#-and a half of edits but THEN! then i shall actually be free*

[tiberius-kirks]

I only have to survive until 5pm Wednesday I only have to survive until 5pm Wednesday I only have to survive until 5pm Wednesday

[isalisewrites]

A Deep Dive into JKR's Terrible, Amateur Writing - Part Two

Welcome to my ballsy series where I will prove to you, dear reader, that J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter series and resident Twitter TERF, is actually a very, very poor writer.

And when I say ‘poor writer,’ I’m talking about her prose, her sentence structure, and her scenes. I am not going to discuss anything about the HP world nor the overall plot of the books. 

This is all about the nitty gritty in the craft of writing itself.

Part One Link.

Disclaimer for all readers of this series: 

I’m going to sound very confident in my posts where I work under the assumption I’m a better writer than JKR; because I am. My apologies if this rubs you the wrong way. You’re simply witnessing the culmination of over two and half decades of experience with the intensity from a neurodivergent who is hyperfocused on her special interest. I didn’t just learn how to create stories; I learned the craft of writing to a minutia of details.

I’m not a perfect writer. No one is. I’m not a talented writer either. I’m experienced and skilled through years of study and practice.

I don’t care about J.K. Rowling. At all.

If you’re triggered by the concept and fact that JKR is a terrible crafter of writing, then you might want to take a step back and self reflect on that personal issue.

I still very much love and adore Harry Potter; you’re still allowed to love Harry Potter.

This is not a series to bitch or bash. This isn’t a shitpost. This isn’t an attack on JKR, no matter the disgusting bullshit she spews forth on Twitter. However, my hope is people awaken to the fact that JKR isn’t the goddess of writing we’ve all been led to believe.

This is a place of study and learning, where the purpose is to help students gain critical thinking skills and writing analysis tools to become better in their craft.

And, sorry, one more disclaimer for this specific post: 

Fanfiction is written for fun and is posted for free. I put most of my effort into my main fanfic, Terrible, But Great. (Yes, I intend to update Moon Rite soon, too) However, I also have two fanfics that are cowritten with another author; thus, the style of Shall I Stay and Badger Prey are understandably different. I spend three to four times the hours to edit a chapter versus drafting it. My process for fanfiction: I draft. I do one expansion edit. I do one proofread edit. I post.

However, if I were to publish a novel where people are expected to drop money on said book, my work flow would be vastly more extensive. To be clear, I’d do all of the following myself. I would not outsource. My process for published novels: I would draft. I would do three to four expansion edits. I would do two to three cutting edits. I would do three proofread edits. 

See the difference?

Because I don’t go through a cutting edit for my fanfiction, I’ll often come back later and see things I think are weak. I’m constantly seeing where I can tighten my work. There’s always room for improvement.

Remember: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix is a paperback book that costs $10. My fanfics are free. If I, someone who writes for free and puts what she considers the bare minimum of effort into them, have a higher standard in the quality of my writing than a paid traditionally published novelist, there’s a problem here. 

All right, with that nonsense out of the way, buckle up, my writing friends. Grab a snack. Hydrate. Remember to take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. Let’s begin.

Class is in session.

In this post, we’re going to discuss these five pages from HP5 and dissect one paragraph and a line from page 731. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.

(My favorite book in the series, btw. I fucking love fifth year the most. JKR did a damn good job with Umbridge.)

Since a certain anon lacked the skill to comprehend the difference between too much dialogue and stories driven by a high saturation of dialogue, let's go into further depth about dialogue.

What did I mean last week when I said: "Too much fucking dialogue!"

Today’s lesson will focus on the overall issue in JKR’s dialogue and in the prose surrounding those dialogue lines.

And since, apparently, I “lack the self awareness” to know most of my fics are “oversaturated with dialogue,” I’m going to use weaker examples of my own writing. Chapter 24 of TBG is heavily driven by dialogue with twenty-one named characters to juggle, something that's very difficult for me to manage. Though the chapter is lovely, I do feel it's some of my weaker work. In the end, I just didn’t have the energy to edit it a second time nor go through cutting edit.

Here are three different pages (some connected, some not) from Chapter 24 of Terrible, But Great. All dialogue is highlighted in blue.

You can already see the difference, I'm sure.

So, what’s the difference between a scene that has 'too much fucking dialogue' versus a scene that is highly saturated with dialogue?

Because there is one.

Let's set the scene for HP5. In the middle of an OWL exam, Harry received a vision from Voldemort, showing him that Sirius has been captured. He's being tortured to get something from a shelf, but Sirius refuses. Harry believes the vision is real. He tells Ron and Hermione, then asks for their advice on how to rescue Sirius. Ron and Hermione are both like, pardon, wtf, sir? (As they should be.)

We have five pages of this fight between them. These five pages are mostly dialogue with very little else surrounding it.

Also, note the final page where it has the worst sins of adverb usage. That page is what triggered me to begin writing this series in the first place, btw.

There's too much dialogue here. There's no description. I'm being told stuff, but I'm not being shown anything. There are no emotional anchors to Harry either. The more I reread this scene, the more I realized what was wrong.

There’s an emotional disconnect from Harry in the prose.

Do not misunderstand me: it is NOT to say that Harry isn’t emotional here. It's that the prose doesn’t grip me, the reader, by the chest and twist my heart with his overwhelming emotions. The prose doesn't prove anything, doesn't show me anything. This is an intense, terrifying moment for Harry. It should feel visceral. It should feel tangible. I should be able to taste his fear.

We also don’t get too much information about the emotional states of Ron and Hermione. We have hints, of course. But we can’t feel them. The emotions of the scene are dampened, muffled, dull even.

With an untrained eye, you might disagree. It's okay. You'll see what I mean soon.

Page 731 exact quote:

"I dunno how," said Harry. "But I know exactly where. There's a room in the Department of Mysteries full of shelves covered in these little glass balls, and they're at the end of row ninety-seven...He's trying to use Sirius to get whatever it is he wants from in there....He's torturing him....Says he'll end by killing him..." Harry found his voice shaking, as were his knees. He moved over to a desk and sat down on it, trying to master himself.

(Btw, punctuation issue: you do not use an ellipsis and a period together and there should be a space after the ellipsis.)

This is the only instance in the five pages where we get any information about Harry's physical state.

And it's written in such a weak 'telling' instead of 'showing' way, too.

How and where was his voice shaking? How are his knees shaking? Are they knocking together in a weird way that's kind of physically improbable? Or was it actually his legs were shaking? Isn't he leaning against the door? If his weight was resting against the door, then there'd be less shaking in his knees or legs because his knees would be locked to brace his body against the door. His arms and hands would be shaking, though.

How does Harry master himself? What does that look like? Slow breaths? Running a hand through his hair? Rubbing his face and eyes? How is Harry mastering himself? Is it mentally? Then, where are those mastering thoughts? What are they and why do those thoughts in particular help Harry 'master' himself?

What's Harry's tone as he talking about Voldemort threatening to kill Sirius? How is Harry feeling about this? Give me MORE!

The dialogue is presented to the reader in a bland, empty fashion. Harry is relating something to Ron and Hermione. I could switch the dialogue out with anything and it'd still make sense.

There is little surrounding the dialogue to anchor it.

So, let's rewrite this, shall we?

"I dunno how," said Harry, letting out a shaky breath. His hands clenched into fists against the door of the classroom. "But I know where—they're in a room in the Department of Mysteries that's filled with rows of shelves holding these... weird little glass balls. They're in row ninety-seven. Voldemort, he's—" Harry's voice broke. His breath caught in his throat. The memory of the vision returned full force into his mind, the image of Sirius on the floor at Voldemort's feet stark in his mind. He ducked his chin; his chest inhaled in a desperate breath and the edges of his eyes burned. He's torturing Sirius—I can't just wait around. I can't lose him. Harry looked up at Ron, whose face had grown pale, while Hermione stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. The strength in Harry's legs weakened. "He needs Sirius to get whatever it is he wants and he's—" Harry sucked in a gasp, his voice trembling like an autumn leaf in a thunderstorm. "—he's torturing Sirius... says he'll kill him in the end." His knees buckled. Harry stumbled to the nearest desk; Ron reached out with a steadying hand on Harry's upper arm and silent gratitude filled Harry's heart. With shaky arms, Harry lifted himself onto the desk to sit and twisted around to face Ron and Hermione. He licked his dry lips, rubbed his eyes with a hand, and took slow, deep breaths to master his fraying emotions.

The original canon text has 57 words of dialogue with a total of 83 words.

My rewritten version uses 56 words of dialogue with a total of 247 words.

I'm going to drill this concept into your heads, my lovely students: this is what I mean when I keep saying JKR's writing is both bloated and underwritten.

I only rewrote a single paragraph and its following line. The five pages I've provided are filled with this kind of empty dialogue.

So, what have I done here? Can you see the difference? Can you feel the difference?

Let's analyze what I focused on in this scene to show Harry's body language and his thoughts. I upped the physical effects on Harry's body. His fear causes his voice to break in the middle of explaining what's going on. He's terrified of losing Sirius, the only father figure he's ever known. Voldemort might take another parental figure from him. 

And now the prose reflects these feelings, not just in his thoughts, but also in how he speaks and reacts to what is around him. He is not just speaking at the reader.

Harry exists in his world. 

And you can feel it.

When he stumbles to the desk, Ron is there for him. Hermione reacting could also be added here. There is a lot that can be added to this scene, if one wanted to expand this further. 

Yes, what I've done has increased the word count, yet it strengthens this short moment—and I'd do this for the entire scene.

What I did to the scene is merely one version of its potential. It could be rewritten in a multitude of ways and go in various directions. I spent 10mins to 20mins on it. I haven't edited it or refined it.

Can you finally see what I mean now?

If you compare the highlighted pages of HP5 to the highlighted pages of Chp 24 of TBG, you can visually see the difference in the density of the dialogue. JKR is the one whose writing is oversaturated with dialogue. My writing will always be highly saturated with dialogue because my stories are character driven. I prefer stories like that. But I also need the dialogue to be interesting and engaging, where the character feels alive in their world.

When I say there's too much dialogue, this scene is such a good example of this because Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all over the place in their interactions with each other. Yes, you want your characters to sound realistic, but you're also the author curating an experience for the reader.

There's a balancing tightrope act between having realistic dialogue and unnecessary dialogue.

There's a thin line between showing too much and telling too little.

Lastly, if I were to improve the overall scene, I would center the focus on Harry's desperation to rescue Sirius. As Ron and Hermione try to talk him out of it, where Hermione delivers that iconic line of 'you have a people saving thing,' I'd have Harry explode with something like this:

"You don't know what's it like! You both have your parents—I-I don't... You'd feel the same as me if it were either of your parents being tortured by Voldemort, yeah? I can't lose him—I can't lose Sirius."

I'm not bothering with description around it right now. I just wanted to give the baseline dialogue to show you the theme I'd carry through this scene. It's all about Sirius. It's all about the fear of losing him. It's about showing the emotion of the character and making the reader feel that deeply.

And that's what matters the most.

All right then.

We have come to an end of Part Two in this series. We have discussed fives pages in JKR's Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The pages in question are 731 - 735 should you wish to look it up and study the scene yourself.

And so, please do the world the greatest of favors and write better than J.K. Rowling. I promise, it's not that hard once you see the differences.

Until next time.

Isa

[friendly-neighborhood-boricua]

[4] Liam and James Make You A Birthday Gift

Summary: Inspired by his birthday party at school, Liam goes to James for help with your birthday present.

Notes: Marauders modern elementary school AU, kindergarten teacher!James Potter x nurse!reader, mom!reader x son!OC (Liam). Sorta weirdly angsty? Idk how that happened. Vague mention of parental death, grieving.

A/N (27/6/24): Guys just don't believe me when I say I'll update regularly lmao it's never gonna happen. Tried to upload this last night but I literally fell asleep lmao so this is semi edited

Previous Part: Career Fair Next Part: James Takes Liam to School Series Masterlist here

Look.

We all know that James is the best kindergarten teacher at his school.

His students’ test scores always improve through the year

Their standardized test results are exactly where they should be for the grade level, if not higher

And the kids themselves love him

But in order to keep his kids happy and engaged and eager to learn, he sometimes has to … shall we say bend the rules …

Just a teensy weensy bit

A little bit

A tiiiiiiny bit

At the beginning of the year, James told the class that if they were well-behaved by the time that each of their birthdays came around, he would throw a small birthday party for each of them

And let me tell you

The kids were thrilled

James quickly set a few ground rules for the kids (because the admin at his school is stupid and ScHOoL pArTiEs cAnT bE hELd wiThOUt adMiNiStrATivE pErMiSSiOn so he had to be kinda careful)

NUMBER ONE (more for him than them)

James checked each of his students’ allergy records in the school database to figure out what treats he could bring to school 

You know, without sending anyone into anaphylactic shock and probably getting sued in the process

and NUMBER TWO

Everyone must thank Mr. Black at the front desk on the day of each party

(Sirius would help James smuggle treats into his room for these parties, so James figured it’d be nice to have them say thank you)

Honestly, James enjoyed these parties just as much as the kids

Even the planning part was fun for him

About a week before a kid’s birthday, he’d ask them what treat they wanted for their party

Some kids *cough* draco *cough* want a bunch of super-sugary Halloween-type candy

(James gets them reduced sugar and sugar-free knock-off brands for Draco's birthday because he doesn’t think he can handle nineteen sugar-high kids all at once)

Others want to have a pizza party or order from a nearby restaurant

Sweet little Dean just wanted Fig Newtons lmaooo

(James bought an extra pack for her to take home)

But each and every time, no matter what they want, James makes it happen

Liam’s birthday is on January 2nd, which is over winter break

Which is a shame because James was really excited to celebrate it on the day of

Usually with kids who have birthdays in the summer, he celebrates their half-birthday

But that won’t work for Liam obviously bc his half-birthday is in the summer

So James just decides to celebrate Liam’s birthday when they get back from winter break

Before winter break, however, James asks Liam what treat he wants for his party

And Liam

Sweet summer child

Liam says he’d really like some home-made oatmeal raisin cookies

Like

What.

