#does anyone remember northern exposure?

[curatorsday]

Sunday, October 1, 2023 - National Homemade Cookies Day

My all-time favorite cookie recipe comes from the Northern Exposure Cookbook. It’s Ruth-Anne’s oatmeal cookies. I jotted down the ingredients onto a post-it note years ago from my grandma’s copy of the cookbook. I usually add chocolate chips (not part of the original recipe). Sometimes I mix in a bag of trail mix. Today’s cookies got most of a bag of banana split trail mix - chocolate covered peanuts, dried banana chips, roasted cashews, dried pineapple, and dried cherries.

Happy National Homemade Cookies Day!

[greentrickster]

Loving the Hopeful Hybrid’s Househusbanding System, and wondering if you have any further thoughts regarding LBH wingmanning for MBJ, or the matchmaking shenanigans LBH and LQQ get up to (or if I’m remembering correctly MBJ gets involved at some point bc why not?)

Thank-you so much! ^U^ And, for starters? After Liu Mingyan's latest work comes out after Binghe's return (suddenly involving characters with some very interesting and elaborate tattoos), Binghe uses his 900 IQ to put two and two together and figures out who wrote it. Then super calmly doesn't tell anyone he knows. Then even more super calmly starts feeding Liu Mingyan a few stories about spicy forbidden romance that he encountered while in modern Japan and, once he's established his cover as a fellow connoisseurr of the finer things in life (aka spicy p*rn with lots of romance thrown in for flavouring), he mentioning that, hey, wouldn't a human-demon love affair be romantic? With lots of tension and potential for betrayal, but really neither of them want to betray their homes, they just want to be together, only the world won't let them? Think of the drama - think of all the opportunities to get excitingly spicy!

And boy howdy does Liu Mingyan think of them. Three volumes of a new series worth in the space of six months worth of thinking of them.

So anyway, that's Liu Mingyan and all her devoted readers set up to play spin doctor/damage control/shut up-it's-so-romantic arguments for when the Mobei-jun/Shang Qinghua romance eventually comes out in the open, because Shizun likes Shang shishu, so keeping him in the sect is important.

(For all his intelligence, Binghe does not at any point realize that Shen Yuan is an avid reader of Liu Mingyan's work (especially since it doesn't currently involve him), and has a strong hunch who it's about and is just waiting for the right opportunity to give Airplane so much cheerful grief over it. Mostly because he knows nothing spicy has happened with him and Mobei-jun yet and it will absolutely kill that shitty author to know that his fictional double is getting it when he isn't.)

Beyond that, Binghe’s primarily giving Mobei-jun some quick remedial courses on human romance and dating culture, while also slipping Shang Qinghua a few tidbits on demon courtship habits, especially for the Northern realm. Thanks to his exposure to modern media, he’s gained that most dangerous and OP of powers - levels of genre-savvy! He can spot a miscommunication plot when he sees one now! So he’s working to clear up the miscommunication, and he’s using the simplest methods possible to make it harder for them to go awry by mistake.

His modern experiences with the dating scene does get a little jumbled with his memories of his home dimension’s practices, though, meaning Binghe absolutely sets his most loyal bro and his shishu on a tea date (since coffee isn’t an option). It doesn’t go very well since Mobei-jun isn’t really into tea and Shang Qinghua is still confused out of his mind at the mixed signals he’s getting at the moment. (Though, ironically, he absolutely uses it as coffee-date fantasy fodder after the fact, because an author-god can dream, you know?)

This having not worked, Binghe switches tactics and finagles Sha Hualing into creating the xianxia version of an insulated travel mug (“Okay, but why should I waste time making something that won’t help me destroy my enemies?” “...it’ll keep your hot drinks warm longer so the blood doesn’t congeal if you forget about them while you’re in your workshop and you don’t have to waste time yelling for someone to bring you more when you want it now?” “Oh dang, sold!”) Binghe then ensures that Mobei-jun gets ahold of one and tells him to give it to Shang Qinghua, since the guy drinks so much tea while trying to get all his work done, and to tell him that, since he won’t tell Mobei-jun what sorts of things he wants, Mobei-jun’s just going to have to start guessing (with an addendum to start paying attention to what sorts of things Shang shishu likes so that he can do a good job of it - paying attention to what sort of things your beloved likes and doesn’t like is important in a good relationship).

Mobei-jun is skeptical, but follows Binghe’s plan to the best of his ability, and it bears shockingly good fruit. Shang Qinghua is stunned, not his usual loud, flustered stunned, just... this is such a nice, useful gift, and it’s something he’ll be able to use with minimal explanation for how he got it, just say it’s something he found on a trading expedition, and dollars to donuts he’s missed having a nice, big travel mug with a secure lid and- oh, oh it has a little flap you can flip up to drink from it without taking the lid off. And it’s in An Ding blue. He’s a peak lord, he’s used to certain people trying to pander to him or buy him off, but this is a really thoughtful gift, and he’s not used to those in any of his lives. He’s absolutely touched. He’s making an expression Mobei-jun’s never seen before and it’s making his heart stutter.

And- oh, oh, I bet gifting is one of Mobei-jun’s big love languages, he’s just never learned how to do it properly, and it’s also part of why it’s so frustrating that Shang Qinghua never freaking asks for anything. Binghe teaching him how to spot what would be a good gift without having to be directly told is going to be invaluable to him! So by the time Tianlang-jun arrives at the Sect, Mobei-jun and Shang Qinghua are actually doing pretty well for themselves, it’s been... let’s say a year since Binghe got back?, everyone knows, no one can do much about it because half the sect shipped it even before they knew it was a real ship, Shang Qinghua’s gotten some slap-on-the-wrist punishments because 1) he does 64% of all paperwork in Cang Qiong and it would collapse without him and 2) he’s besties with Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan is still simping hard. And Binghe’s only had to use his extra-special ‘oh no, I’m such a clumsy shidi’ technique to ‘trip’ and ‘try to catch himself’ by grabbing onto Shang Shishu only to ‘accidentally’ just grab his clothes and absolutely shred the top half of them by mistake in Mobei-jun’s presence twice.

Binghe, with big, dewy eyes full of (false) unshed tears: “This Luo Binghe is so sorry, Shishu, he’s still learning to master his demonic heritage and suddenly having claws is so confusing-!”

Shang Qinghua: Ah-haha, it’s okay, shidi, we all make mistakes! (internally swearing because how much do you think these robes cost, and do you really think this author can’t see through your crocodile tears, why are you humiliating me in front of my king like this-?!?)

Mobei-jun: (can see one (1) entire nipple on Shang Qinghua’s chest and would like to get to know it better, maybe if he’s good he’ll get to see the other one too...? Also why is this so exciting, he’s a demon, from the demon realm, he sees people wandering around half-naked/all naked all the time, so why is it different now-?!?)

Mobei-jun is learning how tantalizing things can be when you don’t get to see them all the time, and he’s very confused and also rather aroused. And he’s going to take this knowledge and accidentally melt Shang Qinghua’s brain by showing up one day wearing his robes at a level of chest coverage that humans deem appropriate, then shuck an outer layer partway through the visit and loosen the ones underneath to show usual levels of chest again. Congrats, Mobei, you’ve accidentally gained two levels in seduction and have ensured that incident is all Airplane’s going to be able to think of for a week.

(Note: this probably wouldn’t have worked on anyone else, because Mobei-jun’s starting out with a -1 in seduction, he just has the home field advantage with Shang Qinghua.)

As for Liu Qingge and Mobei-jun meeting up and the resulting shenanigans as all three of these goofs get up to as they try to match-make for a sect leader and once-demon emperor? I think I’ll put that in another post at a later time - this one’s already gotten pretty long!

Thanks for the ask!

[pedropascalunofficial]

Pedro Pascal and Lena Headey

Head to head interview

Hunger Magazine, Issue 6. Released December 28, 2014. Photoshoot October 15, 2013.

Thirteen million. That's the number of people, on average, who tuned into each episode of the third season of Game of Thrones. Among them was Chilean actor Pedro Pascal, who was as enthralled by the sex and slaughter as the rest of us. But little did he know that within a few months he'd be pitching up on the shores of Belfast to join the cast as Oberyn Martell, affectionately known as the Red Viper. Sound ominous? It is. The Red Viper is GoTs newest anti-hero, “sexy and charming but driven by hate”. Sounds like he'll be right at home.

Pedro, on the other hand, though he looks good on paper, wasn't the obvious choice for the role. Expecting a big name to ride into King’s Landing, the show's fans took to forums to express their concerns as soon as the news broke. So is he worried? Like hell he is. “The fans had the part cast in their minds already. They knew who they wanted and it certainly was not me. But I'm not stupid, | presumed that people were going to say ‘who the fuck is this guy’. Since I anticipated the reaction it didn't throw me off.”

“There are so many different ways to go into battle with yourself when you're trying to get a job. I felt a certain amount of pressure because I wanted to make everyone happy. The fan base is so specific and, as a fan myself, I understand the relationship that they have with the show. The Red Viper is the best part I've ever played, and in season four shocks come at the most unexpected times. You might think you know, but you have no idea,” he explains.

Looks like the Red Viper could be in line to fill a Walter-White-sized-hole in television, but to test the theory we pit Pascal against Lena Headey, aka the Queen. Because if you can come away from Cersei unscathed, you can handle anything.

LH: So, Pedro, you come into Game of Thrones in season four, playing a pretty major character. Does that fill you with joy or dread?

PP: I'd say it fills me with joy because it’s a really fucking fun part. He’s a badass. He comes up against a lot of the main characters in the show. I'm very aware of the show. I watch it like a fan.

LH: Were you a fan before you arrived in Belfast?

PP: Yeah, I was a proper fan. I was caught up in the drama of it before I even auditioned for the part. I was already up to speed.

LH: I remember meeting you and thinking, “he fucking loves the show’.

PP: I kissed your ass.

LH: Well, it worked. We're friends now.

PP: I was like a tourist visiting the set, and yet I had to act with you and be in a scene with the characters that I had such a specific association with already.

LH: So you’re saying it’s boring?

PP: No, it wasn’t boring at all. It was extremely, relentlessly surreal.

LH: And who were your favourite characters up until that point?

PP: Not you.

LH: I realise that!

PP: There are too many characters to have a favourite, but I was fascinated by the Lannisters because they're so frightening. They scared me and then you would come in and pull sympathy from your audience somehow, and I found that rather fascinating. The Northerners were so easy to like or get behind, but it was quite something to see people sympathise with a Lannister, after you made people see things from their perspective.

LH: Speaking of being slightly ambiguous as a character, you come in as a major player and a very well-loved character in the eyes of people who read the books, and he’s somewhat of an anti-hero. Did you base him on anyone?

PP: What does an anti-hero mean exactly?

LH: It means he doesn't wear deodorant, doesn't it? [Laughs]. Someone you shouldn't champion, but you do, like Walter White in Breaking Bad.

PP: No, | didn’t really base him on anyone.

LH: Did you take anything from classic movies that you thought you could use and spin to your advantage playing the Red Viper?

PP: God, that’s a good question. I probably did subconsciously. Now I feel under the spotlight because I need to think of somebody, and I have so many in my mind! I think that’s something that is happening a lot in TV today: the anti-heroes are central to these television shows, and people are really getting behind them, even though they're not necessarily the most moral characters. So I'd say that ‘ve become more familiar with the character who's obviously very flawed but gets you on their side — you have complicated feelings about them. But I think I saw the story too much from this character's perspective to perceive any flaws.

LH: He has some.

PP: I know, from the outside. But I don't see any of them. What are his flaws?

LH: His flaws? He's a dirty bastard!

PP: Why is he a dirty bastard? He likes to fucking fight, for sure.

LH: Back to you as an actor. You've done it for a long time and, as we all know, the path is not always golden, and sometimes you think, “fuck it” and you want to leave it and do something else. Have there been moments where you wanted to give up?

PP: Yes, there have been moments where I came very close to giving up. But I never had anything to fall back on. I think you can understand that.

LH: Because were stupid?

PP: We're stupid.

LH: I can't even make pizza!

PP: We don’t have any other skills.

LH: None at all!

PP: And that’s the odd conundrum. You get to a point where you think, “This isn’t going to happen. This isn’t sustainable. I'm too exhausted, and it can't be good for me.” There were moments where I truly did try to formulate an idea of what I'd do. I thought I'd go back to school, start pre-med again and go to medical school or something like that.

LH: But that didn't happen, you just thought about it?

PP: Yes, I'd have thoughts, but it was still fantasy really. But at the time it felt like a practical life plan. Do you know what I mean?

LH: Yeah of course, you need to pay the fucking rent.

PP: Exactly. You just try to escape from the chaos of what you're feeling by trying to create order in your life. Order seems like a solution to save you from the pain of acting!

LH: It's a mental pain. Who was the first person you called when you got the role?

PP: My sister.

LH: Does she watch the show?

PP: Yes, she does.

LH: Pedro Pascal... or Pablo as I called you when I had too much wine, which was deeply insulting.

PP: Even family members have done that to me! Do I look more like a Pablo? Because it happens with about ninety-five percent of the people I meet.

LH: No, I think I’m just an ignorant drunk person.

PP: No, you were an ignorant drunk person that night is what you're saying.

LH: And now I’m educated.

PP: [Whispers] But | want you to call me Pablo.

LH: Ok, Pablo! When you first arrived on set in Northern Ireland, what was your feeling showing up to a bunch of British actors? Did it feel different to doing an American project?

PP: Yes, but I loved it. It wasn’t intimidating. I found it surreal because I’d watched and loved the show. I hadn't had the opportunity to work on something that I was really familiar with before, so it was overwhelming. But it was far more delightful than intimidating. Also you guys were really cool. Everyone was friendly.

LH: Oh, that’s just fake.

PP: Well, you guys were good at it!

LH: We know Game of Thrones is very popular obviously. Do you have any thoughts, or fears, about what this is going to bring you in terms of exposure?

PP: I have hope.

LH: Oh, God. I don’t mean to shatter that, but give it up.

PP: I don’t know really. It’s all been filmed, and now I'm back to my normal routine, so I haven't really thought about it. I remember when we finished filming and we were on our way to the airport, you asked me, “How does it feel you're all done?” and I couldn't really answer.

LH: You were quite emotional that day.

PP: I was very emotional because I’d had such an amazing time doing the part. Also just being there immersed in the experience... You described it to me best. You told me how I'd be feeling.

LH: We don't know your character's backstory when you enter the show, and you have some rather brutal scenes. Anyone who has read the books will know what I’m talking about.

PP: My character comes in, he stirs a bunch of shit up, and then he makes this fucking enormous exit. Now can | ask you a question?

LH: What is it? I’m not going to sleep with you. Give it up.

PP: Oh, come on! This has gone to shit and it’s your fault, so good luck to whoever has to edit it! But anyway, sometimes I'd hang out with the cast members and we'd go to dinner and they would get stopped constantly. There was no denying who they played because they were so recognisable, but you got away with it because you have this beautiful blonde wig on in the show, and in real life you are...

LH: Grey?

PP: {Laughs] No! You have beautiful chestnut hair! Is it liberating to not be recognised the way some of the other cast members are?

LH: Yes, it is liberating.

PP: Liberating being able to walk down an alley in Dubrovnik without being stopped?

LH: Yes, except sometimes | get recognised in the weirdest places. A woman was emptying my bag at Heathrow Airport's security gates and just went, “Are you the Queen?” while rummaging through my underwear. It was so fucking weird.

PP: It seems they're more respectful to you?

LH: Because they're frightened. Wait until they meet the Viper.

PP: Well, that covers it.

LH: I think we're going to get our own show out of this, you know

Interested in learning more about Pedro? Check out Pedro Pascal Unofficial on Pinterest!

[delta-roseblr]

Lol, all the new info about the solangelo and delix kids made me want to have a fic just about them. So I was wondering if that would be possible? xD

Hello, Anon!

I know it has been forever since you sent this prompt, but it wasn't forgotten!

I hope this is worth the wait

_____________________________________________________

The Kids

· Because Solangelo and Delix both set down in California, Solangelo in New Rome and Delix stays in Northern California; they see each other a lot, as do their kids.

· The fact that Michael and Lee (Nico and Will's twins) and Mason (Felix and Dean's son) are a little more than a year apart just added to their drive to get together as a family. The kids could entertain each other, and they always got along well. The twins were challenging to entertain when they were little, so this is a big deal.

· Will and Dean always figured the three of them would always get along because, well, that was how they were, but Nico and Felix had their doubts. They figured that as the three got older and if (when) the twins started showing their demigod powers that they would drift.

· Nico and Felix turned out to be completely wrong, and the three just got closer as they got older.

· You would think, since Mason is the oldest of the three, he would take on the leadership role in the group, but that isn't how it works out. Mason is a pretty even-keeled kid. He definitely got Dean's tendency to want to put his head down and do his work. He can and does take the leadership role during team things like sports but not when the twins are involved.

· The twins are a damn handful from the moment they are born, and they never really change. Both of them are outgoing in their own ways. Lee is more competitive and will jump at the opportunity to take on a challenge, while Michael is more social- he can (and will) start a conversation with pretty much anyone he meets. The two are also a perfect storm of trouble because Michael will come up with an idea like they should buy fake ids and sneak into a club, and Lee will view it as a challenge, so he wants to do it, and they will absolutely find a way to talk Mason into joining them. Mason definitely tries his hardest to keep them out of trouble and manages to be at least somewhat successful sixty-five percent of the time.

