#Dr Eerie Lake

[ifra-strawberii]

River vs Lake

River's a mad scientist, but he at least thinks of himself as a more respectable breed of mad scientist. He builds as much as he takes, and he doesn't really do something unless it'll in some way benefit him. He's evil, but he has a code. He DOES however, have a rival who is FAR more reckless. Meet Doctor Eerie Lake. A goblinoid man who used to go to the same college as River when they were younger, and a far more unhinged individual. Eerie doesn't really think of things from a business sense, and he's far simpler; he likes the idea of building big, crazy, sharp contraptions, to take whatever he wants without even thinking about if he NEEDS what he's taking, and sometimes he just likes to watch the fireworks caused BY the destruction he causes.

Posted using PostyBirb

[novlr]

How to write the cold

The way we feel cold is universal, but the way we contextualise it is not. Cold has a variety of connotations for readers, so it's important to decide how to use it, and what mood you want to convey in your scene.

While cold is often associated with negative aspects in writing, if there's anything the winter season teaches us, is that it can be a positive thing as well. Rather than just using the word cold, in your next writing project, try to contextualise it. Describe the weather, the light on the snow, the comfort of warmth after an icy swim, or the fear and loneliness of the dark on a cold night.

Here are our quick tips on how to write the cold:

In nature

Clean mountain air

Glittering ice crystals

Unique wildlife, like snow hares or polar bears

Snow muffled sounds

Steam rising from hot springs

Icy water in rivers and lakes

Overcast and rainy

Bright sun on fresh snow

Icebergs, glaciers, and ice floes

Storms and blizzards

Branches moving and creaking

Frozen ponds

Morning frost on grass

Snowdrops pushing through snowdrifts

Crisp and clear night skies

Wolves howling in the dark

Bare branches scraping against windows

Eerie shadows

Foods and objects

The scent of cinnamon and nutmeg

Heavy winter coats and scarves

Rich, hot meals with lots of gravy

Tea or coffee left out too long

Ice-cream, sorbets, or ice-lollies

Metal that is cold to the touch (like pots and pans or door handles)

Cold beverages straight out of the fridge

An icy bath

Freezer trucks or walk-in refrigerators

Dry ice

Crisp, fresh sheets on cold nights

Ice sculptures

A tap with a drip that freezes in place

Frozen celebratory drinks (like daiquiris)

A single cube of ice floating in a whisky glass

A cold pack for an injury

Character moods

Isolated

Lonely

Aloof

Sad

Comfortable

Snuggly

Focused

Panicked

Indifferent

A lack of affection

Calm and calculated

Disengaged

Serene

Depressed

Awestruck

Anxious

Reverent

Melancholy

Nostalgic

Impatient

Frustrated

Reflective

Character body language

Hunched shoulders

Crossed arms

Shivering

Snuggling into something warm

Rub hands together for warmth

Tight or strained expression

Biting dry lips

Furrowing brow

Glaring against brightness

Tense and rigid stance

Stand close to others

Slow, deliberate steps

Move quickly to somewhere warm

Sitting relaxed in a warm space

Actions and events

Start a fire or build a shelter

Winter hikes

Outdoor activities like skating, skiing, or sledding

Traffic jams or snowed in cars

Frozen lakes cracking underfoot

Dodging icicles falling from rooftops

Going ice-fishing

Long sea voyages

Frostbite

Suffering from a cold, the flu, or pneumonia

Brainfreeze

Snuggling under a warm duvet

Sipping from a steaming hot drink for comfort

Cold-water swimming

Walking to work in the rain

Christmas in the Northern Hemisphere

Chrismas in July in the Southern Hemisphere

Reading a good book by the fire while it snows outside

Positive aspects

While cold is often associated with negative emotions, using it as a juxtaposition can often help to accentuate the positive feelings you want to convey.

If it's cold outside, a character enjoying a hot chocolate under their duvet will give a much more positive impression than if they were simply staying in bed.

The beauty of the natural world in winter, like snow, ice, and winter foliage can also be used to create a scene of happiness and wonder.

Negative aspects

Cold is often used to describe characters who are emotionally detached, calculating, or generally unfeeling. It's become an easy way to clue your readers in to how they're meant to feel about your character.

There are also more creative ways to use the cold, however, like describing the disappointment of forgetting about a hot drink you put down somewhere and only remembering when it's already gone cold, or the feeling of shock after you first step out of a warm shower.

Helpful synonyms

chilly

frigid

icy

wintry

frosty

cool

nippy

freezing

glacial

brisk

chilled

cool

polar

bitter

snowy

raw

refrigerated

arctic

rimy

draughty

[atlinmerrick]

Postcards from a Lake Monster: A book about autism

You are cordially invited to meet a lake monster and his mom.

Trevor's not like most lake monsters.

While he loves spending his days building mountain ranges out of the mud on the banks of Lake Eerie, he’s bad at swimming and disinterested in fishing.

Child psychologist Dr Lena Spyros has a lot of experience helping young people of all descriptions overcome struggles and, realizing Trevor’s behaviors and interests put him on the autism spectrum, Dr Spyros helps this laker and his mom Bessie find the best ways to help Trevor thrive.

With fourteen beautiful full-color drawings in Postcards from a Lake Monster, readers of 7-11 years-old wade into Trevor's life in the lake, his journey to diagnosis, then learn more about autism in the second half of the book as Trevor and Dr Spyros exchange friendly, informative postcards.

Available as paperback or ebook Postcards from a Lake Monster is 20% off from today until April 12, 2024!

[klbwriting]

Broken Prism

Chapter 18

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x female!Reader

Warnings: intrusive thoughts, self-loathing

Summary: Jason does not do well when left to his own thoughts

Notes: this is angsty af

Bruce didn’t let Jason do anything for two weeks after the attack from Penguins men. It annoyed the hell out of him, pacing the halls of Wayne manor, unable to do anything while the rest of the house was able to go about their daily lives. YN was trying to make time for him but with Penguin’s arrest she was asked to see what else she could get now that more people were willing to talk so she was always working. Tim was at school, Dick in Bludhaven, Bruce at Wayne Enterprises. Jason had Alfred, who honestly was the most mysterious person in the house, leaving in the morning and not back until right before Bruce returned. Jason was going crazy, and he needed to escape, unplug for a while. So, he did.

Bruce had gotten Jason a new bike of course so once he felt up to it, he decided to take it for a spin, outside the city. He rode for a couple hours, putting solid distance between himself and Gotham, breathing a little easier away from the streets and the crime and the general despair that always seem to settle on the city. The lakefront town was nice, and no one bothered him as he hiked around the lake, finding a spot near the water to just sit and be still.

“There has got to be more to what I’m doing,” he whispered to himself. He still struggled so much with his role in the world now. He was a killer, well, a reformed killer at the moment, but a killer no less. He had made New Gotham the safest place in the city, had found his soulmate, reunited with his family, but something was still broken inside him. He could feel it, those shards of himself, the darkest, sharpest parts, that struggled to stay in, wanting to pierce through his chest and destroy him. No amount of care and love from those around him seemed to make that go away. Dr. Thompkins told him that everyone had those parts to them, that they were hard to deal with, but he could cope with them. It was the why bother he was having trouble with. Why bother getting better? No one really loved him. Even YN, that was because some insane twist of fate had put her there. If he didn’t give her color, she wouldn’t even care about him. Bruce, Dick, Tim, all of them. He was a tool, something to use. Why bother with him? He was just some urchin from Crime Alley who was born to be bad. He was of cursed stock, mother an addict, father a loser, he wasn’t better than that, just trash. He tried to push back these thoughts, he wanted to get them to leave them alone, he really did. But they came back stronger every time, and the laugh that chorused with them was more than anyone could take. He was trying, he really was, but he knew that soon something would need done.

He needed to face Joker. He needed to kill him. Bruce wouldn’t do it, fool that he was, but Jason would.

By the time he got back to the mansion it was dark outside, quiet, but when he got inside the silence was eerie. He wasn’t sure what was going on. He searched the house and found no one so he went to the cave where it was a different story. Everyone was yelling, even Alfred.

“You were supposed to fix his tracker…” “I did fix it! He’s not wearing it!” “I swear if someone else has him I am going to punch all of you!” “Shut up Dick! I get to punch everyone first!” “Can we all just calm down?”

“Um, what’s going on?” Jason asked, making everyone stop their tirades and look at him. Soon the men turned, looking from Jason towards YN. She pushed passed them and when Tim went to follow Bruce held him back. She walked up to Jason and shoved him hard.

“What in the fuck were you thinking?! You run off without leaving a note, you don’t take your phone! What the hell is wrong with you!” she yelled, shoving him again and again, each time getting weaker until she was just hugging him, arms gripping his waist as tight as she could. After a moment he heard some sniffles and felt his shirt getting wet. He didn’t realize she would worry like this. No one cared about him this much.

“I just…needed to get out of my head a little bit, get out of the city…” he said, trying to explain. He tried to pry her arms from him, but she held on tighter.

“No, I’m never letting you go again,” she said. “You’re not trustworthy anymore.” Jason looked at the others, searching and finding the same kind of worry on their faces and he looked down. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve this at all. He fucked everything up. Why did they care? Why should they care? He wasn’t worthy.

“Why do you care so much anyway?” he snapped, finally getting YN to let go of him. He stepped back and she stared at him like he’d shot her. “All of you, why would any of you care about me?” He shook his head, turning and heading back upstairs. YN followed him but he made sure to close the elevator door on her, cursing himself for the hurt he saw on her face. He really was just a worthless piece of garbage. Who hurts the person they love like that? He does. He went to his room, locking the door and ignoring the knocking. First it was YN, then Alfred, then Tim, the Dick, the Bruce. He sat in his room for hours, trying to figure out a way to finish this. Finish everything. He would go down fighting Joker, take the bastard with him. If he died YN would be fine, she said so herself, she had the memories, that was enough. He got up and went to the door, opening it and YN fell backward into his room.

