#for those who don’t know the book is about a manuscript a dead old guy wrote about a movie that never existed

[cryptictwaddle]

i just started reading the book House of Leaves and i’ve gotta say in this post-goncharov world the premise of the book is very funny bc like yea that happened irl

[tdcloud]

HIRAETH IS DONE BABYYY (blog post!)

Happy December, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and all that good, jolly old junk you hear this time of year. I’m not really one for the wintertime holidays, but here we are, so let’s try to make the best of it and get a blog post in before we hit 2024.

Just like last month, I don’t really have much of an overarching topic for this month. I think for the time being we’ll keep things short and update-focused as I get my groove back and smooth out stuff on the backend. I have been working hard while resting my brain, believe it or not. There’s a lot of good stuff coming next year! I’m honestly really excited to tell you guys about it, so let’s get to it.

First of all, I’ve got some convention announcements! I’ve gotten confirmation that my next conventions will be taking place in March 2024, and wildly enough, both will be in Evansville, IN. That’s great for those of you who only see me when I go down there, but my GOD that is going to be a lot of driving for me that month. I live in Northeast Indiana, so it’s roughly 4.5 hours one way for me. I do love going down there, don’t get me wrong, but goodness. I’m going to be best friends with my car by the end of that.

If you’re around those parts, mark your calendars for Evansville Horrorcon and Evillecon in March 2024. You can find specific dates over on my Events tab. I’ll only have a half table at Horrorcon, so only expect to see some of my collection for sale there. I’m thinking I’ll be bringing Ossuary, Convergence, and maybe a couple Duskriven titles given it’s a horror convention, but should we have Infaust out by then (which is my goal), you can expect that title there as well. Evillecon will see my full works (maybe minus something like Apricity), as well as all of my assorted merchandise. I’m hopeful I’ll have some Infaust merch there, too, but no promises. 

I’m still waiting to hear back about Ohayocon, which is in January. There’s some convention drama going on that’s put artist announcements on hold for the time being (I hate to say it, but this convention is going the way of Youmacon as well and it’s really, really sad to see). I’ll make a separate announcement if I somehow manage to get into that on social media. Until then, it’s just the two March cons.

Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, I’VE FINISHED HIRAETH!!!!!!!!!! -sound of confetti cannons, vuvuzelas, and champagne corks popping- Legit, this has been nearly five years in the making, and I’m so happy to finally announce that the beast is dead, the draft is done, and the manuscript is now on my editor’s desk and ready to go under the knife at last! We’re going to be turning all of our focus towards beating it into shape once we hit the new year, and given Sun’s squared off several months of her availability for me and my projects in 2024, I’m very, very optimistic that we’ll have this book out in quarter three or four of next year. 

I hope that all of you who have been waiting with bated (and vastly expired) breath all this time are still excited for this release. I’m so goddamn ready to put an end to this series once and for all, and for Ruari, Corbet, Breena, and Shea to have their happily ever after. Thank you all so much for your patience, understanding, and well wishes as I’ve worked on this thing. I really can’t begin to describe how much it’s meant to be to have people ask about this title over the years. All of the tumblr asks, all of the emails, all of the in person questions… It’s never been obnoxious or anxiety inducing like some people worried it might come across. I really can’t tell you how much it’s helped me to just know that there are people out there who WANT this book, who actively have WAITED and HOPED it might be released soon. Knowing there were people waiting got me back on target better than my own wherewithal ever could. 

If you ever reached out to me to ask about Hiraeth, please know that it’s reaching completion and the light of day because you REACHED OUT. Really. Honestly. It’s thanks to you, and please know that I’ve never taken it for granted.

Thirdly, and in line with release info, is Infaust. This is another project that’s taken way too long to get out, but for a very different reason than Hiraeth. I’ve already spoken ad nauseum about the hangups this work has had during its development, so I won’t go into it again here. Just know that December is Infaust Prep month. This is the month where I fully finalize the interior and ready it for publication. I’ll be going over it with a fine-toothed comb, making my last minute changes to it, and packaging it up once and for all for formatting. I’ll also be sending it to Sun for her to read so she can begin drafting up her cover designs (just as soon as she’s finished with her last Oracle of 11 card illustrations! She’s scheduled to be done before Christmas, so I anticipate her picking up Infaust once she’s done with her holiday celebrations). 

As of right now, I can’t give a publication date. While I can tell you all that my ultimate goal is to release before Horrorcon (ideally in February like Ossuary did), I’ve been at this way too long to set a permanent, for-sure date before I’ve got the cover in hand. Too much can change when I’m at the whims of other people with their own deadlines and schedules that take precedence over mine. But given what I know, and given how I know Sun works, you can expect Infaust before April barring something catastrophic happening. I’ll have a lot more to say about its release and all the associated goodies and bundles I’m planning to offer for the pre-order after we’ve rounded the new year. Mark your calendars and keep an eye out for social media posts. It’s going to be a lot of fun, and a much bigger release than I’ve ever done before, so long as I get all my ducks in a row!

Lastly, I’d like to promote my Itch.io again! I’ve only got two smutty horror shorts up (so far), but it’s really been such a fun way to release new works without devoting too much time to a book-length project/something that requires a graphic designer to get out. If you haven’t checked it out yet, I definitely recommend doing so, and even if you aren’t interested in what’s currently up, consider following me over there regardless for notifications on when new stuff comes out. 

I’ll be releasing all of my backlog on Itchio starting in January as I migrate my ebooks to other venues. For those of you who have moral issues with Amazon/Kindle (which are 100% justified and correct). This will hopefully provide an actual storefront for you to pick up my work without sacrificing your soul to Bezos—or emailing me directly the way a lot of you have in the past. They’ll be hosted there for the same price as they are on Amazon ($5), and if you’re pledged $5 to my Patreon, you’ll get access to them via the Itch.io integration feature automatically. I’m hoping to cross-publish on Itch.io for all new releases as well, so there may be fun pre-order opportunities over there when Infaust gets its pub date. 

So… Consider it! Seriously, please consider it if you’d like to keep up to date with my work in an environment I have more control over. I’d love to get a creative community hub going on that site since it really seems like a great place to connect with readers without the drudgery or commercialism of Amazon or the paylock vibe of Patreon. Check it out if that sounds fun to you, and if you’re already over there reading my work, drop a review on Living Dead Boy or Death-Knell! I’d love to read your thoughts!

That’s it for this month. Hope you guys all have a wonderful holiday season, eat a lot of good food, and read a lot of good smut! Definitely pass my work onto any friends who could use some tasty smut in their lives to keep them warm through the winter, and if you’re reading this early in the month, there’s still time to put in an order for a signed book copy or a merch order via my ko-fi store! Get on it, get the goods, and as always, until next time,

T.D. Cloud

[cyclesprefectpress]

[image description: a proof of a font of handset type for letterpress printing, displaying every letter, symbol, and special character in the font. it's called "Sixteenth Century Roman," 24 pt., and is a rough-edged serif font with a deliberately worn look. end description.]

hello hello i am return from a deep dive into several reference materials that assumed a little bit more knowledge about how Medieval Latin works than i actually have, but, it was all exTREMEly inch resting to me. i am absolutely not a historian but here we are, a speedrun of my pinballing around trying to ensure that I know what the fuck im storing in my type corridor:

so 16th Cent. Roman, i already knew, was a font Paul Duensing designed based on this incomplete set of old Italian punches he acquired (punches, the first step of old school typecasting, where you carve the relief letter shape into the end of a stick of steel, and you uuuh punch that into the copper matrix, which is then the negative mould-shape you use to cast multiple copies of the lead sorts with hot metal; surviving punches are precious artifacts not the least because they are. they’re hand-carved!! often by the type designer themselves. historical and also wildly cool craftsmanship). these punches were all beat up and probably water damaged, fucky and rough-edged, so he re-did and filled in the gaps in the alphabet with similarly styled letters of his own. very cool. an extremely nerdy lil passion project of a typecaster in the 1960s, very typical of type people. we all find a Thing to obsess over, and sometimes it's reviving an incomplete set of punches from the 1500s that you found in, idk, it's usually a bucket in somebody's basement.

anyway it's got a bunch of ligatures and the long s, sure sure sure, but WHAT are all these gibberish characters with tildas and lines thru the stems of ps and qs and such—

Duensing's full font is in Mac McGrew's specimen book, great, i have that, except McGrew's book has complete proofs and a little bit of history for each font but doesn't always cover what each symbol in a unique alphabet is for, and i knew just enough about Latin to guess that they were abbreviations but not what each of them stood for. a little bit of searching got me this far, which is to say, "Abbreviation in Medieval Latin Paleography," a translation of an Italian essay on the subject from 1929. It is prefaced by the translators with gems like: "Take a foreign language, write it in an unfamiliar script, abbreviating every third word, and you have the compound puzzle that is the medieval Latin manuscript." Scribes writing in medieval Latin just tossed out letters they didn't care to deal with, constantly, and had stand-in special characters and abbreviations for syllables/words/particles and there were intuitive rules but way too many variations in time and place and person to make a reasonably-sized, static lexicon. amazing. hope all u paleographers are having fun over there.

the essay has a great big glossary of truncations and abbreviations and so on which clearly cover most of the figures in Duensing's font:

[image description: screenshots of the essay, with various symbols and the Latin syllables they abbreviated. an m with a bar over it, ex., stood in for men or mun. end description.]

ok! BUT this q with a little swoop off the end kept bugging me!! for all these dead-use symbols this essay is using handwritten samples, obviously, and there's clearly variation in execution and also typographers take liberties, and i just thought, sure my piece of type looks a lot like the quod here but it does link the staff to the swoop where the handwritten sample doesn't, and it could just as well be a fanciful ligature for qn which apparently can stand in for quando, and i have no idea which is a more common-use syllable likely to be cast in the font if you're only going to pick your top 14, and i just like to be sure about things.

SO. i went to double-check with Johnson’s Typographia. Johnson made like a thousand pages of printing manuals set in tiny tiny type in the 1820s which are rad as hell and tell you all sorts of things about how to run a shop and build your own press and cast type and going rates for work and employment and also, the alphabets/type case layout for whatever language or symbol set you might have to set type in, when handsetting type was mostly the only way to get stuff printed—English, Arabic, Chinese, Hebrew, musical notation, astronomical signs, aaaand it’s got a section for "Marks & characters used in the Domesday Book & other ancient records.”

[image description: a photo of a page of the manual, with similar but not always identical symbols for abbreviated use. many of these abbreviations are described as "a Domesday contraction." end description.]

and WHAT is a Domesday contraction, WELL, it's a contraction specifically from/prevalent in the Domesday book, a deeply boring and historically important tome about property distribution in England. It’s literally a survey. who owned what, in 1086. presumably mind-numbing. enormous, handwritten in Medieval Latin, EXTREMELY cool, go look at some images of it at least, very important to historians, economists, linguists, and a complete pain in the ass to set in type when that technology became available, having to cast any significant proportion of these variant characters in an alphabet. Johnson says, (in 1824) “It is an improvement of latter years only*, to have type cast to resemble the abbreviations used in the more ancient manuscripts; they being formerly rudely imitated, either from a common fount, or else were cut in wood for the purposes of any particular work.” wow that sucks. but in 1773 the government really wanted to be able to reproduce the Domesday Book in type, so a couple people tried to cut a set of punches for Domesday abbreviations and Joseph Jackson got it done and it only took 10 years to print an edited version of the manuscript. and then apparently all the type was destroyed in a fire in 1808. WOW that sucks.

but the point is, Johnson has a great big glossary of characters as they were translated into type in the making of the printed Domesday Book, and the Domesday punches were used or refrenced in the printing of other medieval latin works, which consequences a degree of standardization in the abbreviations used in those versions of the text that handwritten manuscripts never had or needed.

notably the Domesday quod looks even more different from my piece of type here which was pretty annoying, so what are the chances this thing is a quando, and anyway that's when my sister texted me back with better computer skills and a different search engine and found me a perfect match on the first try. it’s a quod. this National Diet Library digital exhibition has several different sample fonts, both black letter and roman, with quite consistent letter forms, if not choices about which abbreviations to bother casting.

*I don’t……exactly know what he means by this, since Gutenberg and contemporaries absolutely did cast many Medieval Latin abbreviations for their fonts nearly 400 years before this. His dismissal of “from a common fount” might be fair, since i think what he means by it is that you’d have a generic set of abbreviation characters which you would have to use in conjunction with whatever font was the main body of your text, and it’s messy to mix things that weren’t designed specifically to match. he may just mean that it’s new for his contemporary foundries to be casting all these expanded alphabets of abbreviations; Gutenberg didn’t have foundries to buy from and made his own type. he could include as many characters as he had the patience for. maybe Johnson is just a guy from the 1800s that didn’t have the internet and i shouldn’t jump down his throat for not knowing something. idk!! i have homework.

anyway that was my Friday!! feel free to correct me and/or suggest further reading if early typecasting is your Thing or. again. you just have better googling than me.

[fiveisnumber1]

So an elaboration for the anon who asked about the H7 setting up Reader with people. Just a little lore to be more entertaining that fiveisnumber1 and I came up with:

The H7 try to set up Reader and naturally it fails but they can never get an answer out of her properly. So it's surprising to them when they find out some correlating information that gives them a tiny insight about why Reader keeps refusing to show up for whatever setups they orchestrate.

The H7 all have their favorite Academy member but eventually they realize the Reader never told them her favorite. She refuses to answer when they ask but they pester her so much that eventually at one point she accidentally mumbles out "Five" and the H7 just RUN with it.

They realize he's her favorite but then feel bad for her cuz they think that the reason Reader doesn't talk about him is cuz he went missing at 13 years old which was quite young. Even Ben lived til he was 17 so they figure Reader must be taking Five's disappearance pretty hard - which, they aren't wrong about, but they don't comprehend the depth of either cuz they obviously don't know the real relationship between the two.

So being the good friends they are, the H7 decide to do something special for her. They compile a bunch of old Five focused UA merch for her like posters and figurines and magazine interviews etc as a birthday gift. Five doesn't have as much available merch as the rest and some is pretty hard to track down but anything for their leader and best friend. They give her the gift on her birthday because they think its extra cool cuz it's the same date as the UA members birthday too. Unfortunately for them, after opening the gift, the Reader starts crying because it's not just her birthday, it's her and Five's shared birthday and she misses him so much more on that day anyway but seeing the thoughtful gift she just breaks down.

She starts mumbling about how she misses him and worrying if he's safe and she's crying so hard she doesn't realize she said all this aloud.

Bren tries to comfort her cuz he's the closest to understanding what losing your "favorite hero" is like. But even he supposes he can't help much cuz he knows for sure that Ben is dead although it makes him sad. Nobody knows what happened to Five and none of them can comprehend how miserable it would be to simply not know what happened to your favorite person even if they're a celebrity.

Eventually the Reader calms down and thanks her friends because she really does appreciate the lengths they went to for her but they aren't done yet.

Dean tells Reader that he knows they can't really understand how it feels like to lose your favorite hero to time, but they've all compiled a video tape of all Five's old interviews and maybe watching them would help. He puts in the tape and then Five's on screen with his smug self satisfied smirk and his sarcastic answers and for the first time, Reader smiles through her tears at seeing Five again. Even if it's on tape, she hasn't heard his voice or seen his smile in so long and she missed it and is glad to see it.

Reader watches the interview with rapt attention and the H7 watch her reactions curiously cuz they've never seen her so expressive about the Umbrella Academy before.

