#I never got close to the forty books they wanted us to read

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I just realized that I hate being directly talked to (in most situations); but if someone is talking to their friend at the same table as I am, and we’re all working on separate projects, I love listening to their conversation? Like, in art class these two gamer kids would go on and on about Sonic and Overwatch to each other and it was amazing; because I like reading Wikipedia articles on things I have no personal interest in just to know what it is enough to talk about it if someone brings it up in conversation.

Call that benign eavesdropping.

[ghysry]

A backstory for brisket Five? Say less!

Tags: Diego and Five bond:(, semi-happy ending, brisket Five, he's retired, not an x reader, if you guys want me to make one just ring the bell!, He's so silly!, now let's traumatize him, shows how brisket Five got his name

Characters: Five | the brisket boy (TUA show), Diego Hargreeves, slight mention of Luther Hargreeves and Sloane Hargreeves, Waiter Five cameo at the end

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

"You used to be one of the rotten ones."

Five wouldn't say he had any artistic ability, in hindsight his calculations all over every space of his childhood bedroom might look like modern art to the gullible eye but it's more of an eyesore when you actually understand the things written down, some even have corrections all over them, which at one point stops looking good and starts looking like someone barfed numbers on top of numbers. He learned mathematics in the years he spent walking the empty wasteland of an apocalypse at the ripe age of thirteen to fifty-something, reading books over and over again that survived in the apocalypse was his only source of enjoyment, if not enjoyment, then to pass the time.

No one knows one of those books he picked up was a cook book, a mini-series of them, he vaguely remembers having six out of the eight that you could get in a standard book set of these page torn burnt at the side step-by-step instruction nightmares. But he kept them. There were no stoves anywhere - and if there were, there would be no gas to turn the thing on; besides, he didn't exactly have the materials to cook food anyway, so it was useless to carry those six books around so much, embarrassing, even. Yet it was still in his cart, all forty years he spent heaving it and dragging the wooden mess behind him, those books never left his sight, and he never let them get damaged.

"Step one, throw a pot on the stove and set the fire to medium heat, slice the meat and add it into the water, then--" Five mumbled with his eyes closed, his hand fumbling with a fork, before his ears picked up footsteps right outside of his hotel bedroom. "Five?" Diego knocked on his already open door, letting himself into the older-but-younger brother's room. "You hear the thing with Sloane and Luther? They're getting married," Diego announced, eyeing his sibling for a second, trying to gauge his opinion. If Diego wasn't Five's second favorite sibling he would have sent him out of his room in less than a second, but he is. "I know. Space boy marries space girl before the world ends, kisses and hugs, do I have to be there?" Five grumbles, standing up from the edge of his bed and making his way to Diego, too lazy to use his powers.

"Yes, you have to be there. You're Luther's sibling too you know?" Diego, who's been trying to work on his parental instincts, can't help but see Five as a kid who just can't be understood by certain people, and with this knowledge in his mind, he also can't help but wrap an arm around Five's shoulder and give off a smile. "I'll be there too."

Well, this certainly wasn't what Five thought would happen a few hours before his brother's wedding. He was baking..a cake, a wedding cake, with Diego, his other brother. Five eyed Diego from his peripheral vision, watching him mix the cake batter incorrectly. "Give it here," he sneers, blinking next to Diego and grabbing the mixer, doing it the right way and watching his brother stare at him in what he thought was either awe, annoyance, disgust, or all three. "What?" Five stepped aside, cracking an egg into the batter and then mixing again. "Nothing, I just didn't think of you as the type of guy that cooks."

...

"I don't." Five stares down at his hand holding the mixer, blinking at the weird thought that maybe he could be the type of guy who cooks. After all this, when the world eventually ends and he finds himself up in his version of heaven (which he would prefer if his siblings were nearby, but he'd never tell them that), he'd open a restaurant and cook all the stuff he wishes he could've when he was stuck in the apocalypse. Or, maybe, he just dies - either way now that he was doing it, it felt pretty good, thinking about how people would eat his cooking. "Diego, help me with this."

--There it is, that dreaded moment. After Luther's wedding, after they found the other side of the hotel, after they reset the universe, after everyone else left. The sinking feeling that his siblings would never get to taste his cooking again, dare he ever try to cook after that shit show, it felt worse than standing here alone, by himself, in a park on the bench hoping nobody walks by him and asks if he knows where his parents are. Truthfully, he doesn't even know what happened to his parents, neither Reginald or his biological mother.

[SOMEWHERE IN THE GODDAMN PRESENT]

He gave up on cooking, he realized it sooner or later. After opening a restaurant that was - by the way - extremely successful, he found himself trying to contact his siblings in his free time, once or twice a week, calling them then hanging up a few minutes later to make it seem like he never missed them, and the reason he was calling was only to check up on whether or not they're starting another apocalypse or something. Klaus and Diego got more calls than he'd like to admit, Diego had a family, Klaus was finally off drugs because he lost his powers, and Allison was taking care of him while Klaus was taking care of Claire; who Allison finally got back in this timeline. But that wasn't when he gave up on cooking, it was when he realized this timeline was still doomed to fail either way.

He remembered it as clearly as he remembers that stupid commission handbook, the subway, the diary, the amount of times he felt his chest tightening at the mere mention of another apocalypse, even worse, at the mention of his siblings dying, or his siblings having to die for the sake of the world. That wasn't what he wanted, it was far from what he thought the ending would look like. Maybe, for once, he could accept that he was gullible for thinking he'd ever have a happy ending, especially one that had his siblings in it. If not for his siblings abandoning him, it was him abandoning his siblings. Again.

One more thing he would never tell anyone is that he still blames himself for ending up so far into the future. At first, when he ended up in the apocalypse and couldn't teleport back in time, he thought it was his fault. Seeing his siblings bodies laying there dead and hearts investing, he thought when he jumped too far into the future, he lost all the time he could have spent with them before the apocalypse happened. It's why he wanted to stop it so badly in the first place, to be able to spend more time with his family, the only family he had. Now, he was stuck in a stupid subway with his head in his hands, shivering in one of the empty seats, using his shirt to cover him up as much as possible from the harsh temperature of the subway. Ten years. Ten years on the subway, ten years travelling different timelines, surviving, leaving, wishing for a better adventure. It was just like the apocalypse honestly, if it happened in a train that smelled weirdly like a mixed cleaning agent and a car freshener.

It was on one of those off days when he found the abandoned restaurant, well, it was abandoned when he first saw it, but it felt like the universe was actively laughing in his face when the subway chose to bring him here, though it was the only place he could stay and feel even a little bit closer to home. He stepped inside the dusty establishment, coughing as he did so, the lights were on and flickering, but he was only here to try and loot the place for food. He walked around the place, old shoes sounding against the tiled floor, senses heightened and a butter knife he found clutched tightly in his right hand.

When he opened the kitchen door, he almost lunged in surprise, well, that is if he could lunge at all, or if he could feel surprised at all. It was..another version of him, cooking a meal of some sort, like something you'd find in a shitty three star fast food restaurant, and the grease was just everywhere on that thing. "Do you mind?" The other Five cleared his throat and raised his eyebrow, staring at the Five who was holding a butter knife in his hand.

"You hungry? I could cook you something too." Waiter Five smiled, well, it wasn't really a smile, more like a small smirk pointed towards the other Five who was just standing there like a bear poked. "I'll make my own food," Five answered, clearing his throat, but his hand never let go of the butter knife at his disposal.

"Got any brisket?"

[i-care-4u]

FIRST LOVE | J.HARLOW

PAIR: JACK HARLOW X READER

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED | MASTERLIST

the first time you’ve met jack was in kindergarten. your kindergarten teacher assigned the spots for your class, and you sat with four other people, one of them being jack.

the earliest memory jack had of you was you and your friend heading to the library. while you liked interacting with the class, you also wanted to experience a bit of the quieter side. you and your friend would open the books and look at the illustrations.

this was the same time when he began wearing an eye patch on his right eye, that way he could strengthen his left eye, he believed.

one time you left to the library, and then jack followed your footsteps by raising his hand to ask the teacher the same thing, “miss, may i go to the library?”

“yes jack, you may go.”

after leaving the classroom, one of the students began whispering to another student, “do you think he likes y/n?”

the other student giggled, and began teasing you two whenever you were together.

at recess, you would sit in the swings and read your newly picked out book. the students would ask you to play with them, but you told them that there are other people who want to play. in other words, you weren’t interested in playing ‘tag’ every single day.

jack walked to the swings, but didn’t say a word to you. he didn’t want to disturb you or take a peek at your book. he knew that you stood out compared to the other classmates. you were sweet towards everyone, and you were one of the only people that didn’t make fun of jack. maybe his classmates were right, he did have a crush on you.

the kids, on the other hand, looked by the swings, and one of them shouted out, “jack likes y/n!”

this would then go on for the rest of elementary, but the teasing between you and jack calmed down by the third grade. you knew jack didn’t see you in that manner as well as the students just joking around. you can admit, however, that he was a cute and funny guy.

-

you guys grew up together throughout middle school, and you noticed that jack looked a lot happier than he was in elementary.

it was the time when jack began having a passion of music, and started creating it using stuff he has at home. his first experience into becoming a rapper was in fifth grade, when he tried to sing “fergalicious” at a talent show, but the song was too explicit to perform.

jack would invite you to his little music sessions and play some guitar hero along. it was interesting to see the process, and by the time he finishes, he would burn about forty copies to give to his classmates.

“i think i’ll sell them for 5 dollars.”

“that’s too pricey for some cheesy songs.”

“4?”

“1.”

“too cheap, y/n. i think i’ll go with 2 dollars each.”

“that’s good.”

-

by the end of middle school though, things began to change for you. your parents got a new job, and unfortunately, you had to move to another place. it was unexpected news for you, never telling your friends until later on.

it was upsetting, believing that your high school experience was ruined before stepping a foot inside. but in the bright side though, you had a fresh start in your new place.

jack began to notice your absence during his high school years, but never questioned it until he brought it up in a conversation with his friends.

“hey, what happened to y/n?”

“y/n l/n?” your name was the first thing that came to his friend’s mind.

“yeah. i haven’t seen her since middle school ended.”

“she probably moved to another place, jackman.”

