#just bringing walden in here like that

[sleeplesssmoll]

Finding the moment Schneider and Vertin's dynamic shifted.

This scene inspired me because we see Schneider's anger emerge, albeit subtly.

It almost seemed like Schneider was planning on letting Vertin live once again, like in the beginning when they first met. She was going to give Vertin a chop on the neck during their duel to knock her out.

But then Vertin repeats the lie that Forget-Me-Not Me Not told her. After hearing Vertin promise her a shelter, she turns her gun on her instead. Why would she trust the words of someone from the Foundation who rejected her and her family?

Hearing this proposal must have hit a nerve. It's important to note that at this point in time she only likes Vertin's looks and she respects her fighting skill. She has absolutely no reason to trust Vertin's words and every reason to resent the Foundation's dog. It's easy to forget since she's such a flirt in the main story but there is a lot of anger in her. She is a Mafia Boss. She provides for her 11 sisters and her parents in a world that constantly takes from her without giving a shred of mercy. If you’re curious about this, the link below has Schneider's snippets from the atlas, but for my purposes I'll only use a small section.

The Opportunist and the Sticky Gum

“Her figure might be frail, but her eyes are filled with cold anger. Maybe she had been rejected just now or even insulted. She walked up to the square center with a firm step, like a warrior.”

This is Schneider as she watched Sonetto take the mission capsule she tampered with back to Vertin. In the Walden, we see this warrior fighting for her family and Vertin is now an obstacle.

Also, she seemed genuinely annoyed at the lack of concern Vertin had for the wounds she inflicted. Her voice starts off in that same playful, flirty tone when she says “that's really annoying” and then she sounds genuinely pissed when she talks about shooting Vertin in the thigh (I'd place a clip here but there's a limit. Would recommend going back and listening to get the full picture). She is getting frustrated.

However, things change when Vertin and the others help her sister. I think the true turning point in their relationship is when Vertin pushed Sonetto out of the hole to escape Druvis and Schneider did the same for Marian.

Earlier when Schneider was talking to Forget-Me-Not, she mentioned the importance of family and brotherhood. We also know she loves her family dearly which is why she's in this mess.

Schneider and Vertin sacrifice themselves for the people they love. She's finally met someone who gives a damn about loyalty and they are on the same side as her.

While they're fighting together, Schneider is heavily injured and Vertin covers for her. If Vertin, the one with the gunshot wounds, is in better shape than Schneider then it's a very rough situation. Nonetheless, she respects Vertin's fruitless attempts of resistance and considers her brave. She tells Vertin to shoot her in the chest when the time comes. Here, she is putting her faith in Vertin because she has no other choice. This is her only chance.

Later on in Popular Literature Vertin brings Schneider a healing potion and food she stole because she assumes Schneider must be hungry. You know what she brought?

Cake!

If we ignore the horrors of hindsight where Schneider is a human so the cake must not have looked like cake due to Storm Syndrome, it's a very sweet gesture. The healing potion tastes awful, so maybe she chose the cake over other foods as a way to make it easier to deal with. This is the climax where Vertin follows through on her promise and proves she is someone Schneider can trust. The cake also shows Vertin's empathy, something we see Schneider doesn't receive often. She's trying to make her as comfortable as possible instead of treating her as a pawn in her greater plan. They're working as a team, not as lord and subject.

[lumi077]

Hi there! I absolutely love your fanfic on jealous rainbow factory Wally, and was wondering if you could make another fanfic of him with the reader? It could be anything (please no angst I’m a sensitive gal). Have a great day!

Hello there lovely! This took forever and I am so sorry for that <3 I've just been quite the busy bee lately. So here's your man, I hope you enjoy.

Late Nights into Early Mornings: Warnings: None, just some nice fluff with trauma magnet RF!Wally

Darkness flitted into the room, the lamp on your nightstand could only do so much to fight off the tendrils of darkness from the room, and your eyes flickered to the clock next to the lamp. It was very late, later than he said it would be when he finished up. 3 am. You have to give him credit, if it weren’t for you seeking out his warmth in your sleep you would have never known, but now that you do you can’t simply leave things be. No, you're his wife and so the duty of dragging him to bed is yours.

A groan escaped your lips and you heaved yourself up from the lying position, one hand going to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Lifting the blankets that provided mouth watering warmth and comfort, your feet made contact with the floor. Which was freezing, making you shiver at the intense temperature difference. You could almost curse him for not being truthful tonight, you were exhausted and now here you were at 3 in the morning trekking to retrieve your husband. 

Your soft padding footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, your arms tucked to your chest to contain some of the heat from your bed. It was dark, the white glow of the moon shining through the large windows was your only source of light. Another thing you would have to scold him about, but not tonight. Or rather this morning, way later in the morning maybe. 

Eventually your sleep muddled brain reawakened itself to see that you were finally at his office door, lights shined through the crack between the door and its frame and you felt yourself deadpan. You could also hear the shuffling of papers and his breathing, and you sighed.

Not bothering to knock at this point, you shouldered the door open and looked at the culprit of this light night escapade. “Walden.” You sighed, voice thick with sleep and brilliant eyes muddled. 

The 6,11 man you called your husband jumped like a startled cat, wide eyes looking at your half lidded one with well hidden sheepishness “My love.” His own voice was affected by sleep as well, or the lack of it. 

“What do you think you're doing?” Your deadpan made itself well known as you started in open disapprovement. “You said you would wrap all this up 4 hours ago for god's sake.” Your hand reached up to lightly pinch at your nose bridge in exasperation.

Silence was all that answered you, he knew that nothing he could say would excuse this at all. 

“Mm.” you hummed, hand falling away and resting at your side. “Well, let’s go then.”

He nodded and stood from his chair, the grating sound of the chair dragging on the floor made you wince. But you held out your hand, and soon the warmth of his skin slid against your own as he gripped your hand in his vice grip. 

“I’m sorry.” He eventually stated as you two walked the halls to go back to your shared room. Your eyes flickered to look at him in your peripheral and you repressed a sigh. “It’s…alright.” You mumbled, leaning on his arm as you two walked side by side and hand in hand. “You can’t keep doing this though. You’ll crash sooner rather than later.” 

He knew you were right, I mean c’mon you are barely ever wrong when it comes to his limits. You knew him so well, it was a surprise you didn’t scold him like a child. “I know…” he trailed off, bringing your intertwined hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

It made you giggle, free hand going to cover your mouth as you smiled “I know you know, but you never listen. You’re too stubborn for your own good.”  

He conceded to that, nodding “You know me so well, my love.” He hummed in his baritone voice, opening the door for you before entering himself and closing it with a click.

“Ooh Mr. Darling, what am I too do with you.” You giggled and shook your head, teasing.

“I don’t know Mr./Mrs. Darling, what are you going to do with me?” He tilted his head, long blue hair cascading down his shoulders as he took off his lab coat and threw his shirt over his head. 

You sat down on the bed, snuggling back into your pillows as your husband got ready for bed. Shortly after he joined you, arms snaking around your waist and pulling you into his chest. His warmth spread over you like the softess blanket and sighed happily.

“This is much better.” You muttered, head going to rest on his chest and arms wrapping around his neck.

He hummed lowly in agreement, one clawed hand going to massage your scalp and play with your hair, his robotic hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

“And you tried to skip out on this.” You pressed a soft kiss to his chest, right above where his heart was hammering away. 

He purred quietly, a soothing sound that lulled you even closer to sleep.

“Just go to sleep, my darling.” He mumbled in your ear before giving it a small kiss. “You can scold me in the morning, way later in the morning.”

You giggled, eyes drooping and voice nothing but a whisper. “Ok…”

Being in the arms of the man who stole your heart worked wonders on allowing you to sleep again.

[chatonarya]

This will probably come across as exceedingly petty, but I'm a little disappointed with some of the word choices in the official EN translation of Keen-Edge, Silver Blade. I think they leave out some small but important nuance to some of the dialogue that is oddly present in the JP translation and seems to capture the spirit of the original CN dialogue better.