Eventually, on the tape, the interviewer asks Five if he's ever been in a relationship or had a crush and Five, for the first time ever, grows flustered and blushes and then passes the question off to one of his siblings. Reader giggles at this and also blushes because of her own feelings and because she always found it adorable when Five got embarrassed.

That's how the H7 find out about the Reader's "celebrity crush" on Five Hargreeves. They aren't expecting it at all. It's somewhat surreal to them as well but hey, they don't judge! If Lucas is ready to leave Addison for Luther and Bren has a shrine to Ben then Reader having a crush on Five is ordinary too.

So they become Five x Reader "shippers" and tease her about him even though they think that he'd be much older than them even if he were to come back. Slowly, the Reader opens up again and begins to blush and smile when she remembers her feelings for Five and the moments she spent and how she felt around him without feeling just the immense pain. She misses him dearly but the H7 help her remember the positives again.

Also once they read Vanya's manuscript and find out about the unnamed best friend of the Hargreeves who Five had "a special connection and the deepest relationship" with, they tease her with that too but they also grow super defensive and promise to support her against the mysterious best friend in Vanya's book if Five ever comes back because Five x Reader is the ship they stan and nothing else will fly! (They start out crack shipping it as supportive friends and at the end actually are ready to bear arms to support it 😂)

Meanwhile, Reader is just amused while face-palming cuz "Guys... I am the mysterious best friend" although she can't tell them and although she obviously doesn't really believe that Vanya intended to mean Five had any romantic feelings towards her like she did him.

Anyway, those were some fun headcanons we came up with so we hope the rest of you like them too!

Here are more fun little things as well:

Addison and Kenny always comment how if Five shows up and he’s older they will fully support her if she wants to go into a sugar baby lifestyle with him. Reader always shaked her head and waved them off for being ridiculous.

When The apocalypse is over and Reader fully explains everything to her friends including the fact that she and Five are dating everything finally clicks. The reason she turned down ever match they tried to make, the reason she got so emotional over Five, all of it.

And it really just hits them like “wow this wasn’t a celebrity crush it was her ONLY crush”

They’re fully supportive though and are also happy they don’t have to fight some other random person for Reader since Reader was the anonymous girl mentioned in Vanya’s book.

The H7 show Five the old interview of being asked if he had a crush on anyone and becoming flustered and Five says “that was the most difficult interview I ever had to do.”

Bonus:

When people call Bren’s shrine to Ben a shrine he always gets upset and corrects them that it’s a MEMORIAL not a shrine. The rest of them still call it a shrine just to mess with him.

[leam1983]

On Grief

This is a long one. You're under no obligation to push further if you don't want to. It's a personal post, so I'll more than understand if this isn't to your tastes. The normally-scheduled pedantry, commentary and memes will resume shortly.

One of my relatives was diagnosed with ALS. What started as an odd case of palsy in her left set of vocal cords that could've been far more benign was just confirmed by her referred physician. It's Lou Gherig's, and with her age and current condition, her prognosis is of three to five years, tops. Sure, Stephen Hawking blew his own prognosis out of the water, but a combination of notoriety and luck enabled him to eke out as much existence as medical tech could've possibly allowed.

We knew things were suspect when my aunt, a marathoner with a monthly sub to Runner's World, stopped running. Her food intake dropped like a stone, and she soon took to increasingly simple painting and drawing styles. At first we thought it was just her wanting to explore simpler rendering techniques, but then...

Then we noticed the twitching. How awkwardly her pens and brushes were set in her hands. She was in great shape and didn't mind living in the ass-end of Sutton, basically in the open country and with a path leading up to her front door that was all in rough cobblestones. She broke a hip against them, last year.

Her speech started to slur, lately. Her last bike trip also landed her in the ER. She doesn't bike anymore. She doesn't run, and being a gourmand by nature, feels obligated to restrain herself, for fear of gaining weight. She's aggressively vegan. Not towards others, but towards herself. No meat, no eggs, nothing. Most of us ovo-lactos and omnivores in the family know her constant snacking meant her seventy-plus body is desperate for energy.

From the look of things, it feels like the diagnosis broke through her bullshit reasoning for being vegan. She wasn't vegan for the sake of limiting her carbon footprint or making more responsible choices at the grocery store, but because she, as a lifelong anorexic, thought she was ugly and needed to lose weight. That's been a constant with her. Age catches up and skin sags? She mistakes it for a love handle, cuts out virtually all sources of protein and carbs safe for tofu, seitan and bean-based preps. Of course, like a lot of anorexics, she'd have bulemic episodes. I used to sleep over at her last bachelor pad, as a teen, and I remember her pantry was loaded up for bear with Danish cookie tins, Nutella jars and whipped cream. I remember she invited me over specifically when she intended to cheat. Then it was back to yoga, pot-smoking, meditation and shopping runs - and she probably kept her purging for when I was gone.

So yeah. I'm betting Belgian Asshole (see one of my previous posts) convinced her to break her vows and went looking for a "slice of authentic Tikka Masala", to quote his email. The entire family is made up of ethnic food diehards, so we spam-flooded his inbox with recommendations. Looks like she'll be eating meat again, soon. Her own email mentioned concerns of strength and stamina, so I get it.

Otherwise? We're gobsmacked. Imagine spending an entire weekday both at work and off work, aggressively goofing off because you're trying as hard as you can not to think of your favourite aunt's mention of assisted suicide as an option.

Three to five years. Maybe one, or two good Christmases. After that, her condition should probably have started to deteriorate quickly.

I'm not close with a ton of my own family. I love them all, but it's more a sense of polite respect than anything involving solid bonds. The only two folks I know I'll be devastated for when they'll die are her, and my youngest cousin on the other side of the family.

I'm mostly okay now. No doubts, no crisis of unbelief, no anger, no rage... But then I'll see her in a more diminished state, one of those days. How am I going to take to it?

Part of me keeps a tally of the deaths in the family. First, it was my uncle on my mother's side. Ruptured abdominal artery, with a leak small enough to pool into the gut's cavity for months. Decay settled in, guy got anesthetized for an intervention...

They didn't even bother sewing him back up.

Second one was my other paternal aunt's new husband. First one was great, but left the country in the seventies to go live in Stockholm with his medical assistant. Second one was a geologist and physicist at the same campus she taught as. French guy, the son of innkeepers four generations down. It showed, too. Our Christmas tables haven't been the same since he left us his recipie books, all his corny jokes on provincial eating habits, and his obstinate focus on turning every 25th of December into a Roman orgy probably befitting of the old Saturnalia traditions. I mean, when's the last time you've had an eight-course meal, outside of Thanksgiving?

Tumors in his mesenteric artery lined the blood vessel's inner walls, deposited virtually everywhere in his body. He was diagnosed in June and dead by August. He'd always been the lanky type, bone-thin even if he hoovered food like he'd never have enough. He looked even thinner in his hospital bed.

Then, my maternal grandpa bit it. Decades of casual alcoholism, cirrhosis more or less jumping on him around his seventy-sixth year. He looked a bit like John Keston, the actor who played Gehn in CyanWorlds' Riven. Same hairline, same hawkish nose, same eyes - just more Cajun and less New England-esque. I don't know if it was youth or stupidity or - anything, really, but I dropped by to see him, just two days before he died. I didn't realize he was tallying my life, asking me if I had everything in order, if things were planned.

Now, I understand.

Next one on the chopping block is Aunt Doris, still on Mom's side. She of the serial mooching, she of the concept of not needing much to get by if you were the cute one of the family. She was pretty enough in her prime, sure - if by pretty you meant "cigarette-butt blonde with a discount Farah Fawcett blow-up and an unfinished High School degree". First husband was an abusive ass who gave her an uncommonly sensitive son, second one figured she'd stick to the minimum-wage circuit while he tore out rotator cuffs or busted his C7 while on his outboard like clockwork. By the end, she roped my grandmother into living with her, spent her days sloppy-drunk and died on her ratty couch while falling asleep and choking on her own vomit.

Before them all, the youngest of my uncles died at age two. Cancer. Never knew which one, was told it didn't matter. You didn't survive much of anything cancerous, back in the late fifties.

Ping-pong this back to three years ago, and my oldest paternal uncle dies. Paul, who smoked like a chimney for most of his life and successfully stopped after discovering Champix. He got to live five great years as the high-IQ oddball he'd always been, smoke-free. Paul was the weird bird in the family, the type to remember a really engrossing story at two in the morning and making a note to call you up first thing in the morning to share it. He always had a project of some sort to work on, like a simulated investors' tank for young entrepreneurs looking to learn the ropes, or a Byzantine arrangement of coaxials allowing four of his lakeside neighbours to pirate his cable sub. He'd invite us over for dinner, gather all the ingredients we'd need for whatever it was he wanted to treat us to - and then he'd let us cook it - just sitting by the sidelines, chatting away.

He was also a bit of a narcoleptic, and looked a bit like William Howard Taft if you'd worked him out of these old sack suits and into modern shirts and suspenders. He fell asleep practically everywhere, with his more wakeful environments being his workshop and his property's dock. He took me out fishing, once, and knew what the entire family expected.

"Oars're here, Gremlin, fish're that way. Wake me up when you've got a bite."

At this point, it wasn't even a point of concern; it was just an Uncle Paul Thing, the exact thing you'd have expected out of this kind, eccentric blob of a man whose idea of fishing involved pushing his hat over his eyes and basically all but ensuring that his roaring snores would scare prey away. He'd been a supposedly high-IQ type, terminally bored with almost everything, only really getting agitated and interested back when I asked him for help for my Junior High Computer class's Javascript calculator. Once the syntax hit something familiar and he realized that JS has some similarities with FORTRAN, he was on a roll, acting like someone had snuck a Red Bull in his coffee.

Well, fibrosis caught up with him. His last hours were spent directing us on how to cook what would've been his last meal. I think he really just wanted to know we were alright, that we still could exchange laughs around the kitchen counter. He clocked out the way he always did, except he had an oxygen tube running under his nose. His head bobbed down, he snored loudly for a few minutes, then turned increasingly quiet...

And that was it.

And now there's Isabelle. The marathoner, my partner-in-crime when it comes to professing to have a healthy diet while occasionally cheating in glorious, weekend-defining means, my gateway to cannabis and also the first person who took my cringy self-insert fanfic fodder and went No, that's worth it! Push it, develop that universe of yours!

I wouldn't be almost two-thirds of the way through my first decent manuscript, if not for her, and I wouldn't be shopping for publishers with the same energy you'd reserve for weekend-grade Facebook putzing-about. I owe her part of my self-acceptance, and part of my discovery of what defines my routine to this day. Isabelle was my first meditation coach.

And in three to five years, she might be gone.

I just thought grief might be... noisier, is all. Louder. Right now, it's just germane to confusion, and it's sitting there. There's a pinch of fear in it, too. My parents are in their mid-sixties. How long do I have left with them?!

And the family and I just covered that up with jokes and, well, cooking. I've been told I'd make a half-decent therapist but - navigating your own emotions is hard work...

I don't know. I guess I needed to put this down somewhere.

[laughingpinecone]

ToT letter 2021

I am laughingpineapple on AO3

Hello dear author! I hope you’ll have fun with our match. Feel free to draw from general or fandom-specific likes, past letters, and/or follow your heart.

Art likes: characters doing something, even something very simple, illustrating a moment rather than abstractly posing. I also enjoy seeing them wear different clothes, getting a feel of what their fashion sense is like beyond their canon outfit(s). Or dressing them up for some outlandish AU!

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic, hurt/comfort or just comfort from the ample canon hurt, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, canon-adjacent tropey plots, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploration of secondary bits of canon, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played straight, sensory details, sickfic, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships), emphasis on inhuman traits of characters who were human once and have sort of shed it all behind

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay!), canon retellings

All requests are for both fic and art!

Death Crown: Death, trick

(I haven't played the DLC yet so, alas, no demons, or no spoilers for the demons, at least) I am absolutely charmed by the overall mood of this game and would like to see something more in that vein! Anything! Got more sacred (or unholy?) geometrical architecture for Death to interact with, maybe in greater detail than just wrecking it? What else feels like a contemporary take on a Bosch painting? Can Death get lost?

Ghost Trick: Jowd, Cabanela, trick, treat

Anything focused on Cabanela being an unstoppable force (confident, untiring, sparkling, stubborn, dexterous, loyal to the bitter end, legs) and/or Jowd being an immovable object (sarcastic, strong, depressed, self-deprecating but knowing he's hot stuff, also stubborn, clever but an emotional dumbass, round). Figuring out stuff? Something in the new timeline is linked to the old timeline? Coat? Dancing? Scarves? Halloween costumes?

I like Cabanela/Jowd and Cabanela/Alma/Jowd and Cabanela/Alma in scenarios where Jowd isn't around and Alma/Jowd in general (REALLY like all these, okay. like this is the one request where I'd love the most self-indulgent shippy takes as well), and dig Lynne/Memry. Yomiel/fianSissel and Emma/JM also cool!

Hylics: any, trick, treat

(I have only played the first game so far so please no overt spoilers for Hylics 2. Feel free to include stuff from it but... stealthily, I guess?) This is an "anything that feels somewhat like canon, please" sort of request! Love the mood, love the cast, love the little added details in their menu screen. Those can be prompts? Or the oddball stats? How do ToT's trick and treat freeforms apply to Hylics' overall... hylicsness, what would those guys think constitutes a "creepy" moment or a "fluffy" one?

Not into ships for this one, however I WILL say that Dedusmuln has all the proverbial curves in the right places. mostly their face.

Kentucky Route Zero: Weaver

Math, debt, the liminal state of almost being a ghost, seeing the world with a strange clarity... just anything Weaver, please! How'd she make her way to the town? What was it like for her to be working on Xanadu for a time? What about the community broadcast! Does she have an opinion on Carrington's oeuvre? You know... things... stuff. Weaver things. and stuff.

I love the whole cast and Weaver... wove... her story through most of them so feel free to bring in whomever. Not interested in ships here though.

Paradise Killer: Lady Love Dies, trick

A post-canon glimpse of life on '''''perfect''''' 25? That's not QUITE enough class consciousness to make the whole thing work, you guys. What does 'normal' life feel like to LD now? After following Henry's case and talking to Shinji so much, can she see that it's doomed to fail again, and then what? What IS Island 25 like, anyway? (what comes after Island 25, even?)

I liked the choice of canon romances - if it has to be just one I'd prefer it to be Crimson, but I'd also be interested in seeing what a V or triad with Doom Jazz would look like. They're all so chill about stuff

Pyre: Volfred, trick, treat

Pragmatic idealist, charismatic and bad at people, pacifist, activist, physiologically incapable of shutting up for a hot second, what's there not to love... I am very into either of the following: C. Volfred Sandalwood has a fantastic day; C. Volfred Sandalwood has a terrible no good day. Everything is great! Pre-exile antiestablishmentarian antics, maybe with Bertrude? Political gambits? The very physical dangers of the Downside which may or may not catch a scholar by surprise (who saves him?)? Tree problems? Meeting Oralech for the first time and Volfred thinks he himself is hot stuff but out of the two, Oralech is clearly the VIP? Feeling like he should live up to Lu Sclorian's legacy but he feels much closer to other Scribes (and what does Lu have to say about it, one way or another?)? The thrilling intimacy of Reading? The thrilling intimacy of lowercase reading also, maybe reading old manuscripts found in the Downside?