“moved?!” he exclaimed. jack began to picture all of his memories that he had with you. after hearing this, all of his memories began to feel more like dreams and it shattered jack that he might not ever see you again.

-

it’s been ten years since you moved from louisville to [your place]. one day you were bored, and decided to drive to louisville, where you spent most of your childhood.

it took a few hours to drive there and you felt the excitement the moment you read the sign that said ‘welcome to louisville.’

“it’s been a while…” you to mumbled to yourself. you began driving to the area you grew up in, seeing the newly changes that they have in the city. you used the maps app to start heading to the neighborhood you once lived in.

you still couldn’t believe it was a decade since you left the city. it was a huge change for you, now having to start a different high school with new people. it was hard to adjust at first, but people eventually began making talk with you.

you turned off your car, and made sure your car was locked before getting out. you began walking to the neighborhood, seeing the homes and their decorations that they add in their garden and porch.

as you were walking, you saw a man walking towards the same direction as you.

he stood there for a few seconds in order to examine you. “y/n?” the man wondered if it was you.

you had that developed, yet youthful look on your face, and it was quite recognizable for everyone. you flinched, but you then turned around to see the guy.

it was possible that you knew him from school in the past, but you couldn’t put a name on his face.

“do i know you?” you paused to look at his face. he has curly hair, a freshly cut beard, and those blue eyes. he looked familiar until you finally remembered, “wait! you’re jack, right?”

“that’s me.”

“oh my goodness, jack, you scared the fuck out of me!”

“my fault.”

“it’s fine, i just never thought that i’d see you again. it’s been what, ten years?”

“ten fucking years…”

the last time you saw him, he had a very dorky look and had that high pitched voice. you were in shock when you saw how he looks like now.

he pursued his dreams into becoming a rapper and it worked successfully, and that was one thing that didn’t change about jack. another thing that didn’t change was that he still kept the same charm from the prior years.

you asked the typical question that people ask once reunited, “so what are you up to?”

jack gave you a look, and you didn’t blame him, to be fair. you left without saying goodbye or anything. “no, what are you up to?”

“i wanted to drive around louisville, and i honestly miss it here,” you explained. “what about you?”

“just passing by before tour starts.”

you raised a brow, confused on what he meant by ‘tour.’

“tour?”

“a world tour, i’m performing in several countries.”

your eyes widen and gasped, “that’s so amazing jack, you really made it this far!”

“thank you, i couldn’t make it without your support.”

you tilted your head and pouted at him, “really?”

jack smiled, “yeah, really.”

-

you two walked to the park nearby the neighborhood. the park was bigger than you remembered, but that’s because they now added a tennis court and a kiosk.

you and jack sat in a picnic table near the trees, where you began to catch up with each other’s lives. jack put on his sunglasses, as he felt that it was a little too bright today.

with a hand covering your mouth, you laughed at jack, “you’re so dramatic jack.”

jack shrugged, “what can i say? i’ve always been serving it girl.”

you couldn’t take him seriously and continued laughing, “it’s only like 71 degrees, be serious.”

“fine, fine,” jack took off his sunglasses to reveal his blue eyes that you’ve always loved and remembered.

“how lovely you look today,” you sighed.

jack misunderstood what you told him, “i look lonely? i am literally with you!”

you clarified, “lovely, dumbass.”

he awkwardly exclaimed. you were having a fun time within the first minutes with him at the park, laughing at the little things you guys do. it took you back to more than a decade ago, when he would rap about household items to you.

-

there was no one in the park, but you two. you felt at peace alongside jack, just like old times.

the sun was setting, and you started to feel the breeze outside. jack sat next to you to make you feel comfortable, and you rest your head onto his shoulder.

“it feels nice out here,” you tilted your head to look at jack.

“you should visit here more often, you would love it.”

you softly laughed, “like what, singing me about the smell of febreeze?”

“you still remember that?”

“i thought that was the funniest thing you ever did.”

“i have plenty of other songs on my catalog,” he turned on his phone to show you a specific song, “in fact, i wrote this song about you.”

the title track was named after you. you weren’t as active on social media, so you weren’t aware of the music he releases. when the song started playing, you looked at him with fulfillment. you could tell that he dedicated some time in order to write these thoughtful lyrics about you, and the production was well-made.

as soon as the song finished playing, you turned around to see jack. you almost went to tears of joy, not expecting someone like jack to give you such a gift, “this is the nicest thing someone did for me in a long time…”

“all this time i thought i’d never see you again. you’re the person i spent most of my time with back then, and i want that again. you don’t know how much you mean to me and my career. y/n, i want to make things official with you.”

“jack…” you reached in for a kiss and jack leaned in to return the favor. you took your hand and placed it on his cheek, feeling a bit of his soft skin.

“and all of that for me?”

jack replied, “for you.”

you had never thought that you’d be kissing jack and date ten years later. until today, you realized that you hit the lottery with him, considering his large fan base. to jack though, it was love at first sight.

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Not So Routine- Chapter 7

Summary: Nesta and Cassian come in to collect Nesta's custom piece and Y/N gets a little flustered in the process.

Pairings: Eventual!Nessian x Afab!Reader Mor x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Nerves and lust.

Word count: 930

Bookshelf Series Bookshelf

The days following went by quickly and routine. You woke up, ate breakfast, went to work, started and finished Nestas custom piece, went home and had dinner, read a book before crawling into bed. Mor had been busy with court duties so you didn’t see much of her. Before you knew it the day for Nesta to pick up her custom set came along. You had tossed and turned the night before. Then struggled to choke down breakfast, the nerves in your belly caused it to be sensitive. You paced back and forth through the store as your best friend sat at the counter trying to ease your worries. 

“You just need to take a deep breath. I’ll be here the whole time. Plus I highly doubt they're as scary as you’re going on about. I’ve seen Cassian trip and fall in a puddle after a night at Rita’s before.” She tapped her fingers along the counter in an off key tune and you simply glared at her. The thought of Cassian falling face first into a puddle drunk off his ass did make you laugh however. She gave you a toothy grin in return, happy to see some of your worries ease. The moment was halted as the door opened. You both looked towards the door and there they stood in all their perfectly poised glory. 

“Hello.” Your voice squeaked out and you cringed. Your friend slapped a hand over her mouth to cover her laugh and you glared at her. She had never seen you as nervous as you were now around someone. Once you cleared your throat you turned back to your mates and gave them a small smile. Cassian gave you one in return and Nesta relaxed the resting bitch face she normally wore which was as close to a smile you figured you’d get from her. 

“Sorry about that, I had a tickle in my throat. I’m guessing you're here to pick up your set?” You started walking behind the counter to grab the box that you had set there. The red ribbon you’d wrapped around the black box swayed in the wind as you lifted it and set it down on the counter top. You realized as you looked at the box that you had unconsciously put together the red and black you had all been wearing the night of dinner. 

“Also wanted to speak about that position you offered me.” They had both approached the counter quietly and you jumped at how close her voice was. You’d been surprised that Cassian was able to walk so softly with his hulking frame. 

“Oh yes. So we were thinking.” You gestured towards the female next to you introducing her quickly, you had both discussed the position and had decided on what you would offer her together.

“A part time position, flexible around when you are free. You can help us with new designs and custom orders. Your sketches were breathtaking and we both agree it would be amazing to see more. Pay will be weekly as well as sixty/forty commissions on any items we put out based on your sketches.” Your thumb and pointer finger rubbed the material of the ribbon on the box between them as you laid the offer out in the open. 

Cassian watched Nesta carefully, waiting to see what she would say. Her cold and calculated gaze narrowed on you before she nodded her head. A sigh slipped through your lips and your shoulders released some tension you hadn’t realized they were holding. Your friend beside you had a beaming smile on her face as she took in the scene before her. 

“When would you like me to start?” You went to answer her but the words got caught in your throat as lust swept through the bond. You weren’t sure who it was coming from or why but it had your mind spinning. The skin of your chest, neck and face heated as the feeling washed over you again. 

“Whenever you would like to, it is fine with us.” Your friend gave her a reassuring smile even though Nesta’s eyes didn’t leave yours. Cassian looked between the two of you and laid a hand on Nesta’s back. Nesta told you what day she could start and what time and your friend told her that worked perfectly.

But your eyes never left Nesta’s. Even though you were feeling completely weak, if you weren’t white knuckling the counter with one of your hands you were sure you’d be on your hands and knees crawling towards the female begging for her approval. 

Cassian stepped up to the counter and carefully took the box from where it sat in front of you. The ribbon slipped between your fingers and that broke you out of your spell. You blinked rapidly, shaking your head aggressively trying to clear the dirty thoughts away. He sent you a wink as he took the box and you took in a large gulp of air. 

Because how were you ever going to survive in this life with them as your mates. They didn’t say anything else as Cassian guided Nesta out the door. You were happy that they had already paid the first time they came in because you didn’t know if you could’ve handled them being around much longer. Your friend snickered at the scene she just witnessed and you tried to level her with an intimidating stare and she just laughed harder. You were just thankful that all the eventful experiences of the day had already passed.

A/N: I know that this part was shorter but I promise the next two parts are going to be longer. Thank you all for reading and as always likes, comments, reblogs and follows are much appreciated.

Tags(open): @kmc1989 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @luvmoo @wolfsbane44 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @pinksmellslikelove @waytoomanyteenagefeels @littlebbb @cat-or-kitten @girlmadeofavocados

[littlebluentebook]

Alastor x Reader pt.6

A/N Oh my goodness! I didn't expect the story to get this much attention! Im going to do some sort of second story where Alastor and the reader are in hell. If theres no objections I'll also feature some helluva boss characters (just to advance the plot!)

I am very sorry for not updating! I went out of town, nearly broke my hip, got sick, and started a new job all in the last 2 weeks. I should be able to post once every three days now :)

Thank you to everyone reading the story! I love sharing my ideas and feel free to reach out if there are any stories you want to see!

TW-Animal Blood(?)

Chapter 7

You woke up in Alastor's arms. It wasn't on purpose! You both had agreed to split the bed, pride getting in the others way. Apparently, somewhere in the night you each reached for the other. Not minding the extra warmth, you fell back asleep. There was no point in moving away; you liked him, he was comfy, and kept you warm. The second time you woke up, the sun was bright and the bed was empty. Worried you checked the clock to make sure you hadn't overslept to open the shop. You had forty five minutes to get the store open. Not as much time as you would have liked, but also not anything too out of your range.