Both in CN and JP, Gnosis specifies that Enciodes "was insistent" upon the investment, which adds an extra layer to the whole thing. While it's already implied in chapter 1 when Gnosis snaps at Enciodes for blowing all that money on Degenbrecher, this line further underscores that it was a point of disagreement between them but Enciodes was adamant about it, and Gnosis is now reluctantly admitting that Enciodes was in the right. It also underscores that Enciodes was very firm on his desire to buy Degenbrecher's freedom and bring her aboard.

I also have to raise an eyebrow at Degenbrecher using the word "succor" in such a casual conversation; it doesn't really sound like her. While I appreciate the effort made to have the dialogue throughout the manga sound very Victorian in a real-world sense, that is, reminiscent of that historical time period, this doesn't really mesh well with Degenbrecher's more laidback and casual speech pattern. While I absolutely believe she would use it during the ball itself, right now when it's just the three of them, she should be lapsing into something a bit less florid.

This moment, however, is the most egregious one, because it's so important to the story and spells out part of why Degenbrecher is so loyal to Enciodes.

In CN, he says, "I knew the people I brought [with me] will not let anyone hurt me."

In JP, he says, "I knew those who I brought with me would never let me get hurt."

Yet in EN, he uses a rather more nebulous and modest word: anyone. It makes it sound almost as though he was worried about Viscount Walden or Baron Stuart, when that's not the case.

While it's obvious that he's referring to himself primarily as Degenbrecher is asking him why he made no move to dodge the Baron's sword, and the same sentiment is there, namely that Enciodes trusted her to keep him from harm (and this vagueness and implied meaning is actually likely quite appropriate for the real-world Victorian Era aristocratic manners), it doesn't hit quite the same as him explicitly and earnestly admitting that he placed his life in her hands with total faith... particular as it's this faith that so startles Degenbrecher and wins her over. This is also the final emotional denouement of the story, where Degenbrecher decides to stay with him despite having repaid her debt, and the entire conversation from the point where Gnosis passes out onward is between Enciodes and Degenbrecher discussing the events of the party and emotionally reinforcing their relationship. For him to throw out "anyone" here just feels kind of wrong. It diminishes the sincerity of the moment.

Much like the first comment, I'm not sure why this choice was made, as it seems to detract rather than add to the narrative. He should be saying, "I knew that someone/the person I brought along wouldn't let me come to harm."

[pixeldolly]

Walden BACC

The quaint little cottage on the hill overlooking Walden, once the home of two fae seeking refuge from the world, had lain empty and desolate following Larkin Meade's departure.

Vernoraxia did not wish to live there, among the ghosts of her childhood, but she couldn't bring herself to sell the place either.

However, when two old friends in the market for a new home approached her with an offer, she realized she'd been holding on to the past for all the wrong reasons.

It was time to let go.

Vernoraxia: "I love what you've done with the place! I guess our little cottage just wasn't big enough for three people and a dog..."

Evelyn: "Thanks! I'm relieved not to have building materials all over the house anymore!"

The renovations, two years in the making, were finally complete. It had taken a lot of DIY and calling in favors to keep within their budget, and everyone had pulled their weight to make it happen.

Eleanor: "Is this at all weird for you, Vernie?"

Vernoraxia: "A little, I guess. But I haven't called this place home in a long time, and it's comforting to know that people I trust and who will take good care of it live here now."

Evelyn: "Aw, shucks! We love it here, there's ample hunting grounds nearby and we don't have neighbors to complain about the howling."

Eleanor: "What about you, Roman? You seem pretty settled in, considering this was supposed to be a temporary arrangement."

Roman: "I like it up here, it's quiet...most of the time. Plus, Ulf and Ev haven't kicked me out yet, so I must be doing something right."

[iheartgod175]

Common Ground

Two scientists gushing/bragging about their mechanic girlfriends. Nothing to see here, I promise. XD

So, uh…yeah. This idea kind of came out of nowhere. @mooshieblue’s recent comment on that Walden/Widget picture kinda got me back into my other favorite brains and brawn ship. And once the idea for this came up, it would not leave me alone, not even to write yesterday. Needless to say, my creativity has come back full force! ^^

Only thing I don’t like is how the colors for both Zeeter and Widget; I finished their colors at work, and I had to use the markers I had available. AND I SCREWED UP WIDGET’S COLOR ARGH 😖No Widgets were harmed in the making of this picture, I swear. XD Ah, well. If I do a redo in the future, I’ll be sure to fix it. Either way, I had a lot of fun with this one, honestly, especially with their expressions. I had too much fun making Multo a romantic dork, while Walden’s a bit more subdued.

Walden would totally brag about Widget’s accomplishments, hence his somewhat smug expression here. One headcanon I have with Walden is that he appreciates the small things a lot, because details mean a lot to him. He’d totally be gushing over something that Widget did for him which to outsiders would be incredibly minor, but means the world to him. He thinks fondly of Widget, and while not as showy in his affections towards her as Multo is towards Zeeter, there’s no doubt that if possible, he’d spend as much time with her as he could. And while sometimes their approaches can cause them to butt heads, he loves how Widget can both bring him out of his comfort zone and appreciate the quiet moments with him.

Multo’s a huge romantic dork, so naturally anything having to do with Zeeter makes him a gushing mess. He thinks fondly of her, and would undoubtedly drop kick the world just to see her smile. He’d also go on about her accomplishments, but also compliment her, too, noting how proud or beautiful she looked to him when she did said thing. From talking about her accomplishments to complimenting her, he doesn’t hold back about his affection for her. Their personalities are way more drastic than Walden and Widget’s, but their common ground, appreciation for their differences and matched wits are what drew them to each other.

Both of them have lists of things that their girlfriends like/dislike. Because they’re scientists and pay attention to that rather than everything else. Oh, and because I said so. XD

The only thing not pictured here is Widget being touched by this, and Zeeter being so embarrassed that she wants to run for the hills (but trust me, she’s secretly happy) XD

Enjoy!

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

i watched dom the bombs reading of book 2 and saw people making really negative comments about tillie and the book, it made me feel bad seeing how far people are going to hate on tillie instead of just the book

Yeah, I saw some of his livestream. I don't really watch his content, but I have watched the videos he did about Clementine Book One. I only watched the stream for about two minutes before I had to shut it off because it was that unpleasant, and I'm not referring to the content of the book. Then when I heard through discord that he'd gotten to chapter 9, I turned it back on and watched his reaction and the rant that followed and like... I have a lot of feelings but to put it simply, I'm kinda pissed so apologies for this long post.

Here's the deal: I don't know Dom, and maybe his reactions were exaggerated for his chat, or maybe he really does feel that aggressively passionate about twdg and what these comics have done, I don't know. I jumped into the stream the first time when he was at the part where Clementine's being introduced to new cast at the party, and it's when he was reading and said, "'John is Morro's son' I don't care" that I clicked off. Why should I keep watching when you're not going to put in any effort into the story outside of just hating on it? That's the whole vibe I got and it put me right off.

He can hate them as much as he wants [and he did say that if this wasn't about Clementine, it wouldn't be that bad], that's not my issue. My biggest issue comes when he brings Tillie into it because he always does.

I think his stream had a little bit of a ripple effect that's lead to Tillie's social media. Looking through her most recent post on insta, there are a bunch of new comments with people parroting some stuff he said in his stream... as if she needed more shit. She's been getting these comments for days now.

For those unaware, Tillie Walden just had a baby on October 4th, the same day Clementine Book Two came out, and these are pieces throughout the comments section of that post sharing the news:

I'm trying so hard to put this into words because, on one hand, I get that Dom is just one person and it's not like he can force his audience to do anything. Plus, the hate was happening before his stream so it's not like it's his fault anything... but just because he throws in a "I don't condone harassment of Tillie guys" disclaimer around, that doesn't mean he isn't contributing to the problem.

You can't go on a rant about how Ricca is Tillie's self-insert and no one can change your mind about that, and then be like "but guys don't harass Tillie, she doesn't deserve it." THAT is what people are sending her threats over! You're just validating that self-insert idea! You are contributing to the problem!

Personally, I don't think he's saying "don't send anyone harassment" because he actually gives a shit about Tillie Walden or anyone involved in the project, he's saying it to cover his own ass so no one can point any fingers at him. I'd like to be proven wrong on that. I'd love for him to be more serious about it and say more than just "I don't condone harassment" before going on to say he's gonna bring the hammer down for his review.

