Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Vampire: Loki/Thor x Reader, Part 3

Sometime last week, I sat down and thought for a few minutes, and came up with a crazily simple solution for avoiding steamy scenes: write it from a different POV! So, while things may be insinuated at some point, they will not be shown. They may very well be nothing more than assumptions of whoever the POV character is at the time. :D
There isn't anything like that in this part; just letting y'all know ahead of time. The first "steamy" scene was going to be around Part 8 or 10. But no longer! The only "steam" in this serial is going to come from awkwardness/embarrassment in a non-erotic fashion, and/or hot water. The latter may be the result of an elemental fight further into the story; not sure if I'm going to keep that scene or not...we'll see.
Anyways. Enjoy!


Vampire: Loki/Thor x Reader
Part Three

You step from the carriage, clutching your pathetically small bag of belongings to your chest. Spitting rain and flashes of lightning cast the odd mansion and surrounding trees in leering shadows. It almost seems lopsided; the second and third floors have ceiling-to-floor windows, while the first story has regular sized ones. The half of the mansion hugging the mountainside has sick-green and red creepers crawling up it, while the half extending away from the mountain seems to be under construction.
Loki snaps open an umbrella over the two of you, the black case in his other hand. “You couldn’t have waited for me to escort you down?” he asks with a bemused expression. He puts his hand on your back and propels you to the door before you can answer.
You have just enough time to note that the roof seems odd as well, then you’re through the door. The dark wooden foyer is lit by a chandelier above. Black sconces set into the plain walls and candelabras set upon Gothic tables light the rest of the room. To the left, a flight of stairs leads up into darkness. To the right, two short steps lead to a living room. In the dim lighting, it’s difficult to tell, but you think the couch legs are fashioned like claws. And are those skulls in the fireplace?
Loki pointedly wipes his feet on the mat just inside the door. You hurriedly do the same. Loki hangs the umbrella on a rack near the flight of stairs and sets the black case beside it. “Come, I will give you a brief tour.”
He leads you into the living room. As you walk by a table, you curiously hover a finger over one of the candelabras. It’s not lit by flame. “Is the rest of this place outfitted with modern conveniences like electricity?” you ask.
“Of course. My brother never minded these things before. I doubt he will now.” He gestures around the room, pointing out various things like light switches and the controls to the fireplace.
You take in the intricately barred windows. Are they supposed to be snakes, or vines? In the wavering firelight, they seem to be moving.
He shows you the rest of the house that isn’t under construction. The kitchen, pantry, and dining room are all downstairs. Another staircase near the kitchen leads up to the sleeping quarters and library. He shows you the library first.
With a satisfied smile, he flings open the enormous polished doors. Ceiling-to-floor bookshelves line all the walls save the back one. The back wall is taken up by an unbarred window, and a window-seat with square compartments set in it.
Curious, you investigate. “Who owns scrolls anymore?” you ask.