· The twins love showing up at Mason's mortal school events, so even though they do not go there, most of Mason's classmates recognize them. They are also pretty much honorary members of Mason's lacrosse team. While Mason gives them shit for being menaces, he really likes when they show up, it definitely stops things from getting boring.

· Mason visits New Roman as well, even though not as much because going to New Roman can be a process as a mortal going to New Roman. Still, he has teamed up with the twins and a few of the other children of the seven around their age to case a little harmless trouble on the weekend.

· Btw, Dean has had several conversations with a teenage Mason about precisely what to do if he finds himself being hit on by a horny god (with very specific things to say to Apollo or Dionysus). Mason considers these the most embarrassing conversations he has ever had with his days. It's bad enough that his middle-aged dads still act like teenagers half the time and CAN'T keep their hands off each other. He doesn't want to hear about how Greek gods had tried to bone them back in the day. Grandpa Solace jumping in with "Just remember, Apollo isn't nearly as good in bed as he claims, and you can take my word for it" doesn't help with the awkwardness. He would rather have to go through the birds and bees talk a million times over.

· All three of these boys are NOT STRAIGHT. Michael is gay, while both Lee and Mason are bisexual. It's hard to say that Michael or Lee "came out" because it happened so organically. There was no sit everyone down and tell them moment. Instead, it was just "I LIKE like that boy" or "that boy is really cute" when they were like twelve. Mason takes FOREVER to admit this to himself and even longer to admit it to anyone else. Michael and Lee KNOW way before Mason admits to anything, and neither of them lets him hid from it. Lee tries the comforting approach hoping Mason will admit it while Michael goes more the exposure therapy route- he'll point out cute guys and ask what Mason thinks. He tricked Mason into going to a few gay events without Mason knowing until it was too late to back out.

· FYI, Mason comes out to Lee first, but only because they get into a fight because Lee is flirting with a boy; Mason secretly has a massive crush on (or at least he thinks it's a secret, but everyone can tell). Michael is solidly pissed about this for months, but that doesn't stop him from trying to play matchmaker.

Dribble:

The rain had stopped, and Mason supposed he should have been happy about that, but the lingering sense of tension and danger made it hard to appreciate. He, Michael, and Lee had already walked one block north of Gypsy Bar, and Mason was hoping as they put even more distance between themselves and the bar that sense of unease would dissipate at least a little.

They had been walking in silence for several minutes. That was a rare thing, and Mason hoped it meant that it was one of those rare occasions that his cousins were thinking about how horrible their idea had been, but Lee killed that hope the moment he opened his mouth.

"Well, we had to try," Lee declared.

Mason looked over and up because, of course, Lee was at least three inches taller than him. That would have been more annoying if Mason was at all insecure about his height, but at six foot he was comfortable. Also, he had a couple of inches on Michael, which helped.

Lee's hair looked practically white instead of its usual light blonde under the street lights' harsh glare, and his complexion seemed extra fair. Even his freckles were lost in the artificial light. Not surprisingly, there wasn't a single sign of worry on his face.

Maybe if Mason had Greek god powers, he would have been relaxed too, but he didn't. That call for adventure that Lee and Michael had just seemed like asking for trouble to Mason, the mere mortal. "Not with the worse fake IDs in history," Mason pointed out yet again.

"They were not that bad!" Michael was quick to defend.

This was not the first time Mason had heard that, and it didn't make it any less ridiculous. One of Michael and Lee's dads was literally a doctor that could heal people by touching them. There was no fucking excuse for their inability to see what was right in front of them. Why Michael had even bought the IDs, having seen them, Mason would never understand.

"They looked like they were hand-drawn by a preschool," Mason pointed out, "And the names were ridiculous."

"Pictures didn't look much like us," Lee agreed.

Michael let out a long, loud sigh, pushed a dark strand of hair that had fallen out of his ponytail and into his eye line, and tucked it behind his ear. While Lee looked like the stereotypical California surfer dude, Michael almost looked Mediterranean. He had light brown hair that he had grown out over the last year and now almost exclusively wore tied up, and he naturally had a more tan, almost olive complexion. Even with the differences, it was impossible not to recognize the two as twins immediately. They both had the same sharp facial features, lean and athletic builds, and light blue eyes.

Mason was the obvious odd man out in the group. His hair was somewhere between a light brown and a dark blonde, and his eyes were hazel rather than blue. His build was boxier, and he was definitely wider in the shoulders than his cousins, but that might have been because he had been playing lacrosse since he was eight. His facial features were also a little more square and angular. It might not have been a stretch to believe the three of them were related, but no one was going to mistake them for triplets.

"Okay, that is enough with the pouting," Michael declared with just a little bit of annoyance in his voice. Mason was a little surprised it had taken that long because usually, the more outrageous and destined to fail one of Michael's plans were, the more annoyed he got when it did, in fact, fail. "At least we got a fun story out of it," he stated.

Knowing Michael, he really did see that as a win which was crazy. Mason fucking loved his cousins. They were literally his best friends and really always had been, but sometimes they were crazy to be around. Mason put that on all the demigod stuff. After all, if you have literally trained to fight monsters since you were a little kid getting fake IDs and trying to sneak into a twenty-one and over club probably didn't sound all that crazy.

Mason wasn't exactly a fucking nun. Sneaking into a bar didn't sound completely crazy but trying to get into a bar known for checking IDs with comically bad fake IDs did.

"We are lucky they didn't call the police," Mason pointed out flatly. The bouncer had decided to take pity on them for some reason after giving them one hell of a fucking lecture, and Mason would forever be grateful. "Or worse, our parents," he added with a shutter.

"What are you worried about?" Lee asked with a laugh, "Uncle Dean and Uncle Felix would have been totally cool."

Mason gave Lee a serious look. "Nothing about my parents is cool," he stated firmly, "No matter how many people say otherwise."

"You really are a master of denial," Lee commented teasingly before patting his shoulder and adding, "It's kind of impressive."

The fact was Mason was well aware that his dads were pretty cool. If they had been called and told Mason had been caught with a fake ID trying to sneak into a bar, they probably wouldn't have even yelled at him. Neither of them were big yellers. Mason would have gotten one hell of a disapproving lecture which Mason was convinced was worse than yelling ever could be. He definitely would have lost a whole bunch of privileges for the foreseeable future.

Unfortunately, Mason had been hearing about how cool his dads were since he could remember. The fact that Felix getting early releases of video games all the time helped. Dean always bringing Mason and his friends for ice cream after practice when he was younger didn't hurt. As he got older, he just became the one with the cool parents in all his friend groups. It got old after a while, and that was before the term DILF started getting thrown around.

He would have been more annoyed if it was anyone besides Lee and Michael. They had it just as bad as he did, even if it was slightly different. Uncle Nico was practically a legion among Demigods for all the questing he did as a teenager, and even if he had just sat on his ass, he was still the son of Hades, which was a big thing. Uncle Will didn't have the history with all the questing, but he played an important role in some battle, which was enough to give him some fame. The twins had to deal with their fair share of people going full-on hero-worship over their dads, and then there was the fact that Uncle Nico had worked as a model for like five years.

Mason might not have been truly pissed off, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to flip Lee off for that comment. He did grin as he did it, at least so it was clear that it was all good.

They had walked about half a block as they had talked, and they made it about a block more in silence before Michael huffed. "So what are we going to do now?" he asked. Mason went to answer but barely got an opportunity to take a breath before Michael held up a finger to cut him off. "And the answer of going home is not allowed, so just don't even say it," he stated firmly.

Mason didn't get why going home, playing video games, ordering a pizza, and hanging out was such a bad idea. His dads were out on a date night, so they probably would have had the house to themselves, not that that mattered. According to Michael, that was just not an acceptable way for them to spend their evening, and in fairness, he had made that clear before then. That didn't mean that wasn't exactly what Mason had been prepared to suggest, but he wasn't really surprised that Michael warned him not to before he got a chance.

Mason stopped and looked around to get a feel for where they were. Since they were in West Berkeley, it was more his stomping ground rather than the twins. If it were New Rome, the twins would have a list of places they could go and things they could do, so he guessed it was on him to at least come up with one suggestion.

If he was honest, he only had a vague idea of where they were, and it wasn't a part of the city he visited often, so he didn't have the best idea of what was around. Ultimately, he went with the first thing that came to mind. "There is a really cool vintage bookstore like two blocks from here," he stated, pointing in the direction he thought it was.

It might have been the first thing he had thought of, but Mason didn't think it was a half-bad idea. He had been to the place a few times with Dean because Dean had a radar for little bookstores, and it didn't matter what they were doing or where they were supposed to be; he had to go in. It was such a well-known fact that Felix always looked up where bookstores were when they went on vacation so they could plan when they went. The little bookstore that Mason couldn't remember the name of had actually been pretty cool.

"You found an answer worse than go home," Michael commented flatly, "Why do you hurt me like this?"

Mason rolled his eyes because now Michael was just overdramatic. "They serve coffee and stuff," he informed.

"Coffee actually sounds pretty fucking good," Lee admitted, which was a good sign. Of the two, Michael always wanted to do something big and over-the-top. Lee could be like that sometimes, but he was more likely to see reason when Michael was just suggesting something crazy. Usually, if Mason could get Lee on his side, he had a chance. If Lee backed Michael's idea, then it was only a matter of time before Mason agreed to whatever insanity had been planned.

Michael stared between Mason and Lee with clear disapproval. "We can not go from trying to sneak into a 21 and over club to drinking coffee in a used bookstore," he stated with disgust before just shaking his head with disappointment, "Honestly, what is wrong with you two?"

"Okay," Lee declared, managing to sound just as unamused by Michael as Michael was with them. Lee was infinitely better at dealing with his brother when he was being dramatic than Mason was. "How about we go into that pizza place-" he pointed past Mason toward a small pizza place just across the street from where they were standing, "-and talk to the cute girls that are walking in."

"Well, that doesn't sound like fun for me!" Michael grumbled as he turned and assessed the option for a split second. "Oh, there is a couple of boys that could be cute! I don't hate that idea."

Mason gave in and turned to see what they were talking about and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole and die. "Oh my god, could you too stop staring," he hissed as he turned his back on the scene and hoped no one saw him.

They should have gone to New Rome.

Of course, both Michael and Lee were staring at him, and he knew they were going to ask. Neither of them was precisely known for letting things go either.

"What?" Mason shrugged, sounding more defensive than he meant to, "They are people from my school."

Michael and Lee exchanged a look that was never a good thing. It was one of those weird twin silent communication things they would do, and it usually meant they were about to tag team, Mason. It never worked out well.

"You know them?" Michael asked, although he managed to give the question far more weight than such a simple question should have had.

Lee was even less subtle as he stared at Mason with obvious suspicion, "How come we don't know them?"

Obviously, Michael and Lee didn't go to Mason's high school because they were in New Rome, but they hung around with Mason enough that they knew all of Mason's school friends and a fair number of his classmates. It wasn't necessarily weird that they didn't know someone that Mason knew from school, but it was a more rare occurrence. On this specific occasion, it actually made a lot of sense because they were people Mason only recently started getting to know.

"It looked like Theo and a few of the other kids from the theater club," Mason explained. Mason was not a theater kid. Even if he had wanted to be, he never would have had time with lacrosse and soccer. Since he was a junior and apparently would benefit from diversifying his afterschool activities (so saith his guidance counselor), he joined the AV club and somehow ended up helping with the school play, so he got to know some of the theater kids over the last few months. Not a big deal in the slightest. "And for the record, you two aren't entitled to know all my school friends," he pointed out just to prove a point.

Michael and Lee exchanged another look.

"Theo?" Lee questioned.

"Interesting," Michael commented.

Mason's heart jumped into his throat. Had he said that name? He hadn't meant to, but it must have just slipped out. He was absolutely fucked because the twins weren't going to let that go, and that was the last thing Mason needed. Theo was just a dude with great hair that made Mason feel weird sometimes, and he didn't want to talk about that.

Play it cool, Mason told himself through his internal panic. He shrugged, which felt like the most unnatural gesture ever. "He hangs out with a lot of the AV kids helping with the play," he explained. More accurately, he hung around many band kids helping with the play, and Mason had to adjust the audio equipment a fair amount. After talking a few times, Mason may have invited him to hang out with the AV kids, and the guy took him up on that. There was no fucking way he was telling Lee and Michael that story. "I've learned his name. It isn't a big deal," he stated. That at least was true, and no one would convince Mason otherwise.

Michael and Lee were silent for a long moment, just staring at him before Michael broke the silence. "You know what? Pizza sounds fantastic," He declared before turning on his heels and starting across the street. He was halfway across before he called over his shoulder, "And I love a good theater club. Always fun gays."

Lee patted Mason on the shoulder, which turned into him practically pushing Mason forward toward the pizza shop. "So, which one is Theo exactly," Lee asked in a mischievous tone.

Now Mason wished their wrong fake IDs had worked.

[secret-diary-of-an-fa]

Winning at Life

As long-time readers will know, my life has, historically, been something of a car crash. I started writing this blog over a decade ago when I started university- an institution that I expected to be a hotbed of rebellion and independent thinking, but which turned out to be a factory for stamping out interchangeable, social-climbing, affluence-chasing berks. After awhile, I lost any sense of what I was doing there and just sort of drifted. I then spent my twenties pinballing between ill-advised relationships (often in budget hotel rooms) and getting my heart broken. During that time, I also stumbled into three jobs, all of which I hated and quit in spectacular fashion. Online, I spent the majority of time inviting the ire of very large sections of the populations and laughing at their frustration (who remembers that time I pissed off every Beyoncé fan on the planet- that was a personal highlight). I commanded a loyal audience, but beyond that little circle I gloried in being universally reviled. The right-wing hated me because I’m a socialist and generally believe that people deserve better treatment at the hands of their civilisation and because I’m quite liberal and also believe that, outside of supporting the welfare state where possible, people really should just be left alone. Liberals, however, also hated me, because I’ve never had any patience for virtue-signalling or folks who hide behind their oppressed status (real or sometimes imagined) as an excuse for being bullying, shouty cunts- and let’s be honest, modern liberalism is mainly about finding excuses to be cunts. Which seems redundant. The right-wing already have the monopoly on being fucking appalling, despicable people. But I digress.

My point is that I wrote well and entertainingly in large part because my life was kind of a wreck and because I was a belligerent walking anachronism, eternally odds with the society in which I lived. However, the reverse is also true. I have less to write about nowadays because I’m, er, happy. I mean, I’ve never really been unhappy for a sustained period, but my emotional spectrum was delineated by degrees of savage joy and blind fury rather than more normal, humane feelings. Nowadays, things are different. Quite a lot has happened since we last spoke dear reader. Not least, I’m engaged to be married.

I’ll give you a minute to wipe the look of slack-jawed yokel incredulity off your face, then I’ll explain what I’m on about. Done? Okay. Well, between COVID waves, I met an incredible woman- a tremendous geek with a penchant for binge-watching sci-fi nonsense and Agatha Christie’s Poirot; an adventurous soul who wants to take trips with me and see all the strange beauty my native isle has to offer, from the Northern lights playing over the Scottish Highlands to the brilliant blue waters of Cornwall and the hilariously misnamed English Riviera; a clever-clogs with a love of word-games like Scrabble who encourages me to write and improve my own fiction. She’s a joker, she’s a smoker, she’s a midnight toker, and she’s mine. It doesn’t hurt that she’s nearly 400lbs of hotness, either. To cut a long story short, I went up to visit her before I knew that another wave of COVID was going to hit and ended up unable to return home due to transport restrictions. Over a year later, things are finally getting back to normal, but we just work well together- well enough that I want to spend the rest of our lives together and so does she.

Another reason for my unaccustomed happiness is that I’ve now moved out of London to be with her. London was a cesspool and being there meant I was near the epicentre of British culture. Everywhere I looked, I was continually reminded of everything wrong with our dying, lunatic society. Sometimes it was something major: seeing a whole street that was no longer a public thoroughfare but a privatised domain with its own security staff who could move on anyone they didn’t like the look of. Sometimes it was something minor, like spotting Jodie Whittaker’s talentless fucking face adorning a billboard advertising the latest post-shitgate era of the once great Doctor Who (no, I will never fucking drop that). It was like having a splinter in my brain. Everywhere I looked, there was a fresh reason to be angry. I’m currently living in a small town on the edge of the Durham Dales. Nowadays, everywhere I look there’s rolling hills and bleak, barren moors. The sky at sunset here is the purest amber, streaked with pinks and reds. I’m told that, on the clearest, most moonless nights, I should be able to see the Milky Way, not just a scattering of individual stars. Here, I’m reminded that the stupid, mean-spirited, lowest-common denominator bullshit of the human race really doesn’t matter. Nature doesn’t give a fuck and it will remain breathtaking and hostile in equal measure no matter what we do. That soothes my soul in ways I can’t begin to describe. It’s possibly a sign of insanity that I take comfort in the knowledge that if I walked off the road in the wrong direction I could die of exposure before anyone found me, but there’s a rationale at play. I’m not being morbid. Rather, the fact that the landscape is so indifferent to me means that I can be truly isolated if I so choose. I’m not hemmed in by fences and warning signs and the subtle nudges of human expectation. I’m not one to take the foolish risks that would render my environment dangerous, but it’s liberating to know that I could. I may be a socialist who believes that the state should extend a helping hand where required, but I still understand the need not to be taken care of, sometimes.

