of. They had made it. She had made it. He could feel Spite's relief and pride in his chest. Our Rook killed a god. Saved the day. Saved everyone. Spite thought to Lucanis before pausing and adding in a grumble, Wish she'd killed the Dread Wolf though....

Lucanis understood Spite's resentment of Solas. The Wolf had betrayed, trapped, and hurt Rook. At the same time, didn't everyone deserve a chance at redemption? Rook had given them one, after all. An assassin and a demon.

Rook pulled him from his reverie when she spoke, "It's... it's over. It's over, and we're alive. We're both alive, and Elgar'nan is dead." Her voice was full of wonder as she said these words slowly, as if she was trying them out.

Lucanis pressed his forehead to hers and put his hand on the back of Rook's neck, holding her gently but firmly in place. "We made it Rook. Or should I say, God Killer." Rook let out a surprised laugh at his statement.

"I guess you're right, we're both God Killers now."

* * *

When they arrived back to the Lighthouse, Rook was exhausted. It ran so deep, she felt it in her bones and blood. Now was not the time for just rest though. The remaining members of her team and herself had just survived the impossible. Everyone was prepared to celebrate, but each in their own ways. There was too much grief in the air for a party, for drunk songs and memories. So they broke off to bask in the fact they were all alive in the well-deserved quiet peace of their Lighthouse.

Rook and Lucanis headed for Rook's room to change out of their bloody armor and get clean. Once this was done, they both laid on her bed together. Talon was asleep on their discarded clothing in the corner, (she was too good for the bed Lucanis had gotten her apparently as it lay unused on the nightstand beside the bed.)

Lucanis was laying on his back with one arm behind his head and the other wrapped around Rook, who had her head on Lucanis's shoulder with an arm slung across his chest. At first they just laid there in silence. The easy way in which they held each other felt like a miracle by itself. After several minutes had gone by, Rook propped herself up on the arm not currently across Lucanis's chest.

"I love you Lucanis. You know that right?" Rook spoke quietly, looking him directly in his eyes. "Now that this is all over, I'm not sure what's next. What I know for certain, is that where you go, I go. I will follow you to the ends of the earth and fade Lucanis. That's my promise."

Lucanis swore he had never loved anyone as much as he loved the woman in his arms. "We can decide together what happens next. The Crows have named me First Talon, but if that isn't the future you want, then we can choose another path. I won't go into a future that you don't want mi vida. You and Little Talon, you're my family."

Rook smiled at him and leaned down, silencing him with a passionate kiss. She pulled away for a moment, just long enough to say the words she had wanted to say for weeks. "We have all the time in the world, love. So let's take tonight for ourselves." She looked up at his face through her lashes, "Show me how much you love me. Make me yours, and tell me with more than words that this is forever."

Pupils completely blown out and eyes holding nothing but love and want, Lucanis groaned and brought her head back down to capture her mouth. He flipped them so that he was now on top of her, before leaning down to whisper in her ear, "It's a good thing we have the rest of our lives, because showing you just how much I love you is going to take awhile."

When she looked at him as he pulled away from her ear, she could see his eyes were an enchanting mix of warm brown and striking purple. "You're mine Rook. Now and forever" "Ours forever".

It was a promise kept, until their hearts stopped beating. Until the sun exploded and the world became dust. They belonged to each other, and there was no power in existence that could change that.

The End

I hope everyone enjoyed this little story! I definitely enjoyed writing it! Thank you to anyone who read the whole thing!

Part 1 here

Part 2 here

Part 3 here

Part 4 here

Part 5 here

Part 6 here

[aychama]

G: YOU MOTHER FUCKER

The goat punched the other again. They were already bloody and bruised from fighting. Lambert backed, coughing up the blood.

G: What the FUCK were you thinking!? They gave you a purpose, a new start at life, you ungrateful piece of SHIT!

L: I know! And I also know that it would all end when they no longer needed us or found someone stupider to their work!

G: Bullshit. They promised-

L: PROMISED? Pfft ha-! Hahahaha!

Lambert laughed. They were laughing at the stupidity of the situation. Other one gritted their teeth, clenching their blood stained fists.

L: And you believed that? What did they promise you huh?

G: None of your business! Shamura proposed stuff they never did to other people! Once I get your head to him for what you did to them, to me, I'll have everything I want!