"Ah! My sleeping beauty, glad you're now awake!" a voice said from the doorway. Alastor? You thought he had left. "Come now! I have made us breakfast."

Alastor could cook. Breakfast tasted like it was picked up from a five star restaurant on the more expensive side of town. Over breakfast he told you that he was unable to leave such a beautiful person alone and you needed the rest from the previous night. He actually didn't leave you at all that day.

He sat talking with you in your shop keeping well mannered company. Alastor would never admit it, but he absolutely loved listening to you talk. He spent so much time talking on the radio it was nice to finally be listening to others. He never really cared for sewing but asked you questions about how you did certain things and complimenting your stitch work. He also would assist you while you worked; measuring, flipping things right side outing grabbing fabric as needed. He liked feeling useful to you and watching you work on something you were passionate about.

:Thank you so much for your help today Allie."

"Allie?" He tilted his head like a puppy hearing 'no' for the first time.

"Yeah! Like a nickname," you beamed at him. Alastor mulled the name over in his head before deciding it was okay when it rolled off your tongue and into his ears. No one else could ever be allowed to call him Allie aside from you.

"Hmmmm. Alright" He was at a loss for a nickname truly just wanting to call you his. "Why don't we go and fetch ourselves dinner. I know the most exquisite place!"

"that would be lovely!" Your demeanor was much calmer than your racing thoughts. First, Alastor had stayed the night and made breakfast. Secondly he spent the entire day with you. And now he wanted to take you to dinner! You felt like a romance character from the books you had read and heard stories of.

He had helped you close the shop, took your arm in his (it was the only way you two ever walked together) and he led the way to the restaurant.

It was a nice place with candles and flowers on the table. There was a live band playing softly to entertain guests as they dined.

Alastor was sweet and kind with you, he made excellent recommendations about what drinks to try and meals to order. You both split a cake together for dessert. The night was wonderful, absolutely perfect! The only thing that there you off was the way in which Alastor ordered his steak.

"Alastor!" you had whisper-yelled "that cow is so undercooked I can still hear it moo-ing in the fields. Do we need to have the waiter take it back for just a moment longer?"

"Haha oh no darling! I just enjoy my cut of meat like this. It holds so much more flavor!" You gave him a quizzical look swearing you had just seen blood dark as your wine pool on the plate.

When your night had come to an end, Alastor had walked you home and kissed your cheek. It had left you red and blushing thinking about it as you slept.

The next morning you had awoken ready to start your chores. You folded the blanket and pajamas that Alastor had borrowed and cleared a drawer for the items to reside in. Today you had a new activity you hadn't done in years.

You walked down the stairs leading to your shop and to the circular display table at the center of your shop. Grabbing the wilted flowers and vase you got to work and put them in your oven to dry them out. You loved keeping gifts, flowers were beautiful but difficult to keep but you made it work.

The entire day you were all that was on Alastor mind. He simply could not get enough of you despite spending the entire day together before. He was talking to his mother about the feeling and how he had never experienced it, unsure of what to do he was searching for advice. His mother was not helping the situation, she merely laughed at him. "Oh Al, why don't'cha go onna date together and court the poor thing!" What if you didn't like him back? What if he made a total fool of himself. His mother could sense his worries, "well whoever can put up with ya for a full day definelty doesn't not like you." She pinched his cheeks and went back to cooking for the both of them

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @dyrewrites!

Oc in 15

For my final Outcast of Honor, we've got Twenari Undetasib (or Crowborn or Devaris)! She's a capital G Gifted Kid who spent most of her childhood doing magic for her brutal smuggler mother. In the first book, she's twelve. After the time skip for two and three, she's sixteen. But she's always had the soul of a forty-five year old tenured professor. She also serves as the straightman of this series' four man comedy routine, so her dialog isn't quite as funny on its own as it is with the other's. This'll all be dialog from the 3rd book

"Azhur, I'm sorry it ended up like this. You... you've known me for three days. That's hardly enough time to know somebody, let alone a daughter. Yet, you risked everything for me. I... I wish I knew why. You're a powerful sorcerer, with enough money to buy the moon out of the sky. You don't need me. Getting involved in my struggles was a terrible investment---you gain nothing, but have the chance to lose everything. I suppose the only explanation is that... that you really do...."

"She also says that if you die, she'll find a way to haunt your ghost. But it shouldn't come to that. Once you're up, you can go to her and she can haunt you all she likes in the living world."

"We mortals might preserve if we work together. After all, enough ants can kill a lion."

"Something to do with gravitational runes and the density of air. It's brilliant; they combine the magical with the mechanical and get a miracle. Gods, if I could just get a peek inside one of those fans...."

"I can scan for key terms. Two can read faster than one, even if one doesn't know the science. Please, I promise I can be of use."

"Rich people love souvenirs. I'll bet one of my kinsmen has something that can get us nearby, at least."

"According to my second cousin Omari, who, keep in mind, is nine years old, we're a few miles out from Kityra Village."

"I have water, I have organic material; I can make soup."

"I'd never realized the full breadth of an infallible memory. There must be something about the mortal mind that allows it to block out such a horrific process. I'd make sense, as adaptation against madness. If robots don't have that, then, Bi'em, your contributions to teleportation magic as a whole could be incredible!"

"Delays are dangerous. We keep going."

"I tortured people for my mother. Does that count as experience?"

"I don't want to speak with her. I don't even want to see her if I can avoid it. Is that cowardly of me? She stole my childhood away, shouldn't I have something to say to her?"

"...no. I'll catch you up on Janazi literature motifs later. No, when the heros are against the wall and the dragon is closing in, they go to find another dragon. And I've got one in mind."

"Spirit of the desert! I gave you the luxury of a discussion last time, but you have worn my patience thin. You have no choice in the matter; you will apportion a piece of your power to me and I will leave with it. Give it willingly and I will not have to resort to force!"

"Leave her to her estate. Leave her to her schemes and her gold. Leave her to all those empty things and she'll hollow herself out in time. She doesn't have enough of a heart for vengeance."

I'll tag @moonandris @mitzymossy33 @revenantlore and @goldxdarkness!

Have a bitchin day <3

[itookyoudown]

From nothing but time (hard time)!

Tim thinks there's nothing to say about it. Conversation (and action) over with the night. He’d be wrong. Raylan’s head and now shirtless shoulders and naked arms pop up by the side of Tim’s bed. He’s peeled off his shirt and stands there looking at Tim with a smile in his eyes.

“Tim, you want a taste of Kentucky?”

Tim rolls his eyes. And then he closes them. There’s no potential threat in the question. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Raylan’s dick is hard again. Thus no way for the other man to weaponize it. Not yet. Tim’s still got another thirty to forty minutes before he might have to shove off an attempt for a second round.

“Think I’ve had my fill for the night,” Tim declines in a dry, disinterested tone. He knows now what the inside of Raylan’s mouth tastes like.

He hears something tinny open and close. Tim does peek to find out what that’s about. Raylan’s holding out the little box that he keeps his personal effects in. Letters. Snacks. Shit like that.

“They’re butter cake,” he whispers. Raylan is already holding out the tin for Tim to take one. As if he can’t imagine Tim saying no.

Tim squints at him. “You do know it’s candy you’re supposed to lure boys with if you’re looking to get your cock sucked. Cookies? Cakes? Now, this is what witches use as bait for kids they wanna cook up. Unless you're trying to eat me?”

A shit-eating grin stretches out Tim’s lips. God, he loves this. This is the kind of shit that gets him hard. Or it would have, if he hadn’t just shot off three minutes ago. “This is cultural appropriation, Raylan. You’re mixing up unseemly fornication with cannibalism.”

“Eat the fuckin’ cookie, Gutterson.”

Tim’s never had someone threaten him over baked goods before. He keeps his gaze pinned on Raylan’s face as he dips his fingers into the tin box that Raylan’s still holding out. Slow. Careful. He’s wary about this.

“Why you sharing your mama’s cookies?” he asks. 

There’s no afterglow in prison, but apparently, there are cookies. Tim shouldn’t take the cookie. For much the same reason he shouldn’t call Raylan Raylan.

There are stories about Raylan. There are so many stories about Raylan. While Tim thought most of them were bullshit…the more he gets to know Raylan, the more he believes there's more truth to them than lie. 

And one of those stories that might not be such a tall tale is that Raylan shanked a man for stealing one of the goodies his mother bought in on family day.

“I told her ‘bout you,” Raylan answers nice and easy and with absolute unbidden honesty, “and she told me to share.”

Un-fucking-believable. It’s true. Even murderers still love their mothers.

Ohh yo. Justie i’m glad you asked this one so I can ramble about it quite a bit. This fic’s popularity has always surprised me and I’m still floored by the folks that have reached out to tell me it was one of the fics that drew them into reading more Justified fanfiction or set sail the givenson ship for them.

This was written back in my early days of writing fanfiction for the very first time. I wanted to test out my comfort zone and also give back in some way to the fandom that had given me so much joy, so I hosted a mini prompt fest (Givensongiving) right here on tumblr and invited justies to send me prompts for givenson fics.

You can thank @sublightsleeper for prompting “involuntary arousal + prison sex, gimme that sweet sweet au sauce” and thus this fic was born.

It was hugely inspired by the prison scenes in Justified and other shows such as Oz, Orange is the New Black, and a lot of nonfiction books + documentaries I’ve read over the years about the USA prison system.

When I thought about how to put Raylan and Tim in a prison setting, I immediately went with the idea that they both ended up as inmates. I think I briefly considered the idea that they were both guards. Or even doing guard/inmate, but I didn’t really get any noncon or darkfic inspiration from the prompt. Besides, I did want to preserve the equal footing they have had on the show with each other and I was drawn to painting a friendly/comforting connection between them as they're locked up.

Once I knew I wanted to do inmate/inmate, there was zero question on HOW Raylan and Tim would end up in prison: they’d be there for murdering their fathers.