I very much ship him with Tariq and/or Oralech. The only canon ship I like is Hedwyn/Fikani. I also like Soliam/Gol, Bertrude/Pamitha and Celeste/Jodariel. Love all the Nightwings + Dalbert (+Deluge...?); love to dunk on Manley, Brighton and Lendel (I don't enjoy flat-out bashing, more like... I enjoy the way they are portrayed as horrible gremlins in canon and if they turn up in fic I'm not interested in more positive portrayals)

Signs of the Sojourner: Rhea, Elias, trick, treat

Once again pretty much an "anything in the style of canon" request. I love this setting, its themes and all the little lives that fill it. I am interested in a wide range of postcanon scenarios and love the whole cast - does Rhea come back to $town any number of years down the line and find $character? How'd their storyline end up in the medium-long term? What the hell is up with the Stranger (seriously, three runs and I never managed to speak with them, I have no idea)? What's life like for Elias back home, or in a new home if they can't keep the store, or if Rhea landed the Oscar ending or whatever (just, please, not dead Rhea. I love that ending but can't stand to consider what it'd do to Elias)? Or does he join the caravan just once? Who did Rhea grow to really like and can't wait to see every time? Any ghost stories or creepy encounters on the caravan's route? Does Thunder help?

I'm neutral on ships here - good with Rhea&Elias, good with background Rhea/Elias but I wouldn't like a romantic focus.

Totally Normal Wizard Apprentice: apprentice, wizard, master, trick, treat

(conflict of interest disclaimer, I illustrated this but didn't write nor nominate it) What awaits the apprentice outside the wizard's tower? It sounds like a pretty wild moon out there, I loved all the worldbuilding hints of the bigger setting. Does the wizard keep track of the apprentice, with her telescope or otherwise, and how does she take care of her ruined parlor? Was this all some sort of 5d chess on the master's part, and if so to what end? And what kind of otherworldly patience does this man possess, anyway, to handle the apprentice on a daily basis?

Twin Peaks: Margaret, Diane, Lucy, Tammy, trick, treat

(bass-boosted ethereal whooshing) For tricks, I would like to see any of these characters face the woods, the mystery of the woods, and/or a new symbol of your liking. Or: Margaret in the city, Diane and the moon, Lucy and the color blue, Tammy incognito.

For treats, a happy meeting. I love the whole cast and I'm always thrilled by gonzo "&" pairings, bring in whomever! Coffee and pie? The Bookhouse Boys? A kinder aspect of the woods?

Fandom-specific notes: love s3, love the books too. I like Lucy/Andy, Margaret/Sam fwiw, and rarepairs Tammy/Cynthia and Diane/Constance. Please no Fireman's-house-is-the-white-lodge, no Twin Perfect, no Judy-was-destroyed (nor is destroyable).

Arcade Spirits: Percy, Teo, treat

More than anything, I love the sense of group and camaraderie among the arcade's staff and regulars, and I'd love to see some more of it. I picked Percy and Teo 'cause they're my faves but anyone you may want to add, up to and including Sue, is very very welcome. Is there any aspect of gaming that feels like it could be adapted to this strange world of contemporary arcades? Cosplay shenanigans for everyone courtesy of Ashley? Any other activity that could show how Percy and/or Teo get along with the others, like they were all forming little groups during the beach chapter? It's such a feel-good canon, any feel-good situation would be great!

My Ari is with Percy but I'm not really interested in shipping here. All sorts of friendships though!

[ad1thi]

meri pyaari tony

okay so @iam93percentstardust got me rly excited about this new au and even though im never going to write it i just wanna write a lil so enjoy everybody!! (hopefully this will clear up what i meant by not a happy ending but also not an unhappy ending)

//

The phone rings once, twice before it cuts off, and James’ back stiffens.

On the table, his mother’s fingers have stilled - frozen in the action of pushing the birthday card for his 10 year old nephew into an envelope.

The phone rings again, just twice, long enough to be unmistakable but too short to actually answer.

He looks out to the heaving rain, and without even thinking of reaching for an umbrella, he’s already sprinting across the grounds of his house, uncaring of how soaked he’s getting as he pushes himself up and over the gate of the neighbouring house and into the attic.

In the molten, rusty room, on top of an old suitcase that he’s seen Tony sit on countless times with his feet swinging off the ground - is a 6 year old boy; fiddling with the buttons of his jacket.

James runs his hands across his face, wiping off the water that’s collected in the creases of his forehead, and walks over to the kid.

He must look a state to the kid, sopping wet and uncharacteristically happy despite said dampness, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I’m really hungry,” he says to the boy, grinning, “do you think I can borrow one of your fingers to eat?”

Instinctively, the boy puts his hands behind his back, shaking his head fervently and James pouts, “not even the one? You have 10!”

The kid is saved from answering from a call of “Peter!” ringing outside the attic, and James turns, watching Tony fumble with closing an umbrella and he pushes into the attic.

Its a scene that James has imagined a thousand times over, watching Tony meet him in the attic where their childhood selves because friends all those years ago - and yet his imagination somehow didn’t do justice to the scene in front of him.

It takes Tony a couple of seconds to realise that James is there, and his face splits into a hesitant smile thats over-run with a frown when the kid barrels into his leg.

Tony runs his finger through the kid’s hair, “go find your Papa Peter - I’ll be down in a couple of seconds”

He waits until the kid’s disappeared down the stairs to turn back to James, “so, are you guys bestfriends yet?”

“No,” James says, smiling that private smile he’d reserved for Tony, “but you know me - I grow on people”

“Its good to see you Rhodey,” Tony says, and its only the fact that he’s carrying his bodyweight in water while Tony is wearing an expensive suit that keeps him from crossing the room and wrapping his arms around Tony.

“I forget,” Tony says, settling down on the suitcase his son vacated, “was it 2 rings or 3 rings? Our emergency code?”

“2,” Rhodey says, lifting up his fingers, “but then again - everything was an emergency for you so we never had any other code”

“Dad told me you’d stopped by,” Tony says, “didn’t realise you cared so much about this old dump”

Rhodey chooses not to answer that, “So you’re finally taking Major Stark to your house huh? Took you long enough”

“I know,” Tony huffs, “we’ll be at each other’s throats by the end of the week, but what can you do?”

Tony gestures around the attic vaguely, “I wanted to give Peter a chance to see this house before he sold it though - let him see where his Dad grew up”

“Peter?” Rhodey raises an eyebrow, “like Peter Pan? And here I thought your child would have one of those weird names with an unnecessarily pretentious pronunciation”

Tony raises his hand to swat at Rhodey, and for a second its just like old times.

Rhodey settles down next to him, shoving him with his hip until Tony shifts enough to make space on the suitcase for him.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” Rhodey says softly, “I’ve imagined it 1000 times over. ‘Course, in my version you were in distinctly less clothing, on your knees begging for forgiveness while an epic revenge tune played in the background”

Tony chuckles, eyes crinkling into familiar crow’s feet, and Rhodey thinks that for all the years he spent hating Tony - nothing can compare to the decades he spent loving him.

“So, New York Best Seller Writer huh? You finally did it Rhodey,” Tony leans in with a conspiratorial look on his face, “I walked out on you way too early”

you shouldn’t have walked out on me at all, Rhodey thinks, but this isn’t the right time for that conversation.

(he wonders if there ever will be a right time for that conversation)

Instead, Rhodey asks, “have you read any of them?” and Tony scoffs, “have you met me?”

“I can barely get through the first couple of pages of essential stuff like manuals, do I look like I can read?”

“That being said,” Tony says, “with a cover that says The Wild Washerwoman will wash you away, and - fuck what was the other one?” he scrunches up his nose in thought, “Tricycle - it will puncture your life, how could I resist?”

It warms something dead inside Rhodey that Tony reads his books, that Tony knows them well enough to recite the gaudy catchphrases his PR team used to sell them.

“Yuck man,” Tony says, “honestly how far have you fallen for a couple of sales. I gotta say though, extremely entertaining”

“Yeah well,” Rhodey shrugs, “horror is easy. I’ve been trying to write a love story for the past three years now and I’m not sure how to end it”

the why goes unspoken, hanging in the air and making the room thick with tension.

Tony reaches out and cups his cheek, and it takes everything in Rhodey to not lean into it.

“you’ll finish it,” Tony says softly, “You’re my Rhodey - ‘course you’ll finish it”

Rhodey pushes off his seat suddenly, making it half way to the door before he remembers to turn around and tell Tony to “stay put, don’t move I’ll be right back”

And he runs through the rain again, ignoring the shouts of his father and his manager to grab the manuscript on his bed.

He pushes it under his jacket roughly and runs back, where Tony is still sitting on the old suitcase - legs dangling just above the floor.

He puts the manuscript in between his hands, and says in one short breath, “read it”

and so Tony does - though he does flip through large portions of the book and crucial plot points.

Its okay though, because Tony lived through those moments, so he’s allowed to embellish and skip to the end.

When he flips the last page and looks back up at Rhodey, there’s tears in his eyes - but Rhodey’s known him long enough to know that these are happy tears

“This is your version Rhodeybear,” Tony says, “mine would be a little different”

Rhodey shrugs delicately, thinking about the night he tore through 10 pages trying to get that final last first kiss right, “a happy ending sells right? Why - what would be different in your version?”

“Does it matter?” Tony’s voice is wet, “I like your version better”

“But you found your Mr Right,” Rhodey says matter of factly, and Tony just shakes his head, “more like Mr Right place right time”

“But,”  Tony wipes away the stray tear on his cheek, “he gave me Peter so I can’t complain. You should see me as a dad platypus, it’s like I was made for this role. Being a dad, thats the one thing I’m not a disaster at”

Tony holds out the manuscript, but Rhodey pushes it back gently shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone else reading this. Not my manager, not your husband, nobody else. The story in those pages, that’s ours, just ours.”

Tony leans up and presses a soft kiss on Rhodey’s cheek, featherlight but its what makes Rhodey reach out and say.

“I can still take you away if you want. Just say the word and I’ll carry you over my shoulder - away from all of this”

Tony opens his mouth to reply, but he’s cut off by Peter barrelling in, making grabby arms at his father.

Tony hefts up his son, arm caught around Peter’s waist and he looks at Rhodey with a mixture of nostalgia and regret, “I think I might be a bit too heavy for you now honeybear”

Tony leans in and rubs his nose against Peter’s cheek and in Rhodey’s mind, he’s right there with Tony - arms around the two most important boys in his life.

But in reality, there’s a distance between them, a space that try as he might, Rhodey can’t cross.

For the first time in almost 5 years, that doesn’t make him sad anymore.

you should see me as a dad platypus, Tony had said, and Rhodey’s seeing it now.

Oddly, it doesn’t hurt quite as much as he always thought it would.

“We have a party to get to right?” Tony says finally, setting Peter down so that they can walk down the stairs, “your nephew’s 10th birthday is it?”

The rain hasn’t let up, but in all fairness to his family - neither has the party because Rhodey and Tony make their way down to see a gaggle of uncles and aunts dancing in the grounds anyway, music coming from a speaker hidden away safely from the porch.

Peter runs across the field to a man with blue eyes and blond hair, who instantly bend down and picks him up - spinning him around and smiling when Peter shrieks about how wet he’s getting.

“One dance?” Rhodey asks, extending his hand out to Tony, “for old time’s sake?”

The look that Tony sends his way cannot be described as anything but pure adoration when he accepts Rhodey’s hand, giggling when Rhodey uses the momentum to pull him in close to his chest and snag an arm around his waist.

He’s consciously aware of the weight of the metal band around Tony’s finger pressing into his as they sway to the music, but it doesn’t bother him anymore.

To the rest of the world, he’s always be a Mr someone - but to Rhodey, he has and forever will be, his very first love, Tony.

Fin

[sparklerose222]

The Super Girls

Chapter 2

Word Count: 1,847

Characters: Moriah Heart, Noriah Heart, Julia Royal, Lara Lightwood, Vanessa Storm, Folmanus Evermore

Warnings: Minor violence, and I will edit if any more are found.

Parings: future platonic LAMPD

Summary: The Super Girls are formed.

Previous chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1

“You really think that I will accept this. She is a kid.”

“And so are Julia and you, I’m the only adult here. I mean, it is only a three-year difference between 12 and 15. She has been a hero for the same amount of time as us, fighting Folmanus alone when we are meant to be fighting him together.”

“It is not our fault that we were separated. We became heroes, we proved our worth, what has she done. I've heard nothing about Split other than the occasional robbery.”

“That is because Folmanus won't appear in any written history, none will ever be brave enough to write about him, and you know that. We thought that he will come in two more years and we were going to look for him then, but we were wrong. Because of our arrogance, we let the youngest of us fight him alone. Like it or not, she knows the most about him than any of us. You just need to talk to her like the equal she is and get to know her.”

“You guys need to quiet it down, I could hear muffled yelling from the main road, and that’s five miles away.”

“Oops.”

“Yeah, oops, by the way, my name is Moriah. I never told any of you my name last week.”

“Glad you found your way here, too bad I have to leave. My publisher wants my manuscript by tomorrow, and I still have 4 more chapters to write.”

“You’re a writer? How did I not know that? I’ve known you for seven years?”

“Even I knew that and I met her last week. I love your books, I was just too irritated that day to fangirl after you transformed back.”

“Well, good to know I have another fan. Tic, could you please portal me home. I would appreciate it.”

“Sure, even though I know that you are only doing this so that I am alone with Moriah. There you go.”

“Thanks, Tic, and you know I’m not that sneaky. I really do have to finish.”

That’s when a purple portal opened up, and Lara left me alone with TicTock. The very girl who still hasn’t told me her name.

“So, don’t you have school today.”

“I don’t know. Don’t you?”

“Smooth, real smooth. But I’m serious, I’m homeschooled, and my mom knows about me being a Super Girl.”

“Parent-teacher conference, and my mom thinks I have friends.”

“So, you don’t have friends. Maybe you should just stop being a Super Girl so you can have time to make some.”

“Thanks, I needed that, not. You’re never getting rid of me, I am a Super Girl like it or not, and there is nothing you can do about it. The reason why I don’t have friends is that I know I will be dead in two years, and I don’t need anything trying to distract me.”

“Okay, I think I struck a chord there.”

This girl gets me so angry; I don’t know how to handle it. Couple it with her irritation, and it only makes it worse. Sometimes I hate being an empath. 

“Hiya Split Yin, I’m Julia, by the way. Noriah and I were just catching up, what are you two talking about.”

“Nothing much, Nori, do you want to leave. I sure mom is going to be coming home soon.”

“So, that bad, usually my sister is very patient with people. After keeping her powers a secret since she was three, she is good at dealing with her emotions around others.”

“You’ve had your powers for that long and kept them a secret. From how many?”

“Everyone. The hardest part is keeping my powers hidden from my mom, dad, and older brother.”

Though it doesn’t help that my mom would prefer if people just didn’t use their powers at all and deny who they are. If she were to find out that I am a superhero, I don’t think she would ever let me out of the house again. I wonder if any more of these girl’s families know what they are doing or is it just TicTocks. Now an alarm is going off, which means Folmanus is back on earth. That was the best break I’ve had in six years.

“Great, why don’t you two stay here and hold down the fort? Come on, Juli, let’s go.”

With that, TicTock pulls Juli through the portal; she just open, and they were gone. Not even Noriah could run fast enough to get through before it closed. Leaving us behind.

I am going to blowout her eardrums.

Morie, come on, we need to get to the town's square before those girls get themselves killed, grab my hand we need to refuse.