Goat tried to punch him again. This time, his wrist was caught by Lambert painfully, twisted and forced to get on the ground.

G: Gah-!

L: What did they promise you? Your safety? No longer having to worry about being hunted down? Or is the promise of giving you the crown once their times up? Come on... We're better than this!

The lamb said harshly. They knew every one of those lies. They weren't dumb.

L: You think someone as knowledgeable as Shamura doesn't know how to manipulate people like you? People like us? They are good at taking from the vulnerable, giving empty hopes with eye catching promises.

G: Fuck you.

Lambert let go of his wrist and took a few steps back. Goat looked at them curious and judgmentally

G: I don't believe you. You yourself are a manipulator. How the hell did you convince the red crown to lend you power?

L: I didn't... He gave it to me himself. But I'm not trying to convince you anyway. You don't have to believe me, follow me, help me... But to think I'd let you come in here and kill me is just ridiculous.

G: So what now? Do you expect me to just stop coming after you after what you did? People know me as someone that never let their prey ran off, can't risk that reputation.

L: No, I'm expecting anything from you. (It's a waste of time anyway) All I need is for you to think about this, make a choice and understand. Shamura is not someone you can trust.

G: I don't need to understand. Nor do I care if you can or not trust Shamura. In this world, people like you and me either do as told or become dinner. And, you're the main dinner they crave. Don't be stupid, Lambert.

L: (That's quite poetic actually) If Shamura wants to kill me, they can come and try for themselves, no need to get YOU involved. Tho, you said it yourself that you're doing this to be not on their bad side. If you're tired of being a vessel for their needs, this isn't the way to freedom... You will, NEVER get that by simply doing what they want.

G: Freedom? Ha! It's rich coming from you. Like you did any better! You betrayed Shamura for what? To be that damned cat's lap dog, to sit when says and stand when he wants. (Or maybe things I don't want to mentally imagine) You, put all your self respect, dignity and name aside to get toyed around by someone like him. Is this what you call "freedom"?

Goat walked towards them, making Lambert take a few steps back.

G: That's not freedom. Or maybe you want that. Maybe you make him think that he's in control to betray him later on. He was being nice after all. You love hurting the ones that help you the most, right?

L: Now you're just saying random words What? Is this some kind of way to make me feel bad? If there's a lap dog here, it's you. You don't get to act like you didn't do what ANYONE asked of you just to feel like you accomplished something worth mentioning! You can continue to obey Shamura and beg them to keep you afterwards but be aware that they'll put you back where they found you! I'm gonna do what I need to do to live my way, either with you or without you! So don't- ACK!

The goat launched at them, their hands around the other's throat. Goat didn't like those words, at all. The lamb choked, scratching the hands on their throat. Goat was angry, shaking as they watched the other struggle.

G: You think you can just backstab everyone who trusts you and don't face the consequences of it!? Like how you thought I'd forgive you, after you left me in that prison!? They caught you and I did everything to help you! And I waited, waited and waited for MONTHS! IS THAT YOUR FREEDOM!? You... Selfish... Ignorant... BASTARD!

Their heartbeat filled their ears, anger consuming the goat. The blood dripping from their nose hit Lambert's wool, joining the other's own stains.

G: You left me to die. And you dare to criticize what I do to survive!? If it wasn't for me, you'd be devoured whole in a feast! We did everything together! We helped each other out! But you!? It's only you! I trusted you!

Lambert stopped his struggle, instead looking up to their... friend. Maybe one of the worst things they've done. The only thing they regretted so far.

G: What did I ever do to you!?

The goat punched them again and again. But when they got no response, they let go

G: Answer me. Don't you have a snarky come back to that? Can't even deny that you are the worst fucking friend?

L: ...

They sat up, their lip busted and nose broken. The tension and the eye contact was too uncomfortable.

L: You're right. I did that. I am, a bad friend.

G: ...

L: You're not just here because of Shamura are you? You don't care about what they want or what they told you at all.

G: Yeah. I'm here because you're a piece of shit, a backstabbing manipulator and you owe me. Did you even tried to-

L: I did... I tried to help you out.

Upcoming tears already burned his eyes. Lambert took a deep breath.