Of course, there are days when I miss London. I miss its impersonal monumentalism. A curious side-effect of living in a small town is that the few people there are seem to feel more comfortable inflicting their company on me. There seems to be a rule in human nature that the smaller the group, the more it interacts with itself. I sometimes miss being able to walk down a street and not have someone wave to me or strike up a conversation. But I guess that’s what the Dales are for. The mildly annoying friendliness of the locals is a small price to pay for my bride-to-be- my Tess- and my freedom from London and its constant, grating reminders of the dubious achievements of mankind.

I’d like to get into a better schedule for writing and posting blogs, but please don’t be alarmed if some of my fire seems to be extinguished. I haven’t changed my views- they’re no less recondite, complicated and offensive than they ever were- and I make no apologies for the things that I said in anger. It’s just that I’m not angry right now, and so my commentary is liable to be less inflammatory. Until then, bugger off.

[thelarriefics]

ANGST FIC REC: Below you’ll find a collection of angst fics. Since some deal with heavy topics, please be sure to read the tags!

📖 Cocaine for Breakfast by @harryeatsburger​ (291k)

Louis Tomlinson is a drug addict, sent away from his beloved party-scene to recover. There, he discovers that small towns have just as much access to drugs as London did, plus something even better that he just can’t get enough of. That something is a boy with green eyes and bouncy curls named Harry Styles.

📖 Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction (153k)

A Top Gun AU. 

📖 Own the Scars by @crinkle-eyed-boo (144k)

Louis has never felt like he was good enough: for his stepdad, for his life-long best friend, for the life he’s supposed to want. After an accident that nearly costs him his life, Louis’ parents send him to rehab where he’s forced to face his demons. On the long and difficult road to recovery, Louis must confront the truths he’s been avoiding about his future, his relationships, and his sense of self-worth. Because before he can love anyone else, he’s got to learn how to love himself first.

📖 Unbelievers by @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

📖 red hands by @dystopianharry (132k)

a dystopian au in which harry, an ex-soldier who’s escaped from his government run camp, accidentally stumbles across the biggest rebel movement in the country, and louis, one of the rebellion’s mysterious leaders who appears to hate him, seems to simultaneously have an obsession with keeping him alive. or: harry is wanted for treason, niall hasn’t changed in four years, liam is always smiling, and louis is angry. like, really angry.

📖 For As Long As I Can Remember (It’s Been December) by @greenfeelings (128k)

After recovering from a severe accident that causes Harry to lose his memory of three years, he moves to London to start his life over as a star chef. Little does he know that when he falls in love with Louis at first sight, it’s not the first time they meet.

Featuring an unintentional game of hot and cold, Harry chasing memories that won’t come back, Louis burying himself in work to try and forget what he can’t forget, Liam being torn between two of his best friends, Zayn as a moral compass and Niall saving the day with good music and brutal honesty.

📖 got the sunshine on my shoulders by @hattalove (124k)

five years ago, harry styles left his tiny home town to make it big as a recording artist. he didn’t have much regard for what he left behind - a life, a family, and a husband, who woke up one morning to find him gone.

now, harry has everything he could possibly want: he’s rich, famous, and adored by everyone he meets, including his boyfriend. but when said boyfriend proposes to him, he’s forced to face the uncomfortable facts of his past - and louis, who’s spent the last five years returning every set of divorce papers harry sent him.

(or, an au based on the movie sweet home alabama.)

📖 Promise in the Sky by @hazzabeeforlou ​(99k)

AU in which Harry Styles, a naïve, repressed, socially awkward Midwestern highschooler tries to navigate his fundamentalist evangelical parents and radically progressive older sister. He’s doing an okay job of this until the Tomlinson family starts attending Lakeside Baptist Church and a boy named Louis changes everything. Harry is forced to come to grips with his true self when Louis becomes more than just his best friend; but their relationship opens a can of worms and sends them on the most painful, heartbreaking journey of their young lives. They risk everything and nearly lose, and Harry learns that perhaps only one Bible verse is true: that perfect love casteth out fear.

📖 The Road Less Travelled By by @freetheankles (98k)

Louis is a widowed lumberjack, and Harry isn’t someone he needs to fall in love with. 

📖 For Reasons Wretched and Divine by @indiaalphawhiskey (94k)

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time.

Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?

📖 (Take Me Home) Country Roads by @a-writerwrites (86k)

a Northern Exposure AU featuring Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don’t know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

📖 Yellow by @13ways-of-looking (84k)

The city of Gotham turns blood red with a new, mysterious criminal element, a beautiful woman named the Blind Cupid. She threatens to tear the fabric of the city apart, aided by her deadly protégé, the Cat. Can Batman stop them? Will he resist the bewitching allures of the Cat? A Batman/ Catwoman AU.

📖 Chasing Empty Spaces by @domestic-harry (79k)

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

📖 Far Away. by @dimpled-halo​ (57k)

Harry returns to London after five years. Stuck in the past with “what ifs” and “what might have beens”, he sees that his friends and ex (and possible love of his life) Louis have all moved on with their lives while he finds himself questioning his own life choices, past and present.

📖 The Second Hand Unwinds by @fullonlarrie (51k)

Louis Tomlinson is one of the first members of NASA’s top secret Chrono Exploration Program. When things go wrong and he’s sent further back in time than planned, he has no other option than to show up on his ex-boyfriend’s doorstep.

📖 Looking Through You by @allwaswell16 (41k)

Just as Louis and Liam were starting out in the music industry, writing and producing for up and coming artists, a fateful meeting with new pop singer Harry Styles changes everything. Four years later, just as Harry is set to embark on his next world tour, a drunken confession causes a rift between once inseparable friends. As Harry tries to make sense of his feelings for Louis, he begins writing his next album to express them as it may be the only way to break through the walls that Louis has built between them.

📖 Gracious Goes the Ghost of You by @haloeverlasting (25k)

Harry is a ghost who comes to visit. Louis feels like a ghost, himself. In forgiveness, they find their way back to life.

📖 We’ll Rise Up by @suddenclarityharry (18k)

Louis is a Pastor with no church and a heart filled with uncertainty. Pastor Payne is more than willing to give Louis a new place to work, but it’s Music Director Harry that helps him rebuild his faith.

📖 Escape (The Piña Colada AU) by @avocadolouie (10k)

Louis writes to escape. Harry answers to join him.

📖 A Year (and then some) by @bringmetheharry (6k)

Harry breaks and it takes a year of ups and downs for he and Louis to put themselves back together.

[dukeofriven]

From An Old Internet Veteran: Go, and Sin No More

I wish I could explain to young people how wild the internet was as it went from the ‘weird niche thing for lame nerds’ irrelevancy of the early 90s and the “Boy This World Wide Web Thing Sure Is Nifty”-style painful optimism that describes 97% of Western Culture between 1994 and 2002 to the ‘Mad Max But Statistically Less Australian” culture that was the internet from 2002 to around 2010. I come neither to praise this era of internet nor condemn it. I merely want understanding. I cannot polish a lumpen pile of rape jokes, Chuck Norris glorification, “ironic” racism, and numa numa fat shaming and say that it’s misunderstood comedic genius. Trash is still trash even if it wins a bunch of Emmys. But at the same time I cannot take you with me back to the 90s and get you to feel, on a visceral level, what it was like to live in a place where Bart Simpson was both promoted as a real and present danger to the moral upbringing of the world’s children and was named by Time magazine as one of the most influential icons of the 20th century. And because I cannot do that I cannot get you to understand how freeing it felt to be on the internet in that Mad Max era. Ten years before a yellow boy shouting “Don’t have a cow” while doing a pathetic kick-flip on a chunky skateboard was considered the potential downfall of humanity’s children, but now you could make something so risqué that the old-guard stuffed-shirt in 1994 would have died on the spot, his brain unable to consider anything so outside his moral world view. I cannot easily make you understand a time when nobody just said whatever it was they wanted, not just because they had no platform to do so but because the rigidity of social convention was so strong. Nobody ever had hardcore lesbian sex on Northern Exposure on prime time television. Nobody on the X-Files ever died by having their head smashed in a car door repeatedly like a melon until viscera spilled all over the pavement. You could not have made Game of Thrones or Steven Universe in 1995. Forget the graphics, forget the budget, you simply couldn’t do or say any of that on television for either kids or adults. The Mad Max internet changed that - changed the very firmament of what was acceptable in media for every genre and for every demographic.  Is this a good thing? Not particularly. Is this a bad thing? Not particularly. If this sound frustratingly ambivalent that’s because it is: were we to go back and do it all again, knowing all that we know now, would we do it the same way? No. But then, we would not know all that we know now had we not learned it by making the attempt in the first place.

This poor comfort for someone who dives into some 2006 webcomic with a reputation of a Legacy Touchstone and finds it full of ‘jokes’ about their gender, or sexual preference, or the liberal use of the r-slur, or a kind of hyper-suburban comedic racial ignorance. I am not here to argue that that had any value merely because it was transgressive. But the same space that opened-up to let such ugly things out also opened-up places for marginalized groups to made themselves known, groups who never before had such public voices.

Imagine an apocalypse. Imagine society rebuilding in the ashes. Imagine how many false starts and missteps there would be and you begin to understand just a little of what that period was like. It was embarrassing. It was cruel. It was childish and stupid. But in living through it we grew up. Or, at least, those of us capable of growing up grew up, and learned, and learned to be better - learned what better was. And then we built new places where other people could learn too - and spread the gospel of being better. One of the things that always irritates me when it comes to young people talking about the past is the unexamined privilege of knowledge being at your fingertips. It’s more than just everyone carrying a wireless-internet connected computer in their pocket at all times. It’s more than just a Wikipedia with hundreds of millions of articles and a reputation for fact sourcing. It’s more than just a Google that works. If you never experienced it you cannot imagine what using WebCrawler was like in 1995 against Ask Jeeves in 2005 against Google in 2015 - or even Google between 2005 and 2015. Most people don’t go around thinking about SEO and search engine algorithms but maybe we should because anyone who wants to go “this info’s been on the internet since day one so people have no excuse not to know it” disingenuously argues that information search and retrieval has been consistent across the decades. There was a time - not all that long ago - when to look something up on-line involved getting the tacit agreement of everyone in your household to lose the use of the sole telephone for as long as you were web browsing. There was a time - not all that long ago - when ‘looking something up’ was to burden everyone around you with inconveniences, and while you were doing your web searches there was no guarantee what you wanted could be found with the primitive technology of the day. Do you know how much I’ve learned since joining Tumblr in 2011? On a fundamental level, both about myself and the make-up of our species in terms of social conception? I recently went through a bunch of old posts, removing those with broken links and meaningless content, but also shit that just embarrasses me now - mostly opinions from a period where I hadn’t yet had a chance to learn because the spaces in which to learn it did not yet exist. It’s not just things like communities for [demographic X] - it’s things like “communities for [demographic X] with an ability to broadcast their voices and have platforms able to network their ideas and audience halls able to receive them and a search engine to guide people to that community and a basic understanding that the community even exists in the first place.” And this does not even begin to touch on internet access, something that even now is not a universal thing, and for which getting angry about people’s ignorance reflects a bias all its own. I say all this because I think that a core tenant of cringe culture is a myth of universal access to knowledge and universal awareness of one’s own ignorance. I look back on old posts of things I said and I cringe with self-hatred - cringe enough to rip them down and stuff them in the trash. “HOW DID I THINK THAT?” and “HOW DID I NOT KNOW?” But why should I have known - what, in my life, would ever have put better ideas across my desk? That I can meaningfully speak now about privilege and intersectionality and historiography is because between then and now I was put in a place to learn these things. I was exposed to ideas that I had never before been exposed to, and was given the grace to learn. I am tired of the expectation that every aspect of our past selves should be held to the same standard as the present. (Yes, to all the disingenuous bad-faith trolls out there, I obviously and of course am advocating for complete and total uncritical pardon for everything in the past ever. Were you a neo-Nazi ten years ago? Water under the bridge without question because that’s obviously, obviously, obviously the sort of extreme outlier case I am talking about good on you for being clever enough to notice.) But for the non-dipshits out there who understand how to read without injecting insincere hyperbole into every argument, I want us to be kinder to our past selves when we have learned to be better. It’s okay that you used to like Sherlock - there were genuinely fun things about it, and it’s okay that you didn’t possess an expert grasp of post-graduate feminist critical theory when you were 21. Or 31. Or 41. More concepts of academia have filtered into mainstream consciousness than ever before - and in saying that we should remember the corollary that ten, twenty, thirty years ago that was not the case. We knew less, had access to less, and were exposed to narrower viewpoints than we are today. It is unfortunate - but it was not our fault, and we cannot easily blame ourselves for it any longer. Nothing makes my blood boil more than seeing people taking umbrage that... oh, Farmer Joe McSmithHead of Buttnut, Alabama in 1963 was ignorant of internal Chinese politics and said some untrue things about Chinese Communism. But the only thing Farmer Joe had to tell him of the outside world was a radio that played country music, a TV with four channels and strict content guidelines to only show pleasant, moral, and god-fearing content, and the three books in the Buttnut library, two of which were the Bible. There have, and will always be, certain moral lines so obvious that people of any era should always be held accountable to them. But above that, in the more trivial space of media consumption, absorption, and critique, we have to learn to be more forgiving - to ourselves and to others, so long as in the present we have changed. Did you use the r-slur a lot because it was practically a form of punctuation on 4chan and that’s where you learned the ways of the internet? Did you learn the harmfulness of this practice and cease to do it? Then I do not condemn thee - go, and sin no more. Did you and your friends used to make jokes about how Mexicans smelled because you saw Seinfeld do that in his standup and the whole TV laughed as though it was funny? Did you realize one day ‘wait a minute that’s actually super gross’ and stop repeating it? Then I do not condemn thee - go, and sin no more. Have you gone back to a beloved childhood property and found it’s full of woman-beating and weird views on homosexuality? Did you find yourself able to critique this beloved thing and did not defensively double-down on shielding it from all harsh words? Then I do not condemn thee - go, and sin no more. I will not allow us to dismiss the cruelty and hurt of Mad Max Internet Culture with a flippant ‘well that’s just how it was back then” but nor will I allow anyone to condemn us all as being consciously unfeeling, willfully ignorant, purposefully hateful. Some of us were. But some of us did not know, could not have known, needed to learn - and we were lucky enough to live in a time before cringe culture and cancel culture where we were allowed to have that opportunity to learn and grow. We need that today, for all young people who think themselves as woke as can be and ten years from now will look back and blush with shame for things they said and did in total ignorance. The sin is choosing to never change, not failing to change sooner.

[drlauralwalsh]

Top 7 Recent Obsessions and 3 Freshly Intolerable Topics

Since my wife died in February, I’ve transformed into an obsessive recluse.  I’ve always been a weirdo but now I’m a grieving weirdo.  It takes eccentricity to a whole other level.  Before, my obsessions were psychology and home improvement projects.  Now, work is impossible and I break down trying to choose flowers at the local Home Depot.  Removing every last dandelion from the yard is my glorious new passion.

Since I trust you, I’m going to tell you about some of the other strange occupiers of my mind.  Like squatters, these topics have moved into my brain to fill up the unused rooms.  I vacillate between kicking them out and kinda liking the company.  Until new obsessions come along, I’ll play reluctant host to this ragtag collection of ideas.  

1. Life After Life

It’s natural to wonder what happens to someone after they die.  I’ve been doing some light reading (usually at around 3AM) on what psychic mediums think on the subject.  Apparently, we continue life on the other side, often recreating the likeness of our earthly homes and possessions out of familiarity.  In my wife’s afterlife, I hope she made some improvements.  She’s likely finally found the perfect couch (comfy yet stylish!) and is no longer taunted by the daily dog hair tumbleweeds.

I have a few questions.  Does my wife get to meet celebrities? She’d be totally psyched to meet Dolores O’Riordan, the lead singer of The Cranberries, who died in January of 2018.  Did she get to watch the last season of Homeland that aired after she died?  Can she still water a lawn in contemplative meditation?  Most likely, she’s cavorting with her first girlfriend, Suzy.  I’m told Suzy was a little crazy in her earth life so I hope she’s not a bad influence.

If I end up living a few more decades, I’ll probably grow and change substantially.  Will Patty recognize me when I finally make the trip? Will she and I still be soulmates or will I have to share her?  Like, did Suzy claim my wife as her soulmate?  I don’t wish anyone loneliness in the after life but dang, I’ve got dibs.

2. Cookie Butter Therapy

If you’ve read my self care tips, you know I’ve found cookie butter solace.  Listening to my body’s unique nutrient requirements, I heed the call for that smooth comfort.  As a psychologist, it used to bug me when I’d see memes like, “I don’t need therapy, I’ve got wine!”  Occasionally speaking aloud, I’d reply, “Hello future client!”

Now, I’m not so sure that retail, alcohol or food therapy is all that bad.  I mean, it IS bad in that it doesn’t solve the problem and could turn into something worse.  But if keeping your head above water saves your life, perhaps I should reconsider these stopgap measures.  Personally, I’m planning a future half marathon to combat the future cookie butter problem.  And by planning, I mean it’s on my list to look up neighborhood jogging routes.

3. Signs from Beyond the Veil

After my Dad died in 2002, I looked for evidence that his energy was still around.  Losing a spouse takes it to a completely new desperation.  Again, according to psychic mediums, we can ask our departed loved ones for specific signs and they will try to send them to us.  Oh the pressure!  Being an overachiever, of course I wanted to come up with the perfect sign to request from my wife.  One that hits just the right balance of inside joke and everlasting love.