“Finally,” she said, standing up and dusting herself off.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked. She cocked her head to the side and moved to pick up a tray of food by the door. Jason didn’t move.

“Get back in your room, we’re going to eat together, or I’m spilling this right onto the carpet and the stain will drive you crazy,” she said. Jason considered his options for a minute, but when she started to tilt the tray towards him, he relented and stepped back into the bedroom, letting her in. She set the tray on the small table in the room and took a seat, getting it ready for him. Everything he loved was on that tray. He felt himself warming a little at the thought of what Alfred had done for him. Doesn’t mean anything, just wanting to shut you up for a while. He winced like he had been slapped.

“How bad is it?” YN asked as Jason sat down. He looked at the ground, not wanting to look at her. She looked afraid of him. God why had he made her afraid of him?

“Haven’t had a day like this in years,” he said softly.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked. He shook his head. “Ok.” She sat back and when he still didn’t look up. “I’ll go, just please eat something.” She stood, moving to walk past him but he grabbed her hand.

“Don’t go,” he said softly. He felt her relaxed, her hand squeezing his before she sat down again. He finally looked at her. “Do you feel cheated knowing that I’m your soulmate?”

“No, I feel incredibly lucky that I have a soulmate like you,” she said. He grunted a laugh. “I mean it Jason.”

“Why? Besides the color, what have I possibly done for you to earn you?” he asked. She frowned.

“Why do you think you need to earn me?” she asked. “I’m not a paycheck, neither are you. You’re there Jason, you exist in this world, and that’s all I need you to do, is exist. I appreciate everything extra that you do for me, but just existing is enough.” He stared at her.

“Only because I saved you, I was Robin, now I’m Red Hood, take that away…”

“And I’d still love you. I don’t love Robin or Red Hood, in fact sometimes I downright hate them because it’s terrifying knowing you’re out there and could die…again…at any moment. If you took off the helmet and the armor I would still love you. Jason Peter Todd is the man I love, hell, even if you weren’t my soulmate I would love you,” she said. Jason looked away again, not wanting her to see him being this emotional. She reached out and turned his face back to her. “Jason, I love you.” He took a breath and stared at her, not finding a lie, a half-truth, sarcasm, nothing but care in her face.

“I wish I could feel that way about myself,” he said. She moved over and he pulled her into his lap, hugging her around the waist, head on her shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair, her other hand gently caressing his cheek.

“Let me feel that way for you then, I can tell you about how it feels. Being Jason Todd is being a good son, a better brother, the best boyfriend, it means being funny, and so much smarter than you think, not always knowing what to say when someone is having a bad day but being willing to sit with them until its better. Jason is kind, caring, passionate, and has great taste in books. All of his girlfriends agree,” she said. Jason smiled despite himself and for the first time that day the intrusive thoughts subsided. He believed her, believed every word she said.

“I love you too,” he whispered. YN smiled and kissed his head. “I’m tired.”

“Come on, let’s go to bed, can I stay with you tonight?” she asked. He could hear the worry in her voice, like she thought he might vanish again. He nodded and she went to her room to change after making him promise he wasn’t going anywhere. He got into bed himself and felt her crawl in behind him. She wrapped her around his waist, and he sighed, loving being held like this.

[alex51324]

Eclipse Trip Report, Part 1

TL: DR, The eclipse was clouded out and therefore a bit underwhelming, but still neat, and the rest of the trip was fun, too!

I arrived at my campsite on Friday afternoon, amid snow flurries and sleet:

Luckily, I was staying in this snug little hut, a Pennsylvania state park "camping cottage." They're smaller and less quaint than the rustic cabins that I usually get, but because they're prefab, they have them at some of the parks that don't have full cabins, including the one where I was staying, 20 minutes outside the path of totality.

The hut has 3 of these little radiators, along with two sets of bunks:

Sophie always decides to sleep on that green blanket on the floor when we go camping, even though I make up a bunk for her. That ended up working out this time, because my dad decided at the last minute that he wanted to see the eclipse, too, so he came up Sunday night. I'm not sure who among the three of us would have had the hardest time getting up to a top berth.

Besides the bunks, you also get a table and chairs:

The cottages are located right on the park's little lake:

This was a less-than-a-minute walk from the cottage, and I could hear the frogs from my bunk!

The weather cleared up by about mid-day on Saturday, so we hopped in the car and drove to the path of totality to scout out viewing spots. Here's what we decided on, at Long Point On Lake Chautaqua State Park:

We walked out to the titular Long Point:

Which was very windy, but a nice view!

After that, we drove up to Lake Erie and had a look around, visiting two lighthouses, each with a little municipal park nearby. Here's the Dunkirk Lighthouse:

I got there a little too late to go on the tour inside, but I was mainly there to look at the lake, anyway. It's a very big lake. What's eerie about it, Lake Erie, is that it's sort of like the ocean--it has waves, and you can't see the other side--but it's like a normal lake in how it smells, and what the plant and animal life is like, and all that:

It's kind of disconcerting.

Also mildly disconcerting was how this little beach, a municipal park of some kind, was directly under the shadow of this factory:

There's also interesting driftwood, smoothed into odd shapes. This one looks like a dragon skull:

Then we drove up to the Barcelona lighthouse:

Which was also closed, in this case because it's falling down, and you can't even get a good look at the outside because it's all fenced off so it doesn't fall on top of somebody. (The vertical stripes on the tower are something they're apparently using to brace it up, and the whole other side is blocked off with orange construction fencing.)

It has a much cooler beach, though:

There were these crumbling slate cliffs, and little waterfalls coming down them!

Sophie enjoyed sniffing things, and drinking the lake:

When we got back to the hut, she was ready for a nice rest:

[five-rivers]

Life's Great Lie 13

AO3

Lake Eerie wasn’t a random choice.  In addition to being close enough for the GAV to make the trip, if things did go as badly as Sam thought they would, the lake provided a way to escape ground-bound pursuit, and even a temporary respite from enemies in the air. 

It wasn’t widely advertised –because Jazz’s parents didn’t have much opportunity to use it, rather than any desire to keep it secret – but the Ops Center’s carriage could be safely submerged underwater, and even had rudimentary maneuvering capability. 

If that failed… well, Lake Eerie was a thin spot.  Walker’s second incursion was proof of that.  Not to mention the vicious lake monster.  Jazz hoped that SHIELD’s lack of experience with ghosts would make finding them in the woods if they had to flee that way. 

Or, if they got really desperate, they could use the porta-portal or the bazooka.  Try their luck in the Ghost Zone. 

Jazz hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

The (Fentonworks New and Improved!) radar pinged at about the same time the wireless connection to the GAV came online. 

“So…” said Sam, “I’ll go out, you keep an eye on things in here.”

Jazz nodded, leaning forward to peer out the window in the direction the jet was supposed to come.  So far, she couldn’t see it. 

Considering the way the ‘helicarrier’ had been cloaked, that didn’t mean anything.  She looked back down at the radar.   

“The SHIELD guys should be here first if this is accurate,” she said. 

“Great.  Be ready to take arrow boy hostage.”

“I’ve told you my name,” complained arrow boy.  “I’ve even told you my code name.  You don’t have to call me that.”

Sam snorted and looked over her shoulder on her way out.  “Whatever you say, arrow boy.”

.

“Hey,” said Tucker, without preamble, “remind me what Danny had us take again.”

Sam glanced behind him at the small crowd.  Tony Stark was a lot shorter in person than he looked on TV.  Dr. Banner – a surprisingly common face in Casper High science lessons – was frowning down at a large, screened box in his hands.  Captain America was… Well, it was kind of weird to see the guy who rescued your great-grandparents from death or worse.  She might not exist without him.  Thor was practically indescribable.  What did you even say about a guy like that?  The only woman, who must be Romanov, Black Widow, stayed by their plane, leaning against one of the door supports in a way that looked casual but was anything but.  Valerie stood slightly apart, her suit retracted for the moment, glaring at everyone.

“I think it’s fine,” said Tucker.  “All things considered.”

“All things considered,” repeated Sam. 

“A bunch of the spare portal parts.  The porta-portal.  Shields, for both humans and ghosts.  The ecto-converter.  Some other random parts I can’t remember.  Not anything we usually work with.  Jazz knew what it was.”

Tucker nodded.  “Okay, yeah.  I think I know what he wanted us to do with all of this.”

“So do I,” said Sam.

“I got kidnapped,” pointed out Tucker. 

“We didn’t kidnap you,” said Romanov. 

“You kind of did.”

“Jazz got shot,” countered Sam.

“Speaking of which, where is Barton?”

Sam pointed.  “Inside.”

“Not like him to not come out.”

“That’s because he’s still tied up,” said Sam.  “We wanted to make sure you weren’t going to come guns blazing.  Or with your giant spaceship thing.”

“Well,” said Stark, loudly, “we thought that would be kind of a bad idea with all the spies—Sorry, the spies that were spying on the spies.”

Captain America pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Do you ever stop?”

“Hey, you should be thanking me.  I just—”

“You have no idea what HYDRA is capable of.”

“Um,” said Tucker.  “Can we go in?”

“Yeah, no,” said Sam.  “We’re waiting for someone else.”

“Oh, no,” said Tucker.  “Come on, did you guys really--?”

“Yeah,” said Sam.  “We needed backup.”

“And what am I?”

“Down a staff, it looks like.”

Tucker shot a glare at Romanov.