L: Maybe I didn't try hard enough. I-I know it's no excuse but, but I tried... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... I know, I know it means so little to you and I know you don't want to hear me say it. With all this shit going on... When Shamura started to go out their way and what happened between me and the king... The things I felt and couldn't even understand at the Festival... What I had to do to prove myself, my worth and all the thoughts about not being good enough... for anyone. These aren't excuses. They shouldn't be... I was supposed to be there for you. But please believe me when I say this, I never wanted to hurt you. And if I loose you now, or already did, I would never forgive myself for making you feel like I didn't care...

Lambert was crying when he finished talking. They couldn't face the goat anymore. Years of friendship and they ruined it. The goat took a step forward. And another. Lambert assumed they'd left but...

G: (You crybaby)

The goat hugged them. So they hugged back. It was quiet for a moment... The the goat backed away.

G: If I knew you were this much of a loser... But hey. Neither of us are made in heaven. We're both shitty. And I rather be shitty with you.

L: You...

G: I'm still angry and fuck you, you know.

They smiled at Lambert, then sighed.

G: But who else do we have other than each other? So stop crying! (It makes you look uglier than you already are.) I'll forgive you for a while, aight? Cuz I know you'd miss me

L: Fuck you... Heh...

G: Same to you. So-!

The goat pulled the lamb to their feet

G: When are we killing this giant spider?

Awwww this is adorable!

Thank you for writing this it actually shows me how much I have or haven't shared about my story so far and gosh its a lot djkfllf

And gosh Lambert just taking the punches from Goat, ouch

I love the back and forth the two have here and Goat being promised stuff from Shamura is a nice touch!

Goat calling Lambert a crybaby is so cute xD and I adore the hug ❤️

[alexanderwales]

The second chapter of Save the Cat! is about genre, titled "Give me the same thing ... only different!". The general principle is one that I strongly agree with, even if I don't always practice it in my writing: you must know how and why things work in fiction, you must be a student of the realms you're writing in, you must give your own twists on clichés if you think you might be writing them, and must be familiar with clichés so that you don't end up boring people. Study things that are like the thing you're trying to create. Analyze them, take them apart, understand how they work or don't work.

But then a lot of the chapter is taken up with Snyder's own system of ten genres, and when I was reading it I wanted to just stop him and say "hey, what the fuck, did you even watch that movie?"

Also I laughed for like five minutes at him putting Schindler's List in the "Dude with a Problem" genre, even though I agree that according to his typology it completely fits.

I'm a huge fan of making up arbitrary categories and then stuffing things into them. I don't think it's often very useful, no, but it's fun, and when you're done shoving things into boxes, you can pull them back out, find a new set of boxes, and repeat the process. I'm not going to repeat Snyder's categories here, but I think they kind of suck, and don't accurately reflect genre as we understand them, and the whole thing would have been better off is it was taking story archetypes and saying why they work and then what the usual deviations from them were.

Here are two examples that I take issue with, among others. First, by his accounting Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is a "Golden Fleece" movie, the kind of film centered around a hero's journey where what he ends up finding is, ultimately, himself, and every set piece along the way is important only in the way it relates to the hero's self-acceptance or whatever.

No. Wrong. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles is very very clearly a "Buddy Love" under this system. Look at this fucking image:

Could this DVD cover make this any more obvious? Literally all the promotional material is like this. It even says in the book that most "Buddy Love" movies start with the "buddies" disliking each other, and that their relationship is central to the movie. And if Snyder is getting this wrong, what else is he getting wrong about his own system?

Example two. I'm just going to quote it in full:

Now look at The Matrix and compare and contrast it with the Disney/Pixar hit Monsters, Inc. Yup. Same movie.

Fucking what do you mean.

Under this system of genres, Monsters, Inc. is very clearly another "Buddy Love" movie. There's a kid they have to deal with, but most of the movie is grounded in the relationship between Mike and Sulley. Like, what's the low point of the whole movie? They get banished to the Himalayas and then have a big fight! It's about their relationship to each other!

(I looked this up on the savethecat website and found an article claiming that it's an example of "Monster in the House", which is fucking stupid, because what's the monster and what's the house? Just does not apply. The child is takes the role of the "monster" for such a small amount of the movie, then they're looking after her and trying to return her home, and even before that it's not relatable as a monster to the audience. Blake Snyder didn't write the article, so maybe he had something different in mind.)