Fine, how do you have a level head

With that, I grabbed Noriah’s hand and relinked our charms. Completing the symbol of balance, refusing us back together, and letting her take control so she can use her super speed. We were able to get the town's square in two minutes flat, cracking our charms along the way so we could transform. The jewelry we whare dampen our powers because they are too strong to handle on a day to day bases. I mean, I can feel the emotions of everyone in the city and pinpoint where they are. Though I’m glad that it doesn’t overwhelm me.

I am going to be giving a birds-eye view of this fight:

Just as Split ran in on the scene, Wonder was falling out of the sky unconscious.

“Yang, go check for civilians I’ll catch her.”

“Got it.”

With a sonic scream, Yin was able to slow Wonder’s fall enough that when she hit the concrete, it only left a few small scratches. Luckily, the low impact jolted her awake, albeit a little sore.

“Why are you just now getting here? TicTock said that you weren’t interested in fighting anymore. How can you think that’s okay? You are meant to be part of the team.”

Yin says nothing as she helps her up, and Yang runs up to them, not hearing what was just said.

“There were a few people trapped in their houses, but I got them out. Let’s get back to the fight and help the other two.”

With a nod, the two girls followed the other. When they got to TicTock and Storm, they were on the ground, struggling to get back up.

In front of them was the elven king, Folmanus. His skin was silver with his ears and teeth pointed. He was also wearing a Victorian like outfit that flattered him well. Almost every Super Girl thought that if he wasn’t trying to take over the world, they would try and date him, accept Morie, who was tired of fighting him. I mean, the guy even knew how strong women can be. He then saw the last three girls run-up.

“Finally, you get here Split Yin, I was getting bored with these weaklings who think they can win. Please tell me that you all together will make this fight fun again?”

“Sorry to bore you, Folmanus. We will do our best to fix that.”

Once Tic and Storm stood next to the others ready to fight alongside them as equals for the first time, not being aware of it, there was a spark that manifested into weapons. 

For Split, a double-edged katana that could break into two. Wonder received a staff that she could use to focus her energy into a blast of power. TicTock got a pendulum similar to one in old clocks that ticked to the time of the multiverse. Finally, Storm summoned a broad sword that can change its composition to whatever element that she wants.

“So you think little toys can help you defeat me? Bring it on.”

Without another word, the girls dove into attack as one. Folmanus was fast and agile, but with these five girls working better together than ever before, he felt himself being pushed back. They were far from perfect, and they almost hit each other a few times, but they were aware of each other this time, and they were winning. See, Folmanus realized there first fight with all of them together, he would have killed them without trying. Where’s the fun in that? So once they got a single nick on him, he retreated and took a break to see if they would get better. They did.

This time they pushed him back into his portal severely wounded. Storm slashing him along the length of his arm, TicTock hitting him in the head twice, Split Yin taking out his legs while Yang held him in place, and finally, Wonder using her staff to lift him and force him through the portal. It will take him a good bit to heal. But he’ll be back and was glad to have something that pushed him to his limit. Maybe he will get stronger without absorbing the Super Girls.

Once back in his house that he made centuries ago for if he needed to hide, Folmanus morphed into his human form that looked unharmed, but he was still in a lot of pain. He still got ready for the job he got six years ago, so he didn’t have to steal everything he needed. One day he will be king again.

“Did we do that?”

“Yes, Yin, we did that. We did some real damage to him.”

“Why is she so out of it? Is she really that surprised that we beat him?”

“We didn’t beat him. We just damaged him a great deal today. He is an eternal Elf that can not be killed so easily. I am surprised because the most damage Nori and I have ever done to him was a scratch. Today we hurt him as a team. That’s a big deal.”

“How do you think that we’re a team? A teammate wouldn’t just pick and choose when they help, and when they don’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how she told Tic that she didn’t feel like fighting anymore and was going home.”

“No, Morie didn’t say that. Your friend TicTock told us to stay here and then left us behind. Some teammates. So TicTock does that mean that you are a liar and a sneak.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you would take the hint and go home, but I was wrong, and I am glad because I realized that we really do need you. I think you should know that I’m Vannessa. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You really did that? Nessa, that’s not okay. Why did you lie to me?”

“Because I thought that we didn’t need them, but we were getting pummeled until after they showed up. I'm thrilled you made it in time, I promise to never pull a stunt like that again.”

“I guess we can forgive you. As long as you finally see us as Super Girls.”

“Definitely”

“Yay, Best friends.”

“I don’t know about that one yet.”

“Agreed.”

————————————————–

Chapter 3 <3

Authors note: I tried to do a small fight scene, and I would really like some feedback on it. I hope you enjoyed chapter 2, thanks for reading.

[theabominableblogger]

Rewatching “Crimson Peak”

Discussing this movie on the Gotham group chat with @ckatattack and decided “Eff it, Imma watch it again.”

Lez go!

“Rent movie for $3.99″ absolutely

Holy crap, I forgot about this opening lullaby during the logo.  Holy shit.

For some reason, the bloody Edith in the opening shot really looks like something the girl behind MadeYewLook should do.  Other Alexis, hear me out!

These colors (in young Edith’s bedroom)!

*flinches when the first ghost puts her hand on Young Edith’s shoulder*

You ever had someone put their hand on your shoulder when you’re like seconds away from falling asleep?  Scariest shit ever.

*silently jams out to the music when Edith is traveling to the publisher*

I freaking LOVE Edith’s yellow dress in this movie.  The puffy shoulders, the black under dress, the straw hat, love it.

“Actually, Mrs. McMichael, I would prefer Mary Shelley.  She died a widow.”  *z snaps*

“The ghost is just a metaphor.  For the past.”  Boom there’s the whole movie.

“He told me it needed a love story.  Can you believe that?”  AGAIN-

Also holy shit, Bobby from Supernatural is Edith’s dad!

For a second, I thought this typing house looked like a science fair.

AND THERE HE [Tom HIddleston] ISSSS!!

I’m sorry, I’m just smiling... so hard at this [Edith and Thomas’s first scene together]

Listen, if we get a scene in the Loki TV show where we see him in an outfit very close to the one he wears in this movie, I will... die.  That’s it.  I’ll just die.

The aesthetics for most of Guillermo del Toro’s movies are wonderful.  The like 95% period accurate clothing, the yellow lighting, the red and green wallpapers OH MY GOD I JUST NOTICED THE RED AND GREEN

*The door knob starts creaking*  Oh boy

That shot of Edith’s face in half shadow when she’s about ready to close the door but she sees the ghost of her mother?  Good stuff.

*Thomas waits near the staircase*  OH SNAP HE LOOK GOOD

OHHHHHHH THAT TRANSITIONNNNN [from the staircase to the ballroom]!!

I also love the detail that Lucille’s dress is ten years too old for her because she is still stuck in the past when it comes to life.

*grins like an idiot when Thomas offers the candle to Edith*

There are so many people gasping in this scene

I wonder if they actually did try to do the waltz with the actual candle lit for filming or did they do some VFX to make it look like it was lit the whole time?  Part of me thinks that that flame’s real but I don’t know.

Where have I seen the guy who plays the investigator before?

“The man that just left, among other ailments, is colorblind....only the majority around him does.  Now that man will never perceive the colors red or green.  He only accepts their existence because the majority around him does.”  “Perhaps we only notice things when the time comes for us to see them.”  OH MY GOD ALL THE RED AND GREEN IN EDITH’S HOME

Charlie Hunnam’s Britsh accent slipped in when he said “understand”

Also I want this man to play Green Arrow in the DCEU

Did she [Lucille] just rub the dead butterfly on her face?

*Close of ants feeding on dead butterfly*  Thanks, that was needed.

*Thomas reveals the ring he was going to give Edith*  BOY YOU KNEW HER FOR LIKE A THREE DAYS AND A NIGHT

Were those all the previous marriage certificates?

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have an unexpected announcement.  Sir Thomas?”  *sinks down in seat and hisses nervously*

*is extremely uncomfortable when Thomas has to insult Edith’s novel in front of her*

*Edith slaps Thomas*  Well he took that pretty well.

*Lucille in the doorway of the dining room*  You know what, eff you.

*jaw drops in horror when someone smashes Mr. Cushing’s face in the sink repeatedly, killing him*

I love that Edith is still in her nightgown and she still has bed head (of a sorts) and yet she ran to the hotel, just throwing on a coat and leaving her reading glasses on.

*slams hands on laptop*  THESE.  TRANSITIONS.

I FORGOT ABOUT THE PUPPER!

BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE GREEN WALLPAPER, SET DESIGNERS!

I’m sorry, was that a slight kiss mark on Edith’s chin?  Did I see that right?

Boy, you be hugging your sister for way too long...

*Lucille refuses to give Edith a copy of the keys*  Electric chair.

“You chose her.  Why?”  BECAUSE HE LOVES HER YOU BITCH

*One of the ghosts sneaks up on Edith in the bathroom*  We see you, @actordougjones!!  I see you!!

*Thomas loudly stirs Edith’s tea for her*  I’m suddenly flashing back to the tea cup from “Get Out”

So would the Sunken Place for this scenario just be completely red from the red clay?  Thoughts to think about.

Wait, how long is Mia Wasikowska’s hair?  Is that all real?  Jeez!  The last time I had hair down to my butt was in elementary school.

“Mother.”  Oo woo oo...

Look, I’ve already seen this movie, but I already want Lucille to shut the hell up.

I’m sorry, was that a porn book Lucille just showed Edith?

Well damn they replaced that sink real quick!

*Thomas watches Edith as she watches one of his contraptions*  S T O P

Mr. del Toro, you have been reading my list of favorite romantic tropes.  Sir please-

*Edith and Thomas kiss passionately*  OH... OHH...

*gestures in the air with frustration when Lucille enters the room*

GO AWAY

Can we start taking shots every time Edith starts wandering around the halls in her nightgown holding a candelabra in this movie?

GREEEEEENNNNNN...

*One of the ghosts starts crawling on the floor, moaning and wailing*  Haha me

*to the tune of “Sugar We’re Going Down”*  WE’RE GOING DOWN DOWN INTO THE RED CLAY BASEMENT!  EDITH WE’RE GOING DOWN-

“My hands are getting rough.  Your father would approve.”  Why would I just realize that?  Man, I’m getting slow.

The last time I watched this movie was in 2016.  I watched the trailer back when I was a senior in high school.  And I watched that trailer multiple times.

I love the ghost as the scarecrow

Girl, you are coughing up blood.  You have been poisoned.

Edith back at it again wandering around at night!  Take a shot!

This was a terrible decision for me to watch this at like midnight.  Why did I do this?

OK, so which one of these ghosts is Javier Botet?

Oh my gosh, the chair Edith is in is bigger than last time because she’s being swallowed by the house. 

AND ANOTHER TRANSITION!

“Sir Thomas is already married.”  BUM BUM BUMMM!!

*has to look away as Thomas and Edith get it on*

Aaand there’s the English countryside right there.  I’m gonna look back away now.

“Lucille, we’re back!”  Lucille, you son of a bitch.

“You slept there?  You two... alone...”  Yeah, that’s what husband and wife do.  They get together, sleep together, do a lot of things together.  Jesus.

“I was so alone.  I can’t be alone.”  Lady, I just want you to shut the hell up.

OK, so now I forget what’s in the ES suitcase?  Enola’s body?  What’s up?

Oh, it’s just a suitcase full of other stuff.  Never mind.  I thought it was gonna be her body.

Lemme guess the ghost is gonna rise out of the red goo?  Yep!

I’m getting a lot of callbacks to “The Shining” like with all the red and then the ghost with the ax in her head climbing out of the tub

Jessica Chastain’s accent keeps slipping.  Am I the only one who’s noticed?

*laughing*  Oh my God, again!  Take a shot!

Oh my God they freaking swindled a lady in a wheelchair.  Ohhhh my God...

WAIT I FORGOT THAT WAS ENOLA’S DOG!

“The poison... is in the tea!”  Funnnnnnnnn....

Oh but of course she got snowed in. 

“I [Lucille] tended Mother in this bed.”  *so done*

STOP EFFING... SCRAPING THE TEA CUP GODDAMN

STOP IT

So is Lucille the older sibling?  Oh yeah she is because she said she tended to their mom

*completely done with Lucille’s BS*

Whoever did the set design for Allerdale Hall, I want to send them flowers and my love

OK I know for a fact that that’s Doug Jones as the ghost of Enola

WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS SHIT

*quickly rips out earphones*

*cue a very long string of expletives and looking up and away from the screen*

EXCUSE ME HER [expletive] BACK IS BROKEN!  SHE HAS LOST THE WILL TO WALK!

*singing* ALAAANNNN THE UNSUNG HE-ROOOOOO!!!

LUCILLE I WANT YOU *laughing* TO SHUT THE HELL UP

*gasps*  WAIT SHE TOOK THE RING BACK FROM EDITH!

“I’m [Alan] here to take you [Edith] away.”  *singing*  They’re going to take me away, a ha, they’re going to take me away!

Wait he’s a doctor and he just yanks that sucker out of his arm pit?  You’d think he’d be smarter than that.

OH MY GOD THEY KILLED THE DOG

*shakes head at the whole fiasco*

*ends up glaring at Lucille as she tosses Edith’s manuscript in the fire*

Edith, while she’s looking away, just freaking tear that... *mimes tearing motion*

Oh my God of course she [Lucille] has a drawer full of the victim’s hairs

“You told me you loved me!”  “I do!”  AGH

*Thomas throws the law papers in the fire*  YAASSSS!!

*gasps when Lucille stabs Thomas*

*jaw drops in horror when Thomas just shanked IN THE FACE*

GOD AND YOU CAN HEAR THE BONE-

*Thomas dies*  Jeeesus... that was a good death scene.

God the shot of Lucille running down the stairs from behind?  Ugh!  And with the flowing fabric behind her!  Freaking gorgeous

*Edith goes down in the elevator*  Bye bish

That is a huge freaking meat cleaver

Seeing Edith with her steak knife going up against Lucille reminds me of that freaking chainsaw fight from “Mandy” with Nicholas Cage

This final set piece!

*Edith goes up against Lucille with a shovel*  MY NAME IS INIGO MONTOYA!  YOU KILLED MY FATHER!  PREPARE TO DIE!

*Ghost Thomas*  Those prosthetics look amazing

*Ghost Thomas nuzzles against Edith’s hand before disappearing*  God it’s the little movements.  del Toro freaking GETS it

*nods when the end credits start*

[harrisonstories]

Above: The Beatles playing at The Cavern (1962), Below: Some of George Harrison’s letters to Margaret “Maggie” Price (2019) [click to enlarge]

NOTE: This is a lovely piece written by Anne for the BeatlesTalk blog. It was originally in Dutch and can be found here (if anyone would be willing to provide a better translation, let me know). Pat Hodgett is referenced a few times, and if that name sounds familiar, it’s because this is the same Pat who wrote about the Cavern days in the 60s, here and here.

“When George Harrison looked at me, I forgot everything around me” - in conversation with Margaret Price

We are still in Ye Cracke, the Liverpool pub where John Lennon and Stuart Sutcliffe came to drink many beers during their student days. There are old stories of wild scenes. Of a drunken John Lennon who, swimming, made a splash of beer on his stomach. He will undoubtedly have had the laughters on his hand: young, challenging, full of bravado, a life ahead of him. Where would Lennon have been, I think. On the floor or perhaps on the small bar that is to the left of the entrance? There are not many more options. Soon my attention is back with the lady who has just joined our company and Mark Lewisohn shifts a pencil drawing.