“You’re not getting it back until I see Barton.  Speaking of equipment, boys, I don’t see anywhere to park our bus on that thing, so you’d better help unload.”

“Can you—Actually, I’m getting a lot of weird readings on this thing—”

“I’m telling you, man, it’s the ectoplasm.”

Banner frowned slightly at Tucker and looked back at his machine even as he wandered back to the jet.  “Gamma radiation makes much more sense.”

“Does it, though?” asked Tucker.  “I mean, like.  Your whole everything…  Radiation shouldn’t really do that.”

“He’s got a point there,” said Tony Stark as he hauled a set of boxes out on a hand trolley.  “The whole… Hulking out thing.  Doesn’t seem to follow conservation of matter—Have you looked into that?”

“In between running from jingoistic lunatics, sure.”

The sound of an engine made everyone turn.  The GAV rounded the corner a few minutes later, turning so sharply that it almost tipped over.  Seconds later, it narrowly missed hitting the jet and pancaking Stark and Banner and disgorged Jack and Maddie, waving guns.

.

The thing was, Sam, Tucker, and even Valerie, to some extent, were used to the Fentons’ antics.  Stark and Banner were not.  Banner, as they had just been discussing, had superpowers activated by adrenaline and an elevated heartrate.  Anger was the main trigger, but fear… Fear worked too. 

It looked like Sam would get to say ‘I told you so’ a lot earlier than she’d thought. 

.

“How often do human… teenagers… have to sleep?”

“Hm?” asked Selvig, dropping the small component he’d been handling with tweezers.  He swore and dove after it. 

“I suppose I should ask how frequently adult humans need to sleep, instead,” said Loki with a sneer and a roll of his eyes. 

“Well,” said Selvig with a chuckle, “usually we try to sleep once a day.  Eight hours is the recommended amount.  But, heh, you know, academics, we don’t really follow the rules, you know?  You know.  Right?  I mean, you’re up there in space and all… Do they have academics in space?”

“Arguably,” said Danny, “all astronauts are academics of some sort or another.  Scientists, right?  Although, the earlier ones were military, so I suppose they weren’t.  But I guess the question is more about whether or not Loki’s people have academics.  Do you have academics?”

Loki turned slightly to look at the boy incredulously.  Danny blinked back up at him.

“Don’t—” Loki cut himself off before he could say something that could be construed as an order and looked back at Selvig who was trying to lower a piece of equipment into a padded carrying case but kept missing the hole in the shaped ‘styrofoam.’  ��How often do teenagers need to sleep?”

“About the same?” said Selvig vaguely.  “I think they’re supposed to get more to stay healthy, but I’ve never had children.  Unless you count my students!  Ha!”  He finally got the part into the Styrofoam hole and smiled triumphantly at Loki.  “Fits like a glove!”

Danny leaned forward to peer at the box.  Loki pushed him back. 

Loki could care less about any of his thralls staying healthy, but he needed them to at least last long enough to get his army.  To get the chitauri.  His staff could not keep them awake indefinitely.  Eventually, their endurance would wane and fail.  Or so he had been told. 

The staff, like the army, was a loaner. 

It matched with the rules of magic he was familiar with, however.  No spell was perfect or unbreakable, no matter how powerful the focus, and the realm of dreams was… strange. 

That was the only reason for his concern.  No other. 

“You could always let us sleep, if you’re so worried,” said Danny. “How often do your people need to sleep?  Asgardians, right?  Or are you an Asgardian if you’re adopted?  I mean, you and Thor look alike, but then you guys look like humans, too, and that’s not what I would have expected from aliens, overall.”

Loki rolled his eyes.  Danny was evidently one of those aggravating people who became more talkative with fatigue.  “My father sleeps once a year.”  Well.  The Odinsleep happened once a year.  And Loki was technically a Jotun, not an Asgardian.  But that hardly mattered.  Loki did not need to sleep.  He was not tired.  He had no desire to close his eyes and see—

“Is that your actual dad, or, like, your biological dad?”

Gods did not groan.

.

Jazz seriously hoped they didn’t need anything on that jet, because it didn’t look remotely salvageable after that. 

“Hey!” called Barton.  “What’s going on out there?”

Jazz was having enough trouble trying to trigger the right controls with only one hand.  She didn’t answer.  Could she--?  No, the Ops Center portal generator didn’t work that way.  She couldn’t punch the coordinates for that.  What she could do, however…

She hit the activation button, and the shield sprang into being with the Hulk on one side and everyone else on the inside, Captain America’s shield ding­-ing off the shield in a way that resonated loudly enough to hurt Jazz’s ears.  The Hulk ran into the shield at full speed and rebounded, stumbling back into the lake.  He roared, clearly furious.  Ripples spread across the water. 

… And the Lake Eerie Monster rose from the depths. 

The Hulk whirled and leapt at the new combatant.  The fight sent water splashing, huge waves breaking over the shore.  Jazz hissed, adjusting the shield to keep the water out.  How much air did they have?  Jazz couldn’t remember how much air a person needed.  It was probably enough for at least a little while. 

The fight was impressive.  Jazz could say that even after watching Danny fight so often.  It was also incredibly brutal.  There was no finesse, no form, and there didn’t need to be.  The sheer physical power of the combatants made it redundant. 

She couldn’t help but think that Danny could beat both of them. 

The lake flared with light, visible even through the green-tinted ectoplasmic shield.  When the light cleared, both the ghost and the surprisingly ghost-like man were gone.

“Hey!  Whoa, whoa, whoa!  What was that?  Where’d Banner go?” shouted Iron Man, audible through the external PA system, which meant that he really had to be shouting, because that thing sucked.

Jazz hissed through her teeth.  She hadn’t caused this situation, but she’d certainly been involved in sending one of the preeminent scientific minds of the century to the Ghost Zone.  Not as bad as killing him, sure, but there it was. 

This was a bad day.  This was a bad, bad day. 

[nikproxima]

To Bennu and Back - A Personal Voyage

The following was originally posted to my Medium on November 5, 2023. I figured the good people of Tumblr would enjoy a story, and some ramblings from my mind - so here we go. Please do remember to check me out elsewhere, most social media I have is under the same "nikproxima" handle. Without further adieu...

Today, in a rare moment of free time, I went and spent an hour in a museum. The Smithsonian’s Museum of Natural History has, for a long time, been a place where I’ve come to marvel at the wonders of our world — a place that shaped my long standing appreciation for science and technology. But today, I went to see a visitor from another world, a visitor who in many ways I had already met a few months prior — a piece of the asteroid Bennu, delivered to Earth by NASA’s OSIRIS-REx spacecraft.

I remember how cold it was that morning, deep in the salt flats of Utah, away from the lights and bustle of Salt Lake City. September in the desert is not always the kindest, it can be 80ºF or 30ºF all on the same day. It felt so alien, yet, somehow right for a pinpoint landing from deep space. My photographer Matt and I left the sprawling suburbs behind as we wove through the mountains and brine filled pools, singing along to music we had discovered a mutual interest in. The dark voids of landforms stood over us as we negotiated the twisting freeways, soon spitting us onto a two lane highway. We spent an hour and a half on our drive, checking and rechecking NASA’s Twitter for information about the mission until my cell service was reduced to one bar. There was a degree of confidence not found in rocket launches present that morning. We’d both covered launches in the past, and were acutely aware of the sensitivity of these great machines. Delays are the name of the game, but not today. This was happening, and we were powerless to stop it should anything go wrong.

The road we had taken through the inky expanse was narrow and dark, not a light to be seen. Only the ever dimming glow of the city we had left behind, and the ever brightening stars above us. We tried our best to pick out constellations and planets, craning our necks to see through the windshield. It was an alien world, and we were diving head first into it. There are no lights welcoming you to a military proving ground, only signs for you to stay away. Dugway is not exactly a friendly place, a complex and deeply secure military base lodged in the hostile flat expanse of the desert. Every element of our arrival was strange, the friendly welcome of NASA and University of Arizona officials contrasted strongly by the Army personnel. I can only imagine how strange it would have been for the staff of this isolated facility, watching a gaggle of press officials descending upon them.

As we filed in, through checkpoint after checkpoint, we found ourselves cemented in the thick of it. Officials from NASA, Dugway and UofA were eagerly counting off milestones. The spacecraft, having deposited its precious cargo, conducted its diversion maneuver as we sat on the dark and cold bus out the press site — truly alone. The spacecraft was off on the next part of its grand adventure, an exploration of the asteroid Apophis. But we were alone, just like those precious samples hanging over our heads. The press site was still dark when we arrived there, floodlights from the airfield bathing it in an eerie artificial glow as the sun threatened to creep over the distant mountains. Matt and I were quick to scour the place for a cup of coffee. The press tent was warm, warm enough to threaten to lull you to sleep — but there was too much excitement in the air. We were here, where we were meant to be, and those samples were coming. The flight line was adorned with helicopters, sleeping beasts equipped with cameras and other sensors to hunt for this precious treasure from deep space. We had a long wait before showtime.

I spent a good portion of this time speaking with Dr. Danny Glavin, from Goddard Space Flight Center in Maryland. Many of the questions he faced centered around the upcoming Mars Sample Return mission, a complex and expensive program proving to be a headache for many involved. He spoke to me with a genuine kindness and excitement for this mission, and missions to come. The desert’s silence was broken by the sound of rotor blades, as the four helicopters came to life, beginning their trek towards the staging area. This was a complex operation, practiced over the 7 years this spacecraft had been roaming the Solar System — becoming all too real this chilly September morning. It was getting closer now, closing seemingly impossible distances over our heads. I cannot describe the emotion I felt as the last helicopter left, threatening to topple us with the force of its rotor wash— somewhere between excitement and dread.