What the fuck kind of answer is that??

For a sIX YEAR OLD

WHAT.

This fucking child is somehow like ninety years old and six at the same fucking time

James’ utter bafflement must have been visible on his face because Liam explains himself pretty quick

And James’ heart breaks when Liam tells him that his grandma died when he was really young but his mom tells him all the time that her mom’s oatmeal raisin cookies were the best thing ever

Apparently every time you try to recreate them for Liam, some disaster happens and you’re unable to finish 

(i.e. you’re called into work and have to take the cookies out of the oven half-baked so the house doesn’t burn down, you and Liam take a nap while the cookies are baking and almost actually burn the house down, Liam accidentally gave you the salt rather than the sugar, etc.)

And Liam just really wants to try good oatmeal raisin cookies

He’s had them from a box from the grocery store before, and they’re not bad (it kinda surprises James that he liked them at all, but then he remembers who exactly he’s talking to lol), but Liam wants to try some good home-made oatmeal raisin cookies

And maybe bring one home for his mom

And FURTHERMORE, Liam is plenty aware that no child in a million years besides him actually enjoys oatmeal raisin cookies

So he asks for chocolate chip for the rest of the class so they get something they’ll actually enjoy

James is just kinda speechless at first

Like you can hear him just blinking down at this sweet, kind, selfless little six-year-old

And slowly he nods, and the bell rings to signify the end of the day (and semester since it’s the last day of school before winter break)

Poor James is practically catatonic as he gets his kids on their busses and in cars home, then packs his own things and finally makes his way to the library to get Remus and Sirius

And they both know something’s up immediately

After some gentle prodding (and Sirius outright refusing to leave the school library until James tells them what was wrong), James tells them what happened

(Remus and Sirius aren’t quite sure what the big deal is until James explains further)

James’ parents died during his second year at university, and he was horribly torn up about it for years after

Still is, sometimes

He was always terribly close with his parents, and they would always do anything—anything—for their James

(Including practically adopt Sirius during high school)

And now, thinking about Liam’s grandmother dying when he was young, all James could think about was you

James couldn’t imagine you’re any older than him, and he’s twenty-four, which means you had Liam young

And if Liam’s grandmother—your mother—had died when Liam was young, that meant you were left to take care of a baby all on your own at—what, twenty years old? Nineteen? All while going to university to become a nurse, and then actually becoming a nurse after that, long shifts and heavy workloads and all

The thought made James’ heart ache terribly in his chest

That night, James spends nearly two hours searching for different oatmeal raisin cookie recipes

He plans to do trials 

A competition of sorts with Sirius and Remus serving as judges

Because James is DETERMINED to bake the best homemade oatmeal raisin cookie Liam will ever have

(He’s sort of nervous for you to eat one, but he figures even if it isn’t as good as your mother’s, it hopefully won’t be awful)

James, Sirius, and Remus’ holiday celebrations only really extend to sleeping over on Christmas Eve at Remus’ mother’s house, which is only a couple blocks away

So James spends every day of winter break baking a new cookie recipe and shoving cookies down Remus’ and Sirius’ throats

But by the beginning of second semester, James has crafted the perfect oatmeal raisin cookie recipe

(It was rather simple, actually, and the “secret ingredient” was more of a secret process than anything; James used only brown sugar rather than a mix of brown and granulated, added some cinnamon, and put the balls of dough in the freezer for twenty minutes before baking so they would be nice and chewy)

James decides to hold Liam’s party at the end of the first week back at school

(Just to make sure the kids know they’ve got to go back to learning)

And Liam’s party goes swimmingly!! (ofc)

James brought chocolate chips, as promised

But he was terribly proud of his oatmeal raisin cookies, so he brought enough for the whole class as well

And holy shit

James never thought it could be done

But EVERY SINGLE KID in that classroom was eating oatmeal raisin cookies like there was no tomorrow

Like

James tried to make sure there was a cookie left at the end for Liam to take home to you

But he couldn’t keep them out of these kids’ grubby little paws and they ended up eating them all :(((((((((

James is really sad when he notices

He hadn’t quite realized just how much he wanted you to try his cookies but now he’s really disappointed

And poor Liam :((((((

Poor baby Liam is also pretty put out by it, James can tell

James apologizes to Liam about it

Liam says it’s fine, but James sees right through it

He gives Liam a big hug at the end of the day as well as another apology

(And a lollipop, but secretly so the other kids don’t ask for one too)

A month passes, and everything’s pretty normal

Until one weekend in early February, James hears knocking on his apartment door

He’d been grading, and Remus and Sirius were over to hang about and chat

James wasn’t expecting anyone else to arrive so he’s pretty confused

But he answers anyway

(Let's be honest here people, James would be the first to be killed in a horror movie)

Thankfully Jason doesn’t murder James on his doorstep

Instead (and very surprisingly) it’s Liam who’s standing anxiously at James’ front door

Immediately, James thinks the worst

Did something happen to Liam? Are you home? Did something happen to you?

James is immediately crouched in front of Liam, eye level, asking him what he needs

And Liam anxiously stutters out that he needs help

With what? you may ask

Well, my dear reader

Liam needs help making homemade oatmeal raisin cookies

For his mom

For her birthday

LIAM ISTG—ASDKFJHLWN

YOUR SON IS SUCH A SWEETHEART

AND JAMES CANNOT GET OVER IT

(He’s also super relieved bc he was real scared for a second that something terrible had happened)

So Liam and James and Remus and Sirius (who Liam knows as Mr. Lupin and Mr. Black from school) all get to work making homemade oatmeal raisin cookies for you for your birthday

Liam explains that you’re working a twelve-hour shift and a couple hours of overtime on top of that, so you set him up with Ms. Hope (Remus’ mom, who watches him often)

Apparently Liam asked her if he could go to James’ apartment to ask if he could bake oatmeal raisin cookies for his mom, and Ms. Hope said yes

(Remus quickly calls his mother to reassure her that Liam arrived safe and sound and is currently baking with them, just so she doesn’t worry herself)

Liam also informs James, Remus, and Sirius that he’s supposed to be staying at Ms. Hope’s house until tomorrow morning, when you’ll pick him up

Ms. Hope insisted that you leave Liam with her and not worry about him, if just for the night

The four boys have a blast for the next three hours or so, baking far too many batches of cookies and then finding a nice gift bag to put them in

James also gets some stray craft supplies (he keeps it around in case he runs out at school) and everyone makes their own birthday cards for you

Harry goes back to Ms. Hope’s just in time for dinner, which James, Sirius, and Remus join them for, much to Ms. Hope’s excitement

The evening is just terribly fun for all of them

Fast forward to the next day and you’re rushing to look semi-presentable to go get Liam from Ms. Hope’s house

The doorbell rings, and you’re cursing internally because you’re already fifteen minutes late

You got home so late at night that it was actually early in the morning, and you’d overslept

And now there’s another thing to deal with at the door

James’ eyebrows raise slightly at the force with which you wrench open the door, and he’s a little concerned that you’ll be displeased at what he’s done

But you realize who it is (Liam) and who he’s with (James) and all the tension in your shoulders melts back

Liam is immediately all over you, wishing you a happy birthday with a big hug and a wet kiss to your cheek and resting his head on your shoulder when you pick him up

You’re completely thrilled to see him

(If immensely confused about why your son's teacher is also on your doorstep with a rather large gift bag)

James smiles sheepishly, but he’s reassured by your smile as you say good morning

So he explains the whoooooole story with you pitching in here and there

Until finally he gets to the fact that he and Liam (and Remus and Sirius ofc) have made you oatmeal raisin cookies

At this point, James is pretty certain that you can’t do much to endear him further to you

But you’ve got the most lovely way of proving him wrong when he begins to think like that because the way your eyes light up at the mention of oatmeal raisin cookies makes James want to keep repeating the words over and over so the look never fades from your face

He hands over the gift bag (with another small explanation about the two extra cards and who exactly Sirius and Remus are), wishes you a happy birthday, and politely excuses himself

As much as James loves to be around you and Liam, he knows his place

At the end of the day, he’s still Liam’s kindergarten teacher, and Liam is still your son

So he leaves you and Liam to celebrate your birthday between the two of you

When he gets back to his flat and locks the door behind him, James feels a strange sort of ache settle over his shoulders and seep deep into the cavity of his chest. He swallows around the strange feeling in his throat and takes a deep breath. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. 

Next Part: James Takes Liam to School

[flamemittens]

For the bhaalspawn asks:

OK but how does Durge actually view relationships and romance?

From the 9th Edition DU asks here!

Gortash x F!Durge. 900 words.

A/N: So...this got a little out of hand. I'm not even sure if I've answered the question as I got lost in the sauce™, but have this silly thing anyway :)

The weather could have been better tonight.

Admittedly, the trellis that facilitates the climb up to Gortash’s chambers is more difficult to scale in the heavy rain, but she completes her ascent with relative ease, dropping onto the terrace.

There is no need to pick the locks on the doors—in a touch of perhaps foolish confidence he tends to leave them open these days—thus the only challenge is to enter quietly. She slips inside through half-drawn curtains, and pulls the doors shut behind her.

The light in here is low, but her eyes make the adjustment.

Then she sees him.

Enver is fast asleep on one of the large chaises by the fireplace, head back, feet planted on the floor, chest rising and falling. Free of his usual finery, he is simply dressed in a half-open black shirt and trousers. She pads softly over to him intending to wake him up, but…something stays her hand. She stands there frozen in place, a tightness in her chest, and imagines the lifeblood flowing through his veins. Considers him in his vulnerability. Considers them.

She has no point of reference, no guide for how all this is supposed to go. It was never meant to be like this. It’s been an evolution, a negotiation. Communication shifting from parchment to in-person, from neutral locations to between his sheets. Gifts viewed with suspicion at first, then reluctantly accepted. An unwelcome distraction—and indulgence—morphing into a welcome one. A meeting of minds, a push and pull. It is both delightful, and confusing.

She wonders if this is what it is like for everyone.

Truthfully, Enver Gortash is the only friend she has ever had. She smiles, thinking of what Sceleritas would say to that statement—the butler is devoted, and not fond of her Banite.

Her reverie is broken however as Enver chooses this moment to wake up; he gives a brief start, then relaxes, as he looks up at her with a level of softness she’s never seen before.

Something twists painfully in her chest as she realizes he is relieved the interloper is her when he should be afraid—it digs in alongside everything else she carries. She is struck once again by the thought that he has not been afraid of her for some time now. If he ever was. He’s not even surprised.

“Good evening, my dear Bhaalist” he says calmly, voice still raspy from sleep. He reaches out a hand and pulls her closer. “Why are you wet? You’re soaked through.”

“It’s raining outside. I was caught in a downpour.”

A resigned sigh signals his acceptance as he runs a hand across his face. “When it comes to you, it could be worse, I suppose.”

He stands up. “I shall call the servants and have a bath drawn for you.”

“There’s no need. Do not bother them.”

“Nonsense, I insist. For the sake of my new rugs, if nothing else. And I do so enjoy you smelling of my soaps.” He leaves the room, returning a moment later.

“Good. They are seeing to it now.”

“Enver?”

“Yes?”

“Why?”

He frowns and then turns to the fireplace, tossing another log into the flames. “Why what? My dear, as much as I enjoy puzzling you out, you’re going to have to give me more to go on.”

“Why do you care for me?” The question is neither simple nor complex, and it slides off her tongue like liquid before she can stop it. He has his back to her, but she catches how he briefly freezes, a sudden and subtle tension in his shoulders that he expertly dismisses before he continues. She has cornered him—not something that she achieves often with this man who is always several steps ahead—and bent their unspoken rules.

“So, you have decided to ask me all the difficult questions tonight, hmm?” He has opted, of course, for deflection.

“Oh, it’s a difficult question, is it? Should I be offended?”

“You know that’s not quite what I meant.”

“But that’s what you said.”

“Gods below. Well, it certainly isn’t because you infuriate me with disconcerting regularity.”

“No.” She grins slyly. “It’s in spite of that.”

He barks a laugh, then regards her for a moment before continuing.

“Now, while we wait, how about I show you what I’ve been working on today. And after we’re all done, perhaps you can give me the pleasure of your company until morning?”

“Lord Gortash, do you say that to all the guests you host in your personal chambers?”

He closes the distance between them, and gently grips her chin in his calloused fingers, tilting her head from side to side. She hopes to pass the inspection. Granted, there are times when she wants him to be the Chosen of Bane, but others where she prefers him to be Enver. Tonight, she finds she wishes for the latter.

“No” he murmurs after a spell, releasing her. “Only the ones who show up at near midnight drenched from head to toe, drip all over my upholstery, force me to call the servants to prepare a bath, and ask me questions.” He smiles down at her.

Enver it is.

She mirrors his expression. “That sounds awfully tiresome. You must suffer so.”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Very well” she replies, leaning closer and patting his chest. “Tell me about your day, if you must.”

[yeonsols-garden]

Hi, so, I wanted to talk about the fanfics you write, like, how many days, weeks does it take more or less for you to finish one. Or if you have more or less idea when you're going to release a new one (sorry if I'm pressuring you) Bcs unfortunately I'm the type who finishes reading and already wants more, that is, you got me addicted to your fanfics (obviously I love that), I also wanted to know if it's tiring for you to write, Do you have breaks? Or do you write directly? These are the mini-questions — not even half of them — for you. I just really admire the fact that you write such unique and well-crafted things for free, I really appreciate our fandom having someone like you to help you get on your feet! So really, thank you very much. I know how hard it is to come up with ideas to write, and even more so the extensive way you work.