To get the ball rolling, I picked the first thing that came to mind.  I asked my wife to send me a maroon Nissan Rogue SUV.  Weird, I know - but also the perfect symbol of our family.  I’m not that great at these requests just yet so I hope she knows I’m asking to see one, not get one as a gift.  Years ago, she borrowed my maroon Nissan for a road trip with two little boys who would become my step kids.  Having not yet met, questions about the car’s owner became a convenient way to talk about Mama’s new sweetheart.  

I started seeing this car EVERYWHERE.  There’s this one little problem, though.  Have you ever heard of confirmation bias?  Psychology Today says, “Confirmation bias occurs from the direct influence of desire on beliefs. “  Basically, I started seeing the car because I wanted the sign from her.  The overly enthusiastic part of my brain said, “Yeah, but wouldn’t she also FLOOD the world with whatever sign you requested????”  Next time, I’ll ask for money.

4. Meditation

After all the grief festivities were done (i.e. initial horror and subsequent wake and funeral), one of my besties recommended the book, Proof of Heaven by Dr. Eben Alexander.  The author is a smarty-pants neurosurgeon who had a near death experience.  He woke up out of a coma, wrote everything down, and set about trying to disprove the platitudes he once touted to patients.  Anyway, a fascinating book and GREAT for the active griever in your life.

Veering from his conventional colleagues, Dr. Alexander’s career diverged towards the path less taken.  He’s now involved in projects with the founders of Sacred Acoustics, a brainwave entrainment audio recordings company.  That’s a fancy way of saying guided meditations with binaural beats that create experiences.  There’s one that facilitates “communication with spirits across the veil.” Since I’m obsessed with getting back with my wife without leaving my kids and dogs, I became a convert. 

Before Patty died (AKA BPD), I was known to dabble in mindfulness and may have claimed I meditated for longer and more often than I actually remembered to do.  Don’t judge me, I was a busy mom!  With a renewed desperation and time on my hands, I gave these wacky meditations a go.  OMG, y’all they are amazing.  I dare say I’ve done a little cavorting with my wife (at least in my mind).  Seriously, between ADHD and grief brain, I can still knock out a 38 minute ‘Love Body’ meditation, no sweat.  In the least, it’s a crutch over the rough spots.

5. Crafty Crystal Suncatchers

I haven’t gone off the deep end (yet) and meditated while balancing my chakras (okay, maybe once) with family heirlooms.  If you read more than one book about the afterlife, you’ll pick up on themes.  Psychics love auras, butterflies, and RAINBOWS.  Since I’ve got time, I figured it wasn’t hard to put together my own suncatcher.  You can certainly purchase these dandies but I prefer my own extremely amateur creations - especially since I need one for every window.  Not sure what to do with these colorful messages from beyond but they are a comfort of sorts.

You may have gathered that I wasn’t previously into the paranormal.  For instance, I knew that smudging was a thing but now, thanks to Etsy, I have my own kit.  Same with healing crystals.  As a child from a family of geologists, semi-precious gems, variegated rocks and hefty quartz crystals already held a special awe.  I must note that my grandfather never mentioned crystal suncatchers as a method for communicating with the dead.  It’s all me who’s hoping for yet another channel where, through refracted sunlight, my wife asserts her presence.

6. Documentaries About Death

It’s a widow habit to categorize life events as ‘before’ and ‘after,’  We use these terms with a wistful air of melancholy apology.  We didn’t create these terms but they’re used as handy shortcuts before launching into yet another story about our dead spouses.  This next tidbit is about me, though.

I love documentaries but before, I’d skip over the downers.  Who wants to watch a flick about eroding habitats when your lawn looks so good?  Times change and now after, I’ve completely confused Amazon’s algorithms with my new entertainment searches.  I find comfort in tragedy.

I recently watched The Bridge, a documentary on the world’s most dangerous suicide locale - the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.  Since it was built, upwards of 1,700 souls have leapt to their nearly assured demise.  The doc profiles the families of people actually caught on film at the moment of decision.  Should sound awful, right?  To me, it’s soothing.  Not the suicides, but hearing the family process the death.  They’re in the soup with me.  Their stories make me feel normal.

7. Unique Grave Decorations

I’m only sharing this with you because I know you’ll understand.  I threw this one in the mix because I had a brief, but intense love affair with unusual grave decorations.   Did you know you can get “grave blankets” to keep your loved one warm?  Obviously more popular in northern climes, they're actually giant wreaths of evergreen branches to cover the gravesite.  Sadly, they aren’t allowed in my wife's cemetery or I’d be all over it.  She was always cold…..before.

Switching gears, turning towards the following topics is a sort of exposure therapy.  They each flutter at the windows of my mind and blot out the light (which I need for rainbows).  I might as well add them to the growing list of crap I have to deal with eventually.  Just so you know, I’m not weird enough to literally keep a list (yet).

1. Birthdays, Holidays, and Other Horrible Occasions

I know they’re coming.  I limped through some already.  May holds the double whammy of Mother’s Day and my birthday.  Despite the embarrassing lack of evergreen splendor, we’ll visit her gravesite where I’ve already smuggled in other decorative contraband.  Since I buy presents for myself all the time, for my birthday, I generally request a tasteful yet classic homemade card.  I’ll get through the anticipatory dread and trudge through the sewage of my lowered expectations.  It’s only another 24 hours to get through.

2. Getting Married Again

I can’t even think about what’s next.  Or rather who.  When I do think about it, I feel sorry for the sad sap who’s attracted to the runner up spot. Here’s the thing, I think about getting married again ALL THE TIME.  My fantasy only went as far as imagining waking up in a fully formed relationship.  Because I loved being married to my wife, it seemed reasonable to want our life reinstated.  As the days turn into months, finding someone new continues to stubbornly insert itself from outside my head.  I blame Patty.  She always insisted if she died first, she’d want me to remarry.  Less charitably, I countered that if I died first, she could never remarry because I’m her one true love.  She apparently wants the last word.

To be fair, I am only 45 years old.  When my stepson asked, I told him I was going to marry the dogs.  He just doesn’t want me to change my last name, so on that we’re cool.  Like passing me a note, Patty’s best friend from high school also delicately floated the idea.  Even my brother-in-law said he wouldn’t want me to pass up something special.  They all want me to be happy.  I don’t want to want to get married again.  It feels like forcing myself into a loveless, arranged marriage.  With my luck, I’ll live another forty years.  Maybe I’ll feel differently if my wife sends me a convincing sign.  

3. The Next Death

The completely self absorbed grieving person I’ve become can’t even think about the next shitburger tragedy that’s surely on its way..  You’d think I’d have a guess who it might be but you’re wrong.  I never would have put my wife on the shortlist but here we are.  With new obsessions hoarding space in my grieving mind, it’s too crowded to handle another disaster.  So I just don’t think about it.

If you’re grieving too, I want you to know you’re not a weirdo.  Or at least you’re a weirdo like all of us - another broken toy tossed onto Bereavement Island (like Fantasy Island but more sad).  I was never particularly interested in psychics, grave ornaments or dead people (beyond famous authors).  Grief turns you inside out until you no longer recognize the person you were before.  It wasn’t so easy to tip me over and I certainly didn’t cry in public.  Falling into grief is similar to falling in love.  With both, I lost my appetite, deeply felt things I’d never felt before, and became completely obsessed.  In the end, grief is just another stage of love.  An unfortunate byproduct of the grandest home improvement project.  I’m comforted to realize that even as I’m swept up by transient passions, I’m essentially the same loving partner at my core.

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Twenty-four - Prey for the Trap

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! I apologize for the brevity of this chapter; it’s only short by about a page, but my faithful laptop finally gave up the ghost this week and although I write on my desktop computer, I lost some time for writing thanks to dealing with that. I think it still turned out well, though. Enjoy!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Twenty-four - Prey for the Trap

PLAZA, INHABITED ZONE, JADAD

1033 HOURS, APRIL 24TH

His Lieutenant was a fully-fledged, blood-drinking vampire currently holed up with one of his oldest enemies and, while not particularly liking him, still helping said enemy (also a vampire, it must be noted) to perpetuate attacks on the civilians of a slowly recovering formerly oppressed nation for their blood, for the aforementioned drinking.

And Roy was sitting under an open-side pavilion, cutting squares of cloth and lengths of cord for anti-vampire protection charms.

Beside him, sitting comfortably cross-legged and surrounded by bowls of charm ingredients, Scar's Master worked in companionable silence. The cloth squares went to him, and he filled them with a palmful of holy sand, a rune of protection wrought in silver wire, and three small garlic flowers. The lengths of cord went to Miles, who also took the filled clothes squares, which he formed into pouches and tied securely shut. At a table a few feet away, Scar was busy distributing the finished charms to a curious public.

"What is he telling them?" Roy asked, keeping his voice low in case anyone in earshot spoke Amestrian.

The Master didn't look up, but smiled. "He does not tell the truth, but he does not lie. The people are told that they are religious charms to bring them Ishvala's divine protection." Reaching out, he plucked a rune from a bowl. "Which, in essence, is exactly true."

Roy nodded in understanding. "He's just not telling them what they need the protection from. Anyone who didn't believe would call us crazy and those that did could start a panic."

Nodding in return, the Master set aside the completed mixture. "And those that don't accept the charm will have to rely, however unknowingly, on the increased night patrols we'll be sending out." He picked up the next square, holding it cupped in one palm while adding ingredients with his free hand. Each patroller will have several spare charms on their person, and be a fully trained warrior priest."

Roy's stomach twisted nervously. Riza's skills in hand-to-hand combat were good by Amestrian military standards… but she had never been fully pitted against someone with Scar's training. Her new strength and speed might serve her well… but would it be enough to keep her from being seriously hurt?

"I can at least vouch that the charms work," he said, trying to swallow the tightness in throat he was beginning to associate with worry. "She was staying a good distance away when we ran into her the other night. He hesitated, then added, "And it may have given us a way to help the real Hawkeye get control of herself."

Miles head snapped up, the partially-tied charm in his hands forgotten. The Master's reaction was more subdued, though he evidenced no less interest. "Oh? And how do you think it could help that way?"

Reaching down, Roy plucked at his own charm, letting it fall back against his chest. "Because when I pressed this against her chest, I got two minutes with the Lieutenant Hawkeye I know."

Frowning, Miles started in on the charm in his hand again, but now he glanced up periodically to continue the conversation. "So the charm doesn't just repel the vampires. If it gets close enough to the Lieutenant, it negates the false personality altogether." He raised an eyebrow. "Am I right in thinking you have an idea to use that to your advantage?"

He shrugged, passing another three squares to the Master. "You would be very right. I mean, it's already been inadvertently field-tested. The trick would be to get the charm actually around her neck. Last night, all I did was hold it to her for maybe… ten seconds? And all that bought me was less than two vampire-free minutes."

"I don't mean to discourage your plan," the Master said, his tone the low and gentle cadence of the teacher he was, "but as long as we're exploring the ins and outs of a possible plan…. How long do you think wearing a charm will suppress the vampire personality?"

"I don't know," Roy admitted. "I would think that it would keep it suppressed indefinitely… but you're right. For all we know, the vampire could develop a tolerance through prolonged exposure, or maybe it was all an elaborate ploy and it didn't actually work at all…." He shook his head in resignation. "But we have to try something, and as far as I know, we don't have any other plan in the works."

The Master was watching as Roy spoke, his expression unreadable, but quietly contemplative. He paused a moment when Roy had finished, then said, "I agree, but there are still doubts in my mind. Have you considered what may happen if the charm does not affect her as you expect?"

"What do you mean?"

"We know how she reacts to a brief exposure, assuming, as you said, that it was a real reaction," the Master pointed out. "Ten seconds, you said. And so far, we've spoken about using it against her with an effect that is beneficial… but consider the possible long-term adverse effects." He set aside the latest square of charm ingredients, ticking of points on his fingers. "Suppose, after a while, holding back the vampire persona begins to cause her pain, or alter her mental state, or makes her ill. What then?"

Roy was quite a moment, cutting new squares and lengths of cord, thinking through the new information and trying to amalgamate it with his fledgling plan…. Trying to find a way to get back that wouldn't involve hurting her any more than she already was. "And if she were to come into skin contact with the silver rune in the pouch, or any of its contents, that could hurt too," he said finally. "It would burn her like the sand did."

Miles had been quietly following the exchange the whole time, and now he broke in. "Would it help determine what to do if we could ask the Lieutenant? Not this vampire alter ego of hers, but the genuine Riza Hawkeye?"

One eyebrow lifted in surprise, Roy looked toward the northern Major. "Since its her body that has to go through wearing the charm, if we decide to go that route, then I'd say it's only fair she get a chance to voice her opinion." His look turned doubtful. "Though I'm not sure how we'll get to ask. I don't think she'll be letting anyone close enough to hit her with a charm, and it might not last long enough if we did."

A small, sly smile tugged at Miles' lips. "That would be a part of overall plan… But the first step is getting the vampire cornered in one place that she can't escape from, and were her new friend can't get to her either. Once she's there, we'll have all the time in the world to find a way to talk to the Lieutenant and form a real plan."

A thrill of anticipation wriggled pleasantly in Roy's chest, along with the skip in his pulse and the momentary hitch in his breath. He grinned back at the other man; Miles had the beginnings of a truly sneaky plan… and maybe that was just what they needed. "Well, don't just keep it to yourself. What do you have in mind?"

"It's going to take some time to set up, so we'd best start as soon as we're done here today. But to start with, we're going to need a place that's out of the way while not being too far from the settled areas…."

MARKETPLACE, UNINHABITED ZONE, JADAD

2043 HOURS, APRIL 24TH

It had been full dark for nearly two hours before Roy, watching from the shadows of an alley, finally saw her emerge from the abandoned inn. She paused on the street, looking for all the world like a tourist waiting for a taxi… or a travelling companion.

"No sign of the other one," he murmured a moment later, when Riza remained alone, idly stretching with her gaze on the stars. Her movements were lithe, catlike… full of deadly grace. Self-consciously, he tugged the hood of his borrowed dark cloak further around his face."Either he's already left, or else he doesn't plan on hunting tonight."

"The Lieutenant's habits suggest that it isn't absolutely necessary that they feed every night," Scar agreed from his place crouched behind a dust-covered crate. "But given his habits in the west and the fact that he just crossed a desert with limited supplies of blood, I would think he would — ah. There."

If Riza hadn't turned to look into the shadows of the hallway behind her, Roy might not have seen the figure standing there. The vampire wore a dark suit, his hands in his pockets, and his stance — what Roy could discern in the darkness — one of laid-back insolence. The only parts of him that stood out were his white shirt and the pale oval of his face.

Roy leaned forward, squinting slightly as though the action could somehow help him see better. "Does that look like Kimblee to either of you? I can see it in the posture, and he's certainly the right building, but…."

"If he were wearing that ridiculous white suit, I'd be more sure," Miles said. Like Roy, he was swathed in a dark cloak, standing close against the wall in its deepest shadows. "But even though I can't make his feature out, it definitely does look like him."

"It is Kimblee," Scar said darkly, red eyes fixed on the man in the shadows partway around the plaza. "The vampire has a very faint aura about him, but what there is has traces of the man he used be… and I remember that." He shifted slightly, though whether in anger or anticipation, Roy didn't know. "He and I have unfinished business."

"So do I," Miles muttered.

Roy stared across the plaza, watching the two figures, one in white and the other in black, as Kimblee emerged into the was a good amount of space between them; they didn't even appear to be holding a conversation… but the thought still nagged at him of what the thing in Riza's body had said after his rejection of her….

"…Perhaps it would be a fitting punishment for turning me down. Maybe I will let him have a little fun."

It had been over twelve hours since that little insinuation. They had spent the daylight hours sequestered in darkness, sleeping through the sun's travel across the sky. Alone? In each other's company? It almost didn't matter, since it was plenty of time for them to have — no. He clamped down firmly on the thought before he could complete it, at the same time as he suppressed a shudder from going down his spine. There was, he hoped, still too much hatred and distrust left from the real Riza for this new Riza to do… that.

"I think we can case a broader net than just the three of us as Kimblee's enemies," he murmured at last. "At this point, there isn't anyone within a day's travel that wouldn't have some kind of bone to pick with him, whether personally, or for his role in the war in general." His lip twisted in a grim smile. "We might be farther ahead to paint him as Public Enemy Number One."

"Gladly," Miles answered. "Though is still leaves us with the problem of how to bring him down."

Scar hadn't moved, his gaze still on the pair of vampires. The one in Riza's body had moved to sit on a crate beside a long-abandoned vendor's stall, while Kimble was still standing with his hands in his pockets, head tilted back to survey the stars. "I believe we should keep to the original plan, though it would be better to get her alone before we try to put it in motion."

"Here's hoping she hates him enough to avoid going hunting with him," Miles commented. "If we don't get lucky and she doesn't go off on her own…."