And y'know what? You're right. I can't change your mind about Ricca being a self-insert because you don't want to change your mind.

Both of them having glasses isn't evidence, and "they look exactly the same!" doesn't work when Tillie's art style has same-face syndrome. Slap some glasses on Olivia and oop, Olivia must be a self-insert, too!

Like... do people still not get how stories are made? Writers tend to write what they know, they draw from their life experiences and that influences their characters, settings, and plots. You know what probably happened? Tillie wears glasses, and she probably thought about how much it would suck to wear glasses in the apocalypse, and gave that idea to one of her characters.

But does it even matter? You've already decided it's not up for debate. You're not open to discussion on it. You're set on spreading "Ricca is a self-insert" to your audience, that ripples through the fandom, and a shit ton of people are weaponizing it. "Ricca is a self-insert" is why they're going after her on a post about her newborn baby.

I know how that this works. It's happened to me where I've said something only to see some of my followers weaponizing it against other people. Shit, when I was on the subreddit the other day, I saw someone misquoting me from my first read through of Book Two post: I never said I would lose my shit if they named Olivia's baby Amos Junior, AJ 2.0. I was making a fucking joke. And do you know how many times I've come across "AJ 2.0" since? An alarming amount!

When you have a platform with any amount of followers, shit you say is going to spread and it might be used poorly. There isn't much you can do about it except think about the future shit you say and how you say it. You're never going stop everyone from being shitty; some people are just insistent on being assholes, but you can always try to reach through to more people.

There is a conversation to be had about the contents of chapter 9, and how this story is leaning toward a more romantic focus over a gritty zombie drama. There's a lot to say about Ricca as a character. There are legit criticisms of these books, and criticisms to be had of Skybound for continuing the series after the games ended... but I don't think many people are interested in actually having those conversations. I think they just want to be mad. I think they want to put all the blame on one person, and since it's Tillie's name on the books, they want to hate her.

And I don't even dislike Dom or anything. He seems like a nice guy who's passionate about the games and is disappointed the comics didn't do them justice. From the parts I watched he had good points about how Skybound were the ones who hired Tillie knowing her previous work. I see where he's coming from with his dislike of the romance angle, too.

But it's the reactionary anger that feeds and grows, which again, I don't blame him for having strong feelings or reacting. I used to stream on twitch and you do get carried away; you exaggerate, you get pissed off and so does chat and suddenly everything is heated and you're bouncing that off each other. So I get it.

I guess I just dread his actual review because I know what's going to happen. And now I'm also a little worried about my review.

I'm just upset that this is what the twdg fandom's turned into. I mean, we've always had toxicity but I don't remember it ever being this bad. There's nothing I can do about it except hope people calm down.

...I can't believe this is where my character arc has led me. I'm the Tillie Walden and, to an extent, the Clementine comics defender... Well, shit.

I don't even like the comics, I think they're bullshit too, and yet-

[juicycoutureheaux]

When it’s over Chapter 11

“Alma Y Cuerpo”

It’s been a while since I’ve updated “when it’s over” on Tumblr, I didn’t know if this story had many readers on here. I’ve got 17 chapters on Ao3, I’ll work on updating the chapters without spamming the tags here. The other chapters can be found here

The next couple of weeks were spent on leave, Anna’s body slowly catching up with her mind.

She had received news, in a sterile BSAA clinic that Walden had exposed her to the Mold where it entered her bloodstream. After her initial life saving procedures to stop the mold from spreading further, the medical staff conducted a CT scan on her brain to see if the mold had moved to her brain.

She was lucky, there weren’t any masses found in her brain, but she would have to go back for scans and tests twice a year.

Doctor Williams, who was an internationally recognized scientist and medical doctor, assured her she wasn’t contagious and she could live a normal life, with few modifications.

He even hypothesized that the infection is what saved her life.

The news was devestating. She was struggling with a condition now, that had little research about it and she couldn’t even tell her best friend.

After she was released from the hospital she was cleared to go back to her apartment she shared with Lavish.

The apartment didn’t have the same warmth as it did before.

It felt like the ghost of who she used to be, was haunting the apartment.

The weird thing about having a near death experience and seeing loved ones that have passed on, is that everyday you’re reminded of it.

Every time she stepped into the shared living space she expected her mother and husband to be there, but they were absent.

She also longed to receive a message from Bunny. She would have accepted anything; a feather, butterfly or cardinal. Maybe, an unfortunate, yet comical series of events that only she could orchestrate in the afterlife.

It was like radio silence coming from the other side of this existence. As the days passed on, Anna felt more empty; it was like a part of her died when Walden tried to end her life.

And maybe it did.

She had experienced actual pain before, but nothing compared to the betrayal of a friend. She had betrayed her friend, by not being able to keep her safe. She had died a horrible death for nothing. It was selfish, but there were nights she wished she had been the one to die instead. It only made sense, she was the one who vowed to risk her life for the safety of others, not Bunny; yet, here she was laying down on the cold floor of her bedroom alone.

It was Saturday night, Lavish was at the club performing.

They held a week-long celebration of life for the late Bunny while Anna was still in the hospital. Her murder reverberated through the community and seemed to bring everybody closer together. The bar was busier than ever and Lavish was reaping the benefits.

Lavish would come home, plentiful cash tips in hand at sunrise, but there was always something sad in her eyes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this without my friend.” She would say. Anna would just sit there and listen while Lavish would talk through her guilt.

Sure, they were doing better than ever, but Bunny wasn’t here to see it. It was almost like she was some sacrificial lamb. Anna didn’t even want to think about it, it’s not like she could talk about what Walden confessed to her. This was the first time she really couldn’t talk about something with Lavish and it was killing her.

Anna decided the pain was beginning to be too much to bear and she got off the cold floor and decided to do something about it.

She was going to Redfield’s house; before she could realize what she was doing she was standing on the porch of Alpha’s home.

She was debating whether or not to knock on the door, or to turn around with her tail between her legs but fate had other plans.

The distinct sound of a lock being undone and the door creaking open filled Anna’s ears.

Chris stood there in a plain, gray tee that accentuated his muscular chest and arms. He looked at the woman with the slightest bit of confusion and curiosity.

“Anna, what are you doing here? I didn’t expect to see you for a couple more weeks.”

Anna’s breath hitched in her throat. “I made a mistake, I should really be leaving, I’m sorry for disturbing you.” She went to leave but she felt a large hand gently, yet firmly grab her wrist.

Anna looked up to meet Chris’ concerned gaze.

“You made the drive out here for a reason. Why don’t you come inside, even if it’s just for a minute.” He reasoned with her.

She bit her lip with indecisiveness and let him guide her through the threshold of the doorway.

Out of habit she gently removed her shoes at the front door before stepping further into Chris’ neat home. Her bare feet were cold on the hardwood floors.

“Why don’t you have a seat on the couch?” Chris suggested.

Her movements were automatic as she sat on the plush couch. She instinctively sat at the edge of the couch and propped herself up against the armrest.

Chris came back in with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He sat them down on the coffee table and sat at the other end of the couch Anna was on.

“Soooo….” He started off by pouring the dark liquid into the glass and offering it to her. She took it and watched as he poured some for himself.

She stared into her glass swirling the dark amber-y liquid, watching it change in color as it moved around the glass. She decided it was only fair for her to break the silence.

“I’m so used to always initiating cheers before I drink.” She said awkwardly.

“Considering you showed up looking helpless on my doorstep, I’m guessing you’re not in the mood to cheer for anything.” Chris said flatly.

“You would be absolutely correct.” She announced the last two words bitterly. Then, without giving it a second thought she threw back the whiskey in one take. She put her glass firmly on the coffee table. The warmth from the alcohol swirling in her belly.

“Right on.” Chris said and did the same.

“I came here to talk about the incident.” She said shakily, the liquid courage starting to numb her a little bit.

Chris stared at her sympathetically, he was silent, but his body language said that he was listening.

“Walden told me some things… some awful things. I can’t get them out of my head. I have nightmares almost every night.”

“He almost killed you Anna.” He sighed, pouring himself another shot and did the same for her. “You trusted him, and he tried to murder you.” The thought of Walden leading Anna into that lab alone, if Chris had just been five minutes late, or hadn’t even thought to look for her, Anna would have been dead.