Sorry if this question is a crap to read, all I can do is use Google translate and trust in my little knowledge of English :')

Eagerly waiting for another fanfic, I hope you have a good rest.

Oh my God hi!!!

Don't worry at all I personally love getting asks! It is so fun and I love answering questions so this is great! You're not pestering me at all.

Let's get to the questions shall we!

#1) Well, typically when it comes to writing I write around the night time because it just is a lot easier for me to write at night. I have so much going on during the day but it takes me around 2 hours to write 2K and I try to write everyday. So by the end of the week I have a lot written that's for sure.

It typically takes me a week to write a fic and edit one. And that's only because I read a lot if I were to just write my 2K everyday I would probably have a fic written every day but I cannot do that because most of the time I end up writing more than I first thought i would.

Then there's the process of editing which is a lot of work. TT

#2) I always plan out when I wanted to release my fics. When I finish a chapter I always look at which days I'm able to post it after I have edited and made sure everything is okay so that I can read people's comments as fast as I can.

(Comments terrify me but I love getting them! Gimmie gimme gimme (⁠つ⁠✧⁠ω⁠✧⁠)⁠つ)

Don't worry at all I'm also the type of finishes reading and once more and I have a friend who is a part of the fandom who is just like you who is always asking for more and I love them for that because it keeps me motivated to keep on writing! So I personally love it when people ask for more (as long as they are respectful and not rude of course) because it's just great to know that people like my work enough.

#3) The reason why I write 2K is because after that I do get tired writing more than that a day can be very draining for me so I do take breaks somewhat. It's more like I write 2K and then I go to bed and then I get up and do my day time things and write at night.

Thank you so much for your kind words!

This is so nice I really have trouble with really understanding that people actually like what I make so you saying that you're addicted to my fics makes me so happy hehe. It's nice.

Thank you so much for your kind words and just so you know I love the fanfics that you posted them too.

They are so cute and I love them a lot. I eat them up and every time I get notification that you posted a little fanfic I scream with happiness because they're just so cute.

- sincerely Kami

[foggieststars]

ohhh im so so curious about this top secret project now.. half tempted to send in an ask with all the questions that ask for spoilers... but anywayy!! maybe 1 and 21 and 24 and 25 😁😁

dslfjsldfj feel free to ask!! <33

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

i think sort of both?? i spend a lot of time thinking about the initial idea and trying to develop it but then once it's solidly in my head i spend more time writing, and when i do think of other ideas i try and write them down straight away so i don't forget!

21. Do you prefer writing chaptered fics or one-shots?

definitely one shots, tho i'm trying my hand at a chaptered fic with the winner's room au! so we shall see how it goes :))

24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?

it just sort of happens? like. when i get an idea it's usually already with the pov character in mind if that makes sense, i'd never really keep an idea and switch the pov bc they're very linked for me

25. What’s your favorite part of the writing process (worldbuilding, brainstorming/outlining, writing, editing, etc)?

definitely actually writing! especially when i get into a rhythm and just write for hours bcs i know what i want to say it's so fun <3 editing can suck my dick

[raspberrylover28]

"Alexa, can turtles eat candy?"

EDIT: Fixed the past and present tense switching through the fic

My gift for @fxliciq-a for the ROTTMNT Trick or Treat Exchange organized by @rottmnt-secret-gifting  !

Made it extra light and fluffy with lots of banter between the brothers, trying to give most of the prompts a moment to shine and had a lot of fun writing it, so I hope you enjoy! (≧∇≦)ﾉ

 [Takes place after season 2 but before the movie]

___________________________________________________

-...I'm just saying that you had an unfair advantage! Why did you get to be the one who went with him?

- I shall remind you once again, dear brother, that the teams were completely randomized and I had no say in who went with who.

- Yeah, randomized by you with your tech! You probably just rigged to whole thing to get all my jelly worms and rub it in my face.

- First of all, gross. Getting them anywhere near your face would make them inedible on the spot. Plus, I don't like them anyway. Second of all, I am wounded you think I would sink so low to win a silly game. Third of all, everyone here is aware that I have managed to get the biggest amount of candy from our trick and treating journey, so please stop whining and hand over the candy to their rightful owner - Donnie put his purple, bat themed candy bag right in front of Leo's face, smiling like the menace that he is

- Oh, come on! - Leo shoved it back into Donnie's face instead and turned to Raph - This has to count as cheating, right? You gave him like half of your candy!

Raph rubbed the back of his head and gave him an apologetic smile - Sorry, man. Ya know i can't eat the ones with peanuts, so I gave them to Don and they sorta started piling up.

Leo gave him an unimpressed stare, crossed his arms and spat out: - I'm not giving any of my loot to a dirty cheater.

- I am not-

- Ugh, just give him the damn candy already! - April yelled with annoyance, getting everyone's attention, letting go of Sunita's hand and  gesturing agressively towards the twins - we've been standing here for 15 minutes!

And they actually were. Standing there in their colorful costumes, arguing with each other on the middle of the sidewalk. Great.

At least the worst they got were a few stares since they were in a more chill part of New York. As chill as New York can be, anyway.

Leo looked around, seeing all the mildly (or a bit more than mildly) annoyed faces staring into his skull and groaned as dramatically as he could, running his fingers through the rockstar wig of his costume for extra effect and reluctantly took out a bunch of lolipops and two small packs of purple and red skittles, then snatched Donnie's hat from his head, threw the candy inside and put it back on with just as much force.

- Here. Don't choke on it - he said, his voice only one third playful, turning away and taking out his phone, not seeing Raph and Donnie shooting each other smug looks.

Donnie took off the hat again and threw the candy into his already overstuffed candy bag, securing it so nothing fell out and doing a quick victory fist bump with Raph.

- Great! Now that's settled, me and my girlfriends are going to the cafe nearby to try out their newest spooky menu. And if any of you boys start making trouble, you will receive a baseball bat to the face. Are we clear? - April smirked playfully, but with a dangerous glint in her eye, and the turtles all saluted with a "Yes, ma'am!".

- YES! We finally shall find out the TERROR of the special halloween recipes!

- Yeah, I really wanted to try the pumpkin latte, it sounded amazing. Plus, I heard they even gave free candy corn at the counter!

Cassandra and Sunita chatted, with April joining in and holding their hands as they started going towards the cafe in their matching monster high costumes.

- Alright! - Mikey started - So what do we-

- Okay, whatever you're going to do, do it by yourselves ‘cause I'm leaving - Leo interrupted, barely looking up from his phone, where he was furiously typing in.

- What, bunny boy is done collecting candy in the Hidden City? - Donnie raised an eyebrow.

- Yeah, we're meeting near Hueso's. We're going to try out candy with his friends, since some turtle I will not name decided getting candy from the Hidden City would be "too dangerous".

- Ey, knowin' Raph's luck AND the Hidden City, it would probably end up like the pizza puffs incident. Or worse.

- What, you think they're going to throw drugs into a teenager's candy bag?

- ...maybe.

- Raph, chill! Usagi was raised down there, he knows what's safe and what's not. Plus, I promised him some of my jelly worms in exchange already, so no backing out now!

- Wait, you're willing to give him your candy, but not me?

- We exhange candy, Don, not steal it.

- I don't steal jackshit! I would be willing to exchange, but your demands are just too high!

- Maybe you're just too poor to afford my candy-

- Alright, Raph is not doing this again! - Raph stood between the twins, then Mikey started pushing Leo in the vague direction of Hueso's.

- Come on, loverboy! They're waiting for you, so hurry up!

- Okay, okay, fine! Sheesh... - Leo rolled his eyes, but quickly jogged towards the restaurant, smiling and texting his boyfriend on the way.

Raph barely stopped himself from shouting at him because don't walk with your snout in your phone, do you WANT to get hit by a car??

Instead, he looked towards the other two turtles.

- Great! - Donnie exclaimed - Now that Leo left to bother bunny boy and the love birds left to do something romantic and possibly illegal, we should figure out what we should do next.

- Oh, I know! We should totally check out this one haunted house! – Mikey suggested, quickly taking out his phone and showing his brother a poster of a two-story, victorian looking house with a tall, spiky fence and „A house straight from your nightmares!” written in a spooky font on the bottom of the screen.

His brothers stared at the photo, then at Mikey.

- You want to go to the haunted mansion.

- Yep!

- Of your own free will.

A pause.

-Yyyyes…? – Mikey started sweating under their questioning  gazes.

- It was most likely a dare from someone. Either April or Leo.

- Agreed.

- Oh, come on, guys! Have some faith in me!

His brothers just raised their eyebrows.

-…Leo wouldn’t stop teasing me.

They see the site of haunted house, which had a lot of bad reviews, mostly complaining about it not being scary in the slightest, which they took as a good sign. Having Raph accidentally deck a scare actor in the face on instinct probably wouldn’t end pretty. They decided, with only slight hesitence, to check it out. It was only around 15 minutes away, so they went on foot and rated costumes and decorations they saw while walking, the usual fuss of New York now accompanied by the sound of doorbells and candy wraps.

When they arrived at their destination (which looked nothing like the one on the site or posters) and entered the first room, they all immediately noticed that it was, indeed, very bad. The room was very brightly lit with white leds, the furniture looked like it was pulled out of some old lady’s apartment, covered with plastic spiderwebs and cheesy halloween decorations, like paper ghosts and candles that were probably supposed to resemble pumpkins, but did not look or smell like them at all.

When they walked around, they started to relax more and more, the poor attempts at scaring them being more funny than scary.

- Did anybody put any thought into this? – Mikey giggled, looking at the so obviously drawn with a marker cracks in the mirror of the fifth bathroom they entered.

- This is what projects done 3 hours before the deadline look like – Donnie deadpanned, gesturing towards the oh, so scary writing and hand prints on the walls and floor – This literally looks like ketchup.

- Maybe it is ketchup? – Mikey examined the fake blood with a hand on his chin.

- Doubt it. It doesn’t really smell like ketchup, and replacing it every few days would be way too expensive for the most likely low bugdet the owners probably have.

- Eh, with how little care this place has, they could technically just leave it there and Raph are you trying to lick the fake blood i swear to god-

After making sure Raph doesn’t  eat any decorations, they went into the final room, which was visibly more thought out than the rest of the building. Which wasn’t saying much, but it was something, at least.

It was a longer hallway with almost no light,crookedly hanged paintings they could barely make out, peeled wallpapers with rusted nails sticking out, which were obviously just nails painted orange, even with the poor lighting.

The turtles went in, still not scared but noticing the change. Mikey, who was in the front, walked forward, trying to make out the different paintings on the wall since he was pretty sure most of them were just top results from pinterest, not hearing the (not very subtle) creek of the wood above him.

And suddenly something jumped into his face from the ceiling with a loud screech and he couldn’t stop the shriek he let out, instictively clinging to Raph who wasn’t doing much better. And it got worse when suddenly something wet got thrown right at them, staining their costumes. The wall next to them opened, showing another hallway, where they could see the door with a bright „EXIT” sign.

They left the room and now, in good lighting, they could see that their clothes had splatters of the same fake blood from earlier rooms which, now that they noticed it, actually smelled really bad. Mikey looked over the damage to their costumes in annoyance, already thinking about how hard it will be to get rid of them and-

- Donnie, why is your costume just fine?

- Well, while you two were screaming like little girls-

-We were not-

- I decided to hide behind our beloved oldest brother, letting him take the brunt of it.

- You used Raph as a meat shield??

- That’s one way to call it – Donnie said, already heading towards the bright green „Gift shop” sign.

Mikey pouted, but only settled for a glare in Donnie’s direction, hopping onto Raph’s shell.

- Hey, don’t worry, big man! At least we’re still matching – Raph pointed out, gesturing to their cat onesies.

- Yea, we look like street cats now – Mikey snickered, poking Raph’s forehead – Still can’t believe we convinced you to wear this thing as a costume.

- Raph doesn’t turn away from a dare – the snapper grinned in response - Besides, I can look like a boss in everything!

- Yeah, unlike Donnie with his boring suit no one recognized.

- Excuse you-?!

Donnie started ranting for the next 10 minutes about how he was „obviously dressed up as Robert Oppenheimer” and how „the education system is in shambles if no one can recognize something so apparent”. He stopped after a bit, realizing his brothers didn’t listen to a word he was saying, then joined them looking through different souvenirs in the gift shop. Everything was overpriced to all hell, predictably, but there were a few fun things that they played with, only messing with them and not buying them because of the very poor quality.

There was also some food you could buy at the counter, which they weren’t sure was decorated to look expired or actually sat there for 3 weeks.

They looked over the snacks, their eyes drawn to the „zombie slushies”.

Mikey looked at Raph, already knowing the answer to his question but still asking:

- You’re going to try it, aren’t you.

- Yes. Yes I will.

They bought the slushie, the cashier looking at them like she wanted to be anywhere else but here. It was warm and cold at the same time, looking like a bunch of crushed ice, blue so faded it was practically gray, with water on the bottom. There were also weird, differently colored chunks in it that they decided weren’t poisonous. Probably.

Raph chugged the drink in one go and barely, barely stifled a gag, almost dropping Mikey. Apparently it tasted like battery acid with a hint of blueberry mixed with sewer water.

They left the haunted house, Raph looking a bit greener than usual. He didn’t throw up though, which they still counted as a win.