Puzzle pieces

She appears to be called Margaret Price and from her conversation with Mark I notice that they have known each other a little longer. “You’ll definitely have to talk to Margaret later,” Mark tells me. “Margaret is one of the girls who first followed The Beatles in The Cavern.” That sounds interesting. Apparently Margaret helps Mark to put a number of puzzle pieces in that great Beatles story in place. The conversation is about Polythene Pam, who was immortalised by John Lennon with a short song in the great Abbey Road medley. “No Mark, that’s not Polythene Pam either”

As far as we know, Lennon based his Polythene Pam on two women he met in his younger years. One of them was probably Pat Dawson (Hodgett), who belonged to the group with earliest Beatles fans. Just like Margaret, she was one of these Cavernites. Mark is still looking for a photo of Pat. Her features are engraved in Margaret’s memory, so she made an attempt to mark Pat in a pencil drawing. It turns out that Mark regularly emails Margaret with a photo. Always with the question: “Is this then Polythene Pat?” Email after email, photo after photo. Margaret’s answer is always: “No, Mark, that’s not Pat either.” The drawing must ensure that the flow of e-mails stops. Unless of course Mark really thinks he found Pat. “I once had her daughter’s phone number,” Margaret involves me in the conversation. “But I never called again.” A track can end up dead. Years pass and people disappear in the past.

284 steps in 4 minutes

When Mark and Margaret have finished talking, we get the chance to get to know her more extensively. She was about 15 years old at the time and everyone still called her Maggie. Small in stature, timid and … head over heels in love with George Harrison, who was just a few years older. Maggie went to work immediately after high school, at the regional office of department store chain FW Woolworth. Her lunch break began at noon and together with her friends she was, exactly 284 steps and 4 minutes later at The Cavern in Mathew Street. They showed their membership card, threw the required entrance fees at the counter and rushed down the stairs. There was no time to lose: coats and bags on the front seats and quickly to the bar for a cup of tea and a sandwich. At 12. The Beatles (with Pete Best in their ranks) would start playing for 15 hours. Until 1.15 p.m. Then Maggie and her fellow Cavernites had to return to the office quickly. Undoubtedly full of adrenaline, after seeing their favourite band.

“Without The Beatles there would be no blow in Liverpool”

“We all liked the Beatles, but I had something special with George,” says Margaret. His look was so special. When he looked at me, I forgot everything around me: “He was very warm, he drew you in.” Or George knew she was crazy about him …“Yes, he knew that, he also knew me by name. I wasn’t sure about the others. ” Margaret started to correspond with George and always received a faithful response to her letters. “It was incredibly boring when The Beatles left for Hamburg for extended periods,” she says. We didn’t feel like going to look at other bands, we were bored to death.” Maggie George also said that in her letters, which also dealt with everyday life:

George shares the news about the EMI contract with Maggie

From the letter that George Maggie sent from The Star Club in Hamburg, Mark Lewisohn quoted an important passage that was relevant to his historiography about The Beatles. As I write this story, I grabbed the Extended Edition of Tune In, I open part two and slide my finger along the letter P in the index: Price, Margaret. There she is! With references to pages 1192, 1452 and 1515. Presumably in May 1962, George writes to Maggie from Hamburg: “We are all very happy about Parlophone, as it is a big break for us. We just want to work hard & clean for a hit with whatever we record. We don’t yet know what the producer will want.” The passage refers to the good news that The Beatles in Hamburg received from Brian Epstein: he had finally managed to arrange a recording contract for them: on 6 June 1962 in London. From the other letters from Hamburg, George Maggie regularly says that life is over there and longing for home. “Are you also in the theater tomorrow at Mark’s lecture?” Margaret asks me. “Then I’ll take the letters.” A promising offer.

In a plastic bag

When we have climbed the stairs of the Epstein Theater the next evening, I can already see Margaret on the lookout above. “I have the letters with me,” she says, laying her hand on her shoulder bag. “Maybe we can talk further later.” After the show we take a joint taxi to Hope Street, for a seat in the lobby of the hotel where Mark Lewisohn is staying. Wibo, Michiel and Jan Cees talk to Mark, I’m fine: on the couch next to Margaret.

The letters arrive on the table

Her bag opens and she places a number of copies and a thick manuscript on the table. ‘I had to sell the original letters when I got divorced in 1995 and needed the money. Moreover, I wanted them to be better preserved. They had been in a plastic bag for years and I saw them slowly but surely perish. Based on the copies and Margaret’s personal memories, a friend of mine wrote the manuscript of what could become her book: “He supplemented my memories with a good story about the context, just as Mark would.” I browse through the A4 pages and see a very well written story.

Dignity and pride

Margaret explains what it was like to lose The Beatles to London and to the world: “Everything changed. In The Cavern it became more and more crowded, we as friends of the band lost our places to the real fans, and thus pushed a bit further back. When The Beatles went to London, we were angry with the city government. Why didn’t Liverpool have good recording studios, why couldn’t we keep The Beatles? Why did we, as friends of the band, have so enthusiastically purchased that first single Love Me Do? Had we made The Beatles too big for that?” Margaret went on with her life, just like the other Cavernites: “For us, those world-famous Beatles were no longer the guys we were laughing and waving shyly in a local coffee shop. Once we were boys who, after their evening performances, which I also visited, said to me: ‘Shall we take you home? Get on in.’ That is how our contact with them was. We were not fans, we were their friends at the time and we did not want to run after them. When they really became famous, I didn’t follow them anymore. It wasn’t the same anymore.” I listen carefully and witness a beautiful piece of Liverpool dignity and pride.

With a birthday cake to George

One of Margaret’s most precious memories of George is his gentleness: "Pat Hodgett’s mother had a Bed & Breakfast on Mount Pleasant, was able to cook and bake well and was prepared to make a birthday cake for George. Pat and I took bus 74 on Georges birthday to his parental home on Macketts Lane to offer him that cake. Although George himself was not at home, his parents let us in. They apologised for the bare walls of the new social housing where they had recently moved into. The plaster still had to dry, no paperwork was allowed. We didn’t care. We were allowed to browse in George’s record collection, which contained a lot of music by Carl Perkins. The next day as I ran down the stairs of The Cavern during my lunch break, George was waiting for me at the bottom. He grabbed my arms and thanked me for the cake. George was a nice boy. He used to joke at me, while I was standing behind a group of worshipers. A few days later I received a letter from him, in which he apologised: “You know, Mag, I had too much of a drink.”

Sharing with the world

At the end of the evening I ask Margaret if she will publish the manuscript with the letters and her memories. “At the time I mainly wrote it down for my children and grandchildren. Would anyone else be waiting for my story?” she answers. "I think there are certainly enthusiasts to read your book. Maybe more than you think,” I tell her. “Moreover, you have a beautiful manuscript ready.” “Maybe I should find out if I still have the rights, or have to acquire, to quote from those letters,” she hesitates. “I never really worked on that.” We say goodbye and exchange e-mail addresses. I intend to email Margaret now and then to continue to encourage her to share her stories with the world.

[harrysdimplles]

of tummy aches and unicorns

or the one where Harry discovers something about the future in an unusual way

"Babe?" his voice sounded strained on the phone which got YN on alert, the manuscript she was making notes for being forgotten real quick

"Harry? Is everything alright? Are you ok?" they haven't seen each other for days now, both of their schedules a bit more hectic than they're used to, so, noticing how tired her boyfriend's voice sounds makes her heart ache.

"Yeah, love" if she closes her eyes she can see it: the way he runs his hand through his long locks, sighing into the speaker "I'm just fucking exhausted is all"

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not right now, no." there's rustling on the line, and then he speaks up again "Can you do me a favor? You mind going to Rosie's school for me? I just got a call telling me she's a bit under the wheater...."

"Sure!" she's out of her chair as soon as the words register on her brain, reaching for the car keys on the desk drawer, and the manuscripts she has to get back to her boss by Monday, the image of a blond little girl on her mind. "I think I can be there in 20 minutes top, I'm not sure if you have to let them know I'm coming"

"I put your name on her pick up sheet on the start of the school year...I should have told you that before, right? Asked you if that was ok... "

"Harry, breath. It's ok."

"Shit, shit, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be asking you to do this, I never thought I would have to... you have work and class tonight but my mom is out of town and it would take me forever to get there with the bloody traffic on this city..."

"Harry, I said it's ok. I wanna help, alright? I'll call you when I get her home so you can say hi, how about that?" Rosie's almost four now, and she and YN have been growing closer and closer for the year they have known each other, and she truly hopes the little one doesn't hate that it's her coming over, not her father.

She's really fallen for Harry, and she gets a little bit more enchanted by Rosie every time those giant green eyes look up at her...she wants this to work. Really, really do.

"You're an angel, did I tell you that?"

"Not today, you hadn't done that yet" she's chuckling when she gets in the car "I have to go now, dimples. I'll see you tonight, yeah?"

"It's a date. Drive safe, my love." he murmurs, and then the line goes dead.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

YN gets to the infirmary of the giant building as soon as her legs will carry her, knocking on the half-closed door to get the nurse's attention.

"Hi, I'm YN. I'm here for Rosie?" the little girl snaps her head up when she hears her name, her curly hair in a bit of a mess, making a smile paint the woman's lips... Harry's the best father any kid could ask for, but his hairdressing skills...

"Oh right. The reception desk told us you were coming..."  the red headed woman is reading a file as YN enters the room, crouching down in front of the couch  Rosie's at.

"YN!" her name is the last thing the poor kid can say before she starts crying, launching herself at the older one "my tummy hurts, YN"

"I know, lovie. It's gonna be ok, yeah? We're gonna fix it" she wasn't expecting such a welcome, but she guesses feeling poorly must make Rose more clingy, just like her daddy. "We're gonna get you home in a bit, it's ok" she's caressing her back now, getting up with the tiny body on her arms.

"We're fairly certain this is just a bug that seems to be going around the school, but you should watch her anyway" the nurse smiles at Rosie when the girl waves at her for a second, giving YN her fairy backpack

"I'll do it. Thanks for looking after her" and then she's walking out, little fingers carding through the locks of her hair.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Rosie fell asleep on the ride back, only opening her eyes long enough to be changed and take some strawberry flavored medicine, so YN had been working quietly on the living room floor ever since they got to the apartment, when she hears a whimper coming from the hallway:

"Hi darlin" her voice is low and she smiles a bit watching the way the girl rubs at her eyes over and over "does your tummy feel better?"

"No" she's fisting an old blanket Harry says she got as a baby when she walks over, unicorn shorts making her seem smaller "I'm hungry"

"Let's find you a snack, then" she hugs YN's leg when the woman stands up, something she does whenever they are out and she wants Harry to pick her up but won't ask "you wanna help me find everything?" Rosie's nodding her head when the woman sets her on her hips, heading for the kitchen in search of the chicken soup she made earlier, the one thing she can really make.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry only makes it home late, and he feels like the worst father on earth when he does as well: he talked to his daughter on the bloody phone all day instead of looking after her, made his girlfriend lose class and ended up fucking up the deal he was supposed to settle for his company anyway.

He pretty much hates himself when he walks out of Rosie's room that night, five songs and two bedtime stories in.

"She went down ok?" YN's rubbing the towel over her wet hair when he gets in, pulling of his tie as if the piece of cloth was to blame for his crappy day.

"Yeah" his arms pull her close when she walks by him, the first moment of relaxation he's had all day "Told me all about how you cooked, singed, and how much better  than me at coloring princess' books you are. Thank you, baby"

"No need to thank me, H" she pulls him down for a kiss then, slow and sweet, her hands  messing with his hair that's getting adorably long now "We had a great time, even if I hate that she felt sick"

"Really, thank you. You didn't have to."

"I know, but I want to" she says it firmly, like she knows he needs the reassurance. She probably does. "Don't beat yourself up, alright? She's not gonna hate you because you got stuck at work once, Harry"

"I can't let that happen again. I'm all she has, YN. She needs to know she comes first" knocking up a gold digger might be the worst mistake he's ever made, but the guy won't let it get to his baby girl. Ever.

"She does. You do everything, H. You're always there, and she knows it. You're her whole world. You're her hero... She loves you"

"How are you even real?" she feels more than hears the question, his mouth brushing hers. "How did I get so lucky?" then he's kissing her again, purring passion and need into the contact, wanting to let go of everything that's not her for a while.

As time goes by, he remembers the sleepy words Rosie whispered to him in the dark, wanting to know if he thought YN could be the princess of their story, the one they had to look for together, the one who would give them a happy ending.

He can't wait to tell her he thinks it's time to stop looking, after all.

[village-skeptic]

ADOW Hogwarts House Sorting! I think Matthew is a Gryffindor and Diana a Ravenclaw, but what's your thoughts?

Darling anon: thank you for this very thought-provoking ask! I’m sorry that it took such a while for me to answer it - and that my answer ultimately got so long that I had to stick it beneath a cut.I’ve been ping-ponging back and forth on different possibilities for Matthew and Diana’s Houses for a while now, which leads me to my first conclusion: if nothing else, I feel quite sure that the Sortings for both of these two would have resulted in a wicked case of Hatstall.But even the most profound cases of deadlock have to be resolved in a House Sorting one way or the other. And so: a slightly-rambling essay on Diana and Matthew’s character evolution, and personality tropes in two different magical universes below the cut…

First of all, I know we’re just using the Houses as a personality metric, but given that ADOW is a magical universe, I find it amusing to consider situations in which Matthew and Diana might actually have encountered the Sorting Hat as a magical artifact. The interesting thing to me is that both of them (for most of their lives) would have avoided it like the plague.

Diana, anxiously: You say that putting this hat on is a necessary first step to beginning my formal magical education? *instinctively Timewalks fifteen minutes into the future to avoid the whole thing*Matthew, coolly: As a 1500 year old French-born vampire, I could not possibly belong anywhere in a school for British witches.But let’s pretend they’re encountering the Sorting Hat early in their lives, as an expected ritual. Here, I think you’re right about Diana - she ends up in Ravenclaw, mostly due to her own negotiating with the Hat. I’m reminded of Harry’s silent plea - not Slytherin! - except for Diana, communing with the Sorting Hat, I think it would be not Gryffindor! It’s the Hat’s job to sort through someone’s potential, and I refuse to believe all of Diana’s very-present mettle would go unnoticed. But as a young girl, still reeling from the deaths of her parents, I think Diana would hear all of the bravery-bravery-bravery stuff associated with Gryffindor and think oh God, anything but that, please. Far better to end up with housemates who will understand the comfort of escaping into a good book, and the very real pleasures of research, rather than pushing her to do all kinds of extroverted joiner activities. 

It’s really difficult to think about an analogue for this stage with Matthew. Eleven-year-old human Matthew  - we know he liked tools and was bright and inquisitive, so maybe a Ravenclaw? But if we somehow reverse-engineer an eleven-year-old version of Matthew de Clairmont, son of Ysabeau, stepson of Phillippe, brother of Baldwin and Louisa -I mean, really. The de Clairmonts are a Slytherin family through and through. All jokes about blood purity aside (and look, who would have more invested in the question of blood purity than a bunch of vampires?), cunning and ambition is endemic there. There’s always been a de Clairmont on the Congregation? Mmm-hmm mmm-hmm.  

But that’s just the family, you say. What about Matthew himself? Those Slytherin qualities are absolutely part of his character, especially in the earliest episodes. We see ruthless, calculating Matthew figuring out how to get Diana to share what she knows about Ashmole 782; we also see this side of him in action as he outmanuevers Baldwin by calling upon his fealty and obedience as a member of the Brotherhood. (Also, you don’t get a CV like Matthew’s without having a marked degree of professional ambition. Just saying.)