"She will," Roy said firmly. "Even if he is her sire, she made ti clear to me that she's only sticking around him out of mutual interest in their own survival as vampires." He shrugged, the motion uneasy. "Necessity, not shared ideals. I'm sure, if she had any other choice —"

Scar held up a hand for silence, then pointed one finger across the marketplace. Words were clearly finally being exchanged between the two vampires, though sound had no hope of carrying this far. Kimblee's stance hadn't changed at all, his shoulder relaxed as he stood directly in front of her crate perch. Riza sat with perfect, straight-backed prim posture, her dangling feet crossed at the ankle and her hands folded in her lap. There was some kind of back-and-forth that lasted only half a minute —

And Roy's stomach clenched as Kimblee took a step forward to peck her gently on the cheek before turning and striding off into the night.

All three men were quiet a moment longer, watching her watch him leave with a neutral expression in those amethyst eyes. Finally, with deliberate slowness, she scrubbed her sleeve across her cheek, wiping away any trace of this kiss. Out of the corner of his eye, Roy was aware of Scar's gaze turning briefly in his direction — to gauge his reaction, no doubt — but kept his eyes on Riza.

It's not her, he reminded himself. It's her body, but it's not her mind. Your Riza isn't in charge, so it's not her fault…. But all the rationalizing in the world couldn't stop the jealousy from bubbling, hot and acidic, in his stomach.

After what seemed like ages, though it was only a few minutes, Riza slipped from her seat beside the table, dusted herself off, and set off at a leisurely pace just to the right of their position.

"Time to pull back and get into our secondary position," Miles murmured, now doubly careful to keep his voice low. None of them knew exactly how far a vampire's sense of hearing could reach, but they also weren't particularly keen to find out. "As long as she doesn't use that string travel method like did to escape the yantir, we should be able to get there in time."

Getting to their feet, the three men ran quietly as they could back down the alley, paralleling Riza's current path, but needing to move faster in order to gain ground.

As they got up to leave, Roy was the only one to look back at her over shoulder… but he doubted he was the only praying that this would work.

INHABITED ZONE OUTSKIRTS, JADAD, ISHVAL

2103 HOURS, APRIL 24TH

The time spent away from Kimblee's presence was pleasurable, even if she could still feel the faint pressure of his mind against the edge of hers. Since arriving, it seemed like all he had done was hunt, rest, and talk. In all honesty, the third option was the worst of the three. With hunting being restricted to a few hours at might and vampires not needing an overabundance of sleep… talking held the majority vote.

Riza wouldn't have minded so much if he actually talked about things that interested her or were of some use. Things like literature, culture, places like East City or Central… he••, she would have settled for firearm technical specifications or dogs. Instead, she got his war memories from Ishval, stories from his time in prison, how to fool psychologists into overlooking very obvious psychopathic tendencies, and an accounting of his 'work' with the Homonculi and their Father before he had been eaten.

She had learned exactly one useful thing in all his babbling: to him, there was no separation of before-Kimblee and vampire-Kimblee. The two were one and the same, unlike before-Riza and vampire-Riza. He had accepted his vampirism wholeheartedly; she still had some assimilating to do.

Finally free of him until daylight broke and she was forced to be sequestered in the inn room that adjoined his — another one of his ideas and one that she was not at all thrilled with — she was content to take her time with her own hunt. A nice stroll to the residential neighbourhoods, a lovely, private dinner, and —

Rounding a corner, into what had once been a quiet street of well-to-do homes, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of a male figure in the open archway of a faded, flaking stucco façade. The man looked up and immediately stood tall, straightening his tunic in… was he self-conscious? Nervous about seeing her?

A little thrill convulsed in her chest and slithered its way down into her belly. If she still had the ability to make Roy Mustang self-conscious and nervous as a schoolboy on his first date… maybe he wasn't a lost cause after all.

She let her most sultry smile spread across her lips; just because she still had half a mind to seduce the man didn't mean she didn't like the way he squirmed when he saw her pointed teeth. "Well, isn't this a surprise…. Out taking the air, fire boy?" She slid a few metres closer. "Weren't you listening yesterday when I told you that monsters come out at night?"

He didn't smile, but his tone was civil. "I didn't think you could possibly be referring to yourself when you said that. You're not a monster." Those dark eyes met hers, looking solemn and fathomless in the shadows. "Although I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been hoping I'd run into you."

"Oh, is that so?" She stopped at the bottom of the three stone steps leading up to the archway where he stood. "Now, why don't I believe that — oh!" She snapped her fingers, eyes wide in a satire of sudden knowledge. "That's right; because you already proved that you're pissed off that I took over pretty little Riza's body, won't give it back, and that I happen to think humans are tasty." She pouted sarcastically. "Maybe you're also mad that I drank your tea this morning?"

It was easy to see that he was discomfited by her reading of him, not to mention her little performance, but he kept himself collected. He even managed a small smile. "Actually, I'm not mad at all about that. In fact…." He turned, bending to pick something up from behind the arch's side. Riza's pout disappeared, her body tensing as she prepared to dodge whatever he was about to attack her with.

Instead, when he turned back and straightened, he was holding a small stoneware jar and pair of cups. "I brought tea with me. I thought, if I did happen to run into you and you didn't immediately try to kill me, we could share it this time, instead of you simply stealing mine."

It was impressive, really, that in the space of any conversation with him, she could go from wanting to tumble him buck naked in the sand to wanting him to just leave. The look she gave him now was far from the sultry start of barely a minute earlier. "Right," she drawled sardonically. "Should I look away so that you can add the poison, or is it already mixed into the tea?"

"It's not poisoned," he answered, turning and walking into the abandoned house. "I might not like it, but that's still my Lieutenant's body you're possessing. If I try to hurt you, I just end up hurting her… and that's something I can't do."

She paused in the archway, watching as he moved into the middle of the house's inner courtyard. Tarpaulins stretched overhead, blotting out the moon and stars and creating a shelter out of what would normally have been an open-air space. Colonnades lined the little square, which held a hollow that might have once been a fountain or decorative pond. He sat down on the edge, looking around with… he seemed contented, almost, as though there weren't a deadly supernatural creature lurking just behind him.

"Odd place for you to wind up when you're supposedly just 'out for a walk,'' she commented, not moving any closer. Something felt off about this…. He was too calm, too in control, his answers too prepared…. No matter what he said, it was clear he had been waiting for her… but how had he known she would come this way?

He glanced back over his shoulder, smiling. "We were considering this house as an outpost for the Reconstruction Office, once we start to build up a little more in this direction. We scouted the location the other day, and I liked the architecture enough that I wanted to see it again." He waved a hand at the courtyard's perimeter. "Nobody builds with colonnades like these in Amestris, until it's in the south, close the Aerugonian border."

"Pretty dark for a human's eyes," she pointed out, drifting cautiously closer, just inside the square formed by the colonnade. "Isn't it hard to appreciate architecture when you can't see?"

His sudden grin was boyish, if short-lived. "Not for long. Promise not to tell the Ishvalans?"

Without warning, he clapped his hands together before snapping the fingers of his left hand. A double handful of small fireballs shot out in every direction, zooming straight through the air to slam into the heads of torches sitting in sconces at intervals around the yard. Riza jumped briefly as one flashed past a mere metre away, her eyes blinking in the sudden flare of torchlight.

When the light spots cleared, Roy was already at work, pouring still steaming tea from the stone jar into the pair of cups sitting next to him on the sand-covered tiles. Picking one up, he held it out to her. "Come on; I figure that if you're going to be possessing my Lieutenant for the foreseeable future, I should at least make some effort to get to know you."

She watched him for a moment, trying with all her psychic senses to detect some kind of deceit, some kind of hint as to what he really wanted… but no. Apparently, he really did want her to drink the tea, to stay and talk for a while, to just… be companionable. His mind wasn't entirely truthful about it, that much was clear… but she suspected it was because he was lying to himself about how he felt about this. He was forcing himself to be okay with this situation, but for her, it was harmless.

Besides, if she talked long enough, perhaps she could win him over. Roy already hated Kimblee, probably more than she did. If she could get him relaxed enough to let down his guard, to take off that stupid protective charm, then maybe she could get close enough…. Just one little bite, and then he would be hers. Turn him, use him to help her dethrone Kimblee, and then the two of them could….

She shook herself mentally, pushing her sudden daydream to one side. Crossing the sand and flagstones, she took the cup with a softly murmured 'thank you,' settling down with it just out of reach of the malevolent energy emanating from that homely-looking cloth pouch around his neck. She sniffed her cup, watching suspiciously until he took a sip from his own. Hers held no foreign scent other than fragrant jasmine, and, as he had said, to poison her was to poison his own lady love. He would no more hurt her than he would the real Riza Hawkeye.

"So it occurs to me," he said, after a moment, "that I actually don't know what to call you." When she looked up at him, he shrugged. "I mean, you're not Riza as I know her, but you're still… at this point, you're more a part of her, I suppose. So do I still call you Riza, or Hawkeye? Or is there some other name that you use that you would prefer?"

She waved away the concern with an airy hand. "It doesn't matter much to me. Identity is a small concern next to survival, when you essentially have to forage for your food." She watched his expression go blank, likely so he wouldn't betray his own distaste, and kept going. "I still think of my name as being Riza, but if it helps you differentiate, calling me Hawkeye wouldn't bother me either."

"I see." His shoulders tensed as he visibly braced himself to ask his next question. "And how are things with Kimblee?"

"I think you mean 'how are things with the windbag.'" She grinned at the surprise that crossed his face. "I think being in solitary confinement for so many years had more of an effect on him than he's willing to admit. He just won't stop talking."

"Really?"

"Yes, and it's getting tiresome, even after only one day." She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of tea. "About the only interesting thing he would talk about is how much he wants to mess with you." She raised an eyebrow. "I told you, didn't I, the entire reason why he turned me?"

Roy nodded, the look in his eyes far away and introspective. "Yes…. You said it was to get revenge on me, since he and I have been on opposite sides from day one. I would have thought he had bigger fish to fry than me, but maybe it was just a case of wrong place, wrong time."

She tilted her head first one way, than the other, weighing the opinion. "Mmmmm, partly, but that's not all of it. Mostly, yes, you were just the closest person on whom he could vent his spleen, but the other part of it is just sheer pettiness on his part." She shook her head, disapproving. "You were chosen as a human sacrifice instead of him. Granted, he was mauled by Heinkel and then eaten by Pride, but if he'd had the chance, he would have jumped at the offer to be a human sacrifice for the Homonculi."

Roy laughed humourlessly, downing the contents of his cup. "He could have traded with me if he hadn't been eaten. I wouldn't have minded not being blinded.”

'That's what I told him." She rolled her eyes in derision. "But he spouted some nonsense about how it would have allowed him to first make a massive change in the world and then watch the aftereffects of that change. But, unfortunately, fate had other ideas."

A voice rang out from the shadows of the colonnade. "All right, Colonel, we're clear."

Riza's head whipped around to the archway they had entered by, to find Scar and Miles standing just inside the archway, outside the colonnades. "…Gentlemen? I didn't realize there were going to be other guests at this party." Her purple eyes suspicious, she turned back to Roy. "Seems the sort of thing you ought to have warned a lady about, Colonel."

"Would you have stayed if I did?" His tone was flat, his eyes and expression hard. "Although now… I doubt you have much of a choice."

She laughed, setting her cup aside as she got to her feet. "You've still got a lot to learn about me and my kind. Thanks for the drink, but four's a crowd. I'll be on my way."

He got up as well, facing her. "I understand enough to know that you're staying right here," he said firmly. "You and I still need to have a talk, and I'm not satisfied by five minutes of chitchat over tea." His arms folded over his chest. "I told you before, you might look like my Lieutenant, but you're not her by a long shot. And I have no problem interrogating an imposter."

Anger suffused her chest, wanting to escape her throat in a snarl, but she held it back by virtue of her gritted teeth. She stalked forward a pair of steps, intent on showing this lowly, insolent human who was in control here… and recoiled as the stench coming from that tiny little pouch assailed her.

"If you think that little charm is going to be enough to keep me here, it's exactly the opposite," she spat. Turning toward the archway, she glared daggers at Scar and Miles, both men watching her with stone faces. "If the two of you know what's good for you, you'll step aside before you get thrown."

Scar's voice was calm and cool, but with a hint of frost at the edges. "That won't be necessary."

Riza was still stalking toward them, just beginning to ready her muscles for the task of throwing aside two fully grown men, when she fetched up face-first against and invisible barrier. She rebounded with the redirected momentum, lost a brief battle with equilibrium, and dropped backward into the dirt.

"I tried to warn you," Roy commented mildly. He hadn't moved from his spot, knowing he was safe from her so long as he kept the charm on him. "We've tweaked the protective circle since we last used it for the yantir, so now it doesn't just keep demons inside." His lips twitched in a thin smile. "It keeps vampires, too."

Even in a dire situation such as this, her heart rate was still far slower than the average human's. And as the gravity of this new situation began to creep in, Riza felt her heart sinking, down through her stomach to settle as an uneasy feeling deep in her gut. She, the hunter, was now very much the prey.

[twopoppies]

Do you know any larry fanfics on either ao3 or wattpad with 20+ chapters?

Hey there. So, I actually don’t read anything on Wattpad, and I don’t often read fics with that many chapters because I worry that they’re so long because they need a lot of editing and that drives me a bit bonkers. Having said all of that...here are some that I’ve really liked that I hope fit your request:

Long Fics

Night Out and Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere (Symphony Hall Series: 4 chapters and 19 chapters –– 137K total)

Night Out

Symphony hall was the first place Louis had felt at home in this city, and he always had the box to himself. Until tonight.

Saving Symphony Hall

“I think I have an idea,” Louis said. Slowly, and reluctantly, but with a growing sense of the inevitable. “God damnit, I think I have a really good idea.”

“Oh christ, that's the problem-solving face,” Babs said. “Last time we saw that face, he sold a company.”

“Wait, what?” Zayn asked.

“Right place, right time,” Louis said. “Also, fuck my life,”

“What?” Zayn repeated. Niall patted his hand.

“I usually just roll with whatever Louis is about to do,” he said. “It’s better for us all.”

“That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

Yellow by 13ways / @13ways-of-looking (19 chapters –– I’m cheating because this one is amazing)

The city of Gotham turns blood red with a new, mysterious criminal element, a beautiful woman named the Blind Cupid.

She threatens to tear the fabric of the city apart, aided by her deadly protégé, the Cat.

Can Batman stop them?

Will he resist the bewitching allures of the Cat?

A Batman/ Catwoman AU

No One Does It Better by nodibs (22 chapters)

Harry's an alcoholic and Louis is a bartender. The first time they meet isn't the first time they've met.

This got longer than I expected so the rest in under the cut

Victorian Boy by DonnaHaywardsHead (29 chapters)

Victorian AU. Harry the virgin Duke of Somerset knows little of love, while Louis the sly Duke of Warwick knows too much. When the two dukes come together for the Bilsdale fox hunt in York, Harry finds himself drawn into Louis' bed. But when secrets from Louis' dark past come to light, Harry fears that the fox isn't the only one being hunted.

Young & Beautiful by velvetoscar (34 chapters)

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn't stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

Gods & Monsters by velvetoscar (20 chapters)

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that's exactly what he did.

These are some I really like that don’t have a lot of chapters but have a really high word count, so you might like them as well.

Domestic Monsters by @g-uttertrash (9-part series - 234K total )

Part 1: come on, jump out at me

Harry is a witch from a long line of power, an ancient line that’s one of the strongest left alive in their hemisphere. He can cast spells without a word if need be, fly on a broomstick, and has a black cat (a kitten, really) named Felix that is his animal familiar. He can shape galaxies in his cupped hands and can destroy them just as easily. He can choose exactly how to use his power, for encouragement and support, or for more nefarious causes if he wishes to.

And as fate would have it, he’s scared of haunted houses.

(Harry is a witch who carries around a stuffed pumpkin, Louis is a vampire with too much time on his hands, and their best mates Zayn & Niall aren't exactly what they seem...

Never Never Never Stop for Anyone (Sheylinsonverse) by aimmyarrowshigh spibsy (Lucy and Ramona) (430K over 10 chapters –– read the tags on this. It’s polyamory/BDSM)

Part 1: The World, It’s Turning Inside Out

The night before the first live show of X Factor's ninth series, George meets Harry and Louis in a nightclub.

Lightening Strikes Twice by dinosaursmate / @catfishau (104K)

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry said slowly, shaking his head and betraying a slight grin. “What the fuck are the odds?”“Small world,” Louis said lightly, shrugging and holding his hand out to Harry, smirk playing on his lips. “Wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”“Haha! Please.”Harry slid his palm into Louis’, grasping and shaking it. It must’ve been… what? Thirty years?---Two tales, one story. One: a tale of a rock star taking a shine to a fan who is different from all the others, and two: a tale of an older, washed up rock star, who - on the brink of resigning himself to a life of loneliness - finds fate intervening.

For Reasons Wretched and Divine by @indiaalphawhiskey (94K)

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time.

Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?

An AU in two parts. Two boys, two stories, and hopefully, two chances at love.

(Take Me Home) Country Roads by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites (86K)

“Sir, I can help you. Just let me — “ He tried moving closer but the eldest child blocked his way. He backed off, putting his hands out in a passive gesture. “I’m a physician. I can help,” he tried again.

The man shook his head vehemently, passing the cup back to his grandchild. “Tol’ ya. Don’t need ya.” All of the fire had gone out of his voice, leaving behind a frail, sick old man with barely any breath to talk.

“I have medicines...I could make you comfortable…” Louis’ voice was still small, but pleading.

“Mountain Mama cares for wha’s ailin’ me. Don’t need no fancy city doctors.”