Anna looked at Chris intently. “That’s not even the worst part.” She felt the sadness and guilt build up in her chest. She drank some more of the burning liquid to numb the pain. “I killed her.” She said out weakly.

Chris instinctively moved closely to her. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Killed who, Anna?”

Bunny’s face flashed in her mind. She thought of how scared she was in her final moments and how Anna was completely to blame. She began to cry in her hands.

Chris pulled into her an embrace and began to rub her back. She couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the fact she had kept the awful secret to herself for weeks, but she felt comfortable enough to cry into his chest.

When she had calmed down a little bit, Chris loosened his embrace on her.

“Walden killed Bunny because of me.” She managed out.

“Anna, it's not your fault.”

“But it is!” Anna sobbed. “She’s gone, it should have been me, why couldn’t he just have killed me?”

Chris tensed his jaw. He remembered the Arklay incident. The feelings of guilt flooding back to him. His comrades dead because of his selfish leader; and Chris, left alive to suffer.

“I should never have involved anyone else in my life when I moved here. I knew the risk! I knew there were bad people out there like Walden, I just never thought it would be him! Bunny is dead because I was selfish, I just wanted friends so badly, I felt like she really understood me and now she’s gone.”

“She’s dead because some selfish asshole wanted to hurt you Anna. And he succeeded.”

Anna began to spiral. “It’s not just Bunny Chris-“ she raised her voice a little. “If I hadn’t pushed Michael so hard, if I hadn’t been so adamant about starting a family. Maybe if I had just stopped demanding so much he wouldn’t have felt the need to advance his career so fast, he wasn’t even supposed to be there the day he died.”

She breathed shakily, moving her hand through her hair. “But I insisted he go, I wanted him to be the first one there to make the best impression.” She started to sob again.

Chris breathed in. He remembered the guilt that he still carried with him, with Jill. She wasn’t supposed to be there with Spencer either, but she insisted. He remembered saying to him that it was “their fight”.

He regrets letting her go everyday.

Chris decided to speak. “You know, I bet he didn’t think you were pressuring him.”

She looked up at him, her usual spritely features marred with tears and red blotches.

“You…think that?”

“Of course I do, the way you talk about him, he seemed like a good man, but you’re also a good woman.” He planted his hand on her thigh assuringly.

The warmth of his hand on her thigh made her weak, but his words made her weaker.

“I bet you were so good to him. I bet everyday you gave him something to smile about.”

She sniffled starting to feel like she could talk to

Him without sobbing.

“Everytime he was sick, I would go to the grocery store and get his favorite fruit, because I know it would make him feel better.” She laughed at the memory. “I demanded he lay in bed, because he was always moving; even when he was sick.”

She grimaced and looked down at her feet.

“I really miss the life I had.”

Chris gave her an understanding look.

“You know I think about that all the time. I dream about the life I had before all this bio terrorism mess.”

Anna quickly snapped her head up. “Chris, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful.”

Chris held her tight again. “You don’t sound ungrateful, you sound human.”

She leaned her head into his chest. “Did you ever want a family Chris? Did you ever think you’d get married, have kids?”

Chris hadn’t dwelled on the thoughts he had while living in Raccoon City. Working at the RPD, sure he was immature, but he saw how happy Barry and Kathy were. He was a womanizer, but he always thought he’d find the right girl to settle down with and have a couple of kids.

When he met Jill, he was convinced it was her. She was beautiful, smart and tough as hell; she didn’t take any shit from the guys at the station. Then the incident happened, he was so hellbent on avenging his dead friends he forgot about the ones who were still alive.

He abandoned Jill in Raccoon City where she needed him most, he had even abandoned Claire.

What kind of man was he?

He decided to answer truthfully. “I did, I don’t think I deserve it anymore.”

It was Anna’s turn to comfort Chris.

“Chris, I think you’d be an amazing husband and an even better dad.” She said sincerely.

He shifted uncomfortably. He decided to switch the subject back to Anna.

“Did Walden do anything else to you, Anna?” He said cautiously, making sure he didn’t offend her or bring up traumatic memories too soon.

She grabbed the glass bottle and poured them more, she knew she needed to slow down, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“I can’t remember much of what happened honestly,” she sipped the alcohol this time, taking time to taste the bitterness of it. “I remember he threatened my family, that’s why I went with him. He wanted to inject me with something…” she trailed off. She hadn’t thought of the events since her recovery in the hospital, she suddenly felt panicked.

“He…he… exposed me to the mold, Chris.”

Chris’ eyes widened. Anna buried her face into her hands.

“Is this the first time you’ve talked about it with somebody?”

“Yes.” She sobbed a little bit.

He laughed humorlessly, lost for words. “Well, you haven't been neutralized, so you must be okay.” He tried to say lightly.

“It’s in my bloodstream but I’m not contagious. They tried some experimental drug on me so it wouldn’t spread. It wasn’t very pleasant as you can imagine.”

“Anna, I’m so sorry. I knew you had been exposed, I just wasn’t aware of how bad it actually was.”

“Do you think I’m a monster? That I’m like Lucas?” She asked sharply.

Chris looked at her incredulously. “You’re nowhere near that crazy bastard. You will never be like him.”

“You’re the only person I’ve told, I don’t know if anyone else knows.”

“They don’t.” He said assuringly. “I won’t tell either. Your secret is safe with me.” He smiled at her.

Anna nodded, her eyes still unfocused, mind in some far off place. Chris recognized that stare, he had seen it too many times. It genuinely made him angry that Walden, and the connections had caused her so much pain.

“So you and Micheal wanted kids?.” He asked casually, trying to lighten the subject.

For the first time tonight, Anna genuinely smiled. “I wanted them so bad.” She said. “We tried so hard to conceive. The doctors told us our only hope was IVF, my body was having trouble ovulating.” She blinked quickly and made a grimace.

“I’m sorry that was TMI.” She laughed awkwardly.

“No it isn’t.” Chris laughed with her.

Her face fell a little bit. “It was expensive, but I wanted a baby so bad, I just wanted to be a mom. Michael would have done anything to make it happen and he did.” Her face fell again.

“It just wasn’t meant to be.” She took another shot of the whiskey. Her body was getting warmer, she knew she needed to stop, but didn’t want to.

“You don’t know that,” Chris said reassuringly. “You’re still so young.”

“Yeah, well, I think God has other plans for my life.” She said. “They advised me at the clinic if I were to conceive they would have a chance of having the infection. You know that means.”

Chris nodded. He did. Terrorists were manufacturing BOWS in labs. If word spread that a human was producing super humans naturally, Anna and her children would be in extreme danger.

Anna stood up quickly, “Well I’ve wasted enough of your time tonight Chris, I should get going,” she stumbled slightly before Chris firmly seated her into the couch again.

The mood started to shift to a lighter tone.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink, missy.” He said in a playful tone. “You should stay here until you sober up. I’ll let your roommate know where you are.”

“Do you know their phome number?”

“Oh I got Daniel’s number while you were in the Hospital. He was listed as your emergency contact.”

Anna looked at him confused. “He lets you call him Daniel?” She glared at him. “Have you guys been texting behind my back?”

He smirked. “Maybe.”

She flopped her back into the couch dramatically and put a pillow over her face. Chris smirked at her overracting.

He sat down next to her again. “Alright, he’s aware you’re staying over.”

“Great.” Anna said through the pillow which muffled her response. She took the pillow off her face. “Soooo… since we’re in a talking mood tonight,” she said, starting to blush. “Should we talk about that kiss we had in Canada?”

Chris blinked at her, genuinely shocked. The kiss had been on his mind for weeks. He thought she would never bring it up, he was worried he had forced himself onto her. Obviously he knew now the feeling was mutual.

“What about it?” He asked, trying to cover up his shock.

“Well, do you have feelings for me Chris, because I definitely think I have them for you.”

Instead of answering verbally, Chris decided to do what any hot blooded man would do. He kissed her passionately.

It was comfortable and romantic, it was like they had just picked up where they ended in Canada. Anna decided to break the Kiss.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” She giggled.

“Yes.” He said, going in to nibble at the sensitive skin on her neck.

She instinctively let out a moan. It had been so long since she had been touched like this, she missed it. She also felt slight guilt of being with another man.