Somewhere up above us, two additional aircraft joined the hunt. A WB-57 and a modified Gulfstream business jet, each equipped with heat seeking and high resolution cameras, began orbiting the landing site in search of their prize. In the tent, we counted down the seconds until the start of entry interface, the moment in which the samples would make first contact with the atmosphere — watching the landing timer tick towards zero. In the skies of Utah, the SRC was suddenly met with the force of the atmosphere once more, something it last felt 7 years prior at liftoff. This is where I felt the extent of my helplessness, watching this tiny blip on the 57’s FLIR imager. In that moment, I felt truly united with everyone in the room — sitting in wait, and clinging to hope. The press site was dead silent, save for the commentary from the livestream being broadcast to the world a few hundred feet from us. I was busy tweeting, commenting everything that I heard and saw from the official Space Scout Twitter. I think I wanted to throw up the entire time, and could only barely bring myself to look. At 7:39 from landing, we heard it: “PARACHUTE DEPLOYMENT”. The press site felt energized, whoops and cheers, but there were milestones still to come, and the crash of the Genesis mission all those years ago still sat in our minds.

I don’t think the fear stopped until we touched down. The footage was too grainy for us to really make out what was happening against the desert, obscuring the SRC from view. Hearing “CONFIRMATION OF SRC TOUCHDOWN” was unlike anything I had ever felt. I had watched robots land on Mars, ships launch to the International Space Station, but this was here, returning to Earth. What a unique accomplishment that was, to not only make the trek across our Solar System, but to return to the place that created it. As the chute settled, and the teams were able to get closer, the noise returned. The press site was alive once more, people hugged and cried — all overjoyed with a sense of pride and achievement. Humans combined all their knowledge and brain power and talent and built this spacecraft, sent it to an asteroid a billion miles away, beat the odds, rethought our knowledge of the solar system, all before making the billion mile voyage back in order to get something that weighs less than a baseball into labs around the world. We were home.

It was, however, a strange homecoming. Coming home to a planet so different from how it was 7 years ago. So much had changed, as is the case in the information age. A globally connected world moves rapidly, and change is all around us — Nowhere was the notion of a pandemic, war, let alone the personal change in my life. Scientists describe samples like this as a time capsule of sorts, a look deep into our past to tell us what we’re truly made of, a unique and untouched look to how things once were. In 2016, when OSIRIS-REx lifted off, I was just starting college, a nervous wreck of an individual not quite ready for the real world. I was so unsure of what I wanted to do, I spent months agonizing about myself, my identity and the meaning of it all. But spaceflight distracted me, and ultimately motivated me towards my goal of telling stories and being a part of it. I watched this mission launch from my freshman dorm room, unable to fathom that 7 years later I would be at its landing, waiting with open arms for this precious piece of the universe to be returned. As the samples were flown back under the long line of the helicopters, a strange feeling started to creep over me. A great cosmic emptiness, a feeling that everything that I did was in vain, that despite my presence for this tremendous event, it was all for nought. This new fear, one of failure and regret, threatened to overpower me. I found myself far less social, drawing the curtain around myself — no longer as excited to be there. As we left the press site after a safe delivery, and said goodbye to all of our new friends, a strange feeling of emptiness settled over me.

My trip back to Washington was full of this line of thinking. I spent a good amount of time wondering about the scale of it all, feeling smaller than I ever had as I stared out the window of the ancient 757 that carried me home. The vast distances of the cosmic ocean, for the first time, threatened to overwhelm me and swallow me whole. Work quickly picked back up for me, and I made preparations to leave for the launch of NASA’s Psyche mission, a voyage to a metal world that alongside OSIRIS-REx, aimed to unlock the secrets of our solar system. But something still remained, this fear of the great unknown. Even as the spacecraft left the pad, I could not help but think back to the Utah desert, and the growing fear of the dark.

It was not until November 5 that I realized that this fear sitting in my gut was not some great eldritch horror. I was not afraid of the unknown, rather, I was afraid of my own change. This unusually warm November afternoon, I braved Red Line closures and crowds to catch a glimpse of the OSIRIS-REx sample, a measly fraction of what had been scooped up from this distant world. It was, in many ways, unremarkable. A grey rock sitting in a grey container in a glass case, flanked by models of the spacecraft and the Atlas rocket that launched it all those years ago. No longer was it separate from me, some unknowable cosmic entity, but a thing I could perceive. I did not stay long, taking only a few pictures before stepping out into the autumn breeze — but I found myself unable to go very far.

That fear, the one I had equated to the unknown for so long, was revealing its true form to me in that moment. It was a fear of change, a fear of the rapid progression of my life, a fear of growing old — where this cosmic morsel was already ancient. It had survived for hundreds of thousands of lifetimes, perhaps even longer than humans had been on this planet, and it had remained largely unchanged. It was so immune to change, until it was literally plucked from the heavens and brought back to Earth. And then I realized — the change that we enacted on this speck from space opens our world, changes our line of questioning, enables us to uncover more about our past. And that’s what change is like at the human level, too. Without this change, I would not be who I am today, a person shaped by experiences; triumph and defeat. I would not have the ability to question my world, and shape my inquiry as I have without change. For so long, I struggled to find a purpose — often curious as to why I was even here. Truth be told, I may never know the answer. But these great cosmic moments in life, be it a rocket launch, a sample return, or getting the chance to talk to the people who will be voyaging to the moon, remind me that change is part of it all. That’ll help me sleep at night, I think.

[ballonleaparadise]

Possible Lore behind Zacian and Zamazenta

So there's been lots of interesting theories about the Legendary dogs of Galar, Zacian and Zamazenta. I was thinking about the possible lore behind the pair. I think that the inspiration behind these Legendaries might actually lie in classical English literature. (I will explain I promise). I'm actually doing English lit at Uni so reading makes up 60% of my life rn. 🙃

The Hound of the Baskervilles

You might be familiar with the Sherlock Holmes stories, written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. One of Doyle's books, 'The Hound of the Baskervilles', is set on Dartmoor in Devonshire, in the south of England. During this story, Sherlock and Watson are called to investigate the death of Sir Charles Baskerville. Holmes' client, Dr Mortimer suspects the cause of death to be a demonic hound who is roaming the Moor.

Fun fact: The design of the pokemon 'Houndoom' is supposingly based on the Hound of the Baskervilles. (Maybe some foreshadowing there). Credit to @name-rater.

I'm not suggesting that Zacian and Zamazenta are linked to Doyle's story just because they are more dog/wolf pokemon. In 'The Hound of the Baskervilles', Dr Mortimer describes the footprints of the mysterious hound as "gigantic". When you think about the size of both Zazian and Zamazenta, and the fear which they initially impose on Hop and the player, it aligns with this image.

I also find it too coincidental that the Galar region is based on the uk, which is well-known for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the Sherlock Holmes stories. In addition, Doyle's novel was inspired by the legend of a ghostly dog which haunts Dartmoor. Pokemon tend to draw on real life folklore when creating legendaries, so I wouldn't put this past them.

The Grimpen Mire and The Slumbering Weald

Another reason why I think that Zacian and Zamazenta could be inspired by 'The Hound of the Baskervilles', is due to the atmosphere of the Slumbering Weald. In Sword and Shield, the Slumbering Weald is the hiding place of Zacian and Zamazenta. In Doyle's story, the hound of the Baskervilles is suspected to lurk in a place called 'The Grimpen Mire'. The Grimpen Mire is a bog in the middle of the moor, described as a misty and "melancholy" place. In a modern BBC adaptation of Doyle's stories, 'Sherlock', *best show ever btw*, there is an episode which re-imagines 'The Hound of the Baskervilles', called 'The Hounds of Baskerville.' (Created by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss).

[[Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman as Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson in 'The Hounds of Baskerville, Sherlock, BBC.]]

In the BBC adaptation, the hound resides in an area called 'Dewer's Hollow' which is a hollow in the woods. The area is covered by heavy 'fog' rather than 'mist'.

[[Dewer's Hollow in 'The Hounds of Baskerville'- Benedict Cumberbatch and Russel Tovey.]]

How does this link to the Slumbering Weald? As I mentioned earlier, The Slumbering Weald is the hiding place of Zacian and Zamazenta. Not only this, but the weald embodies characteristics of both The Grimpen Mire in Doyle's story and Dewer's Hollow in the BBC adaptation: It is an eerie place which is mostly obscured by fog. In relation to the BBC adaptation, the Slumbering Weald is a deep wood just like Dewer's Hollow:

[[The Slumbering Weald, Pokemon Sword and Shield.]]

It's important to note that the Slumbering Weald is not based on Dartmoor, the setting of Doyle's story. According to Bulbapedia, the weald is based on Grizzledale Forest in the Lake District in the north of England. However, the atmospheric similarities between the Slumbering Weald, The Grimpen Mire and Dewer's Hollow line up perfectly for me.

This is still just a theory but I thought it would be fun to discuss it. The story of the Hound of the Baskervilles and the BBC adaptation both have parallels with Zacian and Zamazenta and the Slumbering Weald.

I don't think that Doyle's story is the only possible inspiration behind Zacian and Zamazenta. For one, the legendaries are heros, armoured with a sword and a shield. This could be a reference to Arthurian Legend, a genre of medieval British literature which is associated with heros such as King Arthur. It could also be a reference to the English legend of Saint George and the Dragon (with Eternatus representing the dragon).

I've rambled for long enough lol but I found this link interesting. I like to think that Doyle's 'The Hound of the Baskervilles' is part of the lore behind Zacian and Zamazenta. It would arguably make a lot of sense.

[honourablejester]

Top 5 movies you've watched

… I have forgotten every movie I’ve ever watched -_-; Well, no, but you’re literally getting whatever memories float up first here.