“I’m more inclined to wonder why more people don’t own scrolls.” Loki pulls one out and unrolls it. You can’t decipher the strange symbols delicately painted upon the vellum. He goes on, comparing different writing styles and languages.
You chuckle at his enthusiasm. He continues his lecture until he leads you to your room. “Most all of your needs should be met here. There are several forms of entertainment, as well as clothing and a full bath.”
The room is styled much the same as the rest of the house. A giant four-poster bed, matching curtains around the bed and single window; even the television is set in a Gothic frame. “Thanks,” you say. You toss your meager bag of belongings atop a low dresser.
Rubbing your elbows, you clear your throat.
Loki cocks his head. “Yes?”
“Your brother…” You bite your lip. “He’s a vampire, isn’t he?”
“Aye. Might I add that I’m extremely grateful for your offer of aid?”
Your lips twist in a wry grimace. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”
“As has been told to me very often: you always have a choice.”
“In this case, my only other choice would be to let my sister die. And leave myself in the loving arms of a superstitious people.”
“That’s still a choice.” He matches your wry expression, then steps back into the hall. “Feel free to settle in. Or, if you wish, I can show you the place you are to never enter alone.”
With a sigh and a quick glance at the bathroom—a shower sounds wonderful—you say, “Let’s get this over with.”
Loki leads you back downstairs and retrieves the black case. Producing a small key, he unlocks a nearly invisible door set in the stairs. Once inside, he produces yet another key, and opens a trap door. Down a cold ladder you go.
At the bottom, a long dirt tunnel is lit by a single torch. Biting cold wafts through the tunnel. You expect to see the torch flicker in a draft of wind. It doesn’t.
Loki takes it and continues down the tunnel. You see other torches, unlit, lining the hall.
A solid iron door set in stone waits at the end. It, unlike the rest of the house, is relatively unadorned. The only markings on it are runes etched into the frame. Loki grinds the torch in the dirt. To your surprise, the door seems to glow; a dead glow that doesn’t light anything except itself.
“This is the entrance to the basement. Only enter if I accompany you. Even then…be wary.”
“Why did you put out the torch?”
“Do you want to suffocate?”
Loki pats your head as if you were a child. Or perhaps an untrained dog. “The light was mostly for your benefit. I will go in now. You, return to the house above. Should you need anything, knock.”
You nod, then point to the door. “What are the runes for?”
“Not here. My brother’s enhanced hearing will penetrate even this iron. He’s never been terribly clever—”
A low, stomach-churning growl sounds from behind the door. Loki ignores it. “—but I don’t want him to have more advantages than he already has.”
After a few more parting words, you return upstairs. Back in your room, you gaze out the window. You finger the intricate and thick iron-wrought lattice. This seems more like a prison than before. Outside, the seemingly ever-present storm rages.
You rifle through the dressers and wardrobes. There’s a mix of Victorian-era clothing and modern attire, more than one person could wear in a lifetime. As the wind bangs scraggly branches against your window, you wonder how many others have gone through this room. You wonder if they were as desperate as you.
You change into a pair of pajamas. As you slide into the bed, you tell yourself, “Brenna’s safe. She’s safe.” Fighting to keep your exhausted tears behind your eyes, you fall asleep.