I can clearly remember thinking about how Raylan would have killed Arlo and had this thought: “what if Raylan killed Arlo with a baseball bat? That’d be hot…but also horrifying for him so let’s explore that”. It felt really fitting to me to have Raylan kill Arlo in such a “personal” way (close and personal and frantic and messy) and Tim to kill his father in an “impersonal” way (cold and distant with a gun and utilizing military tactics).

ANYWAYS. Sorry for all the background rambling onto rambling about this specific bit!

This whole exchange was really meant to highlight the different ways that Raylan and Tim have learned how to survive prison and the effect it’s had on their ability to make connections with others and how to navigate relationships.

Tim rolls his eyes. And then he closes them. There’s no potential threat in the question. There’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that Raylan’s dick is hard again. Thus no way for the other man to weaponize it. Not yet. Tim’s still got another thirty to forty minutes before he might have to shove off an attempt for a second round.

Prison has hardened Tim. He’s closed himself off behind a very high wall to protect both his emotions and also physically safeguard himself. He’s always looking out for an angle that someone might use to hurt him. In this case, when Tim worries about Raylan trying to initiate more sex, this is Tim being painfully aware that his cellmate could regard his agreement with consenting to sex this time as consenting to sex always. 

Earlier in this fic I implied that Tim is a survivor of incest & SA, so it was important to me that I circle around to that reveal again and have Tim anticipating this violence (and have him ready to defend himself)…but having him do it in a very Tim-like way. His casual acceptance of the possibility of it was really meant to highlight the horror of what’s happened to him in the past.

I also feel like the cold, factual, and slightly paranoid way that Tim reacts to Raylan in the immediate aftermath of their sexual encounter was a good contrast to Raylan’s more lighthearted approach as well. Tim hasn’t done as much time as Raylan and Tim got to live life a little before being locked up. And because of that I think Tim’s viewpoint of what they’ve done is more practical – he’s in prison and cut off from the outside world, he’s making due with what and who is available to him. He’s touch starved and knows it and so seeks friendly hands for a few minutes of respite without expecting anything beyond that.

“They’re butter cake,” he whispers. Raylan is already holding out the tin for Tim to take one. As if he can’t imagine Tim saying no.

You have no idea how long I spent researching “traditional kentucky desserts” and “popular kentucky desserts” before I settled on butter cake cookies lol. I really wanted it to be something simple but distinct, something that Frances would actually bake and she’d be able to take into prison for Raylan.

This was also, once again, Tim making implications about his past and being purposefully offensive about it because he likes to tell his little jokes as his primary coping mechanism.

Compared to Tim, it was my goal to make Raylan…I don’t want to call him soft, even though his behavior is obviously softer when you compare it to Tim’s. Raylan is still a very violent and angry man in this fic. His murder of Arlo sent him to prison and him assaulting and murdering other inmates has ensured he’ll be a lifer. He’s also still a smooth talker and likes to tell others what to do (hence him telling Tim to eat the fucking cookie).

However, I did want to draw attention to the fact that Raylan has spent more of his life inside of prison than outside of it. He went in while he was still a teenager. He’s never known the outside world in an adult way, so there’s absolutely a childish edge to him and a degree of innocence in the way he tries to grow closer to Tim.

And I did want to make it clear that despite Raylan’s charm and the fact that he’s over 40 years old in this, he’s emotionally underdeveloped and has a much more rosy view. He is very much experiencing A Big Crush on his new cellmate (and is over the moon that the newest boy on the block likes him best) and is treating their time together as if they’re “dating”. He’s also obeying his mama’s advice on how to treat Tim because yes this is also sneaky Raylan is a mama’s boy propaganda fic.

As an aside, I loved including Frances even if she’s in the background. It felt so good to write at least one AU where Frances survived Arlo even if that meant she lost Raylan to prison. She got to live!!

(author commentary ask game)

[coveredinworms]

Re: your discussion of prose superhero novels, there's two things I want to bounce off you. The first is Wild Cards, the thing that used to be George RR Martin's main claim to fame. IIRC it grew out of a TTRPG Martin played with a bunch of other sf/f writers in the early 1980s, and he decided to turn it into a shared universe that's been trucking along as anthologies, mosaic novels, and standalones by various authors for close to forty years now. (IIRC Carrie Vaughn has done a couple stories in the setting.) The second is Lavie Tidhar's This Violent Century, a Le Carré-inspired yarn from 2013 about a world where a small collection of superhumans appeared in the 1930s and how they were tangled up in the events of WW2, the Cold War and beyond.

Oh I actually have heard of Wild Cards but I've never looked into it. Idk what this says about me but learning Carrie Vaughn has contributed it to has got me foaming at the mouth. I said it on the pod but After the Golden Age/Dreams of a Golden Age are books I have not stopped thinking about since reading them like 5 years ago lmao. I'm definitely gonna look into this now. This Violent Century also sounds interesting as hell. Thank you for the suggestions! I'm always fiending for prose super hero stories

[onwiththestories]

A little story idea! Let me know if you'd want more

She had just gotten a perm and a mani-pedi. Her long, brown hair was in loose, ringlet curls, her fingers and toes in a flawless french manicure, and she was ready to hit the town. First, though, she was thirsty and wanted a smoothie. So she put on her sunglasses and headed out of the nail salon. She had light green eyes and fair skin, so on this summer’s day she had to be quick to not get burned by the same sun that hurt her eyes as she ran to the car, those cute curls bouncing behind her. 

She made it to the car without incident and drove herself to the smoothie shop where she got a ‘lean machine’ smoothie. Not because she wanted to lose weight, but because it tasted the best. She sat at a table and browsed her phone while she sipped. She sighed at all the news on her media feeds. Nothing but trouble. Terrible things happening to good people all over the world. 

Did she really have a right to go out and spend the money her uncle gave her so frivolously when people were suffering and dying? What else could she do? She just felt guilty. So she put her phone away and picked the book out of her purse instead, going back to War of the Worlds because she’d never finished it in high school, and recently found it in a used bookstore. The book itself was adorable, small enough to fit in her purse with a lovely blue suede cover, but the contents within were her goal. 

‘No one would have believed, in the last years of the nineteenth century, that human affairs were being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man’s and yet as mortal as his own;-’ 

And so she read for a good forty five minutes or so until she finished her drink. She was several pages deep before she was making noise with the last dredges of the smoothie, and so packed it in with a little clippable bookmark that looked like a fish. She checked the time on her little Casio calculator watch and sighed. It was getting late. If she wanted to get to that steakhouse before it got too busy, she’d have to call up her friends and go now. 

They’d planned to go out and get some drinks (she’d be the designated driver, though) for a few months now, and since she got a lot of money from her great-uncle as an early 30th birthday present, she decided today was the day to spoil herself and go out with friends.

However, when she left the shop, squinting her eyes against the sun, she found herself not outside, but in what looked like a set from her father’s old sci-fi TV shows. 

Wh- What?

“Ah, Captain! Welcome back!” said a deep, rich voice. There was no way that voice was real.

“Where am I? Wait- Captain?” She asked, “Hold on, what’s- what’s going on here?”

She turned to look at where that voice came from and was met with a face that would sear itself into her memory for all time. Raven locks, flawless olive skin, deep brown eyes, and a smile that made her knees weak. His smile became concerned.

“Captain, are you feeling alright?” He asked.

“Wait a second, why are you calling me captain?”

“That’s- that’s you, Captain Sarah Walters of the SRMS Dauntless.”

She just blinked, “That’s my name, but I'm not-”

[sagsunscorpmooncancerrising]

I watched a video a few days ago from the first real vacation I ever took. It is a minute-long clip I used to marvel at, a time-lapse I propped my phone up in a sandbank to capture. In it I wander into the frame, plop down on the beach with my back to camera and stare at the horizon. The sky transitions from blue to orange, bright purple to pink.

Seeing this video used to bring me peace. Now all I can see is how minuscule I appear to be in comparison to the ocean before me. The tide rolls in and out ferociously and it's like the waves are screaming “we've been here forever and we will remain here forever and you're lucky we didn't swallow you when you dared get this close on your first big girl vacation at age 17"

My dad’s house boasts a barren interior as do most of the homes of men who go through a divorce in their mid forties. When I was there yesterday I noticed a self help book on the side table. Strange, I thought, for a man who has proudly never read a single book in his life.

Later on I went to my mom's. Her partner hates clutter, so a few years back she got rid of the entire catalog of books she spent the duration of my childhood enmeshed in. She hasn't been much of a reader since. I was taken by the moment of synchronicity when I looked to her otherwise empty bookshelf and saw the same book my dad was reading.

“Loving it,” she said, noticing me noticing it. “You can borrow when I'm done if you want?” 

I do not. 

When the door flew off that Alaskan Airlines Boeing earlier this year I was a week out from a trip out West and I experienced my first ever bout of flight anxiety. Back when I wanted to die, I thought going out on a plane would be kind of glamorous. I used to feel spiritual up there in the sky and accept my demise in a cool, dramatic way. Scarier than a plane door coming off mid-flight is my realization that I’ve always been afraid of having a life I love, because that would mean that the thing I love is finite and the things that bring me joy will be over. I can only wrap my head around my own mortality should it be tied to a life of misery. I think that now, at 26, I carry the burden of liking life more than I did at 17. There’s much more that can slip away from me now.

I used to say I didn’t like Neil Young, but yesterday his CD was playing in the car and thank God I had my big sunglasses on because I couldn't stop myself from crying. We zoomed past the Burger King parking lot where I saw an older gentleman attempting to balance three large pops in a tray while trying to get the door to his blue sedan open. It struck me then that we are really all living this life for the first time.

I’ve always shied away from writing because

it hurts my fingers to hold a pen, and 

I've never allowed myself to believe that my thoughts are valuable enough to be put down on paper

As you can see, I no longer care and am writing regardless

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

Terrorising the Neighborhood Cat and Other Sleepover Activities

the second part of the bruise childhood friends au. this is 2.5k words and Lilly is still alive in it but the angst will be coming soon. cross posted to Ao3

Waiting was extremely boring, Cole decided. He had been waiting for Jay to arrive for roughly two hours, forty minutes and twenty-seven seconds. 

“He’s not going to be here until 2:00, Pumpkin,” his mom said. 

“Yeah, but what if he gets here early?”

“Then he’ll ring the doorbell,” Lilly smiled fondly. “You still need to eat lunch anyway,”

“I don’t need to eat! Jay is coming and we’re gonna be too busy to eat!” Cole exclaimed. 