80s fantasy. This is a total cheat, but my entire childhood was 80s fantasy movies, and they’re a genre I miss so much. They had a whimsical-ness (whimsy, the word is whimsy, forgive me I’m not awake yet) and a faint joyful ridiculousness that you don’t get in fantasy any more, and that I miss so bad. Labyrinth, The Dark Crystal, Krull, Legend, Conan The Barbarian, The Neverending Story, Ladyhawke … More specifically of those, The Last Unicorn is one of my forever movies. It’s gorgeously animated, it’s such an incredibly thematic story, and Molly Grue is the best character ever created.

The Innocents (1961) is quite possibly my favourite horror movie of all time (competing mostly with Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) and various Universal/Hammer films). It’s so eerie. The lake scene is one of the single scenes in cinema that sticks with me the hardest. It’s not horror as in there’s a monster, it’s horror as in your own mind is breaking down. In broad daylight, full gorgeous sunshine. It’s amazing.

Dark City (1998). I love noir (Big Sleep, Raymond Chandler) and I love German Expressionism/Futurism (Metropolis, Dr Caligari), and I love science fiction, and Dark City is an utterly fantastic mix and merge of all three in a very 90s sort of way. The themes of memory and personhood and individuality, and the expressionistic motif of the shifting, surreal, night-shrouded noir city, and the battered character of Dr Schreber struggling to secretly fight his captors/employers … It had a lot going for it. (See also: The Crow 1994, Strange Days 1995, The Breed 2001, for movies with a similar late-90s/early 00s, borderline cyberpunk, horror, exploring personhood sort of movies, they’ve all got a very similar vibe, and I enjoy all of them)

The two movies I can quote top to bottom are Young Frankenstein (1974) and The Mummy (1999), which will tell you I enjoy comedic takes on classic monster movies where the humour is warm and well-meaning and fun. I watched Son of Frankenstein (1939) because of the character of Inspector Kemp in Young Frank, I wanted to see the original he was based on, and Inspector Krogh did not disappoint. And the main cast of The Mummy, all of them, are some of my favourite fictional people, full stop, the end. Heh.

What to finish on … The first thing to pop into my mind is Arsenic and Old Lace (1944), because we’re on a theme of horror comedy, and you cannot beat AaOL for zany gallows humour. Should I jump genres again, though, to give a broader spectrum? For tense action thrillers, I love Assault on Precinct 13 (John Carpenter, 1976, do not speak to me about the oughties remake), the pacing and tension in that movie are fantastic, and the bond that develops between Bishop, Wilson and Leigh while under siege is amazing …

I’m cheating again, though. I think I’ve mentioned far more than 5 movies. So. We’ll go with what we’ve got so far?

[resurrextion]

// Kels' bio has been rewritten! If you'd like to read it, it's below the 'read more'

Kelsey Browning was born to Julian and Evangeline Browning in the early 1930′s. Unfortunately, the baby was taken in the night and was experimented on by the government, being frozen in the ice for decades- until the year 2000. Finding a home for her in the hands of a random gentleman, Kelsey thought of him as her real father. But, one fateful day in 2018, that all changed when she stumbled upon the very eerie town of Carey, Ohio, a sleepy town that had rumors of strange happenings. It’s unknown who had thrown Kelsey into one of Carey’s lakes, but what was for certain is that she suffocated under the water and drowned; presumably someone didn’t like that she was venturing around said lake. Although one person saw the entire thing happen, a man named Paulo Ravinski. Finding the lifeless, water-logged body where he was to create his next masterpiece of a film, he decided to take the body to the Universal Palace Theater. Once inside, a large purple mist darted from the entrance doors and into the young woman’s body, awakening her from death.

Apparently, when Dr Albert Caine unleashed ScreamHouse: Resurrection in 2006, not only did he unleash the dead from the grave, he unleashed a power as well. That power eventually landed into the soul of Kelsey Browning, unknowingly and was the force behind her coming back to life. With her powers, Kelsey could not only resurrect the dead and, she can resurrect buildings and in some cases resurrect time periods and bring them into the current time. But, most of her powers are linked to her emotions, and when negatively heightened, could make the dead rise without even thinking about it. She can also bring herself back from the dead, no matter how she dies. She has to go through the pain of each death however. The nickname The Sleeping Beauty emerged from the amount of time being dormant before awakening, undying, always looking peaceful despite a gruesome death. The purple from the power of resurrection appears to form as glowing purple mist that bursts out of her hands and eyes, but can also appear as an aura entirely around her.

As for her appearence now, Kelsey unwillingly can go from looking like a living being to being the pale, water-logged undead. Even some parts of her body can look transparent to see the skeleton underneath. She can't control the way she looks, so trying to blend in with humanity isn't exactly an option.

Recommending that the girl stay at the Palace until Paulo and Julian could find out what to do with the now living-dead girl, Kelsey stayed in a spare room at the theater which contained safely preserved items that would’ve belonged to an infant. Kelsey heard whispers of a woman, welcoming her home, as well as the same words being drawn on the walls in cursive handwriting. The two Icons seeing this, it didn’t take long to figure out that the spirit of the theater, Julian’s wife, Evangeline, knew that this girl was her daughter. With more discussion, it was finally confirmed that she indeed was the lost child of decades ago, now as dead but alive as her parents were.

Later that year, Kelsey came to the event where her father and uncle Paulo had their stomping grounds into the world of scaring mortals and became the unofficial icon of Halloween Horror Nights 28 event where she resurrected the 80s in all its glory, becoming one of the most successful years of the event’s history.

At HHN30 in 2021, Kelsey roamed the park, the only one not captured by Adaru/Fear via his lantern. She oversaw the 30th anniversary from afar.

Unfortunately, the Legendary Truth, after learning all about her, and thinking she would be a weak spot to capture all the icons, captured Kelsey and sent her to their headquarters nearby Carey Ohio. Trying to get information out of her, Kelsey grew angry, which was a feeling she never truly showed. Being someone that bottled up her emotions, all of dodging the Collective had come to a terrifying head filled with rage. Then, her anger turned to murderous intentions, thinking about how the Collective sought to destroy her family and friends that were a part of the supernatural and horrific things that have happened in Carey. Finally having the same vengeance her father has, Kelsey killed her first two victims: the interviewers that worked for Legendary Truth, Monique Richards and Ben Addams. Kelsey never ever wanted to harm a living being. Her vengeance, like her father, got the best of her.

[forebodes]

ㅤalan often wonders, not about which parts of himself he left behind in the lake, but what he managed to salvage.  what little scraps of his old self he managed to bring back.  hero or villain?  good or evil?  light or dark?  it’s all become so jumbled in his head as of late, the remnants of the late dr. hartman’s claws still digging painfully into his shoulders, coaxing words still whispered into his ear. 

ㅤthere are times when he feels like the darkness’ influence has become less of a lingering touch and more of a gripping vise with each moment of self - doubt he allows himself, like it’s waiting to grow exponentially every time he shuts his eyes, ready to seep through his teeth at every smile.

ㅤaching fingers, caked with dirt and blood, unfold and grip the papers as he stares at the printed words with an intensity comparable only to seeking answers from biblical text.  in a way, they did serve as a guide, paving a path he’d written but had yet to traverse; every event was unfamiliar, yet unfolded exactly as he’d described.  written readiness had become his shield, his one saving grace against the darkness waiting to devour him. 

ㅤhe'd been certain that this was where the page had been leading them, but the eerie silence stretching along the desolate street didn't bode well. normally, there was a sign. where did the issue lie — within the conceptualization of his writing, or his dwindling understanding of himself?

@survivall : ' soo... back to square one. '

ㅤfrustration is evident on his features, even beyond the ever-present weariness, as he turns to jordan with a sigh. " yeah. back to square one. "

[resolvedbrunette]

January 29, 2024

Lots of clean fresh air for me today. Caught in the grips of one of my bouts of restlessness, no doubt a factor of my Irish heritage. I should buy a set of uilleann pipes—even at $568 per finished practice set, I believe it thoroughly worth it for the preservation of this piece of me: this piece of me near as white as my soul in Christ, bright and warm and welcoming as stew, as the dappled afternoon sun through the leaves of pine and oak, those themselves evergreen as my great-great-grandparents’ lands on both sides of my family.

Is this the instrument I have been waiting for my whole life, with its tones between drifting, eerie melancholy and still all the more joyful celebration? Surely this is the dichotomy of my soul, and surely it is hidden somewhere in the chanter pipe. Or perhaps the bellows like my lungs, waiting to burst into song like the array of birds out my sunlit window this morning, or the fictional Sunday after-tryst that this song sends images of careening through my mind.

And now the bus moves, not through London or Dublin as it does in my eye which does not see, but towards the other part of campus, where I may see above the city, view all the lands which once were filled with ancient post oak savannah, imagine this song on the wind bending the grasses - stirring the lakes and ponds to motion.

This song, to me, is older than my mother. It is older than all my mothers. It is something Eve breathed in Adam’s ear, the chorus of yes. A first love and a knowledge of sensuality. And you see, this is what I want—mutual yielding and the sensuality in the knowing of one another. Beyond sex? --

although that is indeed a good part of ידע, yāda`, to know another person - bodily, at the most basic, and if done right, their pleasure - and the ability to do so.

-- there is conversation.

This is where I lie as one who, for myself, has resolved against premarital sex. My greatest joy and satisfaction is in knowing through words alone. Not through touch, even though it is one of my more prominent methods of expressing love; this western world has taken touch and corrupted it.

I am thus reduced to trying to give myself through words. Music. Artwork. Where only the eyes and the mouth through air can touch—this is my realm. I am stuck in the tissue-paper brushstrokes of mimicked Impressionism.