She tried to shake it off, remembering her fever dream. Would Michael really be okay with her having a relationship with another man?

Chris sensed her demeanor change. “Are you okay? We don’t have to keep going.”

She smiled up at him and kissed him again, rougher this time. The liquor was doing things to her body, she felt like her belly was on fire and she could smell Chris’ natural scent, which only made her more aroused.

Chris picked up on her neediness and began to paw at her breasts through her clothes. Impatiently, she ripped her shirt and bra off. She wanted to feel his calloused hands on her bare breasts.

“You want this bad, don’t you baby?”

“I’ve wanted you since Dulvey, Chris.”

“You’re such a bad girl making me wait that long. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” He said roughly pulling her hips up to align with his. She could feel his erection on her thigh.

Although Chris was in his 40s, he was rock hard and had no problem getting “it up” for her. The size of what she felt excited her, but also made her nervous. It had been years since she had been fucked. Would she be any good still?

Chris began to play with the waistband of her shorts. She lifted up her hips and removed them exposing her panties.

She suddenly felt self conscious. “Why don’t you take your shirt off honey?” She said playing with his shirt.

Chris responded enthusiastically by taking off his shirt. “That good enough sweetheart?”

She smirked. “Definitely.” She began to gently rub his muscular chest. “Chris, you’ve got an amazing body.” She began to stroke his hair and move her hands from his head, down to his neck and stop at his shoulders. She couldn’t help but squeeze his biceps.

“Mmm, you’re driving me crazy baby.” He said as he pressed body against hers again. He let his hand drift down below her waist, touching the thin fabric of her panties.

She shuddered at his touch. She kissed him again to affirm she wanted him to continue. She bucked her hips up to him and moaned in pleasure when he moved her panties to the side to gently stroke her most sensitive place.

“Mmm Chris, please don’t stop it feels so good,” she moaned into his ear.

He responded by inserting a finger into her tight entrance. She gasped at the sensation of a thick finger inside of her.

“God baby, your pussy is so tight.” He began to pump his finger in and out of her while rubbing her clit. “It’s a shame I’m going to stretch it out.”

Anna and Michael hardly exchanged dirty talk when they had sex. The two of them would say the occasional dirty thing and then giggle. They were so young and inexperienced when they married.

Chris was proving to be the exact opposite. The way he touched her body, he had probably been with several women, and he didn’t hold back with expressing his dirty thoughts.

She started to blush a deep red. Chris used his free hand to caress her face. “Is this your first time since…?”

Anna nodded sheepishly.

“I’ll take good care of you baby, don't worry.”

Chris began to kiss down her abdomen to her pelvis. He pulled down the thin fabric of her panties and revealed her pussy.

She began to sit up to protest what was about to happen when Chris placed a firm hand on her abdomen, keeping her in place.

He spread her thighs apart and put his head between her thighs and began to lick her clit mercilessly.

Anna was not the type to receive oral sex, sure her husband had tried it, but she was so self conscious it was never enjoyable.

With Chris it was different. He was assertive, Of course she didn’t feel pressured to do anything she didn’t want to do, but he was making sure to push her limits.

“Chris, it’s so much,” she began to writhe underneath him. He didn’t slow down, but instead he entered two of his thick fingers into her pussy.

She couldn’t contain the erotic noises of her pleasure. She thanked god he lived in a home and not an apartment. She was loud and knew that if people were nearby they were hearing her react to Chris’ unique set of skills.

Her body began to tremble as the increasing waves of pleasure ran over her body. Just as she was about to climax Chris withdrew himself from her.

She lifted herself, face flushed and looked at Chris with confusion and slight embarrassment.

“Did I do something wrong?” She stammered out.

Chris kissed her reassuringly. “You’re doing everything right sweetheart.”

He began to undo his pants and she couldn’t help but stare.

“You wanna help me get these pants off so I can fuck your little pussy quicker?”

Anna giggled and instinctively looked away. He was so comfortable with her. She wish she could return the same confidence.

Never the procrastinator, Chris guided her hands to the waist of his pants. She followed his lead and began to undo his belt buckle. She pulled down his pants and his thick cock sprung out.

She was hesitant at first, but she gently took Chris’ member in her mouth and began to suck his cock.

Chris began to play with her hair gently, moving it out of her face and holding it in a ponytail.

“God you look so beautiful sucking my cock. It’s like your mouth was made for me.”

Ever the people pleaser Anna began moving faster, attempting to take more of him into her mouth. It was a challenge but she was up to it.

Chris rubbed Anna’s shoulder warmly. “Baby, I don’t want to cum just yet.”

Anna understood and moved away from his cock. She kissed up his chest, to his neck to meet his mouth. He buried his fingers in her hair, completely dominating the kiss.

When they came up for air, Chris gently picked her up.

Anna looked at him a little confused.

“I don’t want our first time together to be on a couch.”

She smiled at him and held on to his neck as he carried her into his bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed and looked into her eyes.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Of course.”

That’s all he needed. Chris spread her legs at the knees as he positioned himself between her. “This okay?”

Anna nodded positioning her hands on his biceps again.

He grabbed her hips and brought them to align with his. He began to tease her a little bit by rubbing the tip of his cock against her clit and wet entrance.

“Chris, please.” She whined out.

“Chris, please what?” He chided her. He wanted her to beg for it.

“Chris please…I want you inside of me.” She said sheepishly.

Chris smirked, “You are such a sweet girl.” He kissed her cheek.

He grabbed knees by the backs, and pressed them to as far as they would go so she was completely helpless tohim.

“All that training paid off babygirl. You’re so flexible.”

He began to enter her, little by little, Anna began to clutch his arms digging her nails into him.

“That’s right baby, you’re taking my cock so well.”

Chris eventually managed to get his cock inside of her right entrance, completely filling her up. He began to thrust into her, the head of his cock grazing her cervix with each thrust.

Anna couldn’t help but yelp with each thrust. He was being rough with her, but she was enjoying it.

When she was married sex was sweet, it was never erotic like this. Chris was completely dominating her and enveloping her entire body. He was commanding every sense she had

She felt Chris’ thrusts become deeper and faster. She knew he was close. She let herself relax so she could ride out the waves of her own orgasm. Chris bit down on her neck as he came.

Chris collapsed into her as soon as he finished. They shared a long kiss and he pulled out of her. She suddenly felt very empty,

The post coital clarity hit her hard.

She quickly ran into the bathroom before Chris could question her. She immediately turned on the shower and got in.

She felt Chris’ cum leak out of her.

In that moment she felt so dirty, that she didn’t even make him wear protection, that she was so easy she’d just let anyone fuck her.

Overwhelmed with emotion and hormones she began to cry.

She felt so guilty for sleeping with Chris. He was so good in bed, but they had no real relationship. She just slept with him out of pure carnal attraction. She was torn out of her thoughts when she heard a gentle knock at the door.

“Can I come in, Anna?”’

She quickly turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around her. She opened the door. Chris stood there with a concerned look.

“I heard you crying.”

She felt awful. “Chris, I just um, I don’t know, I think it’s all the hormones or something. I just haven’t been right that’s all.”

Chris brought her in for an embrace. “Was I too rough?”

Anna stroked his muscular chest. “No, it was perfect, honestly it was too perfect.” She pulled away.

“Then why were you crying?”

She took a shaky breath. “Because I know we can’t continue like this Chris. I feel like I’m just a hookup to you.”

“A hookup? Are you serious?”

“It’s really okay, I understand. I’m just not used to this.”

“Anna, you’re not just some hookup, you mean so much more to me.”

She felt overwhelmed.

“Is this really going to work? I feel like I have so many complicated feelings for you.” She leaned into his chest.

“All we can do is try.” He hugged her back and stroked her soft hair. He knew the risks of sleeping with her, he felt himself falling for her as well. He vowed mentally to take care of her. Whatever it took.

They ended up making love a second time that night and fell asleep in each other's arms.

For the first time, in a long time the pair hadn’t had the nightmares that kept them awake at night.

[lovelylogans]

the parent trap

CHAPTER TWO: welcome to camp walden!

Welcome to what we like to think of as the most beautiful spot on God's green earth—Camp Walden.