“Too busy even for cookies?”

Cole bit his lip. “Okay, maybe not too busy,”

“Well, come on then. There’s a sandwich with your name on it in the kitchen, and you and Jay can have dessert later,”

Cole pouted. “‘Kay,” he said. “Promise you’ll tell me when he arrives?”

“Yes,” Lilly followed Cole as he headed to the kitchen. 

Twenty minutes later, Cole had finished his sandwich and a glass of juice. But Jay still hadn’t arrived, which was disappointing.

“Mom, how much longer ‘till Jay gets here?” Cole groaned.

“A little more than an hour, sweetie,” Cole’s mom smiled gently. “You could pick out a game to play while we wait.”

“I don’t want to play Scrabble,” Cole said. “It’s boring,”

“It doesn’t have to be Scrabble,”

“But all the other games are boring too!” Cole flopped onto the couch.

Mom looked at him with a raised eyebrow, or at least, Cole assumed she was. That seemed like the most likely thing she was doing right now. “Cole, Jay will be here in an hour. Until then, you can do something like read a book, or watch TV.” she said, confirming his suspicions. She didn’t sound angry, but definitely a bit annoyed. 

“M’kay,” Cole’s voice was muffled from his position on the cushions. He dragged himself off the couch and up the stairs to his room, then threw himself onto the bed. His Superman bedsheets looked at him mockingly.

“Stupid waiting,” Cole mumbled. He looked around his room, but found nothing of interest. Nothing to entertain him for the next hour. Not unless he wanted to stare at the walls for sixty minutes.

Maybe his book collection would have something. Mom may have been onto something with that suggestion. Cole scanned over the titles; Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief, Fritz Donnegan #15-20, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Narnia, and a whole bunch of others that he had already read. But there was nothing to do except read. Huffing a little, he pulled Percy Jackson off the shelf and started rereading. 

After what seemed like only a few moments, but was actually fifty minutes, Cole’s mom called him down. “Cole! Jay is here,”

That got Cole moving. He threw his book to the side, mentally apologising to it, then ran down the stairs. “JAY!” He grinned.

“Cole!” Jay barrelled into him, squeezing Cole in a hug. “I missed you! It feels like I haven’t seen you in a billion years!”

“I missed you too,”

“Wow! So this is your house? I’ve never been here before! It’s so big! And shiny! And colourful!” Jay was especially chatty today, Cole noted. He liked that about him — Jay would do all the talking while Cole listened. It was a good arrangement.

“Yeah,” Cole said, answering Jay’s (probably metaphorical) question. “This is where I live,”

“It’s so cool! I saw the garden outside, it’s so pretty! Did you grow it?”

“My mom did,”

Speaking of Cole’s mom, she had been standing off to the side, smiling at the scene unfolding before her. “I’m glad you like the garden, Jay,” she said. “But we should probably get inside. It’s a bit chilly today,”

“Oh!” Jay realised. “Sorry, Mrs. Hence.” He stepped inside and let Lilly close the door.

“No harm done,” she smiled. “Would you like some water or a snack?”

“No, thanks,” Jay said.

Cole tapped Jay’s arm. “Jay, do you wanna go upstairs? We can watch movies,” 

“Okay!”

“Come on!” Cole grabbed Jay’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs. “Mom, we’re going to use the upstairs TV in the sitting room. Is that okay?”

“Of course, sweetie. Just don’t be too loud, okay? And nothing over PG,”

“M’kay!” The two boys raced up the steps. 

Cole swung open the door to the sitting room. It was the family one — the one downstairs was for Dad’s work meetings. Cole wasn’t allowed in that one.

“So, what do you want to watch?” Cole asked Jay as he scrolled through Netflix. 

Jay hummed thoughtfully. “Coraline?” He suggested. “I’ve heard it’s good,”

“Yeah, okay,”

They managed to get through the first thirty minutes before quitting.

“That was way too scary,” Jay shuddered. 

“I’m gonna have nightmares for a week,” Cole agreed. 

“And we didn’t even make it to the end,” Jay said mournfully.

Cole paused for a moment. They would have to do something else now, since movies had been a bust. “Wanna do something else? We could bake cupcakes,” 

“That sounds good,” Jay said. He pulled himself off the couch and opened the door. Cole followed him downstairs. 

The kitchen was quite big for the average Ninjargan family. There were rows of spices and cooking utensils, pots and pans lining the walls, and a shelf filled with cookbooks. The windows let in early afternoon sunlight, bathing the room in a warm glow. It was Cole’s favourite place in the whole house, even more so than the garden.

He pulled one of the cookbooks off the shelf and looked for the cupcakes recipe. There were three of them. Cole frowned. “Hey, Jay, which of these do you want to make?” He pointed at the table of contents, which showed recipes for vanilla cupcakes, chocolate cupcakes, and red velvet ones. Cole hadn’t even heard of red velvet before.

Jay looked over Cole’s shoulder at the book. “Um, chocolate? Chocolate’s gotta be the best, right?”

“You’re right,” Cole said. “We need to get the ingredients before starting,” he went for the cupboards, where he knew Mom kept the bowls and other large containers. They would need those. He pulled out several metal bowls.

“Okay, so we’ve got the bowls, but what about ingredients?” Jay asked. 

“I think they’re in there,” Cole gestured towards  the pantry.

Jay went in and came out victorious with bags of flour, sugar, and cocoa powder. “I looked at the recipe,” he said. “We’ll need these.”

“Great,” Cole grinned. “Now we can start,”

Jay read over the recipe. “One-and-a-third cups flour,” he told Cole. 

One heaping cup of flour was dumped into the bowl, followed by another half cup. Cole figured it was close enough. “What next?” He said. 

“Cocoa powder and baking powder, plus salt.”

Those got tossed in as well, though the measurements were, much like the flour, not very accurate.

“Now you have to whisk it,” Jay instructed Cole. 

Cole mixed it with a spatula, as he had not been able to find the whisk. “Do you wanna mix now?” He asked Jay. 

“Okay!” Jay chirped. He took control of the spatula and continued mixing. 

“The recipe says to add butter and sugar now,” Cole said. “But we have to use a different bowl,”

“I don’t want to wash more dishes though,” Jay frowned. “Do you think we can just add it in here? Since it’ll be all mixed up anyways?”

Cole thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not,”

“We need the butter first,” Jay said.

“It’s still in the fridge. I’ll go get it,” Cole got the butter out of the fridge, then cut it into small chunks. He wasn’t supposed to use the big knives, so he used a small butter knife instead. 

Jay added the sugar into the mixture, then the butter. He tried stirring. “Uh, Cole?” He said nervously. “This stuff isn’t mixing in,”

Cole stared at the bowl. “Maybe it’s supposed to be like that?” 

“I thought cake batter was smooth,”

“It might be smooth later,”

“Maybe,” Jay bit his lip. “What do we add next?”

“Eggs, then vanilla.” 

Both ingredients were added into the mixture, which was beginning to resemble tar. 

“Now we add the flour and milk, but since the flour’s already in there we just add milk,” Jay said. He’d taken over reading the recipe again. 

“Yessir,” a good amount of milk was poured into the bowl. Then a bit more, just in case. Cole had given up on measurements a while ago.

“It can be scooped into the pan now,” Jay said. 

“It still looks awful,” Cole frowned. The batter resembled some sort of half formed goop monster.

“It might even out?” 

“Hopefully,”

Using a spoon, Cole scooped the batter into the individual cupcake wrappers. Jay helped by scraping off the excess. Then they put it into the oven.

“Is this thing on?” Jay poked the oven door. 

“…no,” Cole mumbled. “I’ll turn it on now,” he hit the button that said ‘bake’ and watched the light come on.

“We should clean up,” Jay commented. 

Cole looked at the mess they’d made. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll wash the dishes, you dry them?”

“Sure,”

Thirty minutes later, they had finally finished cleaning. The countertops were practically sparkling, the dishes were washed and stacked, and all spills were gone. Cole walked around the room, proud of their work, but he could smell something burning.

Jay sniffed the air. “I think something’s on fire,” he said, in the way characters in a horror movie say “I think we’re being followed.”

Cole looked toward the oven. There was no outward sign of fire, but the smell was pretty strong. It was clear something in there was burning.

“MOM?” He called out. It was an emergency! Cole didn’t want the house to burn down, or for them to get hurt. “I THINK SOMETHING’S BURNING!”

Lilly was down in an instant. How did she do that? Cole wondered.

“Oh!” Lilly gasped, hurrying towards the oven. She took the cupcakes out and turned it off.

Cole tiptoed to see what had happened to the cupcakes. They didn’t look much like cupcakes. More like charcoal, or one of those poisonous moulds he’d read about. They certainly weren’t edible. 

“That didn’t turn out well,” Jay said, breaking the silence. 

“How exactly did this happen?” Cole’s mom looked at them in disbelief.

Cole looked down at the floor. It was much easier to look at than his mom’s face right now. “It was an accident,” he mumbled. “We just wanted to make cupcakes,”

“Oh, Cole,” Mom said. And that was how he knew she was mad. Mom almost never used his real name — it was always sweetie, or Pumpkin, or Coco. “You should have asked for help,”

“I know,”

Lilly sighed. “I’m just glad neither of you were hurt. Next time you want to bake please tell me.”

“Yes, Mom,” Cole said softly. “‘M sorry,”

“That’s alright,” she said. “You can go outside while I clean this up, okay?”

“Yeah,” Cole tapped Jay’s shoulder. “Come on, Jay,” he grabbed Jay and walked out the back door.

As soon as they were outside, Cole collapsed on the grass. It was soft and quite comfortable. Jay followed suit.

“I’m sorry for getting us into trouble,” Jay spoke, interrupting Cole’s moping. 

Cole shrugged. “It’s not your fault. It was my idea,”

“I helped,”

“It was both our faults.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Jay got up.

“I’m gonna go walk around or something,” he said. 

Cole got up as well. “I’ll come,”

Cole counted the plants as they walked through the garden. One rose bush, two rose bushes, three rose — no, wait, that was a shrub.

“Do you think your mom’s really mad?” Jay asked. 