Meanwhile, The Matrix most closely falls into either "Dude with a Problem" (ordinary man thrust into extraordinary circumstances) or "Superhero" (extraordinary man in ordinary circumstances) and I would argue that it's actually neither of those because it's a goddamned hero's journey and those are their own thing and it makes no sense to try to split them into two parts because you don't get more explanatory power of what's working and what's not. His analysis of what he calls "Superhero" films also sucks for that reason and just totally misses the mark about what makes them tick.

So how are these the same movie? I don't know, it probably made sense to Blake Snyder. I have done my due diligence and searched for answers online, but haven't found much, just some weak ass defenses.

Also, I really hated that he says Chinatown and Who Framed Roger Rabbit? are basically the same movie because no shit. Who Framed Roger Rabbit? is a parody of noir, and was adapted from the script for a never-produced third film in what was supposed to be a Chinatown trilogy. But even then, I don't get how you can say they're the same movie without pointing out the strong "Buddy Love" through line in Roger Rabbit!

This whole chapter was a total miss for me. Decent advice at the start that I've been hearing and preaching for a long time, but this typology sucks and he doesn't even seem to understand it (or the movies he's putting in it) very well. And since the typology sucks, it's a bad lens for understanding the underlying rules of writing, of story structure, the components of story, etc.

[neverwalka1one]

I got to see Wicked last night, and whoo boy I have thoughts. Cut for spoilers, you've been warned.

I'm looking forward to seeing the 'Good News' song at the end of the second movie - Glinda already looked conflicted about the Giant Elphie Effigy (good lord those munchkins work fast)

Also, I thought the movie highlighted better that those in Munchkinland knew Elphaba her whole life, and this is still how hard they bought in to the propaganda.

The little hint that Glinda's bubble is all mechanics. Chef's kiss.

Glinda's bubble has a Designated Landing Place. Just. Consider all that implies, with Glinda having been until very recently the Wizard's goodwill ambassador.

'Take it away' will never not be heartbreaking. Also, of course Elphaba is going to grow up a fierce defender of animal rights, she was raised by a talking animal, and that bear was the only one to be kind to her consistently through her childhood. Dafuq.

Baby!Nessa!Rose's little meeps. Just. I died.

'Oh, they're going to miss me.' Galinda I love you you ridiculous gal.

I like this twist on why Elphaba was at Shiz. I loved the way she so desperately wanted to go, but couldn't ask for herself. I loved her trying to defend Nessa Rose's independence... and then still being blamed for stifling her. Excellent.

Also did y'all see the picture of the animals behind the cracked and fallen fresco of the Wizard in that scene? Foreshadowing my beloved.

Galinda writing a little 'it's great' card put on top of the saddest pile of bedding you've ever seen.

'What is this Feeling?' omfg. I loved Elphaba putting her foot down about the roommate situation.

I also liked that they moved Elphaba's talk with Dr. Dillamond off-campus. It makes more sense that this status-quo challenging talk would be done away from the powers that be.

Also it sets up Fiyero running into Elphaba (literally) better, and omfg. I love that horse, he's great, more horse in the second movie please.

Omg Galinda flirting. And Fiyero flirting back, but Galinda (and Elphaba) missing that at that point Fiyero was flirting with pretty much everyone because hey, it's fun, it's easy, and it works.

On that note, Fiyero flirting successfully with the librarian. <3

The whole Ozdust scene. All of it. The outfits, the dancing, the prolonged social anxiety/social embarrassment. The way Elphaba refuses to show she's been hurt. The way Galinda finally understands that. THE DANCE APOLOGY.

I did find it a little weird that one of the only lines cut from the musical was the 'Lemons and melons and pears. Oh my' bit between Boc and Nessa Rose.

Also can we talk about how excellent Jonathan Bailey is as Fiyero?

'Popular' is, as always, fantastic. And highlights just how good Galinda is going to be at the politics of this world.

'That might be your secret, but that doesn't make it the truth' AUGH GALINDA just rip out my heart why don't you.

I liked that when Elphaba rescues the lion cub, she's more restrained/talented than in the beginning of the movie. It makes sense, she's been learning all this time.