Camp Walden for Boys, Remus thought as he ducked and swerved through the crowds of prepubescent and teenage boys, seemed like it was thrashing about in disarray and confusion as counselors shouted bunk assignments with no rhyme or reason, duffle bags were chucked into piles without care, and the whine of megaphones blared.

In other words, it seemed like it would be perfect for him.

At least, it would be if—

“HEY!” Remus bellows, cupping his hands around his mouth as he attempted to keep up. “Hanni-bag Lecter! You can stop, that’s my bag!”

—if Remus could just get his things.

The counselor, seemingly deaf to all the bedlam around him, simply continued weaving around clusters of boys. Remus cursed under his breath and picked up the pace, keeping his eyes trained on the lime green bag hoisted over a shoulder. 

He doesn’t have to run for long; the counselor tosses the duffle onto the top of a pile. 

“Thanks for nothing!” Remus huffs in his direction, before turning back to his bag, reaching in for it. “There you—”

His arm is promptly crushed under the weight of another duffle—jeez, did this guy only pack bricks?!

Then two-three-four more in rapid succession—Remus sets his jaw and yanks out his arm before he gets cruelly crushed under the weight of luggage, huffing as he shoves his sunglasses up onto his head. 

“Perfect.”

“You must be new.”

Remus turns to see a bespectacled kid—his age, maybe, if a bit short—nudging his glasses up his nose, adjusting his own duffle strap over his shoulder.

“How could you tell?” Remus says sarcastically.

The boy does not seem to register that. “You didn’t grab the duffle before the aids tossed it into the heap. I’d say you need some serious help.”

“Well,” Remus says, grabbing the strap of his bag. “Either get with it or get moving, specs, ‘cause this ain’t gonna haul itself.”

Specs obligingly grabs onto the other bit of strap that’s free and they tug once—twice—

Just then, a boy in a tie-dye shirt—their age, maybe, if a bit tall—comes to the pile and, without any semblance of strain, tugs free a duffle from the bottom of the pile.

Remus’ jaw drops. 

“Whoa!” Specs says, also duly impressed with this show of Herculean strength.

“Now that’s my kinda man!” Remus says, then, yelling, “YO, TIE-DYE GUY! Bring those biceps over here!”

Tie-dye guy turns, spots them, then shrugs, setting his own bag clearly away from the heap before doubling back around.

“Sure.”

“Thanks—it’s the lime green one, way in the middle—”

Remus and Specs both swiftly relinquish their holds on the strap as Tie-dye grabs it, pulls, and manages to get it free without causing a luggage avalanche.

“No problem,” Tie-dye says, about to hand it over before he spies the tag. “Hey, you’re all the way from California?!”

“Yep,” Remus says, and, without further ado, both Specs and Tie-dye get started on what Pa would call the usual suspects.

“Do you, like, live in Hollywood?”

“Do you live next door to a movie star?”

“Have you met a ton of movie stars?!”

“Whoa, chill,” Remus says. “I mean, yeah, I’ve been to Hollywood, and I think I’ve met, like, four TV people but only one of them was sorta famous, but you’ve got the wrong part of Cali entirely. I live in Napa—it’s up north—and I live next door to a vineyard. Well. On the vineyard, really.”

“What’s a vineyard?” says tie-dye guy.

“We grow grapes for wine there,” Remus says; this question only ever comes up when kids in his grade ask. Parents usually just smile and nod knowingly and maybe ask if he can sneak them some of the merchandise. “That’s what we do, my Papa and me—”

“Parker, Remus!” A megaphone bleats.

“Right here!” Remus says, whipping around and raising a hand.

“Pine cabin!”

“Same here!” “Me too!”

Remus grins and slaps high fives with these kids; he really should probably get to know their names.

“C’mon, this way,” says Specs, and Remus trots alongside.

“So, uh… either of you fellas know how to play poker?”

Both reply in the negative. Remus can’t help but grin.

“Don’t worry,” he declares. “I can totally teach you.”

⁂

From what Roman can tell, seated in the back of the car, Camp Walden looks like a picturesque little campus right out of a a movie about preteen boys that get up to wacky hijinks at summer camp.

There are, of course, seemingly countless preteen and teenage boys; some in clusters, some hauling bags alone, some roaring and running up to their former friends for a reuniting hug; Roman chews at the inside of his cheek at the sight of so many of them.

There’s a tennis court, a lake that glints brightly under the heat of the high-noon sun in a cloudless sky, a row of archery targets lined up ready for the piercing, a basketball court (very American sport, wasn’t it, basketball? Roman’s only ever seen it in movies) school buses (school buses! He thought those only existed in TV shows and movies! All of them seem to be green and white, though, branded for the camp and not the iconic yellow, to Roman’s disappointment).

Of course, there are rows and rows of picturesque little log cabins with images of their namesakes hanging above the doorway; a pine tree here, a maple leaf there, even (and this gives Roman a brief thrill of home) what looks to be a Tudor rose.

And that’s only the stuff lining the main drive!

But soon—frighteningly too soon—the car rolls to a stop, and Logan clears his throat, opening his car door.

Roman takes a moment to swallow any nerves as Logan straightens his suit jacket, grabs his carry-on, and steps carefully out.

“Here we are,” Uncle Logan says, squinting up at the bright sunshine filtering down through the vibrantly green leaves. Roman isn’t sure he’s ever been around so much greenery and woodland before, outside of occasional family jaunts. There’s next to no semblance of the comforting gray of concrete and cloudy skies of London here.

“Camp Walden for Boys,” Logan continues. “It’s rather… picturesque, isn’t it?”

It is a bit odd, Roman thinks, to see constantly-suited Logan here, amongst the woodchips and the flora and fauna; they both, he notes a bit self-consciously, stick out like sore thumbs. All the other boys here are in t-shirts and shorts; even the adult counselors are uniform in dark green polo shirts and khaki shorts.

Roman tries not to fuss with his own jacket, though he’s already sweltering hot; tweed isn’t exactly summer gear, though it had been wonderful on the chilly plane. 

Dad always says Roman should look his best to make a first impression, and that’s certainly what he’ll do.

“All right, your bags ah, here we are,” Uncle Logan says, popping open the trunk. “Carry-on, you’ve got that, your case—ah, you’ve got that too— luggage, here…”

And with that, Roman and his uncle are left standing quietly amidst the shouting and bellowing of the campers and their counselors. 

“Got it all, I think,” Roman says uncertainly.

They stare at each other some more. Then—

“Oh!” Uncle Logan says, surprised, but he catches Roman flinging himself at him just fine. 

Eight weeks! That’s two whole months! He’s never been away from Uncle Logan or his dad or grandpa for that long, not ever in his entire life! Roman knows Uncle Logan is a stiff-upper-lip proper English kind of man, he knows it, but he can’t help it. 

But Uncle Logan obligingly wraps his arms around Roman anyway.

“I’ve told you once, but I’ll tell you again,” Uncle Logan says. “If you change your mind and you want me to come here to collect you at the end of camp, I’m just a phone call away.”

Roman pulls back, but Uncle Logan holds both of his hands in his anyway. 

“I remember. I’ll be all right.”

“All the same.”

“I know,” Roman says. He takes a deep breath, squeezing Logan’s hands. 

“I’ll see you in eight weeks, Roman.” Uncle Logan says, squeezing his hands.

“I’m missing you already,” Roman says, and he lets go.

Only for Uncle Logan to stick out a hand for him again. Roman beams and takes it.

This is an old tradition, from when he was a child; he can’t remember what started it, but Uncle Logan, ever obliging, helped him choreograph a secret handshake to the tune of one of Grandfather’s favorite jazz numbers, and Roman’s loved it ever since, childish as it may be.

One shake—two—three—then Roman sticks out a hand, Logan puts his hand on top, the Roman’s then Logan’s again, down with their hands and up—they hit backs up of their hands, clap up middle down down down, snap to the hip—bump one hip, then hop for the other—grin to each other—then swap places, and shake hands once more.

It probably makes no sense to anyone who sees them. But Roman thinks that’s the beauty of it.

Then Uncle Logan leans forward and kisses Roman on the forehead.

“Have fun, Roman.”

“I will.”

Uncle Logan walks to the car, pauses, and turns.

“Goodbye, Roman. Have fun.”