The turtles decided it was time to get home. The moment they got back in the lair they took off their costumes, Mikey and Raph throwing theirs into the washing machine, then got into hoodies and pajamas, deciding to do a turtle pile in the living room. They turned on the TV, sound quiet and brightness low, just to have something in the background, munching on their candy and enjoying the comfortable silence.

_________________________

Donnie and his backup turtles + April (Donnie stop calling us that) (No die) (fight fight fight) (Lol)

NeonLeon9000: how tf did she even do that

GreenApricot: idk?? turns out you can fix a coffee machine by fist fighting it with an ungodly amount of glitter pens

GreenApricot: the more you know

NeonLeon9000: i swear casey is going to tunr out to be a lab experiment or something and i will not be suprised becuase how does she even exist

Big Brother Who Is The Biggest: do I even wanna know?

NeonLeon9000: if you wann sleep at night then no

NeonLeon9000: /srs

LocalChef: Well that’s terrifying!

NeonLeon9000: btw im staying at usagis tonight

NeonLeon9000: we r having a slumber party

NeonLeon9000: more slumber less party but still

LocalChef: Are you coming back in the morning or are you staying there until later? I can save you some breakfast if you want!

NeonLeon9000: Nah me n usagi ar gonna go out and get some food

NeonLeon9000: thx tho <3

LocalChef: <3

NeonLeon9000: btw did you go to that haunted house i told you abt or did you chicken out

NeonLeon9000: i think we can all guess the answer

LocalChef: nvm I’m taking that heart back

Big Brother Who Is The Biggest: We all went together, actually! Lots of fun

NeonLeon9000: no offense raph but i still dont trust you bc of the candy thing

NeonLeon9000: pics or it didn’t happen

BootyyyShaker9000: [A picture of Mikey and Raph clinging to each other while screaming in the haunted house]

BootyyyShaker9000: Glad I could capture this lovely moment.

GreenApricot:SKDSDJHSJKJKDS

NeonLeon9000:LMAOO

LocalChef: WHATT

LocalChef: BETRAYAL ╰（‵□′）╯

NeonLeon9000:bet yall screamed like toddlers

NeonLeon9000: don please tell me you recorded it

BootyyyShaker9000: Who do you take me for?

BootyyyShaker9000: [sound file]

BootyyyShaker9000: Best quality on the market.

GreenApricot: Y’all are never living this down lol

Big Brother Who Is The Biggest: puts head in hands

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

Bonus: Favorite candy of all the turtles!

Leo: Blue raspberry flavored gummy bears, jelly worms, Oreos, cotton candy

Mikey: Candy jewelery, any halloween related candy, caramel apples (especially with spooky food coloring), sour strips, candy corn,

Donnie: grape flavored bubble tape, purple skittles, grape flavored „Dum-Dums” -  lolipops, nerds

Raph: Candy jewelery, hard candy, original skittles, peppermints

[blueparadis]

idk why tumblr decided to remove the feature of editing drafts of asks but here we are.

No, you're not bothering me in any way. your questions do not seem silly at all. they just seem professional, as if I'm being interviewed for my fic. It's alright though :D i don't mind at all. feel free to ask questions like these whenever it pops in your head. It keeps a writer motivated :)

the reader does not hate Jing Yuan ( there's nothing to hate about him, really but that's just me being fond of him hehe ). She is just skeptical about him, and does not trust him easily.

so, in 'stuck on you', she does not have to deal with any urgent matters. she just threw a tantrum for the first time ever since she left her home and started staying with her husband, Jing Yuan after marriage. There are certain customs, rules, and etiquette that a girl has to abide by when she leaves her home and starts to stay with her husband after marriage. But here, perhaps due to upbringing or a certain experience, she did not like those customs so she decided to be a rebel. In this fic, the custom was that whenever the husbands come home from war, they're to indulge in relaxation and celebration and the wife has to aid him no matter what. They might spend the night with another woman, and still, the wife shall not speak against it. That's how it is; that's how it always has been. So, she decided to let Jing Yuan do whatever he wanted once he came home from war and hence, went to her parent's house.

I do plan to write more about Jing Yuan and his wife, with worldbuilding and lore but time and studies are big factors.

As of now, i can tell these about her and these are subject to change since i haven't built the backstory properly yet.

she is the eldest daughter of her clan. She does not have her own siblings but a lot of half-siblings ( same father but different mother )

she is closest to her father. even though his father has quite a few of concubines, she does not hold a grudge against her father because that's how the previous generations were. Those things are portrayed as traditions. even if things go south with Jing yuan she has her clan backing up. she can always come to her father, she is not abandoned.

Being the eldest, and also a girl it made her second in the line of succession which is why her father decided to wed her to expand his territory.

Seeing her mother neglected at times she has developed a membrane of skepticism for men which is why she always maintains a boundary with Jing Yuan.

she is good at archery and management, and has spent a lot of time reading books and learning self-defensive skills both because her father wanted her to do so and also because of her sheer interest.

she is good with kids but not really fond of them; good with approaching animals be it hunting or making them a pet. She got this fearless side from her mother actually.

and, as a child whenever her father used to sit in the council she used to accompany him which grew her interest in council and management.

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics:

1. Writings from Lovecraft's political magazine, The Conservative.¹

2. St. Armand's² now rare study of Howard & the Decadent Movement.

3. What we imagine HPL's life to have been like...

Sigh.

4. One of the many zines dedicated to every facet of Lovecraft's life & works.

5. Collection of the letters of 2 writers: one was the creator of Conan,³ the other created Cthulhu.

Two intellectual properties that should be enemies of each other...

I mean, Conan's gotten rid of a lot of mystic monsters but, Cthulhu is a creature of a different kind altogether!

Just hoping for an adversarial 'team up' here...

1915: HPL Output.

Intro: A rather crude & bigoted 'satire' where rebellious Irishmen meet some Germans, celebrate by drinking to- gether & threatened to slander the British Empire of their day.

This poem just happened to be print- ed - in Howard's Conservative - at the same time as the Easter Rebellion,⁴ when some Irish Republicans & some Germans tried to overthrow English rule in Ireland.

The Work: "(The) Ballade of Patrick Von Flynn" by Lewis Theobald, Jr.⁵

Quote:

"Germanis ipsis Germaniores."⁶

Text:

Attend you all my wondrous tale & I will tell to you, Of how an honest Irish- man⁷ into a Prussian grew.

(It) was (almost) 20 years ago I left my native bog, To seek in these majestic States⁸ a place to earn my grog.⁹

Sure, work was easily found for me, For I'm a clever man. I earned so much, I soon could buy my whiskey by the can.

With half a dozen other licks,¹⁰ a merry drinking crew, I used to hang around shebeens¹¹ & curses Old England blue!

Just why I hate the Englishman, I don't remember quite, But Jimmy Dugan's grandad says they've never used¹² Ireland right.

Sure all they ever done for us was civilize¹³ our land, (Yet) we've no use for sober laws, but all for freedom stand.

How glad will be the... day, When England last draws breath, And good Old Ireland shall be free - to drink herself to death!!

Now comes (a most) cruel war, with Germans running loose,... Here's... to them to make a stir¹⁴ (&) give (England) some more abuse!

(We) Irish... love (not the) Dutch,¹⁵ (were) siding with Germany, 'Cause she hates... England as (much) as... we!

...The Kaiser¹⁶ treat(s) us worse than England (has) ever done, But..., if we used England right - we'd lose our sweetest fun!

...Something in the Irish heart... never bows to rules; As (duty?) calls, we teach our sons sedition¹⁷ in the schools.

Last night, the Germans... all gathered in a hall, With... flags above the stage & (the) Kaiser on the wall.

I don't know what they wanted, but so far as I could see, They were (sent? by) the Kaiser & enjoined¹⁸ "neutrality."

They... denounced the President & cursed... Yankee laws, For being too (biased)... to help the German cause.

Footnotes:

1. The Conservative (1915 to 1923) was HPL's own amateur journal, which he edited & published sporadically.

However, many articles in it were actually written by others.

Inside, it included politics, poetry, social commentary, short stories & literary criticism.

Yet, Lovecraft's brand of conservatism bears little resemblance to today's treasonous scene.

Instead, Howard was calling for a revival - a return to the wellspring which 1st inspired Western culture.

HPL's magazine coincided with the 1st world war & the Russian Revolution.

For Lovecraft & his fellow writers crude nationalism & socioeconomic politics weren't the solution they sought.

Rather, they wanted an end to chaos - thru racial division, cultural imperial- ism & a strong sense of morality.

Howard was, at the time, against democracy & liberalism.

HPL's ideal state was a return to the aristocratic values of earlier times - with England as the main culture...

So, The Conservative now stands as a record of Lovecraft's worldview.

And, as a narrow glimpse into early 1900s America.

2. Professor Emeritus Barton Levi St. Armand wrote H.P. Lovecraft: New England Decadent (1979) to offer insight into the history of HPL related scholarship & Howard's roots in the decadent movement of 1800s Europe.

3. Conan, it's thought, lives in the ancient past of the Cthulhu Mythos.

Both story cycles share eldritch monsters & deadly magic - both being very dangerous to normal humans!

Things like Lizard/Snake Men, Dagon, Old Ones, etc are mentioned by both writers.

Yet, Conan kills a lot of these powerful creatures & magicians!!

In fact, Conan is such a badass, that he rudely mocks these evil beings - as he's killing them!!!

4. The Easter (Week) Rebellion/Rising (April 24 to 29, 1916) tried to establish an Irish Republic - while the U.K. was fighting in WW1.

Most of the fighting took place in Dublin, with street battles & long range sniping in different parts of the city.

The rebellion was put down by the larger forces & heavier weapons of the British army.

485 folk were killed, most being civilians & British personnel...

16 rebel leaders were executed.

5. This was 1 of Lovecraft's many pen names.

But, the name seems based upon a real person!

Lewis Theobald was an English textual editor & author known for his work on Shakespearean editing, seven classic translations, some literary satire & play writing.

He was also a plagiarist...

6. Latin "For the Germans themselves, the Germans."

I'd guess that this meant "Germans only wanted other Germans in Germany."

Of such selfish dreams, were so many monstrous crimes built...

7. Ireland ("Eire" locally), as a self- governing dominion (the "Irish Free State") was born in December of 1921.

It took until 1937, for its leaders to pass a new constitution - giving itself more political power over itself.

Then, in 1949, it legally left the British Commonwealth & became its own, true nation - the Republic of Ireland.

8. The United States, that is...

9. Grog originally referred to a daily ration of - diluted! - rum given to sailors of the British Navy in the 1700s.

It was given as a boost to Navy men to fight off the doldrums (calm, wind- less parts in the Equator) of long sea voyages.

Grog, eventually, was made up of rum, gin or whiskey with sugar, lime & water.

10. Knowning the petty meanness of Howard's satires, he must have meant the slang "someone who's been totally overcome, defeated or conquered!"

11. A shebeen, in Ireland, is an illegal (unlicensed & disreputable) working class place that sells alcoholic liquor.

12. Here, HPL means "treated." As in "the Irish were not 'treated' well..."

13. To civilize another nation is here used as in "to bring a people 'up' to a more advanced level."

This, of course, means that the Irish were viewed as a wild & unrefined barbarians!

In truth, they were followers of the older Celtic culture from Europe.

14. Stir, in this case, means "an event that causes a disturbance."

15. The Dutch are people from The Netherlands.

Holland isn't their nation's name! Just two Dutch provinces go by the place names of North & South Holland...

I think I know why Lovecraft hates the Dutch.

These folk, in Howard's time, were thought to have risen from a mixture of Frisian, Saxon & French peoples.

And, we know how HPL believed in 'racial purity'...

The mixing of 'races' is still seen as an abhorrent 'crime' in racist circles.

In fact, the Dutch are now thought to come from a mixture of native folk & German populations!

But, it's now known that rare Paleo- humans were first found living in Spain - around 3 million years ago...

16. Kaiser ("Emperor") was the title of German rulers from 1871 to 1918 - 3 men in all.

17. Sedition is "speaking or organizing things towards a rebellion against an established government."

This includes "subversion of a nation's constitution" & "inciting discontented people to establish an insurrection."

Gosh.

And they say you can learn nothing from history...

18. To enjoin is to "teach" or "urge someone to do something."

In this case, they want the Irish to declare themselves neutral & not help the British militarily.

Strangely enough, as a legal term, it can mean the opposite, "to prohibit" or "ban something" thru a legal order.

Next: Part 2.

[blankdblank]

The White Dove Pt 50 - Daisy Thief

.

Okay, so here is the final chapter and after this I will edit and start to post the rewrite on my Poke series. Can’t wait to see how people take to the changes. :) As always let me know if you want to be tagged.

@devilishminx328​. @theincaprincess​, @lilith15000​, @jesevans​, @jiminapickle

The White Dove Masterlist

*.*.*

 “Let me know what else you will require.” Loki told Dr Selvig who had completed his daily routine of readying his station to handle the next leg of tasks. The Prince had just settled the Tesseract within its metal mounts to enable said tasks after bringing it out of his bedchamber having spent the night guarding it again.

Out of a new beam of light a potted daisy appeared between the Prince and the glowing cube, and for a moment dimmed the entranced glow in his eyes as he took in the living gift he had been sent. “Is that a daisy?” Selvig asked.

“A daisy,” the battered Prince murmured to himself in a ease of it closer so he could steal a whiff of its natural scent. A lovely new gift from somewhere else within the cosmos for just him. “I know just where I shall place you, most welcome and precious daisy.” The Prince hummed. Turning to his bedchamber to place it amongst the empty singular mug, three mugs once filled of candies to enchant a sunshine globe to help keep the magnificent gift he had been given alive. Another hint to the gardens ever tended to by his mother to aid hopefully a terror free sleep for once.