Cole thought for a moment. She’d seemed worried, but not angry. Maybe disappointed. “Nah,” he said. “Maybe a little, but she won’t never let you come back or anything,”

Jay rubbed his eyes. “O-okay,”

Cole decided to change the subject. “Um, there’s a cat around here somewhere, we could find it.”

“A cat?” Jay brightened up. 

“Yeah,” Cole looked around for it. “Her name is Coffee,”

“I didn’t know you had a cat,”

“We don’t, but she hangs around. She likes to eat the catnip,”

“That’s cool.”

Aha! Sure enough, near the catnip plants was a furry lump. Cole snuck behind it, then picked it up. Coffee meowed in protest. 

“Jay, this is Coffee. Coffee, this is my friend Jay.”

“She’s so cute! Can I pet her?” Jay looked excited, his previous dark mood forgotten.

“Yeah,”

Very, very, gently, Jay petted Coffee on the head. He giggled. “I love cats,” he said, “but my dad doesn’t want one. He says they’re too unfriendly,”

Cole scoffed at that. “Cats are really friendly!”

“I know, right? I don’t get it either,”

Coffee meowed, already tired of the attention, and wriggled out of Cole’s grasp. She ran off into the nearby bushes.

“Hey! C’mon, let’s follow her!” Jay ran after the cat. Cole followed.

The bushes were dark. And also prickly. Cole figured he’d gotten at least five new scratches from them. 

By the time they emerged from the plants, Coffee was nowhere to be seen. She’d probably ran over the fence by now.

“We lost her!” Jay exclaimed. “Will she come back?”

“Yeah,” Cole answered. He looked up at the sky — it was beginning to get dark. “But we should probably get back to the house now,”

“Oh, right,”

Cole skipped a little as they walked back to the house. It would take a couple of minutes. Jay kicked at a rock he’d found.

Lilly opened the door for them when they got back. She tutted at their various scrapes and put plasters on them, then served dinner.

“Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Hence,” Jay said when he was done. “It was really good,”

Cole’s mom smiled at that. “I’m glad you enjoyed,”

“I think we’re gonna play video games now,” Cole said.

“All right, sweetie,” 

Cole grabbed his controllers on the way to his room. Jay started flipping through the games, trying to find a suitable match for their tastes.

“Lava Zombie Smash?” He suggested. 

“Sure,” Cole plugged in the controllers and started the game. It had been a while since he’d played this one.

“No! We have to use the fire punch!” Jay’s avatar on screen died again. “Ugh! Why do we keep losing?”

“This game is supposed to be more fun with four people,” Cole said. “And probably easier too,”

“Well, we need to find two other friends then,”

“Is three friends a lot?” 

“I dunno, maybe?”

“It seems like a lot.”

“Three people is like, the best number for a group, right?” Jay mused. “There’s the three musketeers, three stooges, three blind mice…”

“There’s four Ninja Turtles,” Cole offered. 

“True,”

Cole’s mom knocked on the door. “Time for bed, you two,” she said. “Make sure to brush your teeth,”

Jay and Cole made eye contact. “Race you!” They said simultaneously, running towards the bathroom.

Jay snuggled into his sleeping bag. “I still think I won,” he said

Cole stuck his tongue out at him. “Nah, it was totally me,”

“Hmph,” Jay sniffed, but Cole could tell he didn’t mean it.

“Good night, my best friend,” Jay mumbled. 

“Night,” Cole said back as he drifted off.

[final-girl96]

Firefly Chapter Forty-Three

After leaving the neighborhood, we ran until we came to a motel. We were far enough away from the chaos that happened in the neighborhood that we didn't need to worry about the infected following us. Joel and I were sitting on the floor, his arms wrapped around me, holding me close to him. Henry was sitting on the other side of him on a stool eating jerky. All of us were looking into the bedroom where Sam and Ellie sat on the bed, looking at a comic book. 

"Think they'll be okay?" Henry asked, watching his little brother with a concerned expression. I looked from him to the kids and back to Henry. "Yeah, I think…it's easier when you're a kid anyway," Joel said. Ellie was softly reading in the other room with Sam watching her finger glide across the page so he could follow along. Henry looked at me then to Joel. "You don't have anyone else relying on you," Joel clarified. Henry nodded his head and looked down at the jerky I'm his hands. "That's the hard part. Well…I guess we're doing a good job then." 

I leaned my head on Joel's shoulder more and closed my eyes. The last few days have been exhausting. "What's the comic book say? Endure and survive?" Joel said. He pulled me a little closer and rested his cheek on top of my head. "Endure and survive," I heard Henry say. Silence. "That ship's redundant." He had a slight amusement in his voice. Joel hummed, "Yeah, it's –it's not great." Henry let out a small laugh and let more silence fill the air. I could feel Joel take a deep breath, his fingers playing with hair. 

"Look, I don't know exactly how we're gettin' to Wyoming. We're probably walkin'. But…you know, if you want." I opened my eyes, looked at Henry, and gave him a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah. Um…yeah, I think it'd be nice for Sam to have a friend. I'll tell him in the morning. New day. New start," Henry said. He gave Joel, and I nodded as a thanks and got up to go into the room. 

I looked up at Joel and then kissed his cheek. "That was very kind of you. I think you're becoming a big softy again," I said. He gave me a side eye before rolling his eyes. "I am not. They can't just be out there on their own. Besides, she might even be less annoying." He had a ghost of a smirk on his face. Turning his head, he kissed my forehead, and we went back the way we were sitting. Henry came back out, shutting the door behind him. The three of us talked some more and then settled down to go to sleep. 

The night was sound and almost peaceful. I never fell into a deep sleep, but I was deep enough that I got a half good night's rest. We were woken up by Ellie yelling Sam's name and her running out of the bedroom door with him close behind. When she fell onto her back, he jumped on top of her. San had turned, which means he was bitten sometime last night. Ellie was screaming and trying to hold him back. Joel, Henry, and I were all on our feet the second she came out into the living area of the motel room. 

 I were all on our feet the second Ellie screamed and came through the door. I tried to run over to her, but Joel pushed me behind him. He raised his gun to shoot Sam, but Henry stepped in and demanded Joel give him the gun. Ellie was struggling to keep Sam from biting her as she cried. Joel handed it over to him, and he pointed at us. “Joel!” Ellie cried. The next few seconds were all a blur after that. There was a gunshot, then Henry yelling at me not to move, then I was facing Joel, my hands fisting his shirt as another gunshot rang through the small room. A second later, I was pulling Ellie into me and cradling her head to my chest while she sobbed. They were both gone. Sam and Henry were gone, and we were on our own again, making our way to Wyoming to find Tommy. 

It's been a month since then. The weather was starting to grow colder the closer to winter we got. We got lucky when we found a house to hold up in. They had winter jackets, gloves, hats, and scarves. I made sure Ellie would be nice and warm when we started to get snow. Tonight, we were in the living room of a house in front of the fireplace. Joel had started a small fire; just something to keep us warm for the night. Ellie lay on the floor bundled up in blankets fast asleep. 

Joel stood beside the window, insisting he kept watch, and I sat on the couch. What had happened to Henry and Sam affected all of us in different ways. It took weeks until Ellie was back to somewhat herself. Joel and I pulled away from each other a little again. This world was cruel; it always has been. I stood from the couch and walked over to Joel. "So, which way are we going tomorrow?" I asked. He shrugged, "I don't know. I guess we'll just keep going the way we have been until we run into trouble." 

That's exactly what we did; we kept going until we ran into trouble. We ran into a lot of infected; large groups of them. They mostly stayed in the cities where QZs used to be. There weren't a lot of QZs left anymore. A lot of them fell years and years ago. Some lasted longer than others. Boston was one of very few QZs that was still running since the beginning. There were times we had to go completely out of our way just to avoid going through cities and some towns. 

October turned into Novemeber, and November turned into December. The snow covered the ground, and the air was chill. It was harder to trek through the snow at times, and, at one point, we had no choice but to stop and hold up in a small cabin to wait out a storm. December past and January came. Another year in this messed up world. 

[selchielesbian]

I did not meet my reading goal this year (and threw my list out the window about a month in) but I think that’s fine because I’ve done more reading in the last six months than I have the last four years, which was the point!!

For my own benefit, and your enjoyment, here’s what I read this year:

Finished:

Indecent Advances: A Hidden History of True Crime and Prejudice Before Stonewall by James Polchin. Absolutely excellent book about the history and formation of the ‘gay panic’ defense. In depth and well researched.

The Secret History by Donna Tartt. Very glad I never got around to reading this in college because I would have made it my entire personality.

Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers by Jude Ellison S. Doyle. Essay collection that started out strong but I think lost the plot somewhere around the chapter on motherhood and pregnancy. Since publishing the collection the author has come out as trans so I’d be interested to see them revisit some of their points—there were a few times when they brought trans identity into focus but mostly quoted other trans essayists because they felt they were unqualified to speak on the subject, but wanted to include trans women and nonbinary people when relevant. This book gave me a lot to research, and some film recommendations aside lol.

Her Body and Other Parties by Carmen Maria Machado. I actually received this book from a friend back in 2020, read the first story, and went hmmm. Maybe not for me! I finally picked it back up this year and devoured it in a few days. Really delicious, left me feeling sick and raw for some time. Great stuff.

The Locked Tomb series (GtN, HtN, NtN, As Yet Unsent and Dr. Sex) by Tamsyn Muir. As you all know, it has taken over my life. I think this series has a lot of good and bad qualities and was designed to make me, specifically, insane.

Princess Floralinda and the Forty-Flight Tower by Tamsyn Muir. Very fun break down of the ‘princess trapped in a tower’ fairytale. This is one I listened to while driving and doing chores so I’d like to sit down with a print copy some time and dig through it a little more.

Antigonick by Sophocles, translated and reworked by Anne Carson. I love Antigone and Anne Carson so this was just entirely delightful. I really recommend watching the live performance here while you read along with the script!

Did Not Finish:

I’m Thinking of Ending Things by Iain Reid. Really enjoyed the nonlinear storytelling and subject matter but I put the book down for a month and was completely lost when I tried to pick it back up again so it’ll have to carry over into next year’s reading list!

In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado. Just as excellent and unsettling as Her Body, but the narrative hit a little too close to what I went through with my most recent relationship to the point where every chapter made me physically ill so I had to put it down for my own wellbeing. Lol. Someday I’ll return to it. Not this year.