I am the woman in the wallpaper, except there is no paper on these modern walls, but there is the delightful clinging stink of slate-grey acrylic paint drying, when I'm lucky enough to be near fresh paint.

Gutwrenching and heartrending connection in the stead of one night stands. Notches of intellectualism in the headboard, in my forehead behind my outward skull, facing inward toward my frontal cortex, facing into me. Quid-pro-quo, yes or no, Lecter and Starling, battle of wits -- conversation as coitus. Penetration of the mind instead of the body. Except this is mutual, and I am often the "male", the "top", the "dominator" in these endeavors, always active, asking, poking, prodding.

Tl;dr: I'm the type of guy to look at a temperate, sunny day and go "is anyone gonna listen to Kate Bush's 'The Sensual World' on a walk today" and not wait for an answer.

[dollycas]

Hidden in the Pines (A Lew Ferris Mystery) by Victoria Houston #Review / #Giveaway @crookedlanebks

Hidden in the Pines (A Lew Ferris Mystery) Mystery/ Small Town Fiction 2nd in Series with this Publisher 21st in Series Overall Setting - Wisconsin Crooked Lane Books (January 10, 2023) Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 288 pages ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 1639101470 ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-1639101474 Kindle ASIN ‏ : ‎ B09XM49DQC

Sheriff Lew Ferris knows how to land a sweet brook trout—but can she catch a cold-blooded killer in the thrilling second installment in the Lew Ferris mysteries. It’s Lew Ferris’s first day as the newly-elected Sheriff of McBride County, and already things are heating up in the Wisconsin Northwoods. The tragic drowning of a teenage girl draws an eerie parallel to the unsolved murder of another teen thirty years earlier, but one of Lew’s new subordinates—Alan Stern, Chief of the Deer Haven Police Department—has ruled it an accidental death by drowning. Neither Lew nor the girl’s family accept the ruling, but Lew is up against a wall of sexism and subterfuge. Not only is Stern belligerent and dismissive of Lew, but he takes the word of the local coroner, Ed Pecore, who Lew believes is completely unqualified for the job. Adding to Lew’s headaches, an unwelcome interference in the case by a multimillionaire resident reopens a cold case that stretches back decades—and could lead to an anguished relative taking justice into his own hands to avenge a crime the cops never solved. And when Lew’s dear friend, Dr. Paul “Doc” Osborne, finds himself witness to a sophisticated money laundering scheme that could threaten the lives of his daughter and her close friend, Lew finally feels like she’s reached the breaking point. The fish may be biting in McBride County—but now, Lew is on the line to uncover the long-buried secret that could ensnare a killer once and for all. Dollycas's Thoughts Newly elected Sheriff Lew Ferris isn’t going to have a lot of time for flyfishing as she tries to get things in order in McBride County, Wisconsin. Deer Haven Chief of Police, Alan Stern is livid when he finds out his new boss is looking into a case he had closed and ruled as accidental. The case has been brought to Lew’s attention by the family’s lawyer because the family does not accept the girl’s death was accidental. When Lew sees that Ed Pecore, the county’s embarrassment of a coroner is behind the ruling she agrees to take a second look. The case has a lot of similarities to an unsolved case from 30 years ago. Meanwhile, Dr. Paul “Doc” Osborne receives some stunning information that could put the lives of his daughter and her friend in danger. He is going to need some help from Lew to keep them safe. Lew’s first days as Sheriff are going to be filled with mayhem as she juggles it all trying to uncover the truth to finally put a killer behind bars where he belongs. _____ While this is the second book in the series from Crooked Lane, there were 19 books featuring this cast of characters prior to those. Don’t worry the author will give you enough details to feel quite a home no matter where you jump into the series. I have enjoyed this series so much. The characters are like old friends. I do love that Lew took the leap and has become the Sheriff of the whole county after being Chief of Police for Loon Lake for years. She is qualified and strong enough to deal with the flack she is going to receive by being a woman in typically man’s position. Her relationship with the man in her life, Doc Osborne is comfortable and realistic. I liked that his daughter had a role in this story. Ray Pradt continues to be a fave. He is truly a man with his own set of rules and talents and is always game for anything. We do meet a very interesting new character in this story connected to the 30-year-old open case. I hate to say too much but she fits in really well with everyone and I am happy that it looks like she will be sticking around. The mysteries are very interesting with some nice moments of suspense. The cold case really tugged at my heartstrings. Still being haunted by something that happened so long ago was a huge load to shoulder. I was so happy that by the end of this book, the character finally had some closure. As always, the author’s descriptions of life in the Wisconsin Northwoods are always a delight. The places, the actions and the dialogues always ring true. The flyfishing excursions always remind me of my grandfather. I can always picture him in his waders, reel in his hand, just around the next curve from where Doc and Lew are. He has been gone a very long time but he was happiest casting out a line just like so many characters in these stories. Victoria Houston is such a fine storyteller and her love of the Northwoods always shines. I am always able to escape right into her stories. Hidden in the Pines is a terrific addition to this series. I can’t wait for my next visit up north.

Your Escape Into A Good Book Travel Agent   About the Author Victoria Houston is the author of the Loon Lake mysteries as well as several nonfiction books on family issues. She has been featured on the front page of The Wall Street Journal and on NPR. She lives, writes, and fishes in northern Wisconsin. To find out more about Victoria Houston visit her webpage here and Facebook here.

Check out The Loon Lake Mysteries to see how these characters started out.

Thanks to the publisher I have 1 hardcover copy to give away! with a US or Canadian mailing address. Duplicate entries will be deleted. Void where prohibited. You do not have to be a follower to enter but I hope you will find something you like here and become a follower. Followers Will Receive 2 Bonus Entries For Each Way They Follow. Plus 2 Bonus Entries For Liking My Facebook Fan Page. Follow Crooked Lane Books on Twitter for 2 Bonus Entries. Follow Crooked Lane Books on Facebook for 2 Bonus Entries. Read the full article

[dead-weird]

Horror Starter Kits: Complete List

BODY HORROR STARTER KIT

You will need:

Taxidermy kit Medical saw collection Some Junji Ito Manga An insatiable lust for the dead

Films:

“A Cure for Wellness” “American Mary” “Annihilation” “Black Swan” “District 9″ “The Fly” “The Thing” “Videodrome”

Bands:

Rob Zombie Cannibal Corpse The Cramps

Aesthetic:

Yami-kawaii

CANNIBAL HORROR STARTER KIT

You will need:

A weird collection of masks Cookbooks... too many cookbooks... Locks of hair tied in ribbon A clear conscience 

Films:

“Raw” “The Green Inferno” “Ravenous” “Silence of the Lambs” “The Hills Have Eyes” “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” “Cannibal Holocaust”

Aesthetic:

Business casual

CLASSIC MONSTER STARTER KIT

You will need:

An angry mob Dramatic lighting A cape Multiple sequels

Films:

“Frankenstein” “Dracula” “The Mummy” “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” “Van Helsing”

Playlist:

“Hammer Horror” - Kate Bush “Living Dead Girl” - Rob Zombie “Dance Macabre” - Ghost “Found Love in a Graveyard” - Veronica Falls

Aesthetic:

Psychobilly

CREATURE FEATURE STARTER KIT

You will need:

A bigger boat Flare gun Zoology degree Machete

Films:

“Jaws” “Crawl” “Killer Bees” “Lake Placid” “The Birds”

Playlist:

“Animal I Have Become” - Three Days Grace “Rats” - Ghost “Human Fly” - Nouvelle Vague “Black Cat Bone” - Laika

Aesthetic:

Junglecore

FOLK HORROR STARTER PACK

You will need:

Shrine to a dead God Grimoire/Spellbook Hoodoo doll Jars of teeth (human, preferably) An eerie sense of community

Films:

“The Blair Witch Project” “Gretel and Hansel” “Kill List” “Midsommar” “The Ritual” “The Wicker Man” “The VVitch”

Aesthetic:

Cottagecore

FOUND FOOTAGE HORROR STARTER KIT

You will need:

Some shaky camera work Heavy breathing Phone reception? Nah Zero sense of self-preservation

Films:

“The Blair Witch Project” “REC” “Grave Encounters” “Creep” “Troll Hunter” “V/H/S” “Cloverfield”

Aesthetic:

Cryptid core

GOTHIC HORROR STARTER KIT

You will need:

A library of old books and tomes An exorcist and/or Ouija Board, depending on bravery level Some sweeping landscapes Long, flowing robes A dramatic personality

Films:

“Crimson Peak” “Sleepy Hollow” “The Others” “Gothika” “The Woman in Black”

Aesthetic:

Goth, obviously

SCI-FI HORROR STARTER KIT

You will need:

A deep hatred for astrology A telescope A pioneering spirit High-tech weaponry - extra points for a ray gun

Films:

“Sputnik” “Re-animator” “Flatliners” “The Cube” “10 Cloverfield Lane” “The Platform”

Aesthetic:

Cyberpunk

SEA HORROR STARTER KIT

You will need:

Thalassophobia A collection of old diving helmets Specimens collected from sea monsters Footage of a mermaid A shark cage James Cameron

Films:

“The Lighthouse” “Underwater” “The Abyss” “Jaws” “Deep Blue Sea” “Sea Fever”

Aesthetic:

Seapunk and/or Coconut Girl

SLASHER HORROR STARTER KIT

You will need:

A shiny knife To know your favourite horror movie No common sense A mask One hell of a scream

Films:

“Halloween” “A Nightmare on Elm Street” “Friday the 13th” “Scream” “Fear Street Part 1: 1994″

Playlist:

“Mr Evil - Melodic Reggae Version” - Freedom Call “Tear You Apart” - She Wants Revenge  “In For the Kill” - La Roux “Somebody’s Watching Me” - Rockwell “Eyes Without a Face” - Billy Idol