*.*.*

 “Where the hell is my daisy?” You muttered making Eddie chuckle. “I’ve checked the settings three times, this is four mugs and about half a bag of candy now my daisy, Eddie.”

“Alright,” you muttered turning to grab another potted daisy which you tentatively carried to hover over the first ring and released it. A second flash came and under the second you ducked to grab the pot you lifted to look at saying, “Now this is just an insult to my garden refusing half my best blossoms.” Lowly Eddie chuckled and you took the daisy back to its former home in the window. Again Venom had looped around your cast free arm helping to pop the painfully stiff knuckles and wrist. While for most people immobilization helped for you it actually made it a bit worse to gaining full free motion again.

 …

 “Ten feet,” you said situating the second of the rings that distance apart, one aimed up and the other down at a used mattress you found inside the old hotel in between owners. After a nod you said, “Nothing crazy about this at the least.”

“I got some of your bees, we’ll know where it comes out and help plan a way back.” Eddie said in a reluctant tone. “You sure you don’t want me to jump too?”

“Ancient One said best to keep someone to watch the gateways.”

“Alright, don’t like it, but here we go. Ready?” he asked while you stepped closer to the lower ring readying yourself mentally to jump. Fully armored up just in case. A final tug was given to the ends of your gloves and then up you sprung, to tuck your legs to your chest and almost cannonball through the ring. Bright and brilliant the ring let off a beam of light while inside of the second simply shimmered after you had passed through it. Heavily Eddie huffed and said to Venom, “I really don’t like this Buddy.”

Feet first in a sudden drop into a vault like room down into a crouch you landed. Swiveling your head to inspect the grey stone room without any windows and a steel door bolted shut. ‘Hello’ soft and familiar sounded in a voice you heard while rescuing Clint the word turned your head.

Atop a block of a table sat the Tesseract opposite a series of your mugs and your lost daisy that was basking underneath the glow of its magical orb of sunlight that lit the rest of the otherwise illumination free room. Just a bed was here aside from a deeply breathing body that suddenly became more prominent to your attention as it seemed to wince and groan. Like lightning, blackish blue barbed vines coursed around the figure you stood to quietly creep closer.

Black leather was met by slicked back raven locks on the tall broad figure that upon circling was clearly in some sort of armor like what one of the cloth mastering Beserkers had shared of Asgardian styles. The face pale and chiseled with hidden eyes by darkened lids to the bare of teeth in splitting lips to snarl through another pained wince, lost in a trance of some sort they didn’t seem to notice you. Yet something about the evident pain of this already wounded figure had you crouch and reach out to their upturned palms, not disturbing the scepter angled to rest against their chest and crossed legs. Just when their fingers clenched your hands retreated and your glowing eyes snapped to the face of the still close eyed victim of some mysterious form of pain.

To the side extending a leg, against touching their hands, you decided to move around to this mysterious figure’s back and timidly raised your hands to hover around his temples. ‘Who are you?’ you asked mentally and drew in a deep breath spreading a glow across your palms to try and tap into what he was facing.

“Prince Loki you try my patience,” a purple skinned figure facing away from the Prince lowly rumbled. While you began to glare at the alien bird faced man who stepped closer to the legendary figure you had prayed to for years now you found trapped in this prison of a place contacting this duo. On whom you saw the evident seam within his chest plate to his armored outer robe where you had stabbed him prior to murdering Thane. “I will not be mastered by silver tongues or false actions any longer. Only those who are useful to me are welcomed to be in my presence. Are you? Prince Loki, tell me honestly, is there any use to you at all?”

“Oh,” you muttered to yourself as he turned, causing the Prince’s ear to twitch now sensing the being behind him. In a look over the sizeable body in front of you that would be difficult for wrapping your arms around to fire powers through his link to these people. But you had to help. The wiggle in your boot had you grip Eir-Gram that engulfed itself in mist exploding to its full size enabling you to loop the sword around his shoulder to grip the blade lower on his left side in a plant against his back. Into his palm the wide eyed Prince summoned a dagger out of reflex only to watch in awe of the sheer terror on Ebony Maw’s face in his stagger away seeing who had taken hold of the puppet Prince. A telling glow around a mask the figure knew to be allied to his almost killer who now had found him again to finish the job.

Bright and brilliant to the turn of the purple figure the jagged volcanic glass like surface of the planet, with little surface not hovering like floating pathways from Spyro’s world inside a purple and pink sky littered with clouds of space dust, burst apart. This quiet place suddenly let loose from the earth plant life like what you had never seen or felt while the air ignited with something microscopic in the air that wished to spring to life as well like invisible phoenix. Bursts of light filled the eyes of the bird man mid shatter of earth around the Prince who tore his mind free to be possibly alone in the presence of this figure capable of terrifying Ebony Maw who had tortured him frequently.

Right around on a knee he used his scepter to push the blade he saw against his chest to face his helper, who he found inside four rings of electro magnetic bees that warped and sank in to seep into the armored body of his savior. Female, powerful, and on the echo of dances the bees gave off he could hear the title of Queen summoning the mental whisper of a name he could only assume to be linked to a being of such power. One out of legends he himself had grown up on who was foretold to be reborn upon Midgard, Lagertha.

“Prince Loki, see you got my daisy.” Somehow escaped your lips in the sweep of his eyes over your glowing self mid shrink of your blade that hopped back into your boot after you had adjusted onto the toes of your boots mid backwards crouch you retreated to in his turn.

“You issued my gifts,” he barely found the breath to whisper in a voice you could listen to for years on end. All the same those eyes, not obscured by their former entranced glow, blinked in a crisp blue fitted perfectly to his face that seemed to stir something inside of you. “How, my door.” He said taking notice of his undisturbed seal upon his door.

“Cube,” you said gesturing to the Tesseract he could not look to, unable to tear his eyes away as a bone chilling sense of freedom hit him and he wanted to remain under his savior’s protection just a few moments longer. “Interfered with my portal.”

“Pluto?” you heard through the bees from Eddie drifting your focus to how you might get this legendary figure in front of you to let you out of wherever you were being held at the mercy of the God of Mischief now his tormenters let go of him.

“Portal to where? What sort of realm do you claim dominion over? Must be indescribable.”

Just a sharp inhale was his answer before the cube lit up to tear you through a tunnel of light beams inside open space until hard and fast you came to a stop hovering above the used mattresses across from Eddie who rushed over. “Pluto!” Out at you his hand extended for you to rest yours inside of to tug you out of the glowing beam that shut off when you exited it.

“Okay, found bird man.” Instantly his brows shot up.

“Bird man has the tesseract?!”

“No, Loki, apparently does,” and you filled him in on everything, “Apparently he didn’t know he’d been given my mugs and daisy. Cube might be bringing him supplies.”

“Might be something more mischievous than that.”

“Odd, finding Prince Loki there.”

“Ooh how’s he look? Didn’t say.” He asked with a creeping grin.

“Um, black hair, these bright blue eyes, and, I mean he’s got nice cheekbones.”

“Hold up,” Eddie says smiling now, “You noticed his cheekbones?”

Thankful for your mask you replied with a creeping blush, “He’s, good looking.”

“This a brewing crush we talking here? Cuz the only other crush you’ve had so far is Karl Urban aside from the given Hugh Jackman.”

“I, might, I mean it was just a few minutes, and he’s got nice shoulders,” making Eddie smile wider as you mimed a hug, “Had to wrap my arms around over his shoulders with Eir-Gram to help unstick his mind from that bird man and his other purple buddy. Had a bit of trouble reaching fully with his shoulder pad things, but he’s, broad, why are you smiling at me not my fault he’s got some size to him and I noticed.”

“All I’m hearing is he’s huggable from you,” making you look away and him move closer to hug you.

“This is incredible. Now you unstuck his mind, he’ll find his brother and share all on about the tiny main squeeze he wants to hunt down to hug properly.”

“Now you’re being unrealistic.”

“He doesn’t swoon more than a bit over this encounter he is mad in the head and out of armor he gets one chance to fall head over heels for you.”

“He’s a prince, probably got a whole harem like Selvig said Thor boasted on about his past before meeting Dr Foster.”

“Oh I’ll break him in half no matter how broad he is if he doesn’t pick you.”

“You can’t make him pick me,” you said mid giggle.

“Oh the universe will handle that. One look at you and I bet he won’t be able to stop thinking about you.” Your head tilted as you sighed and he said, “It’s a proper crush, this is groundbreaking stuff here you deserve to have him groveling.” Making you giggle and turn away, “Okay not groveling don’t want him too desperate, but you deserve a respectable amount of passionate obsession. Emphasis on respectable he tries to climb anything close to your fire escape and we are having words on boundaries but flowers, candies, teddy bears, the sweeping grand gesture on occasion while being mindful of your schedule and need for sleep and tolerance of social exposure limits.” He said making you giggle again, “Would be perfect. How’s his voice?”

“Nice, like narrator level sort of hum to it.”

“Morgan Freeman narrate a phone book level or Stephen Spielberg read just his book on one character and then please for the love of funyons please shut up.”

“Morgan Freeman.”

“Very nice.”

“And he has a cape.”

“A cape! Man has flair. We’ll meet I’ll talk to him, I’ll feel him out for how he’ll mesh with the family and we can build on that.”

“Only way we’ll meet again is if Clint or Rhodey drag him along to when they check in on me. Hardly doubt SHIELD will let them just roam around especially with Thor trying to lord about amongst mortals.”

“You forget, you are repairing their uncle’s lost ship.”

“Which they might demand back.”

“There will be no demands. Finders keepers.”

You giggle again. “I suppose if they are princes they’d have their own and might demand a race or something.”

“See, now you’re talking, race then some food after in a celebratory meal when Eldfalls kicks their butts and they are left in awe of you.”

“For now, how long do you think I should wait to test the rings again?”

“I’ll go this time. I see Prince cheekbones I’ll grease the wheel for you.” With an eye roll you watched him just about dive over the proper hoop to come to drop inside the light beam that shot out the other ring. “Aww! And I had the perfect one liner for the Prince too! Damn,” he said popping out of the beam with a gentle tug of a hand from you then let go to bring out his pocket journal he used to write it down. “Never gonna remember it if I don’t write it down.”

 *.*.*

“Here you are, Barton,” the familiar voice out in the center of Iowa forced Clint to grow rigid and swivel his head to find the source here on his family property. “Quite peaceful,” he said, closing the distance between them as Clint stole a glance to the barn his daughter was in, then back to the Asgardian Prince with ruby red eyes and skin in blotches turning pale blue. “Good, I require quiet.”

“Oh,” Clint said. Suddenly the taller body slumped into his own he had to grip his leather armor, “Okay…” A warm liquid over his hand had him lift it to find a trickle of blood seeping out from underneath the armor causing him to call out to his wife inside the house he hoisted up Loki onto his shoulder spying the levitating bag with a daisy poking out of the top. “Get the first aid kit!” Clint called out when she was seen on the porch causing her to hurry back inside leaving the door open for him. “How, do you get this off?”

“Whoa!” their oldest boy said making her try to nudge him out of the room. “Is he an alien?! He’s blue!”

Clint said, “Not nice to call people blue, son.”

“But he’s blue!” the boy protested. “Nobody’s blue! Unless he’s cold, is he cold?!” Reaching out to touch the stranger to answer his own question.

Clint as he managed to get the front of the shirt undone opened it to see a blood stained shirt replying, “Kind of, why don’t you go find a nice candle from mom’s sick kit she lights for you guys, hmm?”

“Ooh!” the boy said tottering off, “I’m gonna get the grass one!”

And Clint chuckled to his struggle to get the armored shirt off the broad shouldered former captive of his with limbs for days. “Oh ya, lawn trimmings, really calming,” he muttered to his wife, who chuckled helping to tug the armor free she tossed over the chair along the wall then went to undo the boots of the stranger.

“We know this guy?”

“Thor’s brother Loki.”

He said looking at his wife whose head tilted to the side, “The one who locked you in a cage?”

“More a cell than a cage. He was, nice. Plus I think he was under the same mind trick, his eyes didn’t look as ominously blue. They’re, blood red now, which can’t be good. He’s bleeding and said he needed quiet. I’ll call the team, till then, we can spare some Pac-man band-aids the kids hate to use. If anything I can’t get answers if he dies.”

“He puts one toe out of line and I’ll cut it off,” she assured him making him smirk hearing her head upstairs to answer the cry of their toddler she was pregnant with when her and their other children were taken by Thane.

“Duly noted love.” He said starting to take off Loki’s shirt as his daughter came into the doorway, “Sweetie, fetch Daddy some towels and a bucket of water, the sick bucket in the bag so we know it’s clean.” He said and she nodded hurrying off to get them.

.

Two hours had passed and Clint was on the phone with Nat, “He just showed up at my place and collapses, now he’s got this dome of light around him and he only woke up enough to say not to hurt his daisy and that Lagertha gave it to him.”

“Lagertha, same one Thor was all droopy eyed over when we didn’t know her?”

“Same one I would bet.” He said eyeing his boys who had crept into the dome tucking a stuffed duck and some healing crystals and some drops of peppermint oil their mom used on them when they were sick down the chest that steadily rose and fell. “Thor said he thought his brother was dead, any idea how we get word to him? And please don’t say the kid.”

“She’s the only one who has been to Vanir, she’s met Heimdall, apparently knows exiled Asgardians. Met Hogun, apparently kicked up some sort of uprising, been to that elf planet. Plus she has their uncle’s ship and she found you, broke you out of an Asgardian cell. Other than that, I don’t know, we can buy a book and look into Norse prayer rituals I guess, see if anyone hears us.”