THE BIKES. THE LION CUB IN THE BIKE BASKET. THE WIZARD OF OZ CALLBACK. LOVE.

The mushroom things during 'I'm Not That Girl', idk what those were but they were so so pretty lord I love the world-building.

That scene of Nessa Rose, Boc, Galinda, and Fiyero all together, and Elphaba on the outside in the dark. Fiyero looking out over the courtyard as he's being pulled away. Augh, all of it.

The way the students turned on a dime the second Elphaba got that invitation.

That. Train. Steampunk my beloved.

Idina Menzel and Kristin Chenoweth getting singing roles, YES, THANK YOU, that was such a great surprise, I was squeaking like bebe Nessa Rose.

On the flip side... sigh. I called it. Jeff Goldblum was... very Jeff Goldblum. That guy, while a lot of fun, is the exact same character in pretty much everything he's been in for the last few years. I still think that casting was a mistake. Hear me out: The original Wizard was Joel Grey. Joel Grey was also the Emcee in Cabaret. ... so tell me it wouldn't both be great casting and an awesome call back to have casted Alan Cumming as the Wizard. I can't have everything I guess.

Also, and it might be just me/the effects of a late night screening, but when Elphaba and Galinda are walking into the palace, with the doors slamming behind them, and there's a scene with the torchlit hall behind them? Didn't the fire look like how the flames in the original Wizard of Oz movie looked? Just sort of... fuzzier and blurred than how film tends to pick up fire these days? It might have just been me.

Also this movie does have a bit of the Les Mis problem - you've got some cast members with serious vocal chops... and theeeeeen there's the ones that... tried hard. Great actors every single one, but would it have killed the director to find people for those roles that could match vocally as well? This movie doesn't need big names. We're not going for the big names, people.

I liked how the movie explained better why the Wizard not being able to read from the Grimorie was such a big deal.

The monkeys. Oh, the flying monkeys. Also the scene of Madam Morrible framed by flying monkeys. Thanks for breaking my heart.

'Defying Gravity'. All of it. Every bit of it. Holy. Shit. Holyshit. HOLY. SHIT.

So yeah, I'm going to have to see it eleventy-billion more times before it leaves theaters.

[ultimate-marysue]

Gotham Funger AU

For the uninitiated: Fear and Hunger (lovingly called Funger) is a duology of survival horror games featuring a similar world to ours with its own mythology. The name comes from the Fear and Hunger meters in game that, with the body meter will put the horror in surviving. It is infamous due to its difficulty and unfairness, since there’s no tutorial at all and everything can kill you, give you nasty statuses or make you lose limbs. Other claims to fame are its coin flip system that can randomly insta kill you and random generated loot (it resets each playthrough so some runs are wildly different from others depending on luck), a combat system based on chopping the enemies’ limbs (and them chopping yours off, permanently) and the games let’s just say very NSFW and violent nature. A gimmick in the first game is an orgy that heals your body and a cannibalistic feast that restores your hunger meter.

With all this in mind, here’s my idea for a funger game set in Gotham (part 1, plot and setting):

It all begins as Gotham is being evacuated (Arkham Knight style) due to Joker’s threats to gas the entire city with Joker Venom in three days. The main objective is to shut down the different gas production and distribution points across the city and defeating Joker. This is complicated thanks to a variety of Rogues accidentally or purposely blocking the way and causing their fair amount of chaos.

Due to the evacuation the streets are mostly deserted, and as the days pass the get more and more empty. First day morning you may still find some random citicens, from then on, it’s just thugs and jokerized monsters. As the days pass, previous thugs you hadn’t sent to jail get jokerized and jokerized victims get more and more monstruous following these stages:

Smiler (still mostly human, just stronger and “crazier”. They have bloody smiles and other joker features. A variety is the Brawler, bigger in size)

Agent of Chaos (humanoid but definitively no longer human. They’re tall and twisted, with more teeth. Still capable of human speech, they’ll use it to drain your Fear Meter. On a coinflip attack, they can carve a joker smile into their enemies preventing the use of rebreathers and causing damage each time you eat)

Harbinger of Madness (No longer humanoid, several mouths carved into their body, coinflip attack will eat one of your limbs resulting also in a permanent sanity de-buff),