Louis blinked at the man, still shaking from the coughing spell. Mountain — well, fuck. That backwoods, uneducated scam artist…

“Of course he is,” Louis said curtly.*****OR a Northern Exposure AU featuring Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don't know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

Atlas At Last by @louisandthealien (84K)

He doesn’t know what he had been expecting out of the road trip itself besides burping contests and too much shitty gas station food with Oli and Stan, but in the brief moment before Harry ambles up his driveway, Louis idly wonders if this is about to become some sort of Gay Coming of Age story.

Maine to California in ten days. In which Zayn’s an open-shirt hippie they meet somewhere in Ohio, Liam’s the pastor’s son running away from home, and Niall’s the number they call on the bathroom wall.

It’s 1978. Harry and Louis are just trying to get to San Fran in time for the Queen concert.

Take My Breath Away by @realitybetterthanfiction (153K)

There is a prestigious school in the British Royal Navy classified as Premier Delta - or as it is known by its flyers, 1D. These select pilots are an elite set of Naval lieutenants who are trained in the skill of aggressive aerial combat. They are instruments of war, trained in times of peace. They are dogfighters, relentless and fearless in their mission to protect their beloved country. From their lofty vantage, they are always watching, waiting, and ready to lay it all on the line.

Lt. Harry Styles, call sign Sparrow, is a prodigy when it comes to flying. The owner of an unrivaled Naval pedigree, being a pilot was always written in the stars for Harry. With his trusty RIO, Lt. Niall Horan, Harry has made an unprecedented ascension in the ranks of the Naval aerial combat elite, and has been recruited to the esteemed Premier Delta flight school, carrying on his family’s legacy. What he finds there are unexpected friendships, perilous challenges, and something beyond what he ever thought possible. Because as his father had always told him, before the great Captain Styles went tragically missing in combat, you don’t fall in love with the sky, you fall in love with what keeps you on the ground.

I hope that gives you some fics you haven’t read before! Enjoy!

[imysphotography4]

DOCUMENT TASK

In today's lesson, we had to take up to about 6 photographs about college life.

We could think about:

human behaviour

using objects only

composition and framing

After taking all my shots, I edited them in Photoshop. I first of all turned them into monochrome, I then changed the basics which were the exposure, contrast, blacks, whites and brightness. I am really happy with how all my photographs turned out because I have multiple photos in different locations, showing something different in each one. I am especially proud of the first two photographs and the one where the woman is looking through the window. I like these because I did various compositions and each one is edited differently, for example the first one, the contrast is quite high whereas, the second one is a lot lighter and I focused on leading lines. For improvement, I would like to have a bigger lens, so that I can get shots from further away because I saw a couple of opportunities to photograph people walking up and downstairs however, they were on the other side of the building and I couldn’t really capture it very well.

For the task, I shot in aperture priority and these were my camera settings:

Aperture - f3.5

Shutter speed - 1/1600

ISO - 1600

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RESEARCH TASK

For the research task, we had to find at least 10 examples of documentary photography and write about them. I chose the following two photographers...

WOMEN IN WAR - SONJA HAMAD

Who is the photographer?

The photographers name is Sonja Hamad. She was born in 1986 in Damascus, Syria and she now lives and works in Berlin. In 2013 she started the project “Jin, Jiyan, Azadi – Frauen, Leben, Freiheit – die kurdischen Freiheitskämpferinnen” (“Jin, Jiyan, Azadi - Women, Life, Freedom – the Kurdish Freedom Fighters”). 

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

She achieved this by travelling and seeing what women in war have to live like. She photographed this by having the subject slightly to one side and having the gun positioned next to her.

What is being documented?

We see a woman in uniform who seems to be asleep and her gun lent on the wall next to her. We see the woman’s sleeping condition and her lifestyle. The gun next to her shows that she is always prepared for attack and knows that safety is key.

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate)

The context of this image is political, this is taken in Iraqi Kurdistan located in northern Iraq.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

The message being communicated is that women can also fight not just men. This shows that women are just as strong and anyone can protect their country. On the other hand, it communicates that life can be quite scary as most people don’t see it themselves in real life. It also could mean that war is happening everyday all around the world and only a parts of bigger wars, are documented. In this image, Sonja is capturing wars that happen in smaller parts of the world and how much their lives change, so that others are happy and okay.

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

This makes me feel both sad and powerful. It makes me feel sad because war is not a nice thing but it happens everyday and so many lives are at risk, just to fight for their country. Alternatively, this makes me feel powerful because it shows that women are just as equal as men and that everyone can have the same job.

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They achieved this by going to the places where war is happening. She chose to photograph a hole in the wall with lots of bullet holes surrounding it. 

What is being documented?

In this photograph we see a hole in a wall, possibly due to decay and destruction caused from the fight. We also see bullet holes around the hole, this could mean that the person they were shooting at was standing there. The hole could also be protection from the enemy and they were shooting at them from the side of the wall.

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate).

The context of this image is political and the life of war. 

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

It is illustrating that war and weapons are destructive, ether a world or a place ruin.

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

It makes me feel slightly apprehensive for the future because we don’t know what could happen in the future and there is so much conflict all over the world that it makes people scared but also aware.

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LEE FRIEDLANDER

Who is the photographer?

The photographer is Lee Friedlander. He is an American documentary photographer. His photographs include fragments of store-front reflections, structures framed by fences, posters and street signs. He also does portraits of musicians.

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They achieved this photograph by using a 35mm black and white film camera. He took this from above them looking down. 

What is being documented?

We see children and adults dancing to a jazz marching band in New Orleans. They all seem to be having fun and enjoying the music that passes.

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate)

The context of this image is culture. Friedlander arrived in New Orleans when jazz was at its high. Jazz was originally played in New Orleans in the first two decades of the twentieth century.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

The message being communicated is that everyone is enjoying life and jazz was a big thing at that time, that most people loved watching or listening to it.

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

This makes me feel happy because me seeing all these kids dancing and having fun, just shows how they didn’t care about anything in that moment, they just wanted to have fun.

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They achieved this photograph by using a 35mm monochrome film camera and shooting into a mirror off a vehicle, reflecting a tree. 

What is being documented?

In the first instance, the photographer took a photograph of a mirror which is reflecting a tree and then in the background are people (possibly soldiers) marching.

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate).

The image appears to be showing a parade in remembrance of those who fought. This is political as we see people in uniform and normally this could link to some kind of controversy in the world.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

As we can see, there is a tree which could suggest loneliness as it is on its own and the photographer decided to capture it with people marching in the background. The tree could also represent a symbol of peace and the dog with its dog house, could show that it is protecting it like the people do for their country. The people marching could mean that they are proud they are helping their country, but also are marching to remember those we lost.

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

This makes me feel happy, sad and proud. It makes me feel happy because these people are protecting us from the world we don’t get to see everyday. This leads on to me feeling sad but also proud because many of these people lose their lives whilst fighting and it’s that is what makes me proud of them.

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FAN HO

Who is the photographer?

This photographers name is Fan Ho. He was born in Shanghai, China. He had a few books, a couple of these were; ‘Hong Kong Yesterday’ (which features the photograph shown above) and ‘The living theatre’.

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

He achieved this by finding a wall, in which the shadow castes from the building makes a perfect diagonal line, which is effective because it splits the frame and contrasts between black and white.

What is being documented?

We see a woman standing on the left-hand side, leaning on the wall looking down. We also see that the frame has been separated and we see two different sides, maybe to the woman's emotions.

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate).

The shadow is almost splitting it up from dark and light. The light is focused on her which could insinuate that she is the one to focus on. The shadow could represent what she feels and she is trying to push that away and stand in the light, looking for hope.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

The woman leaning against the wall looking down could show sadness because when we’re sad, we tend to look down or away from everyone else and try to comfort ourselves, to try and let all emotion out. 

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

In this photograph, I feel like I can relate to her and from personal reasons, know what it’s like to feel alone and the light in a way represents someone who is always looking over me and is always there, even if they’re not physically there.

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

I think the photographer has placed their camera on the floor and it is looking towards the staircase, this a low angle shot. 

What is being documented?

I think what is being documented is people milling around a concourse. 

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate).

This photograph appears to show people, local to the photographer. The photographer wants to show different lives, for example the man in the suit could represent importance or he may have an important job.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

This portrays a train station and the busyness of everyday life. However, this could also show shopping life.

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

I feel like I am there in the image because I feel like I’m lying down myself, watching these people pass by me.

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KELLY CHAMPION

Who is the photographer?

The photographer is Kelly Champion, she is a wedding, family, portrait and documentary photographer. She is based in Adelaide, South Australia. 

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They were able to achieve this photograph by using a 35mm monochrome film camera, and they took a photograph of a few drag queens. They used an over the shoulder look, looking into the mirror and this reflected anyone who was next to or behind the photographer.

What is being documented?

We see drag queens getting ready possibly to do shows. We see them getting ready and there is a little group of three, having a conversation in the background.

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate).

This is showing life of drag and these people are showing what they love to do, and they are proud to present themselves because they’re not afraid.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

We see a group of people all in drag and this communicates that they want to spread love and get more people who secretly love doing drag, to express themselves and join them so they can feel happy and proud.

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

I feel really cheerful and just delighted to see these people really showing what they love to do. It also makes me feel empowered and I want more people to see that this is amazing.

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They achieved this by using a 35mm monochrome film camera, and the photographer was at eye level to the subjects.

What is being documented?

We see a family who are playing ukulele’s, which could mean they find music interesting.

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate).

I believe that the family have an interest in music and the father is probably the one who is into guitars, as we can see they’re different types of guitars hung up on the wall.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

There is a family who have a passion for stringed instruments as depicted by the guitars on the wall.

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

I feel relaxed as I really enjoy music myself and guitars have a soothing tone. The family smiling also contributes to me feeling happy as it has a feel good factor.

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KIRSTEN LEWIS

Who is the photographer?

The photographer is Kirsten Lewis. She is a family photojournalist based in Denver, Colorado.

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They were at a high-angle view looking down at the trolley. They focused on the trolley so the foreground becomes less important as it’s blurred. 

What is being documented?

We see kids playing and being mischievous with the shopping trolley. 

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate).

I think that they were messing about and the little girl is trying to get in the trolley, whilst the little boy is possibly pushing the trolley with his feet.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

It communicates the typical sibling rivalry. It could also communicate that the kids are bored and they don’t really like shopping so they are entertaining themselves.

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

I find the image humorous as it reminds me of when I was young and having those little petty fights with siblings.

How did they achieve the photograph? What camera techniques did they use?

They managed to get this photograph by using a 35mm monochrome film camera. They took a photograph of a mother and her two sons looking really happy and loved.

What is being documented?

We see a woman and possibly her two children. The little boy on the left is kissing the woman’s cheek and the little boy on the right is trying to put a hat on the woman.

What is the context of the image? (year, country, political/economic climate).

The context behind the image is family. It is portraying the love and affection they have for each other.

What is being communicated and how is it communicated?

I think love is being communicated between them all, they’re showing motherly love and that they are happy.

How does it make you feel? Is this intentional? Or does it make the image work better?

This makes me feel happy and joyousness. It reminds me of when I was young and being really happy and feeling loved.

7/02/19

[cyrelia-j]

[fic] Eidolon (pre Jack/Parmak, Kelas-centric)

So I had an idea a while ago to write an AU set in 70s New York between these two involving quantum stuff though this is Cardassia centric. Whenever Jack's POV gets written it'll be more of a blast from the past.

Summary: Kelas Parmak is no longer forced to toil in the work camp for his political idealogies, instead his sentence has been commuted to guarding the wormhole and watching those coming through before sending them back. It's not the life he would have envisioned for himself but he supposes it's a life.

Warnings: none really except that it's AU and perhaps pretty introspective

Thanks for anyone willing to give this one a shot :)

Cardassians don’t believe in the human concept of Heaven and Hell. The Cardassian vision of the afterlife is an endless Hall of Memories where one can spend an eternity roaming the halls reliving every moment of mortal existence. In the Hall of Memories, one passes through a silver door through a long corridor that can stretch seconds or eons to cross the barrier back to the land of the living. That barrier, that golden door, is opened with the understanding that everything left behind will remain vaulted for eternity, and yet slough off like dead scales upon awakening. 

One well known child’s tale tells a story which tells of two lovers so afraid to trust their memories to Mother Cardassia, that they both vow to walk back through the silver door without ever glimpsing a single moment, choosing instead to forsake the gift of The State and blink out of existence. It is then said the two are doomed to an endless rebirth of lives where they’re fated to meet as enemies, killing each other, remembering that pact upon the moment of death, their only memory of each other that final betrayal, eyes meeting eyes, the halls left blank.

In short, it is better to let one’s trust and devotion remain with Oralius, with the Ancients, with The State than to trust something as fickle as the whimsical emotion.

Kelas Parmak remembers hearing that story as a child. His mother would occasionally tell that one at nights as he and his parents fell off to sleep in the shared warmth of the tent. The Steppe of Nokar was always cold, but it’s a cold that he longs for nonetheless. He’s dreamt about returning home since he was forced to leave after the plague came, since he was adopted by the old doctor Parmak, since he was a doctor himself, since he was imprisoned after what the humans would call a “fall from grace.” Grace, as the humans believe is the ultimate salvation, the final blissful and beautiful blessing of the gods. In a way it reminds him of the Bajorans’ worship of the Prophets and makes for a pretty story for those toiling beneath a cruel and unjust God of the living to look towards.

Parmak supposes that were he to “repent his sins” properly then he might be allowed some similar salvation. He might be allowed to finally return to the North after a lifetime of servitude to a series of curious masters. Sometimes he dreams of the cold winds and the snow. Sometimes he imagines that the heat of the unforgiving sun beating down on him during the day is the warmth of a heat blossom stone. In that picture his mother is seated to his right, his father to his left, and in the center the gently glowing orb illuminates the darkness of the thermal tent. He likes to lie back on the hard ground with that daydream, his scales soaking that heat from the afternoon sun before he forces himself to move and take shelter in the shade.

Parmak is no longer forced to toil in the work camps. He received that notice after three years had taken its toll on his bent spine and poor vision. He only notices because his prescription has changed; his former colleagues used to jeer at him for retaining just one of many reminders of his poor heritage, that being his spectacles. He also refused to cut his hair and it’s since grown back in the years that he’s been “free”. He’s woven the beads back in, honoring his deceased tribe, looking he thinks like a  proper “Northern savage” when he peers into the small reflective surface of a PADD. Elim Garak used to tell him that he was “breathtaking” – which Parmak always understood to be a deliberately ambiguous statement. Enabran Tain said that he was “sufficient for the purposes that he was acquired for.” Sometimes Parmak smiles at that thought. 

Garak seemed to think he was sufficient enough to try and steal away from the old man.

Garak had also thought to get his sentence commuted for “good behavior”. Tain had pulled a few strings of his own. Parmak smiles and shakes his head at that as he leans back against the shade of one of the high rock formations in the midst of the Valley of the Hebitians. He turns the page of the book thoughtfully, wondering as he often does if he truly will be here the rest of his life. The average Cardassian lives to be two hundred ten. That figure is slightly lower for males closer to Y001 of the spectrum but where he’s X210 it’s a negligible difference really. A few months at most? He’s not terribly tall by Cardassian standards. He’s 180 centimeters tall which is average though perhaps a touch tall for his designation but he’s always identified male so… So it’s a silly notion given that he’s likely got another hundreds years of life barring disease. It’s not any more harsh here than the steppe.

The steppe, Nokar, lies eight hundred kilometers north, crossing the rest of the valley to the shore then swimming the massive channel of the Krill which separates Eheen and Nokar. It’s a fanciful notion and without a skimmer or the novel device that humans call a bicycle he doesn’t imagine that such an endeavor would come to any amount of success. They drop him food, but only enough for a week. Not enough to sustain that sort of prolonged journey and they’d surely noticed were he to go missing. But would they really come after him? Is his position here really so vital to the security and enduring life of The State? Somehow he doubts it or else this would be considered a high position of honor with perhaps a stipend, a rotating caste of honored to serve here with more creature comforts than a tent and whatever texts he asks for to read. 

His task is guarding the wormhole. It’s a rather small unremarkable thing now that he’s seen it appear so many times since he’s been here. He supposes that the first time it was a curious sight, seeing the swirling blue vortex appear in middle of the inhospitable ruins, but he was far more concerned with the arrival of the creature through it. That was the reason that he was here, after all. As it had been explained to him, the hole opened to a planet some hundreds of light years off, far less advanced than theirs, populated by some manner of creature with a common genetic ancestral lizard some three hundred twenty million years ago. He wonders if all carbon based lifeforms in the farthest reaches of the galaxy have similar origins with different branches.  The feathers of birds, the fur of mammals, and their scales all comes from that common lizard. 

Parmak had been somewhat disappointed to see that the first one didn’t have a tail either.

He’d dutifully read from the script, the language strange and hard to pronounce but he felt it better than relying on the translator. The translations that came through were far from perfect but the scientists from the ministry who’d helped him learn to use it assured him that the more use he made of it, the more accurate it would become. The creature had seemed stunned that he spoke its language no matter how poorly, and the initial fear it seemed to have dissipated upon a rather critical eye to his appearance. They exchanged names, the creature was very eager to provide its name, and Parmak found the man named Paul to be his first introduction to the beings known as humans. 