“Funny,” he said, “I’ll keep an eye on him. Already turned blue and his eyes bright red with markings all over him I haven’t seen on Thor. But it makes me remember, kid said the anomalies were Asgardian like, he seems close to Asgardian best we know.” A bright flash outside had him turn his head, “Okay, Bifrost just went off outside. Call you back looks like they brought meds.” Hogun outside with a pair of Healers were welcomed in and after assessing the wounds of the Prince confirmed they finally sensed him and could quiet the search Queen Frigga had issued for her lost favored son. “What’s wrong with him, all blue with red eyes like that?”

“Loki is Jotun, a Frost Giant, so we are told adopted at birth. The injuries are old and deep. Crown Prince of Asgard has been tortured.”

“Crown, isn’t Thor next in line?”

“Thor’s removal from Odin’s favor is no less since his exile was replaced for imprisonment on Asgard after wreaking destruction upon innocents. Loki is Frigga’s son, he is heir to the Queen, no matter our belief of the AllFather our AllMother is beloved and formidable. The price for harming her son will be blood, when he awakens from his Odinsleep Prince Loki will share who has kept him from her protection and how he was freed.”

“He said Lagertha freed him.” At the brow lift from Hogun he asked, “What? You’ve heard of her too? Thor was all in awe over her legendary self being reborn.”

“I shall convene with young Pluto,” the warrior spoke parting Clint’s lips, “Shall this be truth she shall have the answers we seek.”

In a flash of light Hogun was gone leaving Clint to whisper to himself, “What?” and call Nat back.

 *.*.*

 Two bounces atop your palm and a candle was caught a foot from the ground after Hogun had transported himself in the middle of the shop you were opening on your weekend. “You are injured again.” his hand extended to gesture at your cast wrapped arm.

“Not really, bit complicated to explain,” you said. “Everything alright?”

“Prince Loki has been discovered upon an Agent of SHIELD’s property wounded and the target of lengthy torture. I have been informed he claimed to have been rescued by Lagertha. Do you have a deeper insight to what he has endured?”

“Well, I made these transport rings that the Tesseract had been interfering with,” you said and he narrowed his eyes slightly in focus on the details. “Stealing my mugs and a daisy. He was in a trance, someone was hurting him.” Off the back of one of your bees the image of Ebony Maw was projected for him that he memorized. “I touched his head and I saw this bird faced man who came with Thanos’ son, Thane, with this big guy, didn’t see his face, who was trying to tell Loki he was useless. I broke their bond over him and the Tesseract took me back to my rings after that. We didn’t really talk more than a few seconds. I don’t know what happened after I left.”

“Thank you, this is very enlightening to many details.”

“Is he alright?” You asked hastily luring a twitch of the corners of his mouth to tick upwards.

“Loki has entered Odinsleep, he will heal in due time, now under our protection and watch of our AllMother. I shall leave you to heal and return to your mortal duties.” Just like that he was gone again to return to Vanir so he could conference with Queen Frigga upon what he had learned. While they had no name of the culprits yet, as they seemed to be beyond your scope of knowledge within this realm, Loki would surely answer that upon his waking.

A true Shieldmaiden under the protection of their Queen so long for her bloodline precious to the Asgardians to whom they kept true now was privately praised by Queen and golden eyed guardian alike. While Odin to the kingdom proclaimed their lost Crown Prince discovered to a jubilant populace and a puzzled blonde Prince locked inside his cell inside the inescapable prison.

There were few answers for now but consequences too numerous to name would be doled out on the one responsible once discovered to get justice for the future King. For centuries was used to being mocked, now was seen in a new light since account of Thor’s time on earth shifted attention to the now deep cracks within the once golden Prince’s façade and opinions upon his former task of ruling their people. One other was seen as so mischievous and elders were again sharing tales of the young woman who grew to be their insurmountable Queen, stories ringing true to her prized son who in gaining control of his might would one day surely guide them true. A young future King with an alliance to the reborn Lagertha, that gave a brighter hope to the next generation carrying on the legacy of Asgard.

 *.*.*

 “Welcome back,” the jewelry shop manager spoke upon your entrance in a far more suitable new fury lapel double breasted coat you had bought to replace your old one, still second hand like the blouse that tucked into your worn jeans halfway coated by tall boots to counter the icy conditions outside. One handed you undid the scarf that had been pulled up to your chin in the unbutton of your coat to not overheat inside this warm shop as snow kept piling up outside, as it had atop your hat you shook off before entering.

“Thank you, I wasn’t expecting it here so soon.”

Making him chuckle as he went to fetch the tray containing your order from the back room. With apparent care he opened the box and allowed you to turn it this way and that to the intrigue of the other workers who saw he was about to do anything to make this ring perfect for this odd client. Moonstone was a laughable center stone to most of the employees here, accent stones were lovely, however a lone stone on a ring and they imagined it to be the most hideous of rings. At least until they saw the instant glow to your face and eyes mid smile in thanking their manager. “Thank you, been having some rather absurd dreams without my ring. It looks so much better than the first one. I will do my best to keep it safe against my chaos.”

Again he chuckled and helped you to ease it back into its box so that he could place it inside a small velvet bag for the trip home. While not as alluring as diamonds a simple search had stomachs shift as to what the ring could be intended to help with out of what a single internet search could pull up for your name. They wondered what you were fending off with it and more importantly if it actually worked for you or not. Right to Eddie’s you went to find him with a cake and ring box awaiting you so he could help you put on both of the replaced rings that several, including Gwen, would make certain to give notice they saw you had replaced your old one as they had your leather tassel bag and your new coat.

 .

 Confetti in the shape of seals littered the streets early Valentines Day morning while you waited in line outside the door of a packed café for a warm cider prior to your cast removal appointment. Horns like trombones on a parade of seal shaped cars sounded in whale moans instead of their usual noises to announce the fanfare. Right off the middle float car Baby Seal Man leapt mid cackle to hurry to your side.

Firmly his hands took hold of your shoulders when he came to a stop. “I have done it! Finally done it! I am now, a Marine, Biologist!” the final two words paused between them for emphasis. As rapidly as he’d take hold of your shoulders he let go now flashing a business card between his fingertips you timidly accepted. “That jet blasting rocket knocked off the head of my thesis council and finally after three years of argument and revisions I have earned my license and was able to complete an internship! I am off to the Arctic for my first research job!” and in a rush forward he stole a tight hug from you. “And it’s all thanks to you that I get to pass on to Misique the stupendous news!” A wink was snuck in there and the confused crowd watched his spring back off to his parade float. Shouting when he landed upon it, “My congratulations and wonder for what you might achieve are boundless, my friend!”

His news by noon would be shared with the staggering confirmation of new graduates who were deterred by the single man who refused 90% of all thesis papers sent his way to qualify for degrees. This year would be the largest graduating class yet for many schools using the same council to grade such lofty papers and fields in great need of bodies would find a mini surplus of new hires to gain experience on top of the internships most took while in wait for acceptance of their papers. Each who could only shine a glimmer of light upon the tragedy of that jet attack from the Goblin.

.

For once you took the first step on this dating related holiday you had sent an edible arrangement on Valentines day. Not to flirt or stake a claim but to prevent an emotional slump on the Hallmark holiday associated with happiness, and if by sixth sense alone you knew when Dr Strange had received them.

Even with terribly trembling hands those fruit slices were savored and inside the hospital you saw the man himself with hands in his jacket pockets waiting for you to arrive for your appointment. “Thank you, certainly won’t get scurvy for your efforts.” A hint of a smirk ghosting onto his lips as you flashed him a grin, “For now, if you don’t mind, I can sit with you. Technically I’m not on staff, so I’d be a guest.”

“Well I’m not going to risk you trying to shimmy your way through the air vents and break your hands again in the fall.”

“Somehow, you know me too well. How long have you known me again?” he asked making you giggle in his turn to show you to the proper waiting room to sign in and wait for Dr Palmer to help remove your cast.

Tools were brought out with a spare set of hands brought in to help steady your arm for Strange to look on and get the first look of his work free of the cast. Scars of stitches had miraculously faded and with a scan by one of your hummingbirds the bones and nerves seemed to be fully healed, an absolute miracle for the doctors tossing a bundle of hope on Strange’s inner flame for his struggle. All the same Strange had you plan your physical therapy sessions on the same days as his twice a week to be able to monitor your progression, starting today.

Twice your size a burly man in scrubs with a smile on his face had named himself your assigned physical therapist. Seated at a table he led you to while Strange sat with his own to hear of how he had bested ideal healing time already and had his bones and head trauma healed within a month’s time just leaving the pesky nerve damage.

Hope hanging on by a thread that like you said it would heal now his exterior damage was gone and ample stolen glances your way as your trainer had taken hold of your injured arm. Loudly a pop from your wrist paired with a squeak from you had a few looks your way before he went back to feeling your muscles and gently guided your hand and wrist in a few motions.

“How does it feel?” he asked as he laid his fingers over the back of your fingers to gently guide them in a bend forward.

“Middle finger is still stiff. Need to pop it feels like.” With care he eased fingers around your middle finger he tightened his hold on to muffle the pop it gave off.

“Keep it gentle, gradually we will work you back up to weight and full flexibility. I know you will just be raring to get back to casual motion, however, patience is key. Weight to minimal and just get used to simple movements of your hand again.” Was the final word upon the end of the first round of basic finger and wrist exercises you flubbed to show some sort of reluctance for your middle finger and thumb to give the man something to progress from in each visit. Though that did grant Strange something positive to take from his less than positive ended session. Hopeful alone in that the delay of reception of the shot of yours was all this was, a window of time he hoped to be coming to a close until it would start to show improvement.

 .

 “Okay, now that I have my hand back the final strip has been finished off and now I am making some test swatches for the proofing process. My grandfather sent out some resin and I have been a weaving machine. Can’t just use just the wool for the full sail so I have to work in some Asgardian metal thread and some of the other chord to match the standard of my sail to see how it will handle the resin.”

The video was of the weaving of the spare sail swatches aided by your bees to draw the chord and thread from one side of the cloth out of the back and through again to the needle you used to add the special design to the base pattern.

Two weeks and all your spare time landed you with six swatches of sails that inside the garage the Beserkers who flew in helped you to heat up buckets of water. Into a copper tub each was poured for the former sail workers with great admiration for your work on just the test swatches to help shove and stomp on them in the water beside you. Muscle memory for them helped to get each to the right tightness and strung up from Eldfalls’ mast to dry with help from his magical fire as a second group readied the resin.

Off his deck with masks they guided you over to show you the proper wrist technique to coat the swatches entirely. Not that they wouldn’t help you with the full sail but completely so they could pass on this rite to another willing soul after so long of being without the honor of doing so freely.

From the moment it was dry packed into the bus to the freezing waters you went again with Eldfalls in tow to hover above the dock as Eddie confirmed the rental of a small wooden sail boat with the man at the desk tied off there for you to use. Half the group would fit in with you and Eddie and the second took a loaned metal motor boat used to help tow the sail free wooden boat out to sea.

One by one out of numbered pouches the sails were tied onto the mast and hoisted high to take the wind to help coast the heavy boat a bit. Each far too small to carry it properly but were large enough to show off how the skills used to weave marked weaknesses for various patterns of waterproofing. Wear at corners or in the dead center, like the third section before over your radio a call came from a yacht which was driven up to your group. To which you replied, “Listen here moron, it’s an experiment, for the third time so just take your pollution craft and go find someone else to talk down to.”

Not twenty minutes later as you readied the fourth sail in place to hoist up you heard the radio go off for the shore patrol who had been warned of a pair of boats that were stuck out on the water and refused the help of the rich people on the spacious yacht to be carried ashore. “Shore patrol this is the so called wooden dingy,” you said watching the distant speed boat on the dock being readied for the next team who did patrols for the day. “I told that dingbat with the yacht I am experimenting on sail swatches for waterproofing techniques who said I was spoiling his pictures of the water.”

Laughter was heard through the line as the same man responded, “We have reports of weather currents changing, roughly how long will your experiment run? Should the wind not change we will have to clear these waters against incoming storms.”

“I have two more swatches then we will be heading ashore. Only rented the boats for three hours.”

“Enjoy your experiment and we will keep you informed of any abrupt changes.”

“Honestly,” you said putting the radio down on the deck. “Can’t even escape the deep pockets out in the ocean.” Making the others chuckle in Eldfalls’ next circle of the ship inside the water like a giant metal crocodile with the top of his head and back visible using his wings to help propel him forward and turn. “Back to the top,” you said gripping the rope to hoist the new sail piece into place that upon being tied off tightened the tug on the anchoring rope as the breeze started to carry the boat a few feet.

“Number four, seems intact,” a scan confirmed the fact and after noting that in your notebook following the process of repairing Eldfalls you returned that section to its bag and pulled out number five.

“What do you think?” you asked one of the sail makers, “Four or six?”

“Six would be best for smaller ships, for a sail your size should choose four.” She said and the whole group was raring to go back inside the garage to do another round of fulling the whole sail.

Bucket after bucket of hot water filled the same copper tub and a lengthy chunk at a time once the grommet holes were stitched and with chord tied onto the copper pipe you were using as a sail support dangling from one of the beams from the ceiling. To their amusement you caught on and showed a latch onto the process like a natural.

Side by side each panel was strung up until the whole sail was windproof and hung tighter shrinking it down a fraction. And where some might use machines to stitch the sections together due to the Asgardian metal element to it you had to use more of the metal thread to load into a needle and hand stitch each section together.

Zig zags were the go to pattern on a sail on this planet, while the talented sail makers joined you in completing the intricate clover like stitches between connection points of the metal layers of the design. Like a supporting net that layer would hold the sail intact and work with the storm battling capabilities Eldfalls had. He sat up watching the group effort, those stitching and those helping to raise the supporting bar a couple inches at a time with more who pressed the metal grommets into the stitched holes ready for them across the top and bottom.