Slytherins have a rep for being the villains, and obviously I’m trying to push the characterization here past that one-dimensional stereotype. But we have ample testimony from the vampires who’ve known Matthew for hundreds of years - he CAN be “the bad guy,” whether you want to define that as at least two dead human women, or the selfishness that Baldwin describes and that Miriam and Marcus acknowledge, or even the whole pureblood thing. Think of the absolute certainty in Juliette’s voice as she tells Domenico, “Matthew hates witches.”So yeah, I think a young (or “young”) Matthew gets sorted into Slytherin. There’s definitely also a possible case for young!Matthew as a surprise Gryffindor - and oh BOY does that give me a whole bunch of Sirius Black feels - but mostly I could see him as a Slytherin, albeit an Andromeda Black-style Slytherin.

This is not necessarily the case for an older, wiser, sadder Matthew, however.

Don’t ask me how a c19 Matthew ends up with the Sorting Hat on his head (a very strange diversion during a hunting trip to Scotland?), but I think that there’d be a really good case for a Ravenclaw Sorting during the more “mature” part of Matthew’s life, before he meets Diana. The quest for knowledge is a fundamental part of his character, and it’s a really powerful part of what draws him and Diana together.

@burberrycanary and I have talked about this in detail, but the truly delightful part of this relationship is, well, the bits of it that AREN’T really magical or “fated.” I’m very here for the genuine attraction between these two individuals who are both curious, in their own ways, about the hows and whys of what we might call “the human condition,” inappropriate as that phrase might be here. It’s what Diana learns about Matthew’s long-standing research on creature origins - her belief in Matthew’s purity of motive - that sways her into telling him what she can remember about Ashmole 782.

(Well, fine. “Purity of motive” might not be the best way to describe everything going on in this GIF.)

(All creator credit to you, B.)

But okay, then. Ultimately, I would argue Matthew and Diana bring each other’s Gryffindor tendencies into full flower. To some degree, this is a function of narrative: they’re our protagonist characters, and we’re geared to see them as the heroes. And of course, the events that surround the discovery and disappearance of Ashmole 782 lend themselves to Gryffindor-esque displays of bravery and heroism.

But it’s more than just this Doylist explanation, I think - there’s a strong Watsonian explanation for Matthew and Diana both to be sorted as Gryffindor! Gryffindors are known for being brave and daring - occasionally to the point of recklessness (acting without thinking first). Nor are Gryffindors strangers to self-sacrifice, especially on matters of principle. And oh my goodness, feeling ALL THE THINGS and acting on them in grand ways is VERY, VERY much both Matthew and Diana, as we come to know them during the first season!Diana is a professional scholar, which makes us think “cerebral, methodical, disciplined” and makes us want to sort her as Ravenclaw. But so many of her decisions throughout this first season are impulsive and emotional! I say this not as criticism of Diana, but to argue that, no matter what her training is, her deepest impulses are Gryffindor in nature. Even before the most dramatic events of the season start, we see Diana reacting with stubborn bravery. She has zero problem telling Knox and Satu to bugger off with increasing firmness - the literal force of that “get out of my head!” moment feels very Gryffindor to me. 

And of course, she’s not really intimidated by Matthew, either in his glacial professor mode or when that mask slips at the end of the first episode. In fact, he brings out a confrontational bluntness in her - “You’re a vampire”/“You’re following me”/“Is that a threat?”/“What are you going to do, rip my head off to find the truth?” - that is very, VERY Gryffindor. Once everything really kicks into gear, we see Diana following her emotional impulses nearly all the time. Feeling unsafe with witches? Seek out a vampire! Hell, let him drive you out of town, and spend the day with him. Invite him to dinner - as a starter. When the people who have been bothering you push your emotional buttons (the photographs), immediately seek them out to call them on it, and make a firm decision to try to end the conflict. Then, once they threaten your friend, unleash a torrent of magical power on them.

Diana only gets more Gryffindor from there, whether it’s her stubborn declaration that “they don’t get to choose who I love,” to taking everything that Ysabeau throws at her without flinching, to the brave romantic impetuousness that is the Hasty Vampire Elopement, to the climactic scene in which she nearly sacrifices herself to save Matthew, making an open-ended promise to the Fates.

Diana is a very very powerful, brave witch, and her magic is tied to her emotion. Better be GRYFFINDOR!Now, what about Matthew? In these first few episodes, I still gravitate towards that Slytherin classification. That exchange between them in the boathouse, where she asks if he’s going to rip her head off and he answers, “That’s not how I operate” - Slytherin, my dears, very very Slytherin. And yet. Matthew, is that true?He finds that self-disclosure is the most effective way to convince Diana to be his ally re: the Ashmole manuscript - and then he leans into it real hard. 

And in this context, that’s a real act of bravery! For instance, after Gillian breaks into the lab, we learn that its existence has been a secret for a very long time - but Matthew brings Diana there only the fifth or sixth time they meet, and he spills the beans on the entire project, taking her at her word that she doesn’t subscribe to Knox’s supremacist, genocidal ideology. Emotional; brave; impetuous!As I’ve discussed elsewhere, that project of self-disclosure only accelerates, resulting in a romance that Matthew, at least, knows is going to be extremely problematic. He does attempt to deny the emotional attachment, to some degree - but it’s a small degree. Going back to Oxford against Hamish’s advice; accepting her dinner invitation; coming ‘round to her rooms the next day after rejecting her; eventually coming back to France from Oxford - please picture Matthew de Clairmont tossing his hair a la Mimi and saying “Self-control? I don’t know her.“ 

In one sense, this is Slytherin selfishness, but it’s also Gryffindor emotional decision-making - and bravery in the face of the dire consequences that are certain to follow. The peak Gryffindor Oxford moment for Matthew is, of course, the moment that he dashes into the Bodleian to confront (and calm) Diana as she’s in full tornado mode. There’s nothing shrewd, or cunning, or cerebral in those moments - it’s Matthew operating on pure instinct, and it’s brave, daring, and chivalrous. 

I noted that Diana’s Gryffindor nature intensifies the longer that she and Matthew are around each other. The same is true for Matthew around Diana, despite the conflict engendered by the approach-avoidance paradigm before their Hasty Vampire Elopement. BTW, you notice that we never ACTUALLY get any kind of verbalized explanation for what changes his mind and makes him return to France, commit to Diana, and defy the wrath of the Congregation? Doylist explanation screams GENRE, but the Watsonian (and, I guess, based on this ask, the Rowling-esque) paradigm says: DARING GRYFFINDOR EMOTIONAL DECISION-MAKING. (Or, as @burberrycanary might put it: Soft Vampire Caring.)

Anyway, I can’t GIF things with any measure of skill, but LORD, do I need me a gifset that juxtaposes Matthew’s icy-cold "that’s not how I operate” in 1.01 with the short scene in 1.06 in which he and Baldwin come to blows within ten seconds of Matthew entering the room. Asking someone a question and then slugging them before they can answer? Has there ever been any purer form of Gryffindor nonsense? 

Seriously, Ysabeau gives me EXTREMELY strong Narcissa Malfoy vibes, but her thousand-yard stare anytime that Baldwin and Matthew start mixing it up makes me think that she and Molly Weasley would have a few things to talk about as well. Ysabeau de Clairmont has been dealing with this sibling rivalry shit for fifteen hundred years, and she is OVER IT. 

I’ve been (gently! gently! with love) dragging Matthew and Gryffindors here for the past few paragraphs, so I should obviously also reiterate: that heroic Gryffindor chivalrousness, in conjunction with the conventions of the genre, helps to explain so many of the things that make him work as a protagonist character. Bravery in defense of the people he loves and the principles that he has adopted? We see that time and again with how he acts, not only in protection and support of Diana, but in his care for Marcus and Miriam and Hamish and the whole complement of people who end up under the roof of my beloved Bishop house. For Matthew, this chivalry and bravery is to some degree culturally “baked in” (the man was literally a knight), but it’s clearly also a major set of personality traits.

Like Diana, there’s a lot of emotional control overlaid onto Matthew’s character, quite a deep vein of natural cunning, and an underlying hunger for knowledge that helps to explain their intellectual attraction. But when it comes down to it - he’s got those Big Damn Hero instincts, just like Diana. So again, for my money - that’s one more for GRYFFINDOR!

[hope-for-olicity]

Fabulous Olicity Fanfic Friday - December 28th, 2018

Happy Friday! So this is my attempt to both thank awesome fanfic writers for their amazing work and offer my recommendations to anyone who is interested. Here are the fantastic fanfic stories I read this week! They are posted in the order I read them. This week has been super busy for me, hoping to catch up on all the Olicity Secret Santa stories this week!

seemingly impossible (but not untrue) multi-chapter WIP by @alexiablackbriar13 - Young genius historian Dr Felicity Smoak unknowingly and accidentally calls up a bewitched alchemical manuscript within the Oxford Bodleian Libraries - a book that has been lost for centuries. Descended from an old and distinguished line of witches, Felicity wants nothing to do with magic, despite her unruly and powerful abilities. But her discovery of Ashmole 782 sets the world of creatures stirring; with a mystery afoot and new, dangerous magical abilities manifesting for her to navigate, she is approached by the enigmatic vampire biochemist Professor Oliver Queen, who seems to have a deep interest in both the manuscript… and her. Based on A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16224353/chapters/37923743

Christmas Spirit multi-chapter WIP by @mindramblingsfics - After his latest brush with the law, Oliver Queen is sentenced to probation. He’s sent to volunteer at the Starling Mall Christmas Village where he meets the cheerful Santa’s helper, Felicity Smoak. Felicity Smoak, decided to work during the holidays to make extra money for school. Her love for the holidays led her to the Christmas Village. On the first day, Felicity is immediately turned off by Oliver’s childish don’t care attitude. As the days go by, Oliver begins to see the purpose and joy in the holiday season and shows a different side of himself to Felicity. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917147/chapters/39745821

Trapped - Olicity Secret Santa by @leuska - Felicity is trapped and a VERY handsome firefighter comes to her rescue https://olicitysecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/181383999504/trapped

With the Speed of an Arrow multi-chapter WIP by @academyofshipping - Oliver Queen’s elite and silver-spoon life has taken some blows in the past few years, but he is still the carefree billionaire everyone knows of and loves. When his role in the family business is in jeopardy and he is introduced to a motley of new people, his status quo is threatened. With a changed perspective, Oliver realizes his feeling for his best friend and anchor-in-life, Felicity Smoak, may be more than just platonic. OR A modern adaption of Jane Austen’s Emma with a gender swap* and no island. *Knowing that gender is not binary https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559846/chapters/38799857

Fiancee for the Holidays multi-chapter Complete by @christinabeggs - He was dumped right before he was supposed to visit his family for the holidays. So what does he do? He finds a local tech shop owner with a big heart to be his fake girlfriend. https://archiveofourown.org/works/16907646/chapters/39720873

The Queen's Mage multi-chapter WIP by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl - Words have power, and mages, those with the aptitude to draw on that power, are few in number. Thus, their services are highly sought after by anyone who has exhausted all mundane means of solving whatever problem is plaguing them. Felicity is reminded of this fact the hard way when she is hired by Moira Queen, the Lady Starling, to find and return to her son Oliver, who fled his family home five years ago following the death of his father. With a threat hanging over her should she return without Robert Queen's heir, Felicity begins her search. When she finds Oliver, and ends up joining his vigilante crusade while she waits for him to decide whether to return home, the last thing she expects to do is fall in love with him. https://archiveofourown.org/works/14617068/chapters/33781269

Shades multi-chapter WIP by @geneshaven - Felicity is preparing to spend the holidays with her guys Chapter 1: https://geneshaven.tumblr.com/post/181215821029/shades Chapter 2: https://geneshaven.tumblr.com/post/181291236319/shades Chapter 3: https://geneshaven.tumblr.com/post/181398973624/shades

Home To You multi-chapter WIP by @the-shy-and-anxious-fangirl - Oliver Queen has never done what his family expected of him. He took a gap year after high school instead of going to college right away. He quit his fraternity sophomore year to join the student newspaper, switching his major from business to journalism. He became a photojournalist for a wire service instead of taking a place at Queen Consolidated. He went missing after six months instead of coming home for his sister’s twenty-first birthday. He survived five years of captivity in a war zone when everyone thought he was dead. He came home. But home didn’t have a place for him in it anymore. His parents were both dead, casualties of their own mistakes and a city they had turned against them. His sister was all grown up, the CEO of Queen Consolidated with a fiancé and a dog and a life of her own. Oliver didn’t belong in his old life, but there was nowhere else for him to go. He was a man without a home, without any way of finding one, until he stopped by the IT department of his sister’s company to get files off an old, battered memory card, and found a woman with curly blonde hair and bright, intelligent eyes chewing on a bright red pen and swearing at a computer screen. https://archiveofourown.org/works/12613188/chapters/28734552

Time for a Story multi-chapter WIP by @smkkbert - This fic shows Olicity and their life as a (married) couple with family. Although Olicity (and their kids) are the protagonists, other characters of Arrow and Flash make appearances. YOU NEED THIS STORY IN YOUR LIFE. https://archiveofourown.org/works/3912157/chapters/8757172

Re-Airrow 2x13 by @lostolicityscenes - This is a long one and it weaves in and out of the episode. It mainly deals with Felicity’s discovery and aftermath of telling Oliver about Thea’s parentage with a bonus Felicity flashback. Merry Christmas have some angst! https://lostolicityscenes.tumblr.com/post/181360127186/re-airrow-2x13

Sleigh Bells - Olicity Secret Santa by @mel-loves-all - AU Oliver and Felicity meet at a ball https://olicitysecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/181368361946/sleigh-bells-happy-holidays-to-you-and-yours

Love Know No Season, Love Knows No Clime - Olicity Secret Santa by @allimariexf - Christmas magic https://olicitysecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/181383574501/love-knows-no-season-love-knows-no-clime-the

Heir B&B - Olicity Secret Santa by @it-was-a-red-heeler - Felicity and her friends rent a castle for a Winter weekend getaway and things do not go as planned - https://olicitysecretsanta.tumblr.com/post/181371821335/heir-bb

// @emmaamelia95 // @mel-loves-all // @oliverfel4 // @green-arrows-of-karamel // @coal000 // @miriam1779 // @memcjo// @captainolicitysbedroom // @tdgal1 // @spaztronautwriter // @lalawo1// @quiveringbunny // @wrongshipper // @thebookjumper // @vaelisamaza // @myhauntedblacksoul // @lovelycssefan // @laurabelle2930 // 

[kazashiniwielder]

My top 3 most powerful Supernatrual scenes

So, I got the idea to write this thanks to a friendly chat on this site, but there are some super incredible scenes in Supernatural. There are a lot that come to mind when I think of different things, almost all of Yellow Feaver and Clap if you believe when I think about comedy; a list of episodes when I think of loss, and a even a few when I think of the characters being happy. But there are also some I think of when I just think of power or impact, so my top three list!

Number 3: Dean talking to Sam about closing the gates of Hell/ the angels fall

That moment where Dean is begging Sam not to finish the last trial to close the gates of Hell. Dean has learned that if Sam finishes this trial he will die. The moment Dean learns that he rushes to Sam because he can’t live without Sam. Their whole lives they have only had each other, neither even really met other hunters until they’re dad died.