Abomination (only on the third day, just a horrible blob off meat and smiles. It doesn’t do anything but drain your sanity, if you don’t kill it fast enough or have the ability to flee it will completely deplete your sanity meter and the character will begin the jokerization process)

All of the Funger Gods are real and exist in this world (but those that died in previous games are either forgotten or don’t hold real power) Current Gods prancing about would be: Sylvian, Gro-Goroth for the old Gods (Rher, Vinushka and God of the Depths confirmed dead by the end of Termina), All-Mer, The God of Fear and Hunger, Machine God and Sulfur Gods for Ascended Gods (All-Mer should be dying and confirmed dead by the end of the game to reflect how organized religion is dying out in this trying times).

Joker would be considered a servant of Rher, God of madness, but much like Per’kele, his real master is the God of Sulfur. Rher is dead, but madness, destruction and chaos take form in the new God and also his servant. Or at least that’s the general interpretation. Joker is actually a manifestation of the God of Sulfur, that’s why no one knows his origin and seems to be unkillable. His plan is to sacrifice the entirety of Gotham to properly finish his ascension to Godhood on Earth.

Much like in previous games the characters can cause the ascension of a new God to the pantheon: Gotham, Lady of night, cities and Justice. Basically, a Goddess that represents the path of modern cities and gives her favor to the vigilantes that protect them. She’s a good entity for the most part, but not a kind one. She is big cities given form, which means she also stands for all of the filth and depravity found within their streets. To achieve ascension and completely vanquish the Joker a character must become her Dark Knight by raising their affinity to maximum. This path will obviously be easier for Batman, but technically each batfam member could take his place (will discuss in a different part).

From a map perspective I would use the No Man’s Land map as a base. As any Funger player will tell you: the crazier the map, the better. Some areas would be completely inaccessible to make it more manageable. Other parts of the City might be only temporarily inaccessible or only accessible to certain characters. Some of this means may be: Joker or Fear gas (you’ll need a re breather), land mines (you will need a character with gadgeting or mechanic skills to disarm them), locked doors (keys, lockpicking, fighting the door, chainsaws/axes), chains (Bolt cutter, keys), blown up buildings/heights (Grappling gun).

The Bat cave acts a bit like Prehevil Bop and Donovan’s house. It’s quite a ways away, which deters the Bats from depending on it. It holds different pieces of randomly generated gear, a hexen table, ritual circle, a chest, and the Bat computer serving as a bookshelf. There are safe sleeping cots and Alfred will bring you a drink/food as needed. Other semi-safe spaces include: Jason’s safe house, the clock tower and Harley’s (a bar Harley Quinn has taken over)

Different locations may hold different resources like ritual circles, computers, side quests, main plot objective, but also enemies and rogues: Two-Face at City Hall’s Court, Penguin at the Iceberg, Killer Croc in the sewers, Poison Ivy at the Botanical Garden, Scarecrow at Arkham, and Riddler can’t be found physically but you can find riddles all over the place. The bats must balance dealing with all the rogues destroying the city while stopping the bigger threat of Joker. To be able to arrest any enemies you need to clear the GCPD headquarters (They can randomly scape) or for a more permanent solution, clear Arkham Asylum.

Part 2: Rogues

[blood-starved-beast]

Jinx's "death" being fake and she's actually alive just away the more I think about it is actually thematically spectacular.

So the whole thing happens in the context of the Vander fight. He gets defeated and Vi is mourning him thinking back to s1ep3 when he died the first time. And yeah, it's exactly like that. But in that fight, they did things separately and it tore them apart horrifically. Just as it was stated in act 2. But now here, in this fight, they put aside all their troubles and differences, they leave the past (symbolized by Warwick's death) behind. The loss of the same father figure that tore them apart brought them together, and it too, ends with a "death" of one of the sisters.

Cause yes Jinx does not die. But Vi sure thinks she did. Which is exactly what Jinx thought, in s1. She accuses Sevika and Silco then of being liars. But Vi was imprisoned. Jinx in s2ep9 is "dead" to Vi but alive, but in this new twist of fate, she is in fact free. Whereas Jinx lived peacefully with Silco (if imperfectly so) during those years, Vi will live (likely just as imperfectly) with Caitlyn, who is all but Silco 2.0, for now.

Insane parallels actually.