Dead Girls: Essays on Surviving an American Obsession by Alice Bolin. Very disappointing. First few essays were interesting and well written but this is not a cohesive collection and had very little to do with the pitched premise.

This Thing Between Us by Gus Moreno. The plot sounded intriguing but I just found the first few chapters a slog. Could be persuaded to give it another shot but it’s not high on my list.

[fragile-strength-is-gone]

My poor attempt at a Criminal Minds crossover fanfic with FantasticLand (seriously if you haven’t read fantasticland please do it!)

Interview: Kathrine Danvers

Original Pirate turned unaffiliated

Before you get into the nitty gritty agents can I ask you something? What the fuck happened? I signed up for three days. Three. Ride out the storm and then wait inside for forty-eight to seventy-two hours, then someone will come and get us. That is what I signed up for. No of course you don’t have the answers, why would you?

Fine. Where do you want me to start? I meant more, well, which beginning? Because in my mind the tunnels and the park were two different events with two very different sets of kids. Okay, well the morning of the storm was weird, everyone was super tense and rumors that Operation Rapture was gonna go into effect was circling. A bunch of people that signed up said fuck it and said they’d leave if it came to it. But we were sent to our shifts that morning, one of the lead managers of the park was going around Fresnoville screaming that the hurricane was never gonna reach us, to watch the storm but it should get worse than a mild-shutdown. Which is just when we stop the rides, shows and games and whatever are still open. 

So I went to work, I was probably halfway through my first wardrobe, around nine am, when they made the announcement that the park was shutting down and we needed to get guests out. By ten it was full blown chaos, there was way more idiots with their kids in that storm than there should of been, like, yes we were still open but why would you want to go in that down pour! So by then I’m in a floor length gown with these heavy ass metal and silk wings on my back trying to guide people to the exit where I guess they had a bunch of cars and buses getting everyone out. 

Kids were freaking out and crying, parents were fighting with each other for a spot on the cars, and no matter how much Mr.Mueller screamed that there was enough room for everyone no one settled down. I didn’t really stay that long though, I made sure my friends made it on the bus- 

What? Oh, yeah no, they signed up for O.R. but Jezebel just found out she’s pregnant so her and her boyfriend bailed on the bus. I didn’t, no, I chose to stay. I wasn’t in a rush to end my summer plus I was going to make so much money. That and my daddy is a real piece of work, the longer I got away from him the better. Sorry, that was a little off topic, anyway, I made it to the Dream Pop Star Amphitheater. That was the meetup point, we get there get our instructions and then go into the shelter, but honestly by the time we got people out of the park things were looking bad. 

Anyway, Mr. Mueller gives his speech, warns us we have forty-five minuets before the storm becomes a true shit-storm, but if we made it we would be fine. No, Mr. Muller did not stay, I’m not sure who made the call to put Gasleak, sorry, Garleik in charge. Whoever made that call is a dipshit in my book. Either way we all made it down there fine, and honestly it wasn’t that bad even after we were shut in. There were generators that kept the shelter lit, and the zombie center kept us up to date on the storm and the park. So, we just settled. 

Some people, the ones that were more visibly nervous or uncomfortable, stayed close to the command room watching the storm on the radars. Others just settled in, people kinda grouped off with their friends and played games, or read, or just talked. For the first half of the day I stuck around the command room, I liked knowing what was going on. And then somewhere along the way Sam-fucking-Garleik decided it would be better if everyone had to get the news from him. He would come out like every half and hour and get all smug and announce what was happening with the storm and then shut the damn door again. 

A few of us got really frustrated, and I remember Francis Flynn, she worked in the shops on the Golden Road I think, tried to talking to him but when they parted she looked really upset. Ugh that guy walk a walking power trip. But I gave up, eventually a friend of mine Bryce noticed I was feeling ansty and asked me to come listen to his iPod with him wherever he and his brother had set up. 

Bryce Hockney and I have been friends since I started working in the park three years ago. Yeah I’m sure you’ll hear a ton about his fucking brother, I’m not talking about Brock I’m talking about Bryce. Bryce, was kind and sweet. He was nice to everyone and hated seeing anyone excluded, he was my best friend and he did not deserve to die like that. No one will talk about him, his legacy will forever overshadowed by Brock’s bullshit. But if you want to really understand what happened in FantasticLand you have to understand, it all started with Bryce Hockney, and the darkness that came from that power outage.

_______________________________________________________________________

One look in the mirror was enough to tell Kat that she needed more sleep, her dark eyes were encased with darker circles. No amount of sleep fixed those anymore, they hadn’t in years. To be fair, they were always like that but in the two years since the park they’d only managed to get worse, making her (even on her best day) look halfway dead. Which, again, to be fair was true; life stopped coming for her years ago and her existence could be summed up as dead-walking-through-the-motions. 

She sighed, trying desperately to ignore the ache in her arms. It was a phantom ache at this point, her body desperately trying to make her think she needed the toxins she’d given up months ago at this point. She gave them up for this very reason, her body stopped being hers, belonging only to the call of escapism. And escapism stopped being fun when the escape just lead to more vivid and violent memories. 

“Kat? You almost done?” A small but demanding voice sounded from the other side of the door, it was Lily the freshman girl I’d taken under she’d taken under her wing. She was solely responsible for keeping Kat in line, the only reason this project was running as smoothly as it was, was well Lily. 

“I’m good Lils,” Kat forced her mind to clear itself as she pulled the door open, “Are we all set to run those tests today?” Lilly was a length girl, a good two feet taller than her five foot three. Her narrow and sleek eyes made her much more intimidating than her meek personality let on, and her smooth black hair spilled far down her back, Kat liked watching it swish when they walked. It’s the little things, she’d tell her friend when she caught her doing it. 

“Well, technically yes. I filled out all the paper works, got the approvals, and even checked the test files we were sent by the FBI yesterday…” Like always Lily trailed off hoping she wouldn’t ask for the inevitable bad news that followed a sentence that started with ‘technically, yes..’. 

“But…?” Kat prompted gently, knowing it would make Lily feel less guilty. Though the guilt never made sense, it was literally never her fault when things went awry. Shit, it was mostly Kat’s. Her antics had always threw them wildly off course, and mostly it worked. Like with this project that started a simple crime enthusiast app. 

“Uhm, they wouldn’t tell me why but there are some FBI agents in your office…” Her eyes were wide as she turned to face her friend outside said office. Her hand gripped the handle to the door far more tightly than necessary. It wasn’t that big of a shock, you made note of the two men before she even spoke, Lily seemingly forgetting that your private study office was almost entirely glass. 

The men examining the nicknacks on your desk didn’t seem to notice the two girls yet. One was older, wider and saggier than the other. Proof of a life lived, his stern and unwavering expression did not give any hope that it was a happy one. His partner however was his antithesis, tall and scrawny his light brown curls were loose over his forehead. He had an almost bowl cut and Kat couldn’t help but snicker at it, though not with malice, the kid was obviously a confident and happy one. He chatted away next to his partner pointing at different frames and chochkies as he spoke. His smile was wide and it took over his face forcing his bright eyes to shrink and crinkle. 

“I’m sure I can guess why at least one of them is here.” I announced a little to loudly when Lily pulled the door open. Both men jumped, trying to quickly right themselves. “See anything interesting there Agent Gideon?” 

The older mans face softened, his eyes returning to the desk this time with more focus. He took them all in slowly, before finally picking one up and turning it to me. It was a younger Kat, though not by much the girl couldn’t have helped but feel like it was an entirely different her all together. Her arms draped lazily around the broad shoulders of a boy in a pirate hat. The boys dark brown hair was cropped at the side but styled and thick on the top, his smile was wide and it was clear he was laughing. Their faces were pressed together, the happiest moment lost to time immortalized and on her desk. That was the most interesting thing about her, at least to the agent before her. 

“Bryce. Why that one?” She challenged the man, he twisted it back in hand looking it over a final time before returning it to its spot. 

“You shut out every aspect of your life before the park except for this one. And this one has deep ties to it, with proof of not only its existence but of Pirate Cove. All the other pictures here are recent, within the last year at the most. The one thing I don’t understand is of all the pictures why that one?” The man cocked a challenging brow, his partner didn’t speak. He and Lily too confused and awestruck and the familiarity between the two, they only darted their eyes watching the exchange happen. 

“To completely deny the pirates is to deny Bryce of his history. He loved being a pirate, and I loved him. But that man right there is the only pirate I care about. What can I do for you?” Finally Kat moved, closing the distance and offering a hand. The older mans shake was firm and quick, pulling away before Kat could really process it. She extended to the younger of the pair but he shook his head, almost guilty. Kat only shrugged and moved on, as usual unfazed. 

“I hear this is your final year in your doctorate.” Gideon offered, still obviously dancing around whatever it was he wanted to say. 

“Yes sir, is this about the files I asked for? We already got approval from Agent Hotchner he is the one who signed off sending them.” 

“Files?” The younger one finally perked up. She was surprised to hear his voice was soft. Unmenacing, which shouldn’t be her first thought and she immediately kicked herself for even letting it. 

“Yeah I’m working on a program that can be used for smaller police stations that don’t have the means or the money to send their detectives for the training the BAU offers. It would profile for them in real time using previous cases and profiles.” Kat beamed proudly. It was originally going to be a forum for families of victims to reach out to true crime enthuseists to help them solve cases that police either couldn’t or didn’t solve. But at the behest of her independent study teacher she dropped it. Her teacher was right there were ethical complications in inviting strangers to solve cold cases. Crime makes people whacky, she knew that way to well. 

“Really? It would pull old profiles that match cases their working on, but couldn’t that lead to mismanaged profiles? No two unsubs can be the same like that unless it’s a copycat.” The young mans voice was full of honest curiosity, like he almost couldn’t stop himself from speaking. 

“Yes and no, what we want it to do is take in information about the current case. So vicimonalogy, signature, witness statements, the works. You put it in, it runs it through an algorithm built around the database of profiles and it creates a totally accurate and new profile!”  Kat opened her laptop and threw in some random details letting the program do the rest. Curlyhair watched excitedly as it loaded but deflated as it spit out a nonsensical profile in which the subject could be anywhere from four to three hundred years old. Kat stifled her giggle at his disappointment. “Sorry, I just got the files yesterday so it has nothing to pull from, but that’s how it will work. Hopefully.”