Saturday, October 13, 2018

Vampire: Loki/Thor x Reader, Part 2

I have nine parts outlined, and wrote this one in a couple of hours. I'm going to go ahead and write these, then put them on automatic posting. It'll last for a little while, as the more I think about it, the more struggles and moral dilemmas there are for the characters to face. :P
Since it's October, I'm going to try to do 2 a week. One on Saturday, and another on some other random day. Once October's over, I'm going to do one a week.
Also, I'm kicking around officially setting this in my pet project, Convoluted Chronicles. If I do, I'll likely go back through it and change Loki and Thor to fit more easily/naturally into that world. For the moment, I'm still considering this fanfiction.


Vampire: Loki/Thor x Reader
Part Two

The faint pulse of the heart monitor acts as an oddly comforting catalyst to wakefulness. For a moment—the moment that jolted you from a fitful doze—the heart monitor had paused three beats too long.
Your fingers gently stroke your sister’s limp hand. “Hang on, Brenna,” you whisper. “Please.” Of course, there’s no response. Since the car accident, she’s been comatose. Since infection set in, she’s been hooked to life support. Her hair is scraggly and lank, in spite of your attempts to care for it. In spite of the nutrients she is being force-fed, her face is skeletal and pale.
Terribly stiff, you stand to stretch. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep sitting up, but you had.
The doctor enters the room. You glance at him, pained hopefulness straining your expression.
“Three days,” he says quietly.
You feel as if you’ve been sucker-punched. “That’s all? Even with the extra payments?”
He nods. “You’ve considered cutting off the life support?”
You shake your head vehemently. “I’m not killing my big sister!” You mean for it to come out fierce and strong. Instead, you choke on the word, “killing” and the last three words come out faint. “Not after all we’ve been through,” you add through the lump in your throat.
The doctor lays a hand on your shoulder. “I understand. Just consider all your options.” With a sympathetic smile, he leaves.
Your options aren’t many. This small country you’re sojourning in isn’t wealthy. It’s a wonder the town’s one-story hospital even had life support equipment. Your funds are low—gone, once the three days are up. Since trekking into the “forbidden” forest, most of the locals have written you and your sister off as cursed. Since the car accident on the “haunted” mountain road, not even the launderer has spoken to you.
Craving sustenance, you shuffle from the room. The familiar coffee machine waits where it always has, and beside it are cellophane-wrapped pastries. You set the pot to brew. Hopelessness crashes against you.
For a horrid moment, you wonder if you should just…let Brenna go. Your mind quickly goes down another track:
You could sell more plasma, or marrow, as you’ve done in months past. Maybe even sell a kidney. Anything…
Tears drip down your face. Only-half aware of approaching footsteps, you reach for your coffee.
A hand lays on your shoulder. Startled, you jolt and turn. “I’m sorry, I, coffee—”
This man isn’t a native. He’s tall, with an aristocratic air about him. His odd clothing—a black leather vest over a green shirt, pants tucked into knee-high boots, a long black coat, a tasseled scarf—makes him stand out against the sharp white of the hospital. When you show no sign of saying anything, he raises an eyebrow and says, “I see you’re as desperate as I am.”
“I’m…” You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “What? I mean, yes, but…what…” You can’t help but stare at him, unnerved by his gray-blue eyes. “What do you want?”
“I require a caretaker for my brother. You require funds for your sister.” He tilts his head to the side. “It seems we can help each other.”
Stammering uncertainly, you back away. The man sighs. “Wait, please. I apologize for my blunt entry. It…” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “It has been difficult, lately.”
You realize his expression mirrors your own: haggard lines about the mouth, sleep-deprived eyes, a weary droop of the head. “My name is Loki,” he says. “Would you be willing to consider my offer?”
Again, your limited options flurry through your head. “What would I need to do?”
“My brother is sick,” he begins. Then, he hesitates. “It is a peculiar sickness.”
“One with no cure?”
“More or less, yes.”
With alarm bells going off in your head, you press for more specific answers. After the third question, Loki holds up a hand to stall you. “I realize that this is unconventional, and bordering on villainous, but I can give no specific answers. Suffice it to say that your sister will be cared for so long as you remain a caretaker.”
This doesn’t seem like a good idea. But at the moment, it’s your only option. You lick your lips nervously. “What if something happens to me?”
Loki nods, as if expecting the question. “Her needs will be met, however long she lasts, on or off life support.”
You put out a hand, shaking a bit. “It’s a deal.”
Loki looks amused.
You realize that you’re proffering the coffee. Before you can withdraw it, Loki sets down his case and pours himself a small bit of coffee. He tilts the paper cup in your direction. “To our agreement, then.”

Tuesday, October 9, 2018

Reblog- Speculative Faith: An Apologetic of Horror by Brian Godawa

An interesting series of articles about the horror genre and how it relates to the Christian. Or rather, the truth portrayed in the Bible.
The site--Speculative Faith--has some other good articles, both for and against this position, if you search "horror" in their archives.

An Apologetic of Horror, Part 1 by Brian GodawaHorror is not an inherently evil genre of storytelling. It can be used for gratuitous evil purposes, or for godly moral purposes. The Bible tells many stories using the horror genre in order to inspire holy fear of evil and admonish or chastise those in sin.
"", Part 2 by Brian GodawaThe portrayal of good AND evil, as well as their consequences, are two sides of God’s one honorable, pure, lovely, excellent, and praiseworthy truth. According to the Bible, pointing out wrong is part of dwelling on what is right, exposing lies is part of dwelling on the truth, revealing cowardice is part of dwelling on the honorable, and uncovering corruption is part of dwelling on the pure.
"", Part 3 by Brian GodawaThe defense of horror and thriller movies in principle should not be misconstrued to be a justification for all horror and thriller movies in practice. It is the mature Christian who, because of practice, has his senses trained to discern good and evil in a fallen world.