Aesthetic:

Theatre kid

VAMPIRE HORROR STARTER KIT

You will need:

A thirst for human blood Angst Robes. robes, and robes Blackout curtains Aversion to cheer

Films:

“Let the Right One In” “Interview With the Vampire” “A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night” “From Dusk Til Dawn” “Byzantium” “The Lost Boys” “Only Lovers Left Alive” “30 Days of Night” “What We Do in the Shadows”

Aesthetic:

Steampunk

WEREWOLF HORROR STARTER KIT

You will need:

A full moon Stretch pants A manicure Shackles

Films:

“An American Werewolf in London” “Ginger Snaps” “Teen Wolf”  “The Wolfman”

Playlist:

“I Was a Teenage Werewolf” - The Cramps “Sisters of the Moon” - Fleetwood Mac “Pitbull Terrier” - Die Antwoord “I Wanna Be Your Dog” - Emilie Simon

Aesthetic:

Fur-punk

[tyote]

been wanting to write a hillbilly vs redneck discourse for a long time. the past 50 years or more has seen a big erasure/stereotyping of the hillbilly persona and seemingly replaced all “country” aesthetic with redneck sensibilities. i partially blame the rise of comedians like jeff foxworthy and larry the cable guy, but there’s another side where the only time you see the term “hillbilly” is on a novelty pair of costume teeth.

modern rednecks are the descendants of people who, instead of living quietly by their own power in the hills, ran farms for profit and worked in the sun, getting red necks. the american south culture/aspiration of running a giant plantation and having the profit to hire slaves to work it was essentially fostered in that dynamic. the modern equivalent are the ones who like snap-clap country music and nashville culture, drive giant trucks that are never dirty, were raised on their dad’s inherited farm and don’t know how to milk a cow or shuck corn, and only want some churchgoing girl to pop out 7 goofy-looking babies so he can have a group of people forced to listen to him.

the “country” i know and was raised with was formed in a large part by people like the scots-irish - people from scotland and ireland who were taken as indentured servants and stripped of even their specific heritage, so that even today it can be hard knowing which of my ancestors originated from scotland and which were from ireland. they and their descendants found the hills and valleys of appalachia so reminiscent of their ancestral lands across the sea. kentucky limestone is one of the only natural equivalents for scottish limestone for making whiskeys and bourbons. the hills were old and rounded and filled with green, like the ones their ancestors would have walked for a thousand years or more. it was perfect. there’s a reason everyone was where they were at.

years go by, technology improves and so many people aren’t handed down the self-sufficiency lessons of the hill folk. in east tennessee, many family homes in the hills were flooded by the TVA when hydroelectric power was brought to the area, leaving an eerie sort of township at the bottom of cherokee lake, and forcing people into more urban town settings, often dependent on that very electricity and the money required to pay for it. the redneck culture is adapted by most in the south, as that’s the culture promulgated by those in the region with the most money and influence. hillbilly tropes become associated with the lowest class, depicted in only poverty and stupidity, violence and incest, although the truth of their culture was formed family-by-family, hill by hill, on the basis of humility, independence, frugality and living as close to the land as possible.

tl;dr rednecks kept slaves and servants, and much of modern “country culture” stems from them. hillbillies were often the descendants of indentured people, and even slaves, in the case of the melungeons. rednecks wanted lots of land to be worked, for profit. hillbillies wanted to be self-reliant so they didn’t need to work with much money. hilarious which culture was promoted over time.

[cafeacademia]

Belonging

Draco x Muggleborn!Reader

Summary: While you and Draco share a sweet friendship, you’re not sure he’ll ever feel the same way about as you do about him.

Warnings: Worry of unrequited love, lots of gentle soft fluff, Draco being a sweet boy.

Word count: Approx 3600

Masterlist

NOTE: This fic works with any house except for Slytherin purely for the nature of the storyline

A/N: Hi loves! I took a little while to write this one, it’s kind of been in the works for several days because I just had some trouble getting some of the scenes in this right. I hope you enjoy some soft Draco 💖 Gif is my own

It was warm under his gaze, the soft smiles he would give you, the way he would look at you as if just being with you put the whole world right again and things in your presence were perfect.

His touch was even sweeter, the way his fingers brushed carefully against your cheek, his smile widening as he caught a glimpse of your shy smile, unable to hold his gaze as he shared a moment with you, because as much as you adored him, you could never admit it. And even if you did, would Draco Malfoy even want you, a muggle-born witch that did not share his house? As much as you wanted to believe that he might, you knew at the very least that his father would not accept you, not to mention the people who aligned themselves with him that Draco was around often and so you hid your feelings beneath your shy smiles and soft laughs, hoping you were not too obvious.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Draco asked as you shared a sweet moment together, standing on the bridge, overlooking the school grounds and the lake while you waited for your next class. Glancing over at him, your gaze was tender as you looked at him, his soft, slightly tousled ashen hair and light grey eyes, contrasted with his dark robes and the thick green and silver scarf that was draped over his shoulders. “Not a lot, I’m just enjoying it out here.” You lied, looking back towards the view ahead of you before Draco could catch you looking, but really he had already caught you and he couldn’t help the little smile that felt so uncontrollable after seeing that look in your eyes when you looked at him.

“What’s on your mind?” You turned the question back around on him, the Slytherin smiling to himself as he drew in a breath to speak. “How beautiful the view here is.” He replied, chancing a quick glance at you. Draco liked you. He knew he did and nearly from the moment he’d first seen you he had developed a liking for you, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was a crush or a soft spot he held for you. Either way, he adored your company and out of everyone else in the castle, you were the most accepting and the most calming person he had come across.

And had it not been for Professor Flitwick pairing you both together on a class project a few years prior, Draco never would have gotten to know you and he was always thankful for the bond the pair of you had formed over your years at Hogwarts together. Looking at you in the cold winter sunlight, Draco watched as the gentle rays of light cast a beautiful hue over you and as he admired you, he found himself deeply captivated, every bit of tension or stress that had bothered him earlier in the day seemed so far away now that he was with you.

But as the low, heavy ring of the clocktower bell broke the peace of your shared moment, Draco found himself wondering what it was that he really felt for you. “Come on, we’ve got potions.” You said softly, turning away from the beautiful view before Draco joined you in walking to class.

Despite the sweet moments the pair of you shared, the lingering looks and the soft, accidental touches that last only a second before you shyly pull away, you knew that even if you did tell Draco about how you felt, that he wouldn’t reciprocate those feelings back.

Walking into the potions classroom, you walked towards your usual spot with Draco stopping to talk to Blaise Zabini on his way in. “C’mon Draco, sit at the back with us.” Pansy Parkinson called him over with Daphne Greengrass sat with her, an empty chair between them and the ashen haired boy looked over in their direction, casting them both a stupid grin before he crossed the classroom to sit between the two girls. And that was the reason why you knew he wouldn’t feel the same way, because even if he held no prejudice towards you for being a muggle-born witch, he had at least two girls that surrounded Draco with every chance they had, both being very pretty and probably very likable and shared the same house with him.

And to be quite honest, part of the reason why you were sure he didn’t feel that way about you was because on several occasions you had seen Pansy cosy up to him, leaning against his side or standing rather close to him and in one instance, you had seen her kiss him on the cheek, though you seemed to remember at the time that he hadn’t looked best pleased about that.

It was halfway through a practical in your double potions class, having been partnered with Lavender Brown, who for the last half hour had been discussing all of the happenings around the Gryffindor common room with you, that you overheard Daphne Greengrass talking on the next table over from you. “You’re going to Hogsmeade this weekend, aren’t you Draco?” She asked as she weighed out a portion of Billywig wings to create the laughing potion Professor Snape had tasked you all with. “I was wondering if you’d go with me?” Daphne added.

During the pause that followed, you carefully put in three Knarl quills, one at a time and stirred quickly while Lavender held the recipe book and passed you things as she talked. “I don’t know. I did have other plans this weekend.” Draco said blankly and for a moment, his eyes sparing a quick glance at you, though all he could see was the look of sheer concentration on your features as you stared down at your potion. “Well I can join you, I’m not going to Hogsmeade this weekend.” Pansy cut in.

But before you could listen any further, Lavender grabbed your arm with enthusiasm. “The recipe says we have to giggle at it.” She told you brightly. “Giggle at it?” You asked and as if your question had been heard, the dungeon was quickly filled with the sound of Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter laughing together at their potion.

Saturday came around faster than you had expected and before you knew it, the trip to Hogsmeade commenced. Hermione, Harry and Ron were in high spirits as they stopped for butterbeer, Luna and Neville quickly joining them. You were stopped a few times, laughter filling the air as Fred and George messed around with flying sweets, George passing you some self inflating bubble gum, which according to the side of the packet, the bubble would get to at least three times the size of a normal bubble gum bubble.

Meandering in and out of the different shops and spending money on things that caught your eyes, you made your way out of the main part of the town and towards the edge of the treeline where it opened up into a clearing that overlooked the Shrieking Shack.

The recent snowfall had blanketed the whole town in several inches of snow, adding to the eerie, yet calm atmosphere that seemed to fall over the shack in the distance. “Mind some company?” His voice broke the silence and you looked back over your shoulder to see Draco standing at the edge of the trees at the end of the pathway that led to the lookout from the village. You smiled at him, perhaps more brightly than you had intended and while you tried your best not to give away how you really felt, Draco was starting to see it.