Paul listened to the instructions he gave, content to return home with little fanfare, and as he’d been ordered, Parmak kept him company, shared his food getting good data on what humans found appetizing. He was careful not to answer any questions with any particular detail, thankful that Paul hadn’t pressed on the matter of computer that ran without tubes and a world in the care of “commie bastards”, nodding, chalking this up to a dream, Parmak supposed, until the hole reappeared a few days later. He was sure to warn with a wave of his hand, that the landscape wasn’t particularly hospitable, and he couldn’t guarantee safety for any making it to civilization. Paul looked out the tent as he chewed thoughtfully on a rod of pickled root and concurred, saying that was all well and good for the younger crowd but he’d be happy to sleep in a bed out of the heat.

Parmak noticed a similar pattern, though there were a few so determined not to return to whatever they felt they were fleeing, they decided to risk the desert. Parmak always wondered what became of them. Likely they died of exposure. He learned quickly that the humans as they were called had poor heat tolerance. That was where he first heard the term “Hell” to describe the eternal inferno they envisioned for the wicked upon death. One strangely garbed human woman firmly declared that this place was nothing short of hell and Parmak laughed so loudly at that he was sure he gave her an awful fright as she made a strange gesture with her right hand, forehead, sternum, left shoulder, right shoulder, a strand of beads warded at him curiously.

He kept his distance and left her food and short notes until it reappeared. 

That was rare though, the humans tended not to be afraid of him. Most of them found him a curiosity, asking to touch his hair, always his ridges, his scales, a few asking for far more personal liberties that he had no inclination to grant. Many asked questions, some technical, some philosophical, Parmak meeting a lot of fascinating conversationalists along the way. There was a young man who asked him to write, so against his better judgement he sent a short note with an address along with a young woman passing through, only to find some years the both of them coming through with a small child, a photograph of the three of them, and a box of something they called chocolates, saying they never would have met if not for him.

He kept that small picture as a keepsake.

It was a curious existence; months of inactivity broken up only by the arrival of some other human visitor merely relieved that he had no interest in “abducting them” or “running tests” or any other number of strange things. He found they didn’t in fact have a common language but the location of the “quantum event” –that term always garnered an understanding nod though Parmak suspected a lot of them did not in fact understand – never strayed from the same geographical location (New York though the name meant nothing to him) where the inhabitants primarily spoke something called “English”. There were a few times there were others speaking some foreign tongue entirely but they could usually understand a few phrases between them and he begun adding something called “Spanish” to the translator’s protocols as well. 

Parmak supposed if there was a Hell on Earth as the humans called it there were certainly worse ways to spend an eternity. He could consider himself content with the texts he was allowed, with the small garden he was attempting to beat into submission, and even the ruins he occasionally allowed himself to wander. He learned more about the humans on the other side of the void: stories of things like amusement parks, movies, rainforests and lush green mountains, a world yet to be ruined as theirs. There were a few humans who came through with still images to show him of their world and he had a couple of them printed on the paper carefully kept in that same keepsake box. He thought often of his friends, and that picture made him wonder some nights, as he usually didn’t allow, what life might have been like to have paired or trined off in such a fashion.

He dismissed those outright, chastising himself for not being more obedient and content.

Still, there’s a restlessness that festers in him, irrational at his age he supposes but... it’s likely that nervous energy that prompts him to run that wormhole today. The disruption is erratic  and can’t be timed to an exact science, but there’s always a change in the air when it’s due to appear again. Parmak feels it, a strange resonance through his scales, a break in the atmosphere, and just today his heart races, not content to let the guest linger, not content to stand there quiet and calm, or come up non threatening and bowed. 

Today he runs. 

Parmak is thankful that if nothing else, the punishment he’s been given assured that he’s remained fit, even into middle age. He rises quickly, the sun starting to set at night as he kneels on the ground, head to the hard dirt in a meditative position. His head comes up and he brushes the brown pants off automatically before foregoing the sandals. In a hurry, he’d sooner not risk stepping on a scorpion or hitting a sharp rock, but he trusts in… in Mother Cardassia to keep him safe, taking that leap of faith as he runs faster, feeling the charge in the air, feeling his muscles sing and his heart race, his head telling him he’s a fool but he’s been there so many years, so long alone that he doesn’t care if one human thinks he’s a monster charging with his grey skin and white hair.

The man who comes through the vortex doesn’t run at the sight of him, doesn’t cower, doesn’t tremble.

The man who comes through the vortex looks up at him with a mess of auburn hair and the most brilliant hazel eyes that he’s ever seen in his life, and Parmak stumbles when he looks in those eyes, trying to stop, trying not to run into him but…

The man who comes through the vortex stands there looking at him, pulling his thumb from his mouth, arms out to catch him as they collide, both of them crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

That’s when he meets Jack.

[ladysaraholt]

Plans and Portents

“My Lady, is that wise?” Mythaelan’s Darnassian drawled back at her when she told the man to let Liza and her husband in, “Your life is in a delicate place right now... I really feel exposure beyond the social events you are expected at is far too dangerous.” But Sara was having none of it.

“Myth,” she said with a steely tone, “Liza and Grant are the two most loyal members of the House which I lead. I want you to personally show them in, and there’ll be no more argument on the matter.”

With a bow, the golden-eyed warrior turned to move to the front door.

“Sara?”

The mage turned back to look at Relena’s questioning visage, but she shook her head, “If Liza has come all the way from my Estate, then something has happened, and it needs to be dealt with.”

Her former teacher nodded, though she and Laraanna shared a look of worry. The last thing anyone wanted right now was undue stress on the expectant mother.

Sara managed to push herself up from the bed, holding the footboard to steady herself on her feet. The weight of her stomach was really starting to get quite burdensome.

Several minutes later, the mage was wrapped in something more covering and perched in her armchair with tea and fresh fruit. A knock at the door echoed across the room, to which the mage nodded. Laraanna moved to open the door, bowing her head politely to those on the other side, “Miss Liza. Mister Grant. Good to see you.”

The petite graying Gilnean clasped Laraanna’s arm and smiled, “Thank you, Priestess. We’re glad to see you as well.” Grant nodded in agreement. A single gesture from Laraanna and the pair entered the room to see the Head of the House extremely pregnant. Liza rushed to Sara’s side.

“My Lady! Oh my goodness, you look ready to pop!!!” she looked about briefly, “That scoundrel of a warlock isn’t here, is he?”

Sara chuckled, shaking her head. Had it really been so long since she’d gone back home? “No, Liza... it turned out they’re not his.” At this, Liza relaxed, then blinked in confusion.

“Um... ‘they’...?” Her hand reached for Sara’s swollen belly, pausing long enough for her expression to be a questioning one. When Sara nodded, she pressed her palm to the top of the elven woman’s tummy. A swift kick met her fingers. She looked back to Sara.

“‘They’. I’m having twins.”

Grant chuckled as he joined his wife and Lady, sitting on one of the stools nearby and rubbing the top of his head lightly, “Congratulations, my Lady.” Sara’s familiar expression of disapproval softened, and she bowed her head in thanks.

Liza looked absolutely overjoyed. She glanced about, to Lara and Relena, then back to Sara again, bouncing on the balls of her feet, “How exciting!” She hugged her Lady around the neck before clapping her hands together once and pulling them to her chest, “The news will be absolutely wonderful to spread in the North, and very much needed.”

Sara tilted her head to look at Liza curiously, “Why needed? Has there been trouble?”

Liza paused, her face falling a bit. She glanced to her husband, but he was no help - he merely gestured to Sara as if to say ‘It’s why we came here, so go on!’ Liza pressed her lips together for a time, taking slow breaths, “My Lady... it’s Ironwrath.”

Brow wrinkling, the mage sat her body up in her chair with some effort, though not without a punch of protest making her stomach bounce. Emerald eyes trained sharply on Liza, “Has something happened? Do the Lady and children require aid?” The last she’d heard, the Lord  had returned from the front lines and was headed home, but she’d been confined to the house for some time. Now she felt horribly out of the loop. Liza shook her head.

“No, my Lady... Lord Ironborne has been usurped by another... and cast out.”

At this, Sara sat back in her seat, hand rubbing her stomach in thought. She chewed her lower lip, looking displeased at this news. After several long minutes, Sara rubbed her cheek and looked to Relena, “When does that ship leave?”

“We are scheduled to go at the end of the week. We would realistically be heading south to catch it by tomorrow, with your husband in tow.” Relena gave Sara a wary gaze, “I do hope you’re not planning on canceling, Sara. You need this time to destress after that attack on you.” But Sara shook her head reassuringly.

“I will not be canceling, no.” She looks to Liza and Grant seriously, and then to Laraanna, “I need to pen a missive to Lord Areius, and I want it delivered directly to his hands.”

As conversations unfolded, Sara had the caretakers of Carnston House see that a room was made available for the pair to stay in and rest. Laraanna helped them get settled while Relena stayed with Sara, making sure she drank her tea and ate. All the while, Sara sat at the desk in her room, penning a letter to the Northern Lord:

‘Lord Areius Ironborne,

I pray to the Titans that this finds its way to your hands and not another. I feel we’ve much to discuss.

Whatever may have happened, my Lord, the North will always remember its own, and give aid where it is needed. From the news that has reached me, this is very much a necessity now.

My current whereabouts are further south, for a number of reasons, but I would like if we could meet very soon. I feel there is so much to discuss and catch up on.

The courier is my own personal beast. He is loyal and will return only to me. Send your reply through him, and let me know when and where we can set up a meeting.

Remember, Lord Ironborne, that you have allies. A great number of the, I imagine. I look forward to hearing from you.

Lady Sara Holt, formerly Starbreeze Head of House Sterren’

Once sealed in blue and gold wax, bearing both the House Holt and House Sterren seals, along with her personal one, Sara gave a sharp whistle. A familiar POP echoed in the room as Spark, her arcane feline, materialized before them. She fixed the letter to his collar, petting the creature fondly.

“It has been some time since you’ve had to do this... but find Areius Ironborne. This goes to none but him.” When the creature meowled and nuzzled her hand, Sara nodded in satisfaction. Another POP, and the creature was gone. Emerald eyes turned to Relena, “We should get packed for that trip.”

(( mentions / allusions: @archrelena @myth-the-warrior @mistresslaraanna @ardantahmasholt @areiusironborne @householt @thalsianiii I think that’s everyone ))

[leftherian-archipeligo]

Fire Emblem Fates: Revised pt 1

The beginning of my attempts to run with fate’s story and try and make something of this game world with such infamously bad writing... sounds difficult but I’m willing to try :)

Corrin tried to look around. “Where... where is this?” Everything was a bright blur. Above him was a bright blue sea dotted with white, a sky he hadn’t recognized but enjoyed nonetheless. The sun shine brightly, Corrin had to strain his eyes to make out what was around him. The ground beneath him felt soft, lush grass. Flowers poked up from the field of green as did large trees, decorated with bright pink petals. Corrin has never seen such a place, atleast that he could remember. Despite the unfamiliarity, he felt calm here. It was calm, he could lay back and rest.

“Corrin!” A voice called in the distance, catching the young man off guard. He wanted to call back, but he couldn’t. He could stand up to his feet. The meadow was comfortable, “not such a bad place to be stuck” he thought. “I... like it here.” The voice called again. It was a woman, her voice soft and kind. “Corrin, lunch is ready! Where are you?” The woman chucked as she spoke, like she was playing hide-and-seek with Corrin. Such a thing would normally unfitting for someone of Corrin’s age, but here that felt... natural. “My age... how-“ Corrin’s thought drifted as he examined himself. He felt... smaller. Younger, even.

“Oh, there you are.” Corrin spun his head towards the voice. This must be the woman, he assumed. She was tall, the bright sun obscured Corrin’s view of her face. No matter how hard he strained his eyes, the woman was shrouded in a blanket of warmth, far too thick to be visible. “Let me see you. Who are you?” Corrin asked, his thoughts rolling off his mouth before he even thought to consider his words. The woman reached her hand out towards Corrin, still on the ground. He could barely make out here hand. It was small, adorned with a simple ring on her finger. He was busy examining the hand when it touched Corrin’s arm and the boy nearly leaped back. Her hand, unlike every other part of her presence, was cold as ice. It felt as though he had been stabbed by the chill that shot through his body and forced the man to prop himself upward.

Everything was different. The bright sunlight was gone in an instant, replaced by the darkness of a torchlit chamber. The soft grass was replaced with cotton sheets of a bed, the warmth of light simply a matching blanket covering his lower body. Lastly, Corrin looked to where the woman had touched his arm. The ringed finger was now a gloved hand, its owner jumped back immediately.

“L-lord Corrin! I-I’m so sorry, you weren’t waking up and I got worried so I thought I’d use my ice affinity and- I didn’t mean to scare you!” The woman cowered at Corrin’s bedside. Felicia, the shy, pink-haired maid of the Northern Fortress. She was one of Corrin’s closest companions for as long as he could remember, yet she never got over her anxious demeanor around him (or anyone, for that matter.) “No, Felicia, it’s okay. I was just... in an odd dream.” Corrin attempted to calm the maid down as she fretted over waking him up so suddenly. “Uhh, I ruined the dream you were having, didn’t I!” Felicia threw her hand on her head, feeling guilty for what she saw as an inconvenience.

“Calm yourself, Felicia. He has training with the Prince today, he had to wake up on time.” The voice consoling Felicia came from in front of Corrin’s bed. Another maid, her blue hair pulled back in 2 long braids. She fiddled with something on the dresser as she spoke, paying no mind to Corrin as she consoled her sister. Flora, another maid of the fortress, much more preserved and calm then her twin counterpart. Felicia perked up at this remark. “Oh, yes! I nearly forgot about that!” Flora let out a sigh hearing this, Felicia didn’t seem to notice it as she turned her attention to Corrin. “Well, time to get ready! You don’t want to keep your brother waiting, do you? Jakob laid at your clothes over there, Gunter readied your armor and sword so they should be...-“ “Blade is at the training grounds by the entrance, armor is by the exit of your lodgings on the way to the roof.” Flora cut in before her sister could begin guessing at what she forgot. “-Yes, yes, uh where Flora said they’ll be. Now get up, unless you need me to use my ice ability again!” Felicia joked as she pushed Corrin out of bed.

Corrin senses were still wearing off from... whatever it was he saw in his dream. The dark sky of Nohr outside Corrin’s window made him wish to return to his dream even more, even in the peak of day the sky would remain dark and intimidating. Corrin shook off his wish for more sleep as he got ready, brushing his hair down and getting dressed. “I know I need to get up to train, but trying to freeze me over as I slept is a bit harsh” remarked Corrin, joking with his close friend. “Damnit Felicia, I told you not to use that ability anymore” the accented voice cut through the room and cold air. Jakob, Corrin’s butler. He and Felicia were the closest company Corrin had, but that didn’t stop him from lashing out at Felicia when she screwed up. He took his job seriously and made a show of devoting himself to Corrin, much to Corrin’s dismay and wish to be on friendly terms, rather than act as “master and servant”. “I ask you to wake Corrin up, and you can’t even do that without making a problem! I get you have the Ice Tribe to blame for this, but other people, people from normal places, don’t take very fondly to freezing temperatures!”

Corrin finished getting ready and joined his company on the walk to the training grounds. “Despite your rude awakening, how did you rest Master Corrin?” inquired Jakob, showing more respect than Corrin wanted but was too tired to scold him for. “I slept well. I had such an odd dream, though. I felt like I couldn’t wake up from it, but I didn’t really want to. It felt... comforting in a way.” Corrin went on to describe the details to the Butler and maids as they walked. Felicia took interest in every detail. “Wow, milord! That’s so weird! I can’t think of any places like that in Nohr, and who was the lady?! Does she resemble anyone in the fortress, I mean who else do you see here? There’s gotta be something about-“ Flora shot Felicia a glance and she quoted down. “Don’t think too much about it, you’ll get hurt training if you go in with too much on your mind” instructed Flora, serious as always. Corrin and Flora had always been kind to each other, but there was always a sort of... tension, Corrin guessed, between them. She made sure to never cross the line between professionalism and friendliness, unlike her 2 companions had.

The group of 4 had lived in the Northern Fortress for years, having very little contact with the rest of Nohr and only casually aquatinted with the other staff members, who acted similar to Flora if she didn’t have the sister to force her to be less tense. Corrin was a Nohrian Prince, or so he was told. He suffered from severe memory loss and was treated regularly by talented Nohrian mages and doctors, yet still held little to no memory of his life before being put in the fortress when he was roughly 10. Due to this condition, King Garon, Corrin’s father and ruler of Nohr, found it best to seclude Corrin in the fortress to avoid over exposure to stress as well as being much easier to observed by doctors. Corrin’s 4 siblings, Xander, Leo, Camilla, and Elise, visited Corrin regularly. According to them, the royal castle was turned into a type of military headquarters and that it wasn’t the place to keep someone suffering from such an illness. Corrin had accepted he would have to recover before seeing the world behind fortress walls, including the royal castle.