Half of Saturday and well into Sunday evening the busy work was complete and using the successful technique resin was spread across the sail material on both sides then left to dry. Pattern disguised, a teaser clip like several others was posted to share the sail was complete and fulled, simply awaiting the print of the securing mounts to connect it to the mast and support beam.

Unlike usual sails you showed diagrams of the knob ended fixtures off the loops to attach inside the sail grommets so that the sail could expand and fold by command of the controls. That like the mast would take some time to get the fittings just right, at least a few printing tries Eldfalls would have to approve. All the same with care the sail was taken down and folded up inside a disguising cloth to keep safe until those were ready to have you take Vili’s sail down to replace with your own. And now with the remaining wool and supplies you could use it however you wished to over the coming years.

Dinosaur comics again flooded the beginning of March as the reminder that you didn’t have a graduation speech. Dinosaurs and continued practice with your rings, now you and Venom were testing distances they could be used that would reach up to a mile. Fine distraction from that pesky speech and the fact that while you were finishing up the final weeks of your physical therapy the empty seat where Strange should be seated had you sneak through the hospital until you found Christine.

“His last email said he took off to some monastery.” When your brows furrowed she asked, “What is that look for?”

“Which monastery, my uncle went to one when my dad died.”

“Kamar-Taj in Nepal.”

“Oh that’s wild, my uncle’s a stone’s throw from there. I hope this isn’t a pattern and I wake up one day to a note Eddie I gone too to shave his head.” You said making her chuckle to herself.

“He’s chasing a healing tip. Some impossible patient who walked after a severe paralyzed diagnosis swears by the place.”

“Well hope it’s not like my uncle’s place he got rabies from eating a bat after they told him to not eat anything but rice water and leeks for a month.”

“I doubt it but now that image will be paying rent in my mind all day, thank you,” she said and you both slipped away to her giggles imagining Strange nibbling on a soap bubble coated wing and growling at people being shoed off with a broom to get his rabies shot.

Of to a late shift at the book shop you went to relieve MJ from her shift to head home herself. Lost mentally to the next test you would put your rings through an alarm you waited to hear for four years now had gone off. Bucky was being thawed out. Quietly you would be listening in to see where he was being sent and then pass on the word or intervene yourself. Uncertain of just what to feel yet as Hydra had stuck their last card on the table. And back to the means to keeping busy those same rings happened to be the reason for said thawing. A certain double agent had seen them in use by you and Venom then passed on word for brownie points granting Hydra their next conquest.

 .

 Alone in a room with Daredevil and Hawkeye, the latter who got knocked off a glider and caught by you, chose to help Misique out until he could get his team back on the com system that went down due to an odd interference. Someone was blasting Blue Man Group songs through the airwaves interfering with communications outside a series of channels.

A large sign dangling in the lobby had Hawkeye looking Daredevil over as he clearly was going the wrong way after saying he’d take the offices while you handled what sounded like a flooding boiler room in this place out by the pier.

“Hey, uh, Batman,” in Spanish you continued making him look your way, “Sign says it’s the hall on the left, third floor.”

“Ah,” he said then turned, “No luck for us, lemons.” Clearly struggling on the final word as he did causing you to shake your head and take your own path as Hawkeye went to clear his own rooms.

Soaking wet not twenty minutes later you were seen by Hawkeye digging through the cabinet he had grabbed hearing there was documents in there that would be useful for a case of his later. And under his jacket he shoved the file when you handed it over.

A sudden blast however had you all duck and rush for cover in opposing ends of the same intersection of halls, you with an arm across Daredevil’s chest as he tried to calm himself while he was unable to use his advanced hearing to see anything but you. Every now and again he would get over-stimulated and confused and be led around by friends. Numerous signed signals by Hawkeye had his curiosity grow all the more curious of what was up with this guy.

Elektra raced by, “Water’s rising, no evil monkeys!”

Hawkeye asked promptly, “What’s that about monkeys?”

“The see, hear, speak no evil monkeys,” you said and his chin angled downwards in a subtle urge for more clarification.

“I’m blind, you’re deaf,” Daredevil replied dropping Hawkeye’s jaw he clamped shut to follow you guiding Daredevil along.

“Year ago you go around a mountain to not share that, now you might as well post it on a bus,” you murmured making the blind man in your grip chuckle to himself.

“How are we just finding out about this?” Hawkeye asked and you glanced back at him in his rush to run faster seeing how high the water was coming from the growing edge of the storm that had come this far North to hit the state and others around it. “And why are we out digging for files in a hurricane?”

“One,” Daredevil answered, “I keep a tight territory, not much spill room, two, people refuse to issue due diligence and grant all the evidence in times of natural disasters. Usually have a watch a friend made me to help me read things but I snapped the band and it is being repaired at the moment.”

“Watch,” Hawkeye whispered to himself then asked louder, “You know Pluto?!”

“Odd to say we know a fair deal more about her than we do about our lovely bee here. Not to mention the help given to a few of that mortgage scam recently. What she did resonated with people, helping two of ours keep their homes they worked hard to retire in.”

To a parked van you all raced to catch Elektra who urged you all inside, including Hawkeye who made certain to take the seat at your side to ask lowly as the two new parents spoke up front, “Hey, what’d Pluto do, about those houses?”

“Bought them from the son of a clansman bank owner who bought the bank to kick out two retired black people he felt an inherited grudge with.”

“Just,” he moved his hand, “Bought two houses? For strangers?”

“Not strangers,” you said, settling your hands on your sore propped up knees, to help stretch your palms over them to hide the stiffness in your hands from breaking a wall earlier.

“She talks to you, right?” he asked, luring your head to turn to look at him. “Why hasn’t she just said what happened to her, who hurt her? We could help.”

“People die, you’re years late to save her, everyone wants to rush in, to name and know the pain,” you looked forward, “But you don’t know it, you feel it. We saved ourselves, but all everyone wants to know is what happened. Like we’re a war vet returning with a leg blown off. Rehashing it over and over isn’t going to change the fact a limb is gone and it hurts and now we have to put on a brave face so others don’t go rushing in to what they don’t understand. The Avengers didn’t help, SHIELD, who knew, all these years, didn’t help.” You said parting his lips, “Most of the people who hurt us are dead, much like the man Fury sent to check on Pluto’s past is dead now that he’s catching on to the pack that’s been hiding and guiding the herd.”

“What are you trying to say? Someone’s infiltrated SHIELD?”

“Infiltrated,” you scoffed, “It’s in the history books, welcomed with open arms, un-vetted foreign brilliant minds to help protect humanity from harms unlike that they would understand. But there are many ways and reasonings behind an oath of protection.”

“You’re saying there’s spies?” he whispered.

And you whispered back, “There’s a reason they never tried to snatch Widow back, because to them she never left their control. For an organization of spies the organization makes far too many dumb mistakes.”

 *.*.*

 “Hello Soldier,” Broke the silence of the room of a dozen men around the trained killer who woke up inside of a restraint chair without sign of his pupil. He always had you there to get started right away on the prep for the next mission when he could for a time get you out of here. Away from them. Even if only for a few days at a time was all he could spare. You were absent, his fellow Winter Soldier was not here either at your side to await orders for him to issue on your training. The men around him should have said something and yet they stood or sat trembling around him until Pierce had spoken up.

“Where is the White Dove?”

“On her first solo mission,” a lie, loud and clear the obviously louder and faster pound of the commander’s heart gave away this lie. You were being kept from him and the men around him eased back at the sudden darkening on his gaze and flex of his body to spring to action and find his coveted pupil. Still the lying Pierce continued, “In fact, that is why I am here. Is doing well, found a transportation tech that we want, these rings here.” He said showing a black and white photo he pulled from the folder in hand the Winter Soldier accepted in a stoic fashion, ready to be shown more clues of where his pupil was and how best to get to you. “Only there is a masked figure, Misique, who is keeping her from returning with the rings.” Another lie, all the same he took the second picture without show of the explosive rage bubbling over inside of him.

“She did well, out on her own, now she needs an extraction team. I want you to kill Misique and drag them back here with those rings. Bring our asset home.” Faking a breathy but confident laugh Pierce said, “Done a hell of a job on this one. Did a, phenomenal job,” even faster the heartbeat sped up to a point near to what might cause one to pass out or hint a heart attack was coming. More lies. But what about? The mission? Safety of his pupil? The more Pierce’s heart sped up spilling more supposed attempts you had made to get away from this highly trained individual thwarting any means of escape only heightened the rage and the demand for answers right now. “Bring her home.”

The final word hung in the air and heaving a deep breath when he left the room Pierce named the team going with the steadfast teacher, who with a murderous glare stood to ready robotically, not for the mission, but for one solitary reason. The only person he would believe was not here. The only mission the Winter Soldier had was to find his White Dove. And to keep her safe he would kill anyone, including the men who filed into the shielded jet with him, armed to the gills and distant from him. Confirming only one thing, they were gonna need every single round, charge and brutal handheld trick within their arsenal to bring him down if they were behind any harm to his White Dove. No matter the stance, on either side of the line, no one was going to stop him from finding his White Dove.

Continue into the sequel - Poke

[lizajane2]

Outer Banks 2x08

"Shouldn't you be on Figure 8 with your little group of pollo players? Or did you break up with Topper?" John B there are times when I love you the most and this is one of those moments.

JJ: "If only I may touch His garment, I shall be made well."

Everyone:

I love how they're all taken back by the fact that he actually knows something and pay's attention to something. JJ makes rash decisions but he's smart, and the writers should display that more often.

JJ saying "princess" and "that's my girl" all in one episode... the writers shouldn't be playing like that. That's dirty, unfair game they're playing.

And then he tries to provoke a sleeping gator... LMFAO!

Does anyone else like it when none of the pogues are dating each other? Like as much as I love John B and Sarah together, it feels like things just meld so well and there's not a lot of drama going on.

Like do Kiara's parents even care where she is right now? What she's doing? They're just happily eating lunch together and not giving a shit. Even if my mom kicked me out, she'd be wondering where the fuck I'm at and if I have roof over my head.

Fucking Luke... this man accesses a part of me that I don't display very often. Rage. Especially when JJ struggles to break free but Luke just tightens his grip even further. And the way I wanna throw hands with this man when he blames JJ for the reason he was in jail.

Okay, I've seen edits of this scene where JJ grabs Kie by the shoulders and I thought it was due to something romantic... nope. Such high hopes. The only reason there is any tension here is because he's pissed, afraid, and desperate to get rid of his dad for once even though it's hurting him. And Kiara doesn't wanna help which I don't blame her, but he doesn't wanna do it alone and he just needs her. Like there's more tension coming from JJ than from her, she was just annoyed.

"Get in the truck." Hello... you don't gotta tell me twice.

Then you have the scene in the truck where she tells Luke how much of a piece of shit he is and the way she talks about JJ. How special he is, how she defends him and even elbows Luke in his face when he starts talking shit, God that was so satisfying to me. It should've broken his nose. That is the moment that I saw the potential of something more going on between them. I love that moment more than their kiss scene.

"He's a thief is what he is." THIS MOTHERFUCKER REALLY NEEDS TO GET OFF MY SCREEN.

"Everything, hmm. Everything I have, you freaking ruin."

"I don't try to. Just happens naturally."

Nothing worse than a parent who is aware of the wrong they've done to you physically and emotionally and doesn't do a goddamn thing to change or make amends. They just continue the behavior because they're that fucking self-centered. See instead of staying, finishing out his sentence and making the choice of becoming a better dad, Luke just fucking takes off. And that is worse than any beating. Because now both of his parents are just gone. I've been abandoned by one, I can't imagine both leaving me behind. That half assed apology, was just him making himself feel better about his choice.

"I wasn't drowning my sister..." Weren't you just the one apologizing to her for... well, okay, Rafe, you held her down under water, what else would you call it? Freediving?

Okay, Pope it's not like it was a happy reunion...

I know JJ isn't much of a hugger but let me just hold the poor boy. He deserves a good hug that just absorbs everything he's feeling. Without John B and the Pogues he'd be so lost.

That cross is fucking huge.

[lychniis]

Heres a whole grab bag for that tag game: every tenth question >:3c

you're really putting me up to this huh-

10 - do you work on multiple wips or stick to one fic at a time?

multiple. i will chose any route that will eventually fuck me up because my brain has many idea and wants to write n o w. i do have casual fics at the side that i don't feel half as pressured to update...they're more of 'writing practice' in a sense.

20 - do you prefer writing AUs or canon fics?

b o t h. you cannot make me chose, i shall chose both, they're both my babies, my babygirls. but i do like diverging from canon sometimes, even though it's mostly unintentional at first ( with genshin's lore being far from complete ).

30 - how much do you edit your fics?  do you edit as you write or wait until you finish the first draft?

the sole reason why memory took as long as it did was because i edit as i write. i mostly finish the first draft, but if the length o the fic is longer, i tend to edit as i write it down. it saves time having to scour an entire document for errors since my attention span is non existent XD.

40 - what is your favorite world that you’ve created for a fic?

...for fanfics, i'd say it's what i have in store for memory ( there's one chapter with a hidden market run by scam artist apsaras and it is glorious XD ).

for original fics, it would have to be the 'small city with no name' from my original concept 'and here the city ends'. the place is set right on top of a seraphim graveyard with a creepy magic wood and one eldritch subdimension created from a collective hivemind and the souls of dead animals.

the wild hunt is also a thing in said fic. i always entertained the idea of tired dad gwyn ap nudd whose wild hunt is now posing as a motorcycle gang with the onset of urbanization. ( you know all about it, moth- )

50 - how would you describe your writing style?

inconsistent. a lot of people say it's poetic, but i say it's inconsistent. sometimes it's short and snappy. sometimes it's flowery. sometimes it's descriptive...there's a lot going on, chief. but i'd like to find one that i'm comfy with writing soon though.