Sunday, October 7, 2018

Vampire: Loki/Thor x Reader, Part 1

This short story/series is inspired by these fanfics. I'm probably going to be posting one a week, maybe more often; I put this little baby through at least three drafts in a couple hours. I was planning on outlining the whole thing first, then writing/posting closer to New Years, but the weather today was perfect. Chilly, just overcast enough to put me in the mood for something a bit sinister... ;)

I've been wanting to practice writing in 2nd person present for a while now, but the only place I've really seen it (and thus thought it would work in) is in twist-a-plots (AKA choose-your-own-adventure, choose-your-story, etc.). The few twist-a-plot type stories I've tried writing all flopped, and I haven't really touched the POV since.
Then I came across the fanfics and wanted to try something similar. :D
I'm using the fanfics as a sort of launching point. However, I'm going to make changes. For example, Thor is going to be the vampire, "you" are going to be a bit more lore-savvy, and I'm going to be using some of my own characters (mostly from my Tales from a Modern Bard challenges, but who knows others may try to intrude).
Loki and Thor will kind of be based off of Marvel's version. In looks, most definitely, because come on Hiddleson and Hemsworth are perfect in these roles. As for actions...well, I'm just going to see where they go. They may or may not adhere to their Marvel roles/characteristics.

Things might get a tad steamy (cuz vampires), but what little there is will be short--not much longer than a couple sentences--and not very detailed. I don't like reading that stuff, I don't like writing it. :P
There's also going to be some blood, but I also don't like writing gore. I prefer slight hints that allow you to imagine as little/as much as you like.


Vampire: Loki/Thor x Reader
Part One

Loki trudges up the steep mountain path. Pelting rain drives the ground to mud beneath him. Scraggly brush and sharp, stunted trees threaten to hasten his stumbling steps into the gawping mouth of the gorge to his right. Thunder echoes through the mountain. Lightning flashes and illuminates the carcasses of unfortunate animals caught on jagged shelves of earth below.
“I’m trying, brother,” he says to the howling sky. “Do be patient.”
He reaches his destination suddenly. A massive castle, set half into the mountainside. There are no doors, only a large archway leading to dank darkness. Black moss and lichen cover old drawings and writings about the archway. With the surety of a mountain lion, Loki stalks into the darkness.
Sibilant, a tenor voice sounds before him. “I was informed of your arrival. Meet me in the courtyard.”
Loki forces himself to breathe evenly, to ignore the thick taste of decay that spreads inside his mouth. As suddenly as he’d come across the castle, so he came to the courtyard. The storm was oddly absent from this place, surrounding the castle walls on all sides, while the moon shone brightly overhead. In the center of the courtyard, sitting on a broken and dusty well, was a man. His marble-colored skin gleamed in the cold light. Fangs protruded from his black-lined lips.
“You are Endymion?” Loki asks.
With a smile, the man inclines his head. “I must thank you for coming. Visitors don’t often come calling.” He stands and beckons for Loki to follow. He heads for another gaping archway. This one is partly shuttered by limp, molding doors.
If Loki is nervous or put off, it doesn’t affect his sure, sauntering stride. He enters the main hall—lit by a wavering bonfire in the center—as if he were entering his own halls. Long tables, benches, unlit chandeliers, and fine silverware are all covered in dust.
Endymion glances back. “Does this remind you of home, Asgardian?” Without waiting for an answer, he turns to a shadow. “Wander my halls at your peril.”
Some time later, the vampire returns. He steps from the dancing shadows behind Loki as if stepping through a doorway.
Loki is unaware of him until he feels the brush of fangs—as cold and sharp as daggers—across his neck. With a curse, Loki leaps to his feet. His twin daggers gleam sickly in the fading firelight.
Lazily, Endymion grins. He proffers a bag that seems to be part of the darkness behind him. “This earth will aid the transition. Now…do you have the body?”
At the callous tone, Loki grits his teeth. He nods and sheaths the daggers.
“It is mostly intact, yes? It will be a terrible bother otherwise.”
“All things considered, yes.”
“You are prepared for the challenges?” Endymion’s tone holds implications that Loki reads easily.
Loki smirks. “I know the risks. What’s more blood on my hands?”
“Then let us begin.”
Outside, the still and clear air above the castle darkens. Like a blanket, the storm covers the castle. The perfect cover for dark deeds.