[lolotheparagon]

Yes and no. The Layton franchise tends to write women as either sideline support like Flora or the catalyst for a man’s character development I.e. Katia from Pandora’s Box, Claire from Lost Future, Angela from Miracle Mask. And that’s just side characters. But I think this is the one franchise that can both write women really well and not at all. In order to keep this essay short, let’s use two prominent examples: Flora and Emmy. Two main characters from their respective trilogies

The original games had Flora, Layton’s adopted daughter was the only recurring female character in the gang since the end of the first game Curious Village, and yet shes still relegated to the sidelines and is often used as a plot device or a damsel in distress. In Pandora’s Box, she secretly followed the professor and Luke on the train they were taking cos she didn’t want to be alone again and Layton was happy for her to join. But an hour later into the game’s story, she’s kidnapped and replaced with Don Paolo in disguise. That’s it. She’s completely gone from the rest of the game. This was lampshaded in Lost Future where Flora gets rightfully angry at Layton and Luke for not letting her take part in their adventures, yet because of the severity of their mission at the time, Layton decides to break the promise he made to Flora and just up and leaves her at his apartment, leading her to chase after them and join them in “Future” London to force them to bring her along and yet…she ultimately does nothing substantial until she’s kidnapped again.

The writers really have NO IDEA what to do with Flora after the events of Curious Village and instead of dropping her entirely, they always bring her back cos she has the cute uwu anime girl appeal. It not only makes Flora feel like a nothing burger of a character, it makes Layton look like a neglectful guardian.

Which is even more depressing when you remember Flora’s story in the first game, Curious Village, was her losing her mother to illness, m her father building an entire village of robot people to keep her company until she grew old enough to live on her own and when the father died, he put her in a giant tower cos she couldn’t stand the robot replacement of her new mother (yeah sure let your socially malnourished daughter live in a tower away from everyone) And he set up her own adoption to be treated like a grand prize rather than just…letting the village look after her after her dad died? I mean yeah they’re robots programmed to be her friend yet they have their own lives and jobs so it’s not like there’s any ethical complications there.

Now on the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Emmy, an adult character introduced in the prequel trilogy who serves as tritagonist and assistant to the professor. She’s fiery, energetic, resourceful, inquisitive and can kick all kinds of ass. She’s the ultimate girlboss and I freaking love her. And while the end of the trilogy gave us a shitty twist regarding her I won’t spoil here, she still had much more characterisation and personality than Flora.

I also love how despite initially wanting to be Layton’s assistant, she isn’t set up to be a love interest for Layton but to just be a companion, mostly cos Layton proved her innocence after being framed for pickpocketing when she was a teen and treated her with kindness (bare in mind this is in late 50s Britain, a teenage girl being treated with respect and dignity by a grown man back then was fucking unheard of)

So Emmy is patient zero of how to have a cool side character by just writing fun scenes with her. And it’s clear Level 5 had a lot more fun writing her. She also isnt perved on by the camera and isnt drawn with big cute eyes and an uwu sad face unlike a lot of anime women.

The only exception to Level 5’s rather blase treatment of women is with Katrielle, who debuted in a spinoff game where she was not only manager of her own agency, runs circles around politicians and lawmen with her razor sharp instincts, is a fashionista with an arrogant personality yet is kind to everyone she meets. She has no love interest, not an emotional catalyst for another person’s character development. She’s unlike any woman in any previous Layton game, which is why I love her so much.

Also, I want to shout out to Arianna from Spectre’s Call cos Luke is the one serving as the catalyst to her character development cos she’s his best friend and nor the game or main characters force her to come out of her shell cos the traumatic stress she went through having no parents and only having her brother as companion/caregiver and internalised the rumours of her being a witch understandably makes her closed off to the world so Luke tells her “when you feel better, you can open up to people again.”

Like. Level 5 you can be legit GOOD if you put your mind to it and don’t resort to standard anime tropes and shit, so PLEASE! YOU CAN DO BETTER

professor layton series

Professor Layton Series (Video Game Series, 2007)

Explain your reasoning in the tags!

[hislittleraincloud]

This was so beautifully done 😭👔JAIRO🎀💖✨

[heynhay]

scene from where the apple falls by @jupiters-junipers :-) wholeheartedly recommend any and all of her work