“You’re going to run us out of a job, kid.” The old man spoke with an air of pride, a firm pat  on her back confirming the notion. 

“That is the plan old man. So seriously why are you here? Please tell me this isn’t about that stupid park.” The edge was hard to miss in her voice. 

“It’s not, thankfully. Though I was sorry to hear they couldn’t bag a single conviction on anyone involved.” It started as a question but his tone flattened before it ever really got there. 

“I wasn’t surprised. Two hundred people and for every one you put on the stand to say they for sure saw that guy stab another guy there are five waiting to say it didn’t happen. The entire tragedy had reasonable doubt built into it.” 

“Oh, that’s right! That’s how we know her!” the tall one straightened finally taking in the girl curled into herself in an oversized office chair. He took in her long dark hair, it broken up with strips of a deep green color. Her tired eyes, and way to thin frame that was hard to miss through her oversized hoodie. Honestly the only reason he could take in the frame was because her barely there shorts showed off her boney legs. 

“Wow, Dr. Reid, you save a girls life and you don’t even remember.” Kat feigned hurt making sure to stretch her face in disappointment. 

“Didn’t she shoot at you?” Gideon offered incrediosuly to his partner, protege?

“You did!” He laughed, and this was met with real horror from Kat. 

“Dude, you are bizarre. I still don’t understand why you’re here.” 

“We’d like you’re help on a case. You’re understanding of human behavior is a valuable asset and I would like you to look over a case for me.” Gideon said his tone finally hitting his usual deeply responsible. He was, like Kat, two people in one body. An older grandfatherly man who could make you smile with a cheesy joke. And an all work no nonsense FBI agent that could get you to confess your deepest sins with a look that made you wanna shudder. The latter was finally present and she relaxed, happy to not talk about it anymore. 

“Why me?” She offered though it was just stalling the inevitable. 

“You’re parlor trick.” Finally, it made sense. And Kat met the mens hopeful gaze with a mischievous smile.

[fiftytwotwentytwo]

Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone

Author: J.K. Rowling

Fantasy / Children - Middle Grade

Page Count: 309

How did I come across this book?:

I wanted to see what all the hype was about.

I feel like my age group may have been on the edge of becoming or not becoming Pot/PotterHeads... - but I truly don't recall anyone gushing over HP in school - my nephew did, but not my peers.

I do have one vivid memory tied to the Harry Potter - couple days before the first film was supposed to be released our local priests visited the nightly CCD classes and urged demanded us to boycott the movie - there was sooooo much that made this plea so lasting.

First, I'm not going to name names, but this person's actual last name was an adjective that was synonymous with "fun" - "being hip" and the speech was far from fun or hip.

Also, said priest - not knocking but pointing out - sweated profusely... I don't know why - hot itchy garments? Overactive sweat glands?? But anywhosel- the man looked like he had an SNL prop tucked underneath his hair because his brow was basted in sweat.

Now, juxtapose this with being in a Catholic Elementary classroom where you have a priest whose sprung a leak and is standing in front of a backdrop of student crafted scarecrows, jack-o-lanterns, cornucopias, and the ever so popular framed photo of Jesus teaching a youngster how to hit a fastball baseball. Again, it felt very SNL-elly.

And lastly, there was just one line that stood out - one line I've always remembered - he said buying a ticket or reading the book was like buying a train seat to hell - I found the analogy very appealing as I never ridden a train, but thought "Is a train really the fastest transport to hell"? Don't get me wrong - it definitely sounds scenic, but why not a plane or just simply have the Earth's crust gobble you up.

Anyways... I saw the movie opening weekend.

And I've seen all the movies and... I'm not really a fan - BUT - adhering to the age ol' adage, The Book was Better Than the Movie - I decided to see if the book could change my mind on the Harry Potter franchise.

I ended up purchasing a copy from Amazon because I did not want to possibly damage a friend's beloved copy.

Review:

I personally had a hard time diving into this book, but it did pick up a little steam once Harry got to Hogwarts.

The world building was great. The introduction to the main cast and side characters was also well done, but I am not sure how much the films filled in some gaps.

The book eventually became fast and easy read. But up until the last 40 pages/last two chapters - the book just seemed to have great moments and no rising crescendo - no anticipatory ascent of a roller coaster - it felt more like snapshots.

Once I hit those last two chapters I fell hard - I loved the action - but the last two chapters also had a few moments where I had to remind myself that this initial story was geared towards grade schoolers - moments like solving a logic puzzle (because wizards are not well known for logic - actual statement from the book) or having a huge locked door and leaving a "hidden" key in the room with a means of transport/tools to find the key.

The last chapters were winning me over - but - the last closing pages I felt cheated. A massive break in the action/battle - a fade to black - and our hero just randomly wakes up 3 days later???

I guess Rowling "appeases" the reader by having a 3rd party tell our hero how the fight ended through exposition and info dumps... but Muggle-Oh-Muggle - it was absolute theft.

So, was it a good book?

It was okay.

I bet if I read a copy as a grade schooler - maybe even an illustrated copy - I would have yielded to the fandom.

Will I read further into the series?

Yeah, I think I'd I check it out... I mean what else am I going to read on my Train to Hell?

Personal Rating: 5.5/10

Yearly Book Total: 42

Total Page Count: 15,355 pages

* Achievement Unlocked *

It Weebles... It Wobbles... It Won't Fall Do--

OH, Lordy It's Falling!

It Officially Fell!

Forty-Two Books High

But... We Must Rebuild:

Huzzah!

[wandaluvstacos]

CHAPTER FOUR IS NOW UP

Do you enjoy the a/b/o trope? Do you hate it? Either way, maybe you’ll enjoy my story about hot egg-laying aliens? We’ve got heats, we’ve got hurt/comfort, we’ve got size differences, we’ve got everything the body and soul needs for a good time down over on my Patreon. Actually, it’s a super dark story, kind of what you’d get if you smashed The Handmaid’s Tale into Mad Max: Fury Road into a book but made everyone an alien with feathers instead of hair. I promise there is no outdated wolf pack dynamics. Where we’re going, there are no wolves!

Here is the story summary:

In the city of Yukiktrum, the hierarchy is clear even when the laws are not: Alphrim rule, betsra serve, and ometki bear young. Claiming a part of the city is easy, but keeping your territory is not, so Alprhim like Chramkut govern with talon and tooth. Maintaining power means control access to ometki, and by selling access to both them and their eggs, Chramkut has turned Themself into a ruthless and wealthy warlord.

Untkra once served as Chramkut’s prime ometki, but that time has passed, and Untkra has been replaced by someone younger. After one failed escape, it was only Untkra’s history with Chramkut that saved them from execution. Untkra knows that getting caught trying again will get them executed, but Unktra is willing to sacrifice everything if it means leaving the conflict-ridden city of Yukiktrum behind. This time, Chramkut’s prime laden ometki wants out, and they’ve begged for Untkra’s help. Untkra is done bearing offspring Untkra will never meet. It’s this way or death.

However, the desert landscape beyond the walls of Yukiktrum is hostile and unknown, and there’s no guarantee that there’s anything out there worth escaping to. What Untkra may not be ready for is what hope lays beyond the dunes, and the redemption that a new home can offer. Yet when another ometki needs saving, Yukiktrum calls Untkra back in what could be Untkra’s most daring rescue yet. 

Genre: Sci-Fi

Rating: 18+

T/W: This story is dark in nature, and while nothing explicit is ever shown, there are repeated references to rape (including underage), sexual slavery, and I suppose what equates to child trafficking (is selling eggs considered child trafficking?). There is also violence, murder, drug use, and prejudice/bigotry. This story also contains the trappings of a/b/o. It’s not so closely married to the trope as most a/b/o fics, but it is quite obviously based on it. 

Anyway, don’t read if you think egg-laying a/b/o aliens is weird, lol. Otherwise, welcome to the show!

Excerpt:

Tuktishikam pulled out a notebook and flipped to a page somewhere in the middle. “So. Your name is Untkra?”

“Yes.”

Tuktishikam jotted down a note. “Age?”

“Forty,” Untkra lied. It wasn’t much of a lie though.

“Come this way, and I’ll weigh you.”

“Why do I need to be weighed?”

“It’s only for your chart. No need to worry.”

Untkra set the steel bottle down on the desk and followed Tuktishikam to an ancient-looking scale at the back of their office. Whatever the number said, Tuktishikam only grunted in acknowledgement. They also measured Untkra’s height before sending them back to their seat behind the desk.

“Do you know anything about your parents?”

“No,” Untkra said truthfully.

“Are there any health concerns you want me to know about? Allergies, medications, conditions you’re monitoring?”

Untkra shook their head.

“When did you birth your last clutch of eggs?”

Untkra’s body tightened like a string pulled taut. “Why—why do you need to know that?”

“We need to keep a history.”

“But… why would it be relevant?”

Tuktishikam stared at Untkra, tapping their pen on their notebook. They did not speak.

Untkra bowed their head, biting their lip. “Four years ago,” they lied. This betsra could never know that Untkra had given birth a mere two weeks ago. They’d be used as breeding stock all over again. As long as Untkra took the pills they’d stolen from the brothel, they’d never go into heat again, and no one would be the wiser.

“Really? Four years?”

“Yes.”

“Seems a bit young, thirty-six.”

Untkra shrugged. “They use a lot of fertility drugs. I hear that makes you infertile faster.”

“You were on fertility drugs?”

Untkra nodded, even though Untkra had been one of the few so prolific that they’d never needed the drugs. Skralvu had not been so lucky.

“What about Skralvu? Have they been on those drugs?”

“Yes. I believe so.”

“How old are they?”

“I think they just turned sixteen.”

Tuktishikam dropped the pen to pinch the bridge of their nose. “Twins rising. They’re sixteen and they had eight eggs?”

“Is that—is that not normal?” Untkra wouldn’t know. In their first heat, they’d conceived seven.

“You’re lucky if you conceive three in your first few cycles. No wonder they’re eggbound! Bodies that young can’t handle…” Tuktishikam cut themself off, scowling. “It’s evil.”