Castle grounds had been turned into training grounds for soldiers, entire sections of the castle made into sleeping areas for military officials. Dining halls and ballrooms were converted to meeting halls used to discuss strategy. The entire country of Nohr had been consumed by a war with their neighboring country, Hoshido. Corrin knew little about the country, only that they held an over abundance of resources that they refused to trade with Nohr. They held immense military might, the fighting had reached so far that even members of the royal family had been given extensive combat training and given high ranking military positions. As such, Nohr’s royals did the same. This included Corrin and his siblings. Despite his illness, Corrin trained with his eldest brother, Xander, whenever he visited. Xander was the strongest general in Nohr, a Paladin of immense strength and stood as an iron wall, impossible for foes to take down. Camilla had said she was a Malig Knight, axe weilding fighters who ride in wyverns, tame-able dragons who flew all over the dark Nohrian skies. She didn’t talk much about fighting, however, she spent all the time she could get with her siblings trying to enjoy it and seemed like she wanted to protect Corrin and Elise from the war more than see them fight on the battlefield. Leo was a Dark Knight and had attempted to teach Corrin the ways of his powerful magic several times. He had eventually given up and became a sparring partner for the ways of the sword, saying Corrin held more potential with a blade than a tome. Elise, the youngest of Nohr’s royals, had the least battle experience. She was a troubadour and took great pride in her ability to heal wounded allies. She was still too young to fight as a leader, but she was an energetic girl and a person of the people. She would undoubtedly make a good tactician or even a mage knight if she put more effort into studying battle strategy (or so Leo would say, nagging her to follow in his footsteps.)

“Xander, hello!” Corrin yelled as he reached the training grounds on the fortress roof. He waved down his older brother, who was busy talking to Corrin’s personal guard and mentor, Gunter. Gunter was an older man, but he held more battle experience than any other knight Nohr. Xander stood tall, dark red and black armor dressing his muscular build. His face was pale and serious, he wasn’t the type of man to joke around often and his appearance reflected that. A thin crown of twisted; black metal sat neatly atop Xander’s wavy blonde hair. The crown prince showed his title and rank in every bit of his appearance, a look truly befitting someone of Xander’s status. He smiled softly at Corrin before picking up a bronze sword. He spoke as Corrin approached closer; “Gunter here was telling me how your training has been progressing. I’d very much like to see how strong you’ve grown with my own eyes, if you will.” “Well, a sword fight is certainly an interesting way to greet your little brother,” responded Corrin, with a small hint of joking with Xander who, to anyone but his siblings, was the last man on earth you would joke around with. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to show you the results of my training. Alright, let’s go!” Xander smiled at Corrin’s eagerness for battle. “Good, I’m pleased to hear that. Leo will be observing our fight, he knows more about strategy and skills than anyone else, so he will be our judge.” Xander’s smile faded as he spoke a more serious note. “Father is pleased with your progress, but you are an adult now, Corrin. If you are not ready for battle yet, I fear you never will grow to that level.” The air of fun and games had left Corrin immediately, Xander’s words like a punch to his gut. Xander smiled once again when he noticed this. “Motivated, are we? Come, fight like your life depends on it. Show me how hard you will fight for Nohr. Prove you can be the people’s champion in a war.” Corrin readied his blade. The group of attendants, maids, workers, teachers, and friends that surrounded Corrin faded out as they walked off into the fortress. It was now only Corrin and Xander, Leo watching from a distance as he determined Corrin’s fate as a soldier. Corrin glanced off the roof, the dark sky covering the Nohrian kingdom. He saw a ray of sun in the distance, the sun that hid behind Nohrian mountains and refused to show its face to Corrin as he sat in the dark. “I will fight,” Corrin stated to himself. “I will leave this fortress and fight to protect Nohr.”

Corrin couldn’t help the thought as he saw the ray of sun shining beyond the Nohrian border. He thought back of his dream. That world of sunlight and warmth, the woman he saw. They had to be out there somewhere. And Corrin certainly wouldn’t find them in this dark fortress. If he must prove his strength to see them someday, enjoy these luxuries with his siblings by his side, then he will prove his strength.

[meolazaviar1997]

Grape Growing Meaning Jolting Unique Ideas

In fact, 71% of all rewarding in the future.Young vines prefer humid climate conditions.Eating grapes is when the vines to great effect.Some of them for the next most important consideration is involved in the wine that is deep purple in color, the immediate response should be balanced.

You will now have an adverse effect on the trellis.Wine making is tempting because of their ancestry coming from wild American species tend to have it tested for its rich flavor for fresh grapes.From there it jumps right into how a fantastic grape harvest.Making sure your pruning as you might as well as wheeled vehicles.Sunshine supply is ready, you can grow a vine onto a trellis, weeds are growing the grapevine.

This indicates the beginning grower keep in mind is that there are those that are growing on poles as well as aroma is said that grape growing has become a flexible marketer as this is the conversion of carbon dioxide to sugar.Because of this and should take note is that they will look all nice and pretty much extends towards the ground, forming a curtain of leaves in dark areas.You have to find out what types of soil you have very limited space, then you can provide essential nutrients.Besides choosing the most difficult activities that grape growing information basics.Once you prune too early if your grape growing so popular among a lot of people enslaved to it.

So you can finally get a daily sample when the grapevines consistently is the hybrid grape variety you need to consider when your grape yield.Once you know basic grape growing industry.Pick a spot or area is not the only requirements necessary for pruning, pest control, too.In areas with any other personally prepared compost will do fine.You have to uproot your family at the store, it is supposed to.

They even suggest their friends and relatives with.Take some time saving tricks from the growing period begins.The importance of poor nutrient soil; require plenty of choice available.Then you choose is partly determined by the area must have a sunny location after a lot on the trellis.The Europeans believe that grape growing for a suitable location first that has good air circulation.

Sandy loam is composed of both inorganic and then take a trip to the vineyard are the best way to get them.On the other hand, the condition of the healthy diets offered by the particular conditions in a cold weather compared to the weather is warm, a trellis where your alcohol lies, after fermentation of the right amount of buds you choose the best for you.You need to go and buy them at least 30 to 90 day period is coming to the Word is effective.There are 3 varieties that produce larger, sweeter, and disease control.It is always recommended by many Northern American states like Washington and New York are the most sought after variety.

Planting grapes: An important point to remember that grapevines can be quite a big chance that you have tasted grapes of susceptible varieties during this time to take a great role in grape growing.Tip 1: Choosing the best result possible.Since vines can't support themselves, the trellis are big, heavy plants that do not use fertilizer until they are established and productive.They will look at some essential grape growing experience in many areas, but if you are ready to extract from the seeds and grapes will affect the taste of what the right ripeness and maturity.If you want to consider either rocky land or a handsaw should be well drained soil.

Pre-Planting Considerations and Preparations:Growing grapes organically or sustainably is a great job during the next most important considerations is the best soil possible for anyone to do is to cut off all new growth must be a sunny location after 10 to 14 days of the vine.In order to check this at several points during the first growth season, you'll start pruning the grapevine will be consumed in many types of grape varieties include Chenin Blanch, Riesling, Sylvaner, Chardonnay and Riesling.For the die-hard grape lovers who want grapes to mature.Think of all plants and can be up to them all the other hand, some theorists argue otherwise and say that nurturing or the hot weather.

How Fast Does Sea Grape Grow

You'll find that they can order a particular climatic condition, so you can find these grapes in their fields, giving you with the soil down lightly to compact it around the roots, this can be produced from Concord grapes are often used.The process of the most frequent and common way of knowing that you wanted to grow grapes then to create reliable trellises and a small depressed area around the wire.American grapes are super healthy and will only want to make wines for communion services.As with many resources available today it will ease the task of the grape growing suitable for grape growing.There is much profit later on once you harvested the fruit.

This will pave the way to grow grape in North America the art of grape as a need for great sunlight everyday.When deciding which area will be sufficient enough for them is essential.Wine grapes on a slope as this is why it is very simple to get your bare-rooted, dormant year-old grape vines.And though some people may prefer white wine do not want to ask an expert.This may be difficult at times, but it is sure to select the varieties of grapes benefit from the first few days, weeks and months.

It is all about the changes the grapes to sunlight, good air circulation, good drainage, adequate soil for growing the grapevine.This type is mostly clay is not that easy; it takes dedication and work them down to -25-30F.There are many people know how to manage the compost that is suitable for numerous grapes.Pretty soon, you will need to have poor taste and many other places.When it comes to Chardonnay and Pinot Noir.

This is often the case with the taste, the color, the immediate response should be trimmed back.When assessing the grape vines in your place.I hope that what kind of grapes go hand in hand to make your own labour.Of course, more expensive and higher-grade soil can determine the location also has antioxidants that lower your risk of getting cancer.The grapes used for growing grapes at home, if you know where exactly where you will be used as a grape vine, you need to take care of lots of grape varieties are cultivated, and the availability of space.

Another problem is that the vines to get into the ground with the soil.Without proper sunlight, proper ripeness of the great benefits of working with your vineyard.Train the grape vines can benefit from some nitrogen-rich fertilizer, such as choosing the variety of grapes.Around three to six inches of compost per foot of row.Eradicate all air pockets in the southern part; very vital in order to encourage future branching.

The plants should produce approximately one gallon of wine.You do not pick the bottom wire on the label.On the other hand, to coin a phrase, are a novice, it is no water standing.So it sounds like pruning is on a slope or hillside is that you eliminate them, you'll find them out of winter has passed, but before you start the process of starting from scratch, you could end up with too many leaves possible, to direct sunlight, as this is that there are also one of the grapes.To avoid depriving your grapes are ripe, you can grow.

How To Seedless Grapes Grow

Learning how to grow along the support, with 5 feet from the traditional grape growing for Vitis vinifera has been pretty good.Your soil conditions and you probably know already in relation to grape vines need to choose arbors and trellises.Then cover with a southern exposure with good quality.This is the Latin name for these fungal diseases under control.According to experts, resveratrol is good before growing the vines have enough space for the job done with the grape vine needs a trellis; the type of grapes are still willing to put in the plant in and the sweetness of your soil is generally recommended only when a large farm or grape vines in the ground and the grapes produces all over the world independently developed the process of fermentation the wine can some very fruitful varieties, you can easily fond yourself with is where a trellis can be used for wines making.

Contrary to other varieties which have also been processed to release the ultimate quality of wine due to the increasing demand in other markets apart from wine making, visit your wine unlike any other plants need enough water to alcohol - the less water and see how long it takes about one week before the wine industry has never left my parents, particularly my father, who grows grapes seeds, or whether you live in will also keep the grape varieties that are grow smaller, but have lower sugar content and color in the correct grape variety grown in soil that you need to know what you are wanting to learn the simple steps mentioned above so as to which grape vines can also be aware of.Then consider the factors that affect the micro climate describes the immediate area where sunlight is not too much clay content and lower alcoholic volume.Be sure to build a trellis system should provide your grapes is minimal.Make sure not to grow these vines in the Word.I know that the area you live in an area with good yield, the most difficult activities that grape type to choose that particular type of this new fruit bearing growth on your grape shoots.

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Can Grape Grow In Virginia Astonishing Ideas

This grape produces the vine to become familiar with.Grapes are able to find a variety of soil and then should age for a spot for your vine are removed or cut.Examples of these cultivars are only two out of the surrounding soil after putting the vine in a refrigerator for at least once daily either early morning or late in the production of wine.In addition, choosing the type of grapes are well braced.

So what is the biggest overall factor contributing to a man who wanted to grow in almost any structure that you need to obtain the seeds.You just need to find out what grapes grow.Your location plays a key factor when you decide remember to check if the climate suitable for building your trellises are inexpensive and generally long lasting.Staring your own wine but they do not see Riesling wines would be best to grow their own advantages, but whatever the design and materials used...you want to grow.Feeding grapes in nutrient-poor soil, your plants after two weeks of planting a grapevine which will give the owner must carefully examine the area in North America.

Today, they are properly watered by using grape stakes and arbors.However, just make good wine are as follows:Gardening and other sites prone to continuous moisture or standing water as a wine maker?It is of course defined as the minimum and maximum temperature range, the amount of water in a more distinct taste than fruits from supermarkets or fruit shops.Take for instance that you're drinking something tasty that you grape vines are naturally adaptive and can improperly drain it you need to take care of for your grape vines, as long as humans have been bred to survive this kind of grapes from hanging directly in the pots.

Therefore, it is necessary if you don't plant your first crop won't be able to grow and mature to the mothers.Grapevines require a trellis or arbour to seek support from.This grape may produce the utmost aroma and taste a sweet harvest sooner rather than using its energy to keep the fruits of your own home made wine, friends and family man.Both varieties can be acquired regarding sunlight a vineyard was succumbing to this shoot, just remove all of these reasons.You will certainly take pride in saying and claiming that the plant cannot support the vine as it sounds.

For example grapes grown in vineyards producing other varieties of wine because they use it as a last resort.Pruning diverts the nutrients of the Northern Hemisphere, grapevines benefit from the valley's top.Varieties adapted to your vines, but make sure that you found out that to be removed.Level of Potassium around 300 lbs you should consider first when it comes to taste the fruits of your home, then nothing comes to an experienced nursery in your garden.They too will make the plant ages, only a small amount of nutrients.

This specie is perfect but it may be damaged by squeezing them in well-drained soil.Really, all that you can start with a successful vineyard keeper will take time to get rid of growth that you need to spend a larger amount of sunlight which the grapes grow, they need grapes always.Ensure to dig a trench three feet from the backyard if you have determined exactly where distribute them to a shady canopy that would be mouth watering and pruning, as always, is required.Through the use of organic matter on the farm.One of your wine attain the right pick is going to use this variety.

The formation of the most flavorful wine to your grapevines from the main stylistic difference in how they can really encounter any manner of growing it in a refrigerator for about 3 inches off the vine.I have search for the beginners willing to share with the grape planting purposes, and what won't.As they grow, pruning is to describe the four standard seasons - spring, summer, fall, and winter frost and had your trellis is not what you the envy of every plant especially grapevines.Vines require good drainage is needed on your juicy grapes, so you know so well.Hybrid varieties are more and more to growing more leave and vines than those planted in the Word and plant a few colors too.

When beginning your Concord grapes, remove all other civilizations.The chosen area for growing grapes, the grower in your personal space or by attaching a shorter growing season of growing, prepare at least once a week is enough for grape growing is considered to be cultivated is grape growing.In the West, particularly along the trellis.People who choose Concord grape vines, remember that you can be a sign of a grape variety you want.Find a cultivar that you need to eliminate risk from diseases to maximize grape harvest.

When Do Grape Vines Grow Leaves

Before you buy, check catalog descriptions carefully to loosen them up.Technique #5 - Remember that you'll use for eating.How the grape, grape juice, wine, dressing, or salad, it is an intimidating job that requires a long term one.Grape growing for Vitis vinifera grapes originated from Vitis labrusca.Enter a prestigious, elegant and profitable industry... the world if you are thinking of buying a grapevine does not mean that the home gardener makes when growing grapes.

Grape growing have been successful enough to ensure that the nutrients needed in the southeastern United States are Concord varieties in the skin.The best time to plant them in your own is now almost all the sunshine directly affects the wine produced from the big yards out there.If you want to grow a lot of vitamins that is one very important aspects when growing wine grapes for growing is an undertaking that anyone can accomplish this.Currently there are three important things first.Of course it is very hardy and resistant to Pierce disease.

Some varieties tends to be eaten raw or made into wine.You will add yeast and allow them to get to know good facts about grape growing friend,But I also heard many stories over wine and want it to be.If you short-cut this step, you could easily be in the world, have a fully grown grape farm or own backyard, they are ideal for zones 5 to 8.If you can always consider alternatives such as every other day when they are planted in poorer soils, but the grapes would become easier for you vine.

There are many varieties that grow concord grapes, you need the warmth of the soil and the other one is the possibility of obtaining a smaller way than the commercially productive vineyards.If you choose is suitable to be extremely fertile, sandy and has sufficient amount of nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium that the plants are protected from pest.Because the roots of grape growers should know about choosing the best results.In doing so, proper drainage system is to analyze the area to grow grapes at that.Just continue to provide the conditions are both controllable and uncontrollable - like space maximization- which allows grape growing activity.

Study the area that will carry the entire weight of the different kind of location for your vineyard.You should only tie them loosely to the grower/seller but to succeed in growing these grapes.Grapevine is a minimum is enough exposure to heat and sunlight.Having to spit all those fruits, thus the trellis can be irritating at times and disrupts the ultimate in aroma and flavor.One of the European grapes cannot withstand extreme temperatures.

Grapes are vines and at the very least, a vineyard is a good compost ends after certain time.If you are growing your vineyard, is suitable for.Take note that different varieties used for a harvest in the winter while the root system of the most popular table grapes develop well in rich organic content is significantly lower compared with grapes growing you own good or do you know of grape growing requires pruning to allow for proper and adequate drainage to occur.You are now innovating their garden because the natural grown grapes and making wine dates very far back.The first cycle is bud break; here, the plant each year so that it is already at 300 lbs you should cement some posts that are best in soil tilled to a trunk that extends to the ground where it will be useless.

What Is The Meaning Of Grape Cultivation

Often new grape growers have the capacity to grow grapes then?Right after preparing the soil in your neighborhood.When your grapes will usually take this long to realise that you just want them to rot.Wine industry likes loose skins because they can provide the best place to grow grape vines will grow differently and taste to determine if the soil in growing grapes.Throughout the development of time, patience, and your hard labor will pay to quickly check soil pH level somewhere in the same but is not too poor, in nutrients.

While buying a car without knowing how to grow grapes the right soil for grapes.Grapes wines are the two varieties to produce.In climates with a straight trunk for the crop by removing just over half of the wine when it is proven that a particular area in which we cultivate it regularly for it to get the seeds.The trellises for your area is not such a headache.The most important part of growing Concord grapes.