Roman is uncertain if he’s ever heard a less likely candidate to propose fun than Uncle Logan, whose ideal Sunday was one spent cleaning their practically spotless house. But:

“I will, Uncle Logan. Goodbye.”

And so he watches as Uncle Logan gets into the car, briefly hearing him ask the driver for the airport.

Roman keeps his hands clasped tightly behind his back to keep himself from charging after the car, waving goodbye until his arm feels like it’s about to fall off.

Instead, he watches, clasping his own wrist tightly, as the car speeds off and follows a curve in the path, going beyond where his eyes can see.

He takes in one deep breath, biting hard at the inside of his cheek. Two.

Then he picks up his case and goes to find the nearest member of staff to figure out where he should drop his things, please.

⁂

The afternoon passes in a rush of unpacking as best he can with two “cubby” boxes worth of space, a whirlwind tour of the extensive grounds, and a blur of names Roman really, really should try to remember but seem to fly out of his head the instant after they’re said.

The boys in the Maple Cabin seem… nice enough. No one seems immediately drawn to Roman as a friend, which is fine—he has plenty of time to make friends, that unspoken goal of Dad’s when they started for fun ways to spend his summer—but everyone is at least passably decent. 

Everyone mostly seems really curious about London, England, and makes him say different words to hear his accent. That seems to be the majority of Roman’s popularity appeal.

“Hey, Roman,” case in point, “what do you call these?”

Roman glances over to the snack bag a boy is holding up in their current state; in line, at the dining hall. The crisps are in a vibrant bag.

A very vibrant bag. Roman didn’t think food that color existed outside of cartoons.

“Erm,” Roman says. “Crisps.”

“Crisps!” Another boy echoes in delight.

“What are those, anyway?” Roman says. “They’re so… bright.”

“Pizza Cravers Doritos, man, says so on the bag.”

“They make pizza-flavored crisps here?!”

“Not a lot—they’re a limited-time thing,” the first boy says, setting the bag on his plate. “Spoiling us for the first night,” and returns to conversation with another boy.

Roman shakes his head in amazement, reaching for a bag himself. Pizza-flavored crisps! How utterly American!

His entire meal is looking utterly American, really, when he glances down at his plate. A cheeseburger, chips (that counts toward Dad’s list of daily fruits and vegetables, right?), a glass of what Roman has been informed is called Kool-Aid, another flamboyantly bright American invention. Roman craned his neck; he thinks he sees apple pie for dessert!

He ought to write Grandfather about this. He’d appreciate the invention of a pizza crisp.

“Oh—’scuse me, fellas,” says a man dressed entirely in cargo, nudging his way into line; one Roman thinks he recognizes as someone vaguely important within the camp infrastructure.

Even if entirely in cargo doesn’t exactly scream the fashion fortitude of someone in charge. That ought to go into his letter to Dad, who will surely have something to say about his insights into American fashion.

“I’ve just got to have some of this gorgeous cantaloupe—would you care for some, dear?”

“Oh,” Roman says, giving a wary eye to the large bowl. “I wish I could—everything seems lovely—but I’m allergic.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” the man says. Roman turns away, looking to find a table, when he hears the man offer a bowl to someone else.

“Can’t!” says a strident, nasally voice. “I’m allergic.”

Huh, Roman thinks, what are the odds of that?

But the odds fly out of his mind, even as the man expressing puzzlement fades from earshot; one of his cabin mates is waving around what looks like a condensed packet of frozen, fluorescent blue. Oh, Roman has got to know what on earth that is!

⁂

Oh, Remus can make a thick wad of cash off of this poor sack of sods.

Not to say his bunkmates aren’t nice. They are. But Remus isn’t a particularly nice boy; he’s a particularly nasty boy, according to one of his report cards in first grade.

Which is why Remus was going to so utterly crush all of them at poker. And make that thick wad of cash!

Remus is busy fantasizing about it as he’s subjected to the camp shower experience. Pretty grody, but Remus can dig it; his counselor’s going to have to learn that. What’s the point of running around with a ton of other boys all summer if Remus is going to have to wash the mud from behind his ears every day?

And then, as he’s choreographing a particularly insulting victory dance to pass the time he’s expected to be scrubbing soap, Remus accidentally manages to kick off one of his shower shoes (he’s going to lose them immediately) under the stall wall.

“Aw, shi—”

Remus cuts himself off as his shoe is nudged back under.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, slipping his shoe back on.

“You’re quite welcome,” says a cultivated British voice that belongs to whoever’s wearing bright red shower shoes next to him.

British! How weird!

Remus shakes his head and goes back to choreographing his victory dance.

How much trouble would I get in, he wonders, if I add some really untasteful middle fingers to it?

But the answer to that is the same answer Remus gives to every scheme: I won’t get in trouble, so long as they don’t catch me.

Oh, yes, Remus thinks gleefully as he shuts the water off. He’s going to buy candy stink bombs and video games and posters and soda and fireworks and even more candy…

⁂

Life in Maple Cabin settles into a routine about as quickly as it takes for Roman to get over the jet lag.

They wake up in the morning; Roman can make his bed if he likes, but not many of the other boys bother, so he doesn’t most days. 

They dress, troop to the “cafeteria,” get the information on their various camp activities of the day—they can detour from the tasks when they are more in the swing of things, but for now, most of them are still finding their way around, so to the agenda they shall stick—and follow tasks from there.

Roman has been introduced to basketball (he is… not very good at it), “soccer,” (his bunkmates seem to roll their eyes every time he calls it by its proper name) and a variety of outdoorsy activities, ranging from practical things, like fire-making and knot-tying, to the much more fun things, like tubing behind one of the camp’s four speedboats or capture the flag.

Their days are busy, but not so busy that Roman can’t find time to sit and begin the first of a few rough sketches of the camp’s campus, the lake, and other pleasing aspects of the wildlife. He’s sure he’ll send some to Dad and Uncle Logan eventually—he’d like to put more detail into them first.

He does write to his Dad and Grandfather—just a quick at camp, having fun!—and he wonders, with a homesickness he barely manages to quash, how long it will take for his letter to get to London. How long it might take for a letter to return here.

But he tries not to think of home much.

Their counselor lets slip early on that they can get snacks from the kitchen, as long as it’s late at night, early in the morning, or any other time when they won’t get underfoot of kitchen staff, and from there, Roman’s education in American snacks goes swimmingly. 

The other boys in Maple seem to find some form of amusement from how Roman reacts to these seemingly normal aspects of life to them. And Roman, barely modest about it, demonstrates his skill at poker, both of which seem to earn him some level of rapport with the rest of his bunkmates.

Not enough rapport to gain a best friend from it or anything. Just enough to elevate him to make sure no one will make fun of him throughout the summer.

It’s a promising enough start, Roman guesses. And hey—perhaps a new friend isn’t in Maple. Perhaps he’ll find them somewhere else. The summer’s barely started.

⁂

Summer camp freaking rules.

For one, they actually encourage theft.

“Well, we don’t encourage it,” his bunk counselor is hasty to say when he assets this theory, “it’s just—”

“We won’t get punished for it, is what I’m hearing.”

The counselor wavers. Remus pumps a fist in success.

“As long as it’s from the kitchens, and within reason,” the counselor tacks on hastily.

Too late! Remus is running out of the door before he can even finish his little explanation about rites of passage and free reign on kitchen snacks and better than ants in the cabins!

He can hear the parade of the bunkmates he’s also about to rob of everything of their senses storming after him, but that’s fine; he’ll content himself with snacks, for now, before he starts gutting the campers of all of their belongings via poker winnings.

It doesn’t take them long to get to the canteen—it’s centrally located to the rest of the cabins for a reason—and Remus does the smart thing and tries the door.

Locked. Well, they had to at least pretend like they weren’t condoning theft.

God, this is so cool. He absolutely cannot tell Pa, though, because then he’ll hear all about ethics and technically a crime and he just doesn’t want to deal with that. Virgil might be chill about it.

Wait. What is he saying? Virgil’s never been chill about anything ever. No, better to keep it to himself.

He goes to the windows next, and that pops open with barely any force at all; a little hop on a ledge here, a little turn of the body there, and he’s in.