And as you invited him over, the Slytherin took slow steps towards you, each footfall followed by the soft crunch and creak of the snow beneath him until he was at your side, his eyes meeting yours. “I was looking everywhere for you.” Draco said softly, as if he didn’t want to disturb the gentle quiet that the snow had created. “You were?” You asked, a little bit taken aback by the idea that Draco had been seeking you out. “Of course, as much as I like spending time with the others,” He paused, looking down at you as he reached up to gently move some of your hair out of your face. “It isn’t like spending time with you.” His voice dropped to a soft whisper. Draco didn’t know how to even describe how you made him feel, but whenever he saw you, whenever he was at your side, Draco felt nothing but calmness and warmth and there was another feeling that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, that seemed to escape him.

His words made you break out into a little smile and Merlin, Draco thought you were the sweetest. He’d never known someone to be so shy and sweet in his presence, to be so accepting of him in every way and somehow it felt as if you didn’t quite know what it was you did to him, how you made him feel.

You wondered what made him seek your attention, rather than that of Pansy or Daphne, or any other girl for that matter, and as you wondered, it was as if Draco knew what you were thinking. “The other girls - Pansy is nice, she’s my friend but,” He sighed looking down at his hands for a moment as he gathered his words. “She can be very intense. And I suppose Daphne can be too.” “I like the way it makes me feel when I’m with you.” He added. Your eyes almost widened at that and you quickly looked up at him to see that Draco was smiling softly at you and your heart near melted. “How does that feel?” You asked quietly. He smiled, drawing in a breath to respond, eyes shifting into the distance as he thought about it for a moment.

How was he supposed to describe that fluttering he felt every time he so much as saw you? How was Draco meant to put into words the indescribable longing he had to be with you each day and how much he wished he could work out what it was that it meant? And then there was that heart fluttering feeling that Draco had never felt before but it warmed him like nothing ever had.

“Like I belong.” He finally replied in a dreamy tone, the Slytherin deep in thought as his eyes looking down from the horizon to catch your gaze and his smile widened, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek. You felt yourself warm, not just at his words but his touch too and your words escaped you, lips parted, wanting to say something, but a comfortable silence overtook you. Draco smiled sweetly at you, he didn’t expect a response and the flustered look of flattery on your features was more than enough to tell him how you felt.

“Draco!” His name was called from nearby and he muttered a mildly annoyed bugger under his breath. “I’ll see you later, won’t I?” He asked in a softer tone. “You always manage to find me.” You nodded, giving him a sweet smile, Draco giving you a bright, lopsided grin as he reached forwards and took your hand in both of his. “Meet with me later?” He asked softly, his thumbs gently rubbing the back of your hand. “In the owlery before dinner.” He added, eyes fixed on yours as he waited for an answer. “I’ll be there.” You nodded, giving him an almost uncontrollable smile and Draco’s grin widened at your answer before he leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

And with confidence in his stride, Draco let go of your hand and backed away from you with that dreamy lopsided grin of his before he turned away and took a quick jog back towards the village, Blaise Zabini calling out for him again before he even reached the pathway.

It wasn’t long before the trip to Hogsmeade came to an end and you all made your way back home to the castle. Though, while everyone else was enthusiastically discussing everything they had bought and things they had seen, chatting among themselves and while Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood walked alongside you, talking about Hogsmeade, your mind wandered to Draco.

He had never asked you to meet him before, except for that one occurrence when you had been working on an assignment together, but this was different. There wasn’t a school related purpose and the way he had asked you had completely melted your heart and left you with your heart beating fast and cheeks that felt hot to the touch. The kiss on the cheek was rather what had caused that reaction though and for the remainder of the trip, you had worn a positively dreamy, uncontrollable smile.

The walk back to Hogwarts seemed to fly by and before you knew it, you were walking up the icy steps to the owlery. It was much colder as the sun hung low on the horizon, twilight drawing in as the last warm pink hues of light streaked across the few clouds that were in the sky.

You gripped the stone stairway tightly as you walked up the steps carefully, the ice making the steps particularly difficult to walk on. “Careful not to slip, love.” Draco seemingly came out of nowhere and you jumped when you’d heard his voice behind you, losing your footing on the icy steps, but Draco was quick to take hold of you and stop you from stumbling or falling.

“You won’t fall love, I’ve got you.” He smiled, stepping up to your side, the ashen haired boy chuckling softly at the look of mild embarrassment on your features. And to make it worse - or perhaps better, Draco had kept his hold on you and you realised just how close to each other you were. “Thank you.” You managed to get out in your flustered state, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that his touch seemed to make your heart skip a beat, but you had a feeling that at this point, there was very little point in hiding your liking for Draco, because you were pretty sure you had outed yourself at least more than once.

Taking your hand in his, Draco led you up the last few steps before you both reached the top of the stairs to find a beautiful view of the grounds. “I’d take you up to the top, but it’s a bit too icy.” Draco said, glancing over his shoulder at the entrance to the owlery. The door was shut, but you could still hear the owls hooting and chattering and moving about their roosts, the odd one here and there coming in to land and climbing into the tower by the little owl sized holes around the entire perimeter of the building.

Giggling, you cast your eyes down at your hands, yours fitting perfectly in his. “I don’t think going up is a good idea, I’d probably fall down the first step.” You joked, and while you said it in a playful manner, you knew you were more clumsy when you were around Draco, his presence always making you a little too flustered to fully concentrate on what you were doing. “I’d catch you if you did, sweetheart.” Draco replied, the name he used for you giving you butterflies while your heart fluttered in your chest and you wondered if he knew what he did to you.

“I’m sorry for asking you to come all the way out here, I would have asked you to meet me in the castle, but it’s hard to get a moment alone.” He told you, shifting a bit closer to your side. “It’s okay, the company and the view are certainly worth it.” You smiled, relaxing against him without realising at first, but as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you suddenly pulled away and looked away from him shyly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” You rushed your apology out, but Draco shook his head, smiling as he let go of your hand to put his arm around your shoulder and gently pull you back against his side. “You never need to apologise to me, darling.” Draco reassured you calmly. “Besides, I never said I didn’t like it, did I?” He asked in a teasing tone, making you smile. “I suppose not.” You giggled softly.

And as you relaxed against him, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding in, you felt yourself melt into his side, your head resting on his shoulder again as you watched the last rays of sunlight disappear and the twilight grow into a cool deep blue hue.

A soft breeze rustled the trees, the gentle patter of snow began to fill the air as the clouds came back in, casting a deeper grey blue across the sky and you shivered, Draco smiling as he tugged you even closer to your side.

“You know, earlier when I told you how I feel around you,” Draco paused, his breath swirling up in the cold air as he let out a breath. “You really do make me feel like I belong.” He smiled, looking over at you as he gently squeezed you against his side. “But there’s something else too, like this overwhelming feeling of-.” Draco stopped himself, eyes meeting yours, though his grey eyes held an air of deep thought. “A feeling of what, Draco?” You asked quietly with an edge of intrigue to your tone.

What was it really? It was more than a sense of belonging. It was deeper than a good friendship. It was more than just knowing the other person. It was as if, despite your different personalities, you were just meant to be. Perhaps the butterflies and the fluttering in his chest and the way his heart skipped a beat whenever you smiled or giggled or even looked at him was more than just a little crush.

“Love.” It came out as a whisper and for once, you watched as a soft pink blush blossomed on Draco’s cheeks and for a moment you were sure you were daydreaming this all up in the silence between you, but the longer you held his warm gaze and Draco looked at you with nothing but love in his eyes, you knew it was very much real. “You love me?” You whispered, your smile almost uncontrollable, but your eyes told him you were in disbelief, because throughout the years of knowing one another and becoming as close as you had, you told yourself time and time again that there was no way Draco Malfoy would like you that way, let alone love you.

“I love you.” Draco told you, his voice sincere and his smile soft and warm. “I love you too.” You replied, a little blown away because in all of the years you had known the Slytherin boy, you hadn’t once thought anything like this would ever happen. And without sparing another moment, Draco pulled you into his arms, his hands coming up to gently cradle your head as he leaned in to kiss you. He was tender and sweet as his lips moved against yours, warm and loving and you quickly melted against him, your fingers slowly brushing over his chest and slipping beneath the lapels of his long black coat to rest against his warm jumper. Draco held you with one hand resting on your lower back, while he gently held your cheek with the other, his lips soft and warm against yours as he kissed you slowly.

The snow fell in a gentle flurry around you as Draco deepened the kiss, your hands moving up to meet at the back of his neck, pulling yourself even closer to him. You felt your heart flutter and it was impossible not to smile into the kiss.

As he parted from you, Draco looked down at you with warmth and love in his eyes. Looking back on all of the moments you had spent with Draco, even from the very beginning those years ago when you had been paired together on that class project, there had always been something between you. And between the longing looks and the lingering touches, the secret meetings and the times he’d sneak up on you while you walked alone to get a giggle out of you. All of those times he came to comfort you and rest his hand gently on your shoulder or gently wipe away your tears with his thumbs and embrace you when you needed someone the most. How had you not seen it? How had you not seen the unconditional nature of his love for you? And you supposed in some ways you had seen it, but you were too busy trying to hide your own adoration for Draco and trying not to run away with the idea of being in love with him that it just didn’t quite occur to you.

“Come on darling, let’s head back and warm up with dinner.” Draco smiled, holding his hand out for you to take. “And perhaps you can tell me what you want to do for our first date while we eat?” He added as you placed your hand in his and looked up at him with a bright smile. “That sounds lovely.” You replied. “Not as lovely as you.” Draco grinned, teasing you a little bit. “How romantic of you.” You giggled, shaking your head as he started to walk you down the steps. “Only for you, my sweet girl.” Draco said with sincerity, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Taglist (OPEN):

@kitkatd7​ @paintballkid711​ @thesewaywardskies​ @coldlilheart​ @victorialynn7​ @pandaxnienke​ @megantje123​ @loving-life-my-way​ @chaotic-fae-queen​