Thursday, October 4, 2018

Writing Updates

In preparation for Nano, my CampNano cabin-mates and I are going through Tim Clare's Couch to 80K Writing Boot Camp. It's been fun! There are some exercises that, although I know the principles, were surprisingly hard.
Plus I've somehow outlined half of a plot for a new story just from Tim's waffling. :P Unfortunately, there is a bit of cussing in some of the later podcasts. So I've missed some of the waffling. :(

I have a synopsis for my project, the characters more or less figured out, and the major building blocks of the world are in place. However, I have no plot (other than a vague "maybe this'll happen" list). But that's going to be part of the fun!
I'm still working on Renewal of Spirit--my Rapunzel retelling--but I'm lacking a bit of...something. Once I figure it out, I'll post more. For now, here's a bit on my Nano project.

Project: Reality of Devotion

Michelakos Blago is a man with a sea captain’s mettle and a poet’s heart. He’ll face the world to provide for his loved ones, but lately he’s been feeling as if the world wants him to let go. It's certainly doing its best to tear his estates from him. He’s currently a respected member of the community and a candidate for the Council of Limta—a rigorous event where the city-states’ laws are decided—but after a witch in training ravages the countryside, things change.

Kallias is shrewd. He's always doing his best to protect his childhood companion, Delara—and asking her to procure valuable items from her mother, the witch Lilith. He wants to undermine the regime that made him a eunuch and drove his mother mad, but that’s hard to do when your only allies are a half-mad woman and a rich sea captain content to meddle only in home affairs. Matters become more complicated when his employer and distant cousin, Michelakos, buys a new slave--a slave who knows Kallias' secrets.

Word goal: I'm going to start with the standard 50K, but I'm hoping to get enough written where I can up the goal partway through.

In other news, I heard this song for the first time. And have been listening to it..."NON-STOP"! XD

Thursday, September 20, 2018

Reblog- Hannah Heath: Head-hopping: What It Is, Why it Sucks, And How To...

Head-hopping is something that bugs me quite a bit. I'm 90% sure it's a major reason I decided to write Trouble in Bookland in close 3rd POV.

Here's a blog post from Hannah Heath that explains just what head-hopping is, and how to avoid it!

Hannah Heath: Head-hopping: What It Is, Why it Sucks, And How To...: I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you don't know what the term "head-hopping" means. And, if you do  know what...

Wednesday, September 19, 2018

Reblog- Knitted by God's Plan: I am not a Hand

I haven't had a lot of time to write new posts lately (though I have done a few things I would like to mention in a near-future post.) So I'm giving a shot at reblogging posts that I liked/found interesting/helpful and such. Some I may offer an explanation, others I may not.

My explanation for this post: I can relate! Especially to this bit:

"Women who look at me and shake their heads because how can I possibly justify just sitting at my computer writing all day.
And sometimes ... I question my salvation because of it. How can I possibly be a Christian if I can't give of myself freely like all of these other women I know and respect?"

Knitted by God's Plan: I am not a Hand: My sister doesn't know how much I envy her. While I managed to inherit all of the talent and IQ ... she was the angel child. She was ...