Sam for his part sees this as his responsibility. Sam wants to go through with it because he can’t let people get hurt but more importantly he believes if he doesn’t finish this, he will let Dean down again. Sam genuinely believes he has let Dean down so much, the fact he chose Ruby over Dean, the fact he left Dean in Purgatory for a year because he didn’t look for him, to Sam it is all just him letting down Dean over and over again. Sam sees Dean’s relationships in that season as Dean replacing him with people he can ‘trust’ and he can’t bare to see that happen again.

And Dean realizes Sam believes he hates him, that Sam believes he truly let Dean down and isn’t important to him and he knows if he can’t make Sam understand how important he is, he is going to lose Sam for good. Sam is the most important thing in Dean’s life, someone he has killed one of his best friends he ever had over just to ensure Sam made it back safely. And Sam actually caves, understanding and Dean begs him to let it all go, an Sam does. And there's that moment of relief on their faces, they succeeded and no one is about to die.

Then shit hits the fan. Sam goes down as his body starts to fall apart and Dean is terrified. He doesn’t know what to do, and the only thing he can think of is getting them out and getting Sam to some help and as he gets Sam outside he sees all the angels falling, he knows they lost and Cas was tricked, and the worst possible outcome they imagined has just happened. Earth is about to be filled was confused and powerful angles and Sam is in his arms dying and he has no one to turn to because as Sam put it ‘all your friends are dead Dean’, except for Cas who for all Dean knows in this moment could be dead.

Number 2: Fare thee well

I really like this scene because we have two stages to start. We have Dean who is sitting with Sam and he’s realizing that he is the only person that is going to make it out. He sees Sam dying in his arms again, he hears the people in the next room dying, and he knows everyone outside is already dead and gone. Just a few minutes ago he was told he will be the only survivor and now, he understands that. At this point Dean is at his all time low. He knows there is nothing he can do and he’s about to lose everything. At the same time Metatron has finally spoken his peace to God/Chuck. Chuck tells him to read his manuscript, that he’s going to like it as he picks up the guitar and begins to sing.

So we Metatron, whose hope is rising, believing he had an impact to his ‘father’ and friend, that he believes maybe he made a difference, that Chuck is going to save them from Amara and come back to them. His hopes had building this whole time with Chuck beginning to take an interest, to stop hiding and truly show himself.

Then Chuck starts singing, and it’s not some big raging song, but a farewell balled. And as the song goes you see two very different reactions. Dean sees Sam’s pocket start to glow with an amulet that shouldn’t be there, and the boys know what that means. God, a man who they gave up all hope in, was there. And Sam is suddenly healed, and so are the people in the building. And Sam and Dean are trying to process and understand because now people aren’t dying and the amulet is telling them God is there. And they start to go outside, seeing these people who were dead or dying getting up and you can see hope building in the boys.

Meanwhile Metatron is reading the manuscript and you see the hope fall away. Now we as the watchers during the first watch didn’t know what it said, but judging from the situation, the song, and what we know about Chuck in that moment, we can figure it out. This is Chuck saying good bye. He doesn’t plan to make it through this fight, something that paralleled John on his life quest. He wasn’t planning to survive the confrontation with Azazel. So we as the viewers are seeing this stark contrast in the reactions to God’s big return. To the humans he is bringing hope, but to those who know that this is his suicide mission, it brings despair.

And then Sam and Dean see Chuck among the people. Chuck, a man who they were sure was dead because there can’t be two profits at once and we’ve already meet two more since Chuck so surly he is dead. But he’s not, he’s standing in front of them and the amulet is telling them that this guy who they knew as a drunk who wrote shitty paperback books in his underwear is God, and holy shit is he powerful because he just saved and revived and entire town like it was nothing. And he just turns to these two lost and confused boys, boys that up to this point have seen their life so small that there is no way someone like God would even notice they existed, but no God has been writing books about them for years and he just walks up to them saying they need to talk and you can just see the two boys standing there trying to understand what is going on.

1. Dean facing Lucifer and Michael

To me, this is the MOST powerful scene in Supernatural, which makes sense because it was originally supposed to be on of the last. So we have Dean, who at this point has seen everyone, his father figure, his best friend and guardian angel, give up hope. They have all made it clear that there is nothing else that can be done, the world is lost. And Dean has just lost his brothers to these crazy angel that are about to torch the world but Dean isn’t ready to take it lying down. He’s not stupid or crazy enough to believe he actually has a chance to defeat two of the most powerful beings in the world, especially at once, but it isn’t in Dean’s nature to just give up, and worst comes to worst then his brothers aren’t going to go through this alone, because he’s going to be there.

And you got Sam who is trapped inside his own body. He had taken a major gamble, giving Lucifer his body on the chance he could cage him, but Lucifer overpowered him an it didn’t work. And he’s trapped with Lucifer, who is throwing a tantrum, slightly justified but still not necessary to wipe out the world because Daddy put you in time out for a few millennia.

And you have Adam, who until not long ago had no idea any of this existed and to make matters worse he was even dead and at peace until the angels tried to use him as bait for an older brother he had known nothing about. And now, because that brother wouldn’t ‘play his part’ he’s being forced to do it for a man who believes that he is doing the right thing and has the self-righteous attitude to back it up.

So Michael and Lucifer show up on the battlefield, and Sam and Adam can only watch knowing what is about to happen but knowing there is nothing they can do about it, and these two sets of brothers do truly love each other but they have their reasons for being there and the only way out is a fight that is going to destroy half the world and two of them that are standing there. They both express regret, how they don’t want to do this, but they both feel like it is the right thing to do.

And then you just hear ‘Rock of Ages’ blare along with the Impala’s engine. The sound of that engine, especially for Sam and some of the fans has been associated with the cavalry, that everything is going to be fine and work out some how because the boys are all there and they can make it through anything. And the song that Dean played (on a cassett mind you because by this point people stopped selling cassets but I have a whole thing about how Dean represents the old way of hunting, the traditional ideas of hunters but I’m going to spare you that) demonstrates what is Dean in this moment, announcing that he has arrived and is not just going to leave. And Dean drives up to what is about to be an archangel smack down, unarmed and without any form of back up or help. He’s just a normal freaking person who both of these archangels are mildly annoyed with for his defiance and refusal to do as they wanted and he just get’s out of the car like it’s nothing. Like these two beings couldn’t just cease his existence with a snap of their fingers with that cocky grin on his face and they know he shouldn’t be there, that this is the dumbest thing either of them can fathom a lowly human doing and Dean just casually get’s out like ‘Howdy boys. Am I interrupting something?”

[calliopesquill]

A Year in the Life: Chapter 21

As promised, another chapter!

I've been waiting SO LONG to be able to post this one. I swear I wrote half of it back in July, but I kept figuring out new plot stuff so I had to push it back.

I hope you like it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 21: What’s in a Name?

         “Well, isn’t this a surprise,” Lina drawled. “Look what the alebrije dragged in. What are you doing here?”

         Nell hesitated at the door. Lina was known for her acerbic personality but that delivery was much sharper than her usual repartee. “I thought I’d come by for a visit, but if you’re busy --”

         “Not particularly,” Lina said with a careless shrug, turning another page of the manuscript that she was reading. “Been a few days.”

         “It’s been… a little crazy lately.”

         “Figured now you know you’re not about to become a permanent resident you’d have better things to do than hang out in a dusty old catacomb.”

         “I happen to like dusty old catacombs,” Nell retorted. “And you’re the one who told me to do some ‘living’.”

         Yeah, to give her the excuse to leave if she wanted to. She shouldn’t have been surprised that she did. “So that’s what you’ve been doing, is it? Living it up in the Land of the Dead?”

         “Jeez, what crawled up your ass today? Yeah, it’s been a real damn party. De la Cruz was arrested last week and it’s been a constant stream of lawyers and preliminary hearing insanity and dodging reporters every-damn-where. Which has been oh, so much fun. Oh, and then Dante shows up yesterday and it turns out alebrije can carry things back and forth across the bridge, and he shows up with a letter from Miguel and the whole family about loses their minds -- “

         “Huh. Impressive. I mean I knew that, but how did the kid figure it out?”

         “ -- so you can see how it might have -- “ Nell trailed off. “Wait, what do you mean ‘you knew’?”

         “Five hundred years old, remember?” Lina said with a small smirk. “Not a lot I haven’t seen or at least heard about.”

         “Oh, well, forgive me for stating the obvious, O Great and Knowledgeable One,” Nell said with a sarcastic bow. “So why isn’t this common knowledge?”

         Lina sighed, putting down her book and giving up any pretense that she was still reading. “There’s an order to the universe, Nell. The Land of the Living and the Land of the Dead must remain separate. The other afterlives have no way to cross between worlds, so why should ours have that privilege?”

         She had a point. “Not to mention, not everyone has their own alebrije.”

         “Exactly. And those who do should not treat them like interdimensional mail carriers.”

         “Have people actually done that?”

         Lina nodded. “One of the reasons we don’t let word get out, if at all possible.”

         “We haven’t told anyone,” Nell reassured her quickly, before Lina could ask. “Figured if people didn’t know after this many centuries, there was probably a good reason.”

         Well, there was that at least. The archivist retreated back into the shelves to return the manuscript she had been reading to its proper home. After a moment she spoke again, her voice barely audible even in the silence of the stacks. “I wasn’t sure you’d be coming back here again.”

         “I wasn’t sure you wanted me too.”

         “If i didn’t, you’d know. Trust me.”

         “Well you haven’t throw me off a pyramid yet,” Nell shrugged. “Though really. I should point out that I have both jumped and fallen off the edge of the world, so that threat doesn’t really scare me like it probably should. But I wondered if it wasn’t….. Like, some kind of professional obligation.”

         Lina looked startled. “You actually thought that?”

         “Well… Most of the time, no. But...sometimes…” Nell glanced away, rolling the hem of her dress nervously between her fingers. “Sorry, I know that’s dumb. I was in a not great headspace before, and Victoria called me out on it. So I know it’s dumb. But -- “

         “Damn straight, it’s dumb.” Lina said sharply. “You know, for a smart girl, you can be really stupid sometimes.”

         “Hey,” Nell laughed. “I resemble that remark.”

         “Get this through your head: if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t have lasted the first hour. Professional obligation be damned. Claro?”

         “Si, claro.”

         “Now, catch me up. I’ve been reshelving all of the documents that my assistants have misshelved. Tell me what happened with De la Cruz.”

         As Nell filled her in on the events of the hearing, Lina seemed annoyed but not entirely surprised. From what she’d learned from Nell, De la Cruz was a real piece of work. Of course he would attempt something like this. Twist it around so it looked like he was the injured party. And wanting to have Nell submit to a psych evaluation… Well she could understand her friend’s outrage.

         “ -- and after all that he did to Hector, that slime-licking, coal-hearted toolbag has the gall to try this bullshit!” She growled. “I wish Buttons had tossed him off the cliff instead of just into the pyramid.”

         “I think there is a precedent for that,” Lina told her. “I could probably find it in here, somewhere.”

         “Seriously? Damn, what did they do?”

         “Any number of things,” Lina told her with a shrug. “Mostly it was before I got here. Capital punishment was a pretty common thing back then, but what happens when you commit a serious crime after you’re already dead? You can’t die again, and they can’t force the living to forget you.”

         “So they actually did throw people off of the edge of the world.” Nell let out a low whistle. She was half-joking when she said Buttons should have tossed De la Cruz over the edge. Well… maybe a quarter joking. It was shocking to believe that once upon a time that was something people actually did.

         “Yeah.” She’d been lucky to avoid that fate herself. “Be interesting to see how they rule here, especially with you involved. Your case sets a precedent.”

         “Woo, lucky me.” Nell sighed.

         “Be a little complicated for them to rule on too,” Lina continued. “The act of taking the kid across the bridge could be read as attempted murder, never mind tossing him off the edge of the world. You followed of your own volition and ended up stuck here, but that never would have happened if De la Cruz hadn’t snatched the kid to begin with.”

         “That’s what the Rivera’s lawyer said,” she agreed. “I swear this is going to be a war fought on a battleground of technicalities. This whole court thing has barely started and I already wish it was over.” She wished her mother was here, not just for the comfort of having someone familiar around, but it would have been truly satisfying to set her loose on De la Cruz in the courtroom.

         “I think you’ve just described every celebrity court case ever,” Lina said, shaking her head. “Thank Tezcatlipoca that reality tv hasn’t become a big thing down here yet, or that courtroom would be crawling with cameras.”

         “The building is already crawling with reporters. I swear I saw one of them hauling around one of those daguerreotype setups. I’d hope they wouldn’t have the poor taste to actually broadcast a murder trial. Though they could do a pretty sweet version of Dancing With the Stars down here.” Nell was not a big fan of reality tv as a whole, but she was a sucker for a good dance competition show.

         “Dancing -- what?”

         “Tossing a bunch of celebrities into a ballroom dancing competition,” Nell explained. “Some of them turn out to be surprisingly good. Others are as hilariously bad as you would expect them to be.”

         “That sounds… really weird,” Lina laughed. “This is what modern people do for fun? Just watch each other do dumb things?”

         “There’s an entire subcategory of independent media dedicated to it. And like you guys didn’t do weird things for entertainment in your day,” Nell shot back with a laugh. “I realize you’re older than dirt, but entertainment hasn’t changed that much. Half of modern mainstream entertainment still consists of a bunch of men running around, trying to hit a ball into some kind of hoop or hole or net. Personally I’d rather watch a well-written fantasy adventure drama, but sadly those are in short supply.”

         “Aren’t you living a fantasy adventure drama?”

         “Yes, yes I am,” she grinned. “All I need is a sappy romantic subplot and I’m my own new favourite tv show. Oh wait. Do Hector and Imelda count?”

         “Hector and Imelda are the romantic subplot of your fantasy adventure life?”

         Nell shrugged. “We agreed I was living in a fantasy adventure drama. We never said I was the main character. Not for this arc, anyway.”

         “That’s dumb. I mean of all of the people involved in this mess, it’s your story that most closely mirrors the Hero’s Journey archetype. So if you aren’t the main character, who is?” Lina wondered, giving the girl’s head a flick in warning. “Idiot. Now you have me thinking in narrative structure. I’m never going to get these all filed now.”

         “Well if you need some help, I volunteer,” Nell offered. “Even if you just direct me where to go, it will be faster than doing it all yourself.”

         The archivist frowned. “Shouldn’t you be working or something?”

         “I’ve been at the studio for most of the day. If I paint any more my hand might just fall off.”

         Now that she mentioned it, Lina could see a few paint splatters on the girl’s hands and the front of her dress. “You sure?”

         “Sure! And after we’re done, maybe we can hang out for a bit. Drop by the house. We can compare book recommendations with Victoria.”

         Lina looked at her suspiciously. “Is this your way of trying to start a book club or something?”

         “No,” Nell laughed. “But that would be pretty cool. I mean if you already have plans for tonight we could do it another time -- “

         “It’s fine,” Lina said cutting her off. “There’s nothing going on tonight.”

         “Cool!” Nell grinned. “Alright, then! Let’s get started!”

         They finished the filing in record time, righting all of the errors that had been made by the junior archivists, and discovering a few new ones along the way. At Nell’s suggestion, Lina pulled a couple of volumes from the personal collection she kept in her office to show to Victoria.

         As they made their way up the stone steps to the lobby they passed one of Lina’s assistants, a woman of approximate middle-age dressed like she’d just walked off the set of Mad Men. “Lina! Glad I caught you. I finished those requisitions and delivered the volumes to the Transportation Department. Is there anything else on the to-do list for tonight? If not, do you mind if I step out early?”