60 - in [insert fic], what inspired the idea for the plot?

i had to hunt you down in discord for this. hmmmm, okay so it's a funny story. i like listening to carl sagan's talks on the universe, even if i don't understand a few concepts. he always has something really cool and philosophical to say, y'know?

anyway, this was actually a favorite quote of his, and after some research, i did read up about how the base elements were created and scattered through supernovas, and how our atoms were made from old stars.

and my brain went "lol, imagine getting yote into genshin and spouting this out, your partner would be so confusion' and since it was a little past diluc's birthday, i mulled over the idea of a reader who misses their home world and it went nuts from there.

70 - are you subscribed to any writers on AO3?

yes, quite a few. you're my first XD.

80 - free space - asker can come up with any writing or fic-related question they want!

i will forever stay loyal to li.

but xiao is one, along with diluc ( i like my boys angsty sometimes too ). amongst the girls, shenhe is a definitely because of her very straight laced, deadpan attitude as well as ei XD ( i actually have a wip featuring ei in the works ).

i am interested in writing capitano and itto ( since simp for one and covet the other ). wanderer is also growing on me so him too XD.

in demon slayer, it's kyojuro. definitely kyojuro along with sanemi and inosuke.

ask game

[rai-knightshade-art]

"...when I'm lying wrapped up in your arms, the whole World just fades away; the only thing I hear is the Beating of your Heart..."

Breathe, by Faith Hill

"...we should talk about this, right?"

His voice is soft, when he speaks; you wouldn't be able to hear him, if you weren't lying on his chest.

You draw patterns across his skin with your finger, contemplative. "Maybe. I'm not really sure how, though."

He makes a humming noise; you can feel the vibrations more than you can hear them. It's a moment before he speaks, and in the quiet you feel his arm move, a tendril of your hair lifting with it. (He always did like playing with your hair.)

Finally, he speaks. "Maybe we should start with... Being honest, with each other. Say what we really feel. Tell the truth."

You lift up your head, until you can rest your chin on your arm, and look at him; he's staring right back, eyes a warm brown, filled with affection.

You lift your other hand, to play with his own unruly curls, as you think. Honesty, huh? You've always been good at hiding your feelings, concealing the truth. How honest do you want to be, really?

But... Looking into his eyes, shining in the moonlight... You find you can't hide anything. Not from him. Not anymore.

"If honesty means telling the truth... Well then, the truth is, I'm still in love with you."

The fanfiction this scene is from is currently in progress, but you can read Chapter 1 here!

Bonus Post 1 (Jesse and Beca's Playlists): Link

Bonus Post 2 (The Bonus Tracks): Link

Artist thoughts, an alternate edit, links to my other RarePair Week entries, and close ups below the cut; image ID is in the alt text.

....y'all don't wanna know how long this thing took me 😅. For the illustration OR the first chapter of the associated fic, really.

Yeah so soft!Jeca lives rent free in my head, like, constantly these days, and I'm making that everybody's problem now, sorry. 😅 And when I saw the prompts for the Pitch Perfect RarePair Week, specifically #5, I knew immediately what I had to do: a fanfic/fanfic illustration! (...Or 2. ........or 5....😂)

I've actually been working on this fanfic for... A while, shall we say, because I had a LOT of thoughts that I needed out of my head and a fanfic was the best way to accomplish that. I wasn't sure when I was gonna try to have it done, figured it would get there when it gets there, but this prompt fit just too perfectly not to take advantage of it, ya know? So my new plan was to have the fanfiction done in time to upload with this prompt, buuuutttt.... That didn't quite happen 😓 ya girl's been busy alright!

But. But. I did get Chapter 1 finished! And uploaded! A day early, no less! ...Except Chapter 1 doesn't actually include the prompt line in it, that'll be in Chapter 2 😅. So uh. That'll be written here soon, I promise. In the meantime, at least there's Chapter 1! AND bonus posts, linked above the cut! Check them out!

Now, to set the scene: we're 6 months past the ending of Pitch Perfect 3, keeping everything from canon (except for the Chloe/Chicago thing but that's not relevant here, that's relevant for a different pair of days). We're 2 and a half years post-Jesse and Beca breaking up due to the fact that their lives and careers were taking off on opposite ends of the continent; it was an amicable breakup, but not a happy one, and while both of them have moved on from the relationship (and Jesse has had--and then broken up with--another long term girlfriend), they both still harbor some feelings for each other. They both think that ship has sailed though...until Beca moves to LA as part of her partnership with DJ Khaled, right when the producers of the movie Jesse and his team are scoring have asked Khaled to write and produce an original song for their movie, and wouldn't you know it, he has a brand new, extremely talented music producer who'd be perfect for the project!

So of course, Jesse and Beca reunite completely by surprise, take some time to talk a few things out once they've each panic-called their respective in-town confidants Benji and Emily to freak out a little bit but it's fine they're chill, and start to reconnect over this new project they have together... And afternoon visits to the neighboring cafe, mutually grabbing lunch at a nearby combination-deli-and-bookstore, and, finally, a week after the Big Damn Reunion™, an actual honest-to-god dinner date-that's-definitely-a-first-date-but-they-won't-admit-it, at a fancy (but not too fancy, they're not quite stars yet) restaurant and everything.

This scene? Comes directly after that dinner; or, rather, it comes directly after they've finished their dinner, and Jesse (ever the gentleman) has walked Beca home, all the way up to her apartment door; it comes after they've just stood there for a long moment, neither really wanting to make the first move to leave, until, finally, Beca literally says "Fuck it!" And drags the poor man into the apartment by the lips and collar. 😂 After all that, here in the dead of night, under the moonlight, they finally just... Talk. Really talk, not just the small talk from the deli/bookstore, or discussing their project in the studio, or even the brief acknowledgements of their past and the ways they've each moved on, from that first day in the cafe. Now, they talk through everything. How they're feeling, what they want this thing between them to be... How absolutely fucking terrified they are of screwing this up again... And how much they want to try again anyways. This scene, right here, is the true beginning of their eventual, maybe-it-was, maybe-it-wasn't, maybe-it-doesn't-matter-if-it-was-or-wasn't, inevitable, happily ever after. Because, well... "If honesty means telling the truth... Well then, the truth is I'm still in love with you."

Below are some close ups to show the details I added--like Beca's plaques!--as well as an alternate edit with lower contrast, because I couldn't decide whether I liked the glow effects better or the dim nighttime atmosphere better. So, both. And finally, below that are the links to the rest of my RarePair Week entries!

Alternate low-contrast version (I couldn't decide which vibes I liked better so y'all get both):

Close Ups:

Days I'm Participating In (and the Entries I've Posted):

Day 1 (this is me trying): Link

Day 2 (I've missed you): Link

Day 5 (if honesty means telling the truth... Then the truth is I'm still in love with you): You Are Here!

Day 6 (there's no way that it's not going to happen with you looking at me like that): Link

Day 7.1 (I can't say it, so I'll sing it): Link

Day 7.2 (part 2): Link

[late-to-the-fandom]

23, 32, 40

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what's around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

During the day, my writing is done on an iPad or on my phone in one of a hundred places around my house. It's done while sitting in the too-small chair at the little wooden table in the playroom while my son makes me pretend coffee. It's done at the real dining table at real tea-time with my daughter while we sip from that day's specially chosen mismatched cups, her working on her own story (it's called "The Kingdom of Terrible Animals") and me on mine. It's done in the rainbow tent I set up outside to rest in while they play what can really only be described as "Jackass Junior" in my half-acre yard. It's done on the couch while they watch Star Wars which both children (6 and 1) are inexplicably into even though I could not tell you where that comes from because I've never watched even the original three. It's done in the kitchen, tapping a few words here and there between my awful attempts at cooking, and it's done in the laundry room, pausing between folding to add or edit another line, and, yes, it's done in the bathroom with the fan on where I linger longer than necessary to get a few private minutes to myself to read the words I manage to write out loud.

At night, though, when everyone's asleep, writing is done where it should be: in the library. This, our first ever house, has a sort of nebulous open living space upstairs which I immediately knew would be the library I always wanted. I painted it a muted shade of green Behr paints named "Arsenic" (which I'm sure is fine) to match the green bookcase shaped like a tree which houses the children's picture books, and on the two larger walls I installed three rows of light grey floating shelves (which I spent 12 days sawing into just the right size). They are stuffed with books. Horror, sex, and non-fiction textbooks on the highest shelves, the chapter books of my childhood on the lowest, and on the in-between shelves the classics I inherited from two sets of grandparents and which have that lovely, crumbly spine that I won't pretend isn't an excellent aesthetic. In the middle of the room are a pair of brown leather chairs with ottomans that I bought like new at a yard sale and are inexplicably the most comfortable pieces of furniture I own. I set up camp here, writing under the light of the cheap Ikea floor lamps (I'm not replacing with anything better until my son outgrows his love of breaking my things). In the winter, I even indulge in a fire from the actual working fireplace, which turns the room into exactly the combination of mysteriously inspiring and soothingly restful I always dreamed my library would be. Although the fireplace and the chairs and bookshelves with their books and even the David Bowie pictures on the wall are not quite magical enough to solve all my writer's block problems, just sitting there, even when I can't manage to write, is a ritual all its own.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic that you return to from time to time? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

I probably quote more from "Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell," by Susanna Clarke more than any other book, and there's so many amazing quotes it's hard to choose just one. But, what I will do is combine this ask with the next one and share for you what is really a spell from that book rather than a poem.

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it?

So in the book, this is a spell that frees a person from enchantment. And there is something haunting about it I always loved. I don't mess with magic, but I believe the advice in the spell is something that can be applied whenever anything is haunting you, though I'll leave it to you to interpret the practicalities of that as you will.

Here it is, the Chauntlucet

“Place the moon at his eyes and her whiteness shall devour the false sights the deceiver has placed there.

Place a swarm of bees at his ears. Bees love truth and will destroy the deceiver’s lies.

Place salt in his mouth lest the deceiver attempt to delight him with the taste of honey, or disgust him with the taste of ashes.

Nail his hand with an iron nail so that he shall not raise it to do the deceiver’s bidding.

Place his heart in a secret place so that all his desires shall be his own and the deceiver shall find no hold there.

Memorandum. The colour red may be found beneficial.”

Thank you for the asks!

[reservoirreputation]

Physical Media Haul Part 2

The DVDsssssss (and one album)

Movies/etc I've already seen:

The Phantom of the Opera 25th Anniversary edition

Like a lot of people, I watched a good chunk of musicals from The Show Must Go On!'s youtube channel. This, Cats and War of the Worlds are a must watch. I've been itching for a rewatch of Phantom, and now I can scratch that itch, whenever. Really good, highly recommend.

Goodfellas

The way this is one of my favorite movies, and it's taken me this long to get a copy of it?!?! I'm surprised at myself, honestly. If you enjoy/are fascinated by true crime, organized crime, mob stories, and wanna actually feel bad for a snitch for once in your life, this is the movie. One of the things I appreciate is how they will on occasion cut to Henry's wife's POV, and help add context as to why she stayed.

Predator

This is one of the best horror movies I've ever seen. It's also a solid as hell franchise, with damn near every entry being gold. The first movie's a great example of two stories in one; war buddies reuniting in the first half, and then getting hunted down in the second half. It's just... so good.

[REC]

I've done a rewatch reaction recently, and I'm so fucking thrilled to have it on DVD, now. One of the best found-footage horror movies, ever. Of all time. So fucking good.

Hereditary

Funny thing about this; I watched the edited version of this movie for free on youtube, and while I wanna see this, the R-rated version, the edited version is still a gut punch. Went into it blind, it's fantastic.

My Bloody Valentine

The original!! From the 80s!! I got to see it in theatres, a couple of years ago, and it's so fun to watch with a crowd.

Movies/etc I'd never watched:

The Martian

I read the book earlier this year, and it's SO GOOD, I cannot stress enough, go read it. Just watched this, this morning, and the movie's a great adaptation, too, and solidifies a couple of things; Mark Watney is one of the best, most sympathetic protagonists, period, and Matt Damon can act his ass off by himself.

Cape Fear

I'm on a Scorsese kick. Going into it mostly blind.

Mean Streets

Because I wanna know what all the hype is about, and to drool over Keitel.

Manhunter

The first film featuring Hannibal Lecter. This has been on my to watch list for so long, is hard to find on streaming, and is said to be better that Silence of the Lambs. Considering SotL is one of my favorite movies of all time, we shall see. I have read the book, Red Dragon, and seen the movie of the same name, so we'll see.

Albums:

Meat Loaf's Bat Out Of Hell

When I tell you I've been looking for this album for the past couple of years. How I've listened to it so many times on youtube, alone. How it's one of my favorite albums of all time, it's so fucking good, please, please, please go do yourself a favor and take a listen, I'm begging you. Standout track that doesn't get nearly enough love (they all deserve love) is All Revved Up with No Place to Go. This was literally the last thing I saw when I was heading to checkout, is easily the most expensive thing I bought, but the price didn't matter because of that sweet satisfaction of finding something cool as hell out in the wild, I swear to god there's no better feeling.

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Go support bookstores/thrift stores! Buy used/secondhand! Buy physical media! Don't be at the mercy of streaming services and companies that will edit their works years/decades after it's been released! Go enjoy movies! Watch something that makes you smile, or makes you shit your pants! Interact with something that makes you FEEL!!

[bmpmp3]

now if you’ll excuse me im in the middle of doing some pen mods *jams a screwdriver into a platinum preppy*