         “Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow,” Lina answered. “You go ahead.”

         “Great!” The woman smiled. “I’m meeting some friends tonight and I wanted to take a few minutes to get ready. You can, ah… join us, if you’d like?”

         “Thanks, but I’m heading out with friends too,” Lina said, unable to help her smirk at the startled expression on her assistant’s face. “See you tomorrow, Tessa.”

         “Ah...right. Ahí nos vidrios.”

         Nell waited until they had reached the top of the stairway to comment. “Geez, you could almost see the question marks floating above her head. It’s like she thinks you live in your office.”

         “I do, sometimes,” Lina admitted. “When it’s busy.” Or when she didn’t want to go home.

         “Yeah, but even introverts go out sometimes,” Nell said, shaking her head as they crossed through the lobby and out into the plaza. Unless… there was another reason she didn’t want to go out. “Does the name ‘Malinalli’ mean anything to you?” Nell asked suddenly.

         A slight stumble beside her was the only indication that she had caught her friend off-guard.

         “I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” Lina answered, her voice deliberately calm as she kept her gaze trained in front of them. “I don’t think there’s a single spirit down here who isn’t familiar with La Malinche.”

         “That’s not what I asked.”

         “They say she was a traitor.”

         “People say a lot of things,” Nell replied evenly. “It doesn’t mean they’re true. I’d like to see what they’d have done in her position.”

         Malinalli had been born the eldest child of the chieftain of Painala. After her father’s death, her mother remarried and Malinalli was sold, first to a family in Xicalango, and then to another family in Tabasco. When the conquistadors took the city, Malinalli was one of a group of twenty women that were presented in tribute. It was her intelligence and her knowledge of languages that saved her, and when the officer that she had been given to returned to Spain, she found herself under the dominion of Cortés himself. She acted as his interpreter, and was instrumental in Cortés’ dealings with the local tribal leaders, brokering agreements between the Spanish and the indigenous tribes that lead to the eventual conquest of the Aztec Empire.

         Her reputation in the modern day was mixed at best. Some saw her as the mother of Mexico. Others still viewed her as the greatest traitor the country had ever known.

         Nell had never agreed with that. “I think she was incredibly brave.”

         Lina shook her head, hands jammed uncomfortably in her pockets. “It wasn’t bravery.” For a moment she remained silent, then after another soft sigh, she spoke again. “How long have you known?”

         “A few days,” Nell shrugged. “I wasn’t totally sure, but I suspected. A female spirit who would still be remembered after five centuries, who speaks multiple languages, worked as a translator, and is on poor terms with her contemporaries. Who else could you be?”

         Lina wasn’t sure whether to applaud or cringe. “So...what now?”

         “What do you mean?”

         “Do your friends know?”

         “I don’t know why they would,” Nell replied. “Unless they worked it out on their own. They haven’t said anything about it.”

         That seemed to surprise her. “You haven’t told them.”

         “Why would I? The only reason I brought it up at all was to let you know that I know. And it’s not something we ever have to talk about again if you don’t want to. But if you ever do want to talk… Well, I’m here.”

         Lina gave her a strange, measuring look. “Why?”

         Nell faltered, rolling the hem of her dress uncertainly between her fingers. “We’re friends, right?” At least...she thought they were. “You were there for me when I needed someone. I just wanted to let you know that if you need someone, I’ll be here for you.”

         “ … thank you,” Lina said softly. It was a strange feeling, knowing that there was someone who knew who she really was. Somehow freeing and terrifying at the same time. On the one hand she didn’t have to worry about getting too comfortable and letting something incriminating slip because Nell already knew who she was. But the more she told Nell about her past, the more Nell could use to bury her. Not that she thought the girl would betray her, but it had happened before. She had been Lina Chavez for over a century. She didn’t want to have to start over again.

         The concourse was much busier at this time of day than it was when Lina usually left. Most of the time she didn’t head out until well after the sun went down, so the foot traffic was at a minimum. Her own home was only about a twenty minute walk away, a cozy Victorian-era apartment in a nearby tower. The Rivera home was somewhat farther away, so they would be taking the trolley. It was not Lina’s preferred mode of transportation. There were too many people, too close together. And there was always some idiot who insisted on trying to bounce the thing at some point during the ride.

         But as they made their way over the bridge towards the station, something large swooped down on them from above, colliding with Nell and sending her and Lina crashing into the railing, snatching the scarf right off Nell’s head.

         Nell let out a curse, taking off running after her misbehaving alebrije. “Damn it, Lady! Come back here!”

         But Lady ignored her completely, soaring on ahead with the scarf trailing almost tauntingly behind her. The crow led her charge on a merry chase through the streets, staying just out of her reach. For blocks Nell was barely able to keep pace with her, dodging and weaving between the skeletal spirits who got in her way. As Lady banked and turned into a large plaza, Nell took her chance, putting on a final burst of speed. She just managed to catch the trailing end of the scarf when her foot caught an uneven cobblestone, sending her sprawling forward to crash into another spirit, knocking them to the ground.

         “Crap! Sorry! I’m sorry.” Nell stammered, pushing herself off of them, cringing at the sight of scattered bones around her.

         “Oye, qué diablos!” They cursed as their body began to reassemble itself. They reached for the arm that had been knocked free, reattaching it before retrieving their head. “ ¡Mira hacia donde vas!”

         “Sorry,” Nell said again, glaring in irritation at Lady, who had swooped down to land on the cobblestones next to her and was innocently preening her feathers. “What the hell, Lady?”

         “Is that your alebrije? You really need to train her better.”

         “I’m kind of new to this alebrije thing. I've only been here a few weeks. She’s usually much better behaved than this, so I don’t know what came over her.” Nell pushed herself to her feet, then offered her hand. “Here, let me help you up. Are you hurt?”

         “I’m fine,” the spirit said, shooting an annoyed glare up at Nell as she adjusted her head with one yellowed hand. “Look, I know it’s tough when you’re new but -- “ She trailed off, looking stunned.

         “No excuse for bad manners,” Nell finished, shooting a pointed look at her alebrije as she took the girl’s free hand and pulled her to her feet. “Isn’t that right, Lady?”

         Lady let out a squawk that sounded suspiciously like laughter, giving a little skip on the stones before nudging her head affectionately against Nell’s knees.

         “Yes, I forgive you,” Nell laughed, pulling the scarf back over her head. “But you have to say 'sorry' to her too.”

         Lady squawked again, turning towards the woman that her charge had bowled over and giving a small head bob.

         Nell shook her head, picking up her alebrije and settling the bird on her shoulder. “Come on, you. Let’s go find Lina. And no more shenanigans, okay?” As Lady made a sound that might have been agreement, Nell turned back to the girl with a sheepish smile. “Sorry again.” And with a brief wave, disappeared into the crowd.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ And there it is! We have finally learned the secret of Lina's identity. How many of you guessed it? I know one of you did. And well done!

I'm not sure when I will have the next chapter up but I will do my best to not keep you waiting too long.

Thanks for reading!

[iris-writes-things]

Two Guys and a Baby: Day 1 part 2

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut, or read up to 2 chapters ahead as a $1 Patreon patron!

“Yes, but do you actually like your job?” “Ezra, this isn’t the time for me to start questioning my life choices. It isn’t even five in the afternoon and I’m dead sober.”

Or, Ezra raises questions Crowley hasn’t dared ask himself in nearly a decade.

Chapter 2 of 20 Ongoing 1722 words Romance/Humor

Crowley didn’t need his instructions to know that Lucy would probably be opposed to ‘leaving Adam unattended in a locked bookshop’, but it was that or no instructions at all.

He all but groaned in frustration as he and Ezra used sticks and branches to fish the pages out of the duck pond from the side. There was no way Crowley would ruin his snakeskin boots for pages of which he knew the contents were unsalvageable. But Ezra insisted they not pollute the park more than it already was. He had a point, but that did nothing to brighten Crowley’s mood.

“That’ss the lasssst one,” he mumbled. His tongue was thick and uncomfortable in his mouth after he nearly bit off the tip, courtesy of a well-placed football to the cranium that put him back to square one with his speech impediment. “Can we pleasse go back to Adam now, before something happensss we both regret?”

“Yes,” Ezra said as he plucked the final page from the stick in Crowley’s hands. “I’ll put these in the recycling.” He gave the grocery bag they had collected the pages in a good pat. “By the way, how’s your head?” He asked as they walked the short distance back to the shop.

“I haven’t had any complaintss.”

“I mean it, dear,” the shorter man said, less than amused.

Crowley shook his head. ‘Dear’? Did Ezra just call him ‘dear’?

“I’m ssure I’ll be fine,” he mumbled as he glanced through the window of the bookshop. Adam, who was still strapped into his stroller, had decided this would have been a good moment to take a quick nap.

Ezra peered through now opened front door of the shop. “Oh, would you look at that. Isn’t he precious?” he said as he held the door open for Crowley.

He really is, the man thought, but Ezra didn’t allow him the opportunity to actually voice his reply.

“Let’s see if I have any books to replace those instructions of yours,” he said as he ran off into the shop, to the self-help and parenting section.

The bookshop was old. All creaky hardwood floorboards and sturdy oak bookshelves, contrasting creamy white walls that were lined with antique, dusty light fixtures. There were at least five flights of stairs behind the till that each led to a different section of books, as well as a modest apartment. Crowley knew self-help and parenting was on the second floor, so he unclasped the sleeping Adam from his seat, carefully cradled the boy against his chest, and went up the stairs.

“Find anything?” he asked.

Ezra turned around, holding a stack of books. Crowley stopped counting at five, but there were at least thrice as many of varying page counts.

“Well, yes. Each of these books has some truths and genuinely good advice in it, but there’s no way one person can read all of this for two weeks of babysitting. Even marking the right pages with memos would take me days.”

“Maybe it’ss time for the great ‘Aziraphale’ to write a book on child care then, isn’t it? Compiling the good bits?”

Ezra pouted. “You know historical novels are more of my thing, Crowley. Besides, if I used that pen name, no one would take the book seriously.”

“I was kidding,” Crowley said. “But you do have experience with this kind of stuff, which is why I meant to call you in the first place. I was hoping you could jusst… help me out. You know?”

“Help you out?” Ezra repeated.

“I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Well, if you don’t mind seeing a lot more of me these next two weeks, I don’t mind helping you out. But I really can’t leave the shop alone for that long.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure Adam would love being here,” Crowley said as he carefully ran his fingers through the boy’s hair.

Ezra smiled at him. There was something about it that was unlike any other time Ezra had smiled at him before. There was a fondness in his smile. Crowley was in no way equipped to deal with this.

“You know, I never thought I’d see you doting on another human being like that,” Ezra said, his soft gaze now cast at Adam, who made a face in his sleep.

“You should have seen me with my niece. Anathema was at least as cute as Adam when she was that age, and twice as demanding.”

Ezra frowned, deep in thought.

“Now that you mention it, I do remember you coming in with a little girl every once in a while. I figured out she must have been a niece later. I could have sworn she was your daughter at first.”

“Ez, I’m thirty-two. Isn’t that a little young to have a seventeen year old daughter?”

Ezra raised his hands in self-defense. “Not judging.”

“Okay, enough about how good I would look as a dad. I’m just glad you’re willing to…” Crowley sniffed at the air. “What’s that smell?” he asked only just before Adam woke and started wailing in his ear. “Jesus Christ!” he shrieked as he barely managed not to drop the boy.

“Oh, come here. He just needs a clean diaper,” Ezra said as he took the crying baby from the man’s arms and rocked the boy gently as he took him into the apartment.

Crowley, on the other hand, ran down to the diaper bag downstairs and carried the whole thing up. He was in no way equipped to deal with that, either.

*

It was around four in the afternoon by the time Ezra was feeding Adam. The boy was happily sat in Crowley’s lap, who held an arm around him while he read through the manuscript of Aziraphale’s next novel in his other hand as Ezra fed the child.

‘The Nice And Accurate Vengeance Of Agnes Nutter, Witch’. Agnes Nutter. The name rung a vague bell with Crowley, but for the life of him, he couldn’t put his finger on why.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Ezra cooed as he wiped some mashed vegetable from Adam’s cheek.

“Ez, I know you know you’re a good writer, but would you not patronize me like that?” Crowley mumbled without looking up.

“I wasn’t talking to you, dear. I was talking to Adam,” he said as he offered Adam another spoonful. “But thank you. It’s only the first draft though. It's nowhere near the quality it needs to be.”

"You always were the better storyteller between us. I mean, I don't know how you do it. The dialogue, the visual descriptions… I can see it all in front of me. I can't believe people kept records of all this. Was there really a witch that wiped a complete village off the map?"

Ezra chuckled, he seemed amused by Crowley’s curiosity. "Well, yes and no. Records of the Witchfinder Army showed that a woman accused of witchcraft was to be burned at the stake at 2 PM that day in 1655, while other records showed there was an explosion around that time in approximately that area that was heard as far away as Halifax. The following day, the WA goes back to the village to investigate only to find that rubble was all that remained, which was also recorded. The rest is more of an… 'educated guess'," he air quoted.

Crowley mocked a gasp. "Aziraphale? Using educated guesses to write his absolutely not fictional novel rather than researching even more dusty old records? Are you hearing this scandalous scoop, Mr. Adam?" He leaned down to look the boy in the eye. Adam giggled. When he looked back up at Ezra, the man didn't seem as amused.

"You know I’m not comfortable calling my books non-fiction. Also, might I remind you that all eyewitnesses to this event have been blown to smithereens?"

"I'm sorry. I was just kidding," Crowley said. This time, he really was. Sorry, at least. "I'll make it up to you, I promise,” he thought for a minute before speaking up. “Anything you want done, I'll do for you," he spoke confidently. Oh no. Should have thought a little longer on that.

Ezra seemed to put a lot of thought into his answer; his brows knitted together tightly, a pout pulled at the man’s features as he bit on his lip, but eventually the other man spoke up.

"Well, if you can really envision the story like that, it would only be a small effort to make a mock up for the cover, right? You always were the better artist between us, and I'm sure I can get my agent to get my publisher to pay you for your time."

Crowley was quiet for a second.

"Pardon?" He asked eventually. The greatest extent of art nowadays were quick sketches and storyboards to communicate Lucy's ideas for the shareholders and the marketing teams. To make the cover of a book was a whole other ballpark. Besides, he was offering a favour, and now Ezra was offering to get him paid in return? What even was this conversation at this point?

On the other hand, now that he was out of the office for two weeks to look after Adam, he had the time to figure it out. "Are you sure? I mean, where did you even get the idea?"

Ezra shrugged. “I found a picture of us at your graduation expo while I was doing my spring cleaning. You were good. Are good, I’m sure. Why you ever chose to become an assistant in a marketing department is beyond me.”

“Cold, hard cash, Ez. A man’s gotta live,” Crowley stated simply. “Besides, I like working with Lucy,” he said as he carded another hand through Adam’s soft hair.

“Yes, but do you actually like your work?”

“Ezra, this isn’t the time for me to start questioning my life choices. It isn’t even five in the afternoon and I’m dead sober,” he snapped, and frowned at the realization of what he’d just said. “But I’d love to make you a sketch or two for your book,” Crowley said in an attempt to make it up to his friend.

"I'm glad you do," Ezra smiled. "Would you like to stay for dinner? I was planning on getting takeout."

"Yes. Absolutely."