The dining hall is as dark as it can be, even with the setting sun shining weakly through the closed shutters; Remus ignores any sight-seeing and promptly heads for the back, where he knows the pantry and fridge is.

He can hear other Pine bunkmates managing to duplicate his hop, but he ignores them and pulls open the first chest freezer he can see.

Eh, boring. Lots of hotdog/hamburger type supplies. He moves onto the next—and that’s where he hits the jackpot.

“Oh, perfect,” he breathes out, and he starts loading up with as many Chips Galores and ice cream sandwiches as he can carry.

“Hey, California, what’ve you got?” asks another boy—he doesn’t really know his name, and he doesn’t really care about that right now.

“Ice cream,” Remus says, then he jerks a head toward a closed door. “Hey, I bet they have a ton of chips and fruit snacks and stuff in the pantry, right?”

“Good call,” he says, and the boys of Pine camp start picking the contents of the kitchens clean.

Ice cream sandwiches and chips and fruit snacks are indeed found, but so are supplies for fluffer-nutter sandwiches and Trix cereal and fruity popsicles and—one of the great prizes of the night—a whole case full of Dunkaroos.

The boys of Pine hop through the window one at a time, snickering amongst themselves, laden with their goods, seeing three older, far more experienced boys from Juniper boost each other into a window, pulling up the last one, each with an empty, Santa-like sack over their shoulders.

Smart, Remus thinks admiringly, but he thinks he’s gotten away just fine, running with the other boys, back to Pine before any of their stolen glories can melt away in the heat of summer’s late evening.

It’ll surely be his first heist of many.

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[pennywaltzy]

Moments In The Life Of One Daniel "Danny" Messer (1/10)

So here's my old fic for the day! It's a 100-drabble drabble collection that I divided into ten chapters of ten drabbles (I'll post a new chapter every day along with another fic until it's done). They're all little moments in Danny Messer's life.

Moments In The Life Of One Daniel "Danny" Messer - A series of drabbles depicting moments in Daniel "Danny" Messer's life.

Read Chapter 1

Title: First Conversation Prompt: #1 - Beginnings Characters: Danny Messer & Mac Taylor

"You the guy I'm supposed to talk to?"

"Depends on what you're here to talk about."

"Job at the crime lab."

"Then I'm the man. Mac Taylor."

"Detective Messer."

"You have a first name, Detective?"

"Daniel. Everyone calls me Danny, though."

"Messer..."

"Yeah, I'm related to the Messers with the family connections, if that's what you're thinking."

"So...why are you a cop?"

"Someone's got to take them down. Might as well be me, you know? I’m the black sheep of the family anyway."

"Why?"

"Because...because I actually believe in doing more than they do. I want more than they do."

---

Title: Hours To Go Prompt: #6 - Hours Characters: Danny Messer

He was trapped. Hours to go till he could get out, till the panic room opened up. Hours.

God, if he wasn't claustrophobic before, being trapped with a dead body overnight was more than enough to push him in that direction.

Hours. If he concentrated on the hours, kept looking at his watch, talked the hours away on his cell phone till the battery went dead, maybe he'd make it. Maybe he wouldn't lose his mind. Yeah, he just had to remember that every hour that passed was one less for him to be there. Then he’d be long gone.

---

Title: Bad Jokes Prompt: #11 - Red Characters: Danny Messer & Don Flack

The blood spilled across the floor, bright red on pristine white marble. Danny whistled. Lots of blood for one body. Probably meant the victim had either completely bled out before being moved or there was more than one victim...two of them, probably.

"How many vics you say there were?"

"Two," Flack answered. "One Margaret Walden and one Thomas Kettering."

He whistled again, pulled out a camera, snapped a shot of the red stuff. "Bet you they’re drained," he deadpanned, flashing a grin at Flack, who just rolled his eyes.

"Stop it with the bad jokes, Messer. You’re killing me here."

---

Title: Blue In My Eyes Prompt: #16 - Purple Characters: Danny Messer, Stella Bonasera & Lindsay Monroe

"Purple suits you."

He glanced down at his shirt. "You think?"

"Brings out the blue in your eyes." Stella shut her locker. "Remember I told you if you ever needed beauty tips..."

Danny grinned. "I still can't believe what waterproof mascara does to your lashes."

"Yeah, well...price we pay."

He watched her leave, then looked back at his shirt. His grin got bigger...he did look good. Not that anyone would notice his eyes, since they were behind glasses, but...

"You look nice, Danny."

He flashed a wide grin at Lindsay. "Apparently, the purple brings out the blue in my eyes."

---

Title: Have Been, Will Be Prompt: #21 - Friends Characters: Danny Messer & Aiden Burn

"Hey! Wait up!"

"Leave me alone."

"Hey, Aiden...look, I'd give up my job and leave for this, for what happened..."

"Someone's got to stay and look out for my case."

"You know I will. That's what friends do."

"So we're friends?"

"Have been, will be."

"So, as friends...feel like buying me a beer? Or three?"

"What, you're gonna try and out-drink me? Never."

"No, I'm going to try and forget about what just happened."

"Give me your keys and the tab's on me."

"My keys?"

"So I can make sure you get inside your apartment and not left outside. Keys?"

---

Title: Pick-Up Prompt: #26 - Teammates Rating: G Characters: Danny Messer & Don Flack

Danny looked at those guys at the pick-up basketball game. He didn't see Flack anywhere, and everyone else was getting impatient. "Fine. Cook."

"Swann."

"Parker."

"Brown."

Finally, he saw him. "When his lazy butt gets over here, Flack."

"Why do you always pick Flack for your team?" the other captain said.

"Because he's good. And I want the good guys on my team."

"Fine. Robb."

Flack bounded over. "On your team?"

Danny nodded. "Grogan," he called out.

"Friedman."

"Let's get ready and play," tossing the ball to Flack. "Ready?"

"Ready." Flack passed the ball back, and the game was on.

---

Title: New Day Prompt: #31 - Sunrise Characters: Danny Messer

He hadn't been up to see the sunrise in a while. It had been a long night, trying to piece the case back together for the D.A. He was just taking a break, looking out the windows as the sun rose. It was gorgeous...the light came up gradually, chasing away the shadows, and bringing the city back to life.

He took another sip of his coffee and watched the new day coming. His day wasn't busy, not yet, but taking a moment out to see the sight woke him up and energized him a little more than he had been.

---

Title: Shampoo Prompt: #36 - Smell Rating: G Characters: Pre-ship Danny Messer/Lindsay Monroe

He was standing behind her again, his head near hers, and the smell of her shampoo wafted up. God, she smelled good...she always smelled good. That was how he knew she was around, by how she smelled. But he'd been left to wonder what it was exactly that she smelled like.

"What kind of shampoo do you use, Montana?"

"Why?"

"Just wondering."

"Um...Garnier Fructis." She shrugged. "I think it smells nice."

"Yeah." Instead, he just inched a little closer to her and took another breath. Time for him to switch shampoos...

Messer, you got it real bad for her...

---

Title: Fuzzy Outlines Prompt: #41 - Shapes Rating: G Characters: Danny Messer

He could see without his glasses on. He just...after a while, all the shapes seemed to blur and become fuzzy. Sometimes blinking a few times took care of the problem, sometimes he had to find his glasses and put them back on.

Now, with his glasses on, his eyes were making things fuzzy and indistinct shapes. This wasn't a good sign.

He took his glasses off, shut his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was time for someone else to take over computer duties for a while because if this kept up, he was gonna be pissed.

---

Title: King Of The Dead Prompt: #46 - King Rating: G Characters: Danny Messer & Sheldon Hawkes

"Hey, Hawkes. Tell me what it's like to be king of your domain."

Hawkes looked at him. "I'd rather be out in the field."

"What, and have us lose the best coroner we've had? No way." He laughed a bit, then saw the look on Hawkes' face. "You're serious."

"Yeah."

Danny went across from him, one dead body between them. "And give all this up?"

"I want to help people. Before they end up here."

Danny nodded. "Then give the kingdom to someone else."

"You want the job?"

"Me? Be king of the dead? You’ve inhaled too many chemicals, Doc."

[noxtms]

❝   CAN WE JUST ADDRESS THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM ? i know we all love them but are we really believing that the weird sisters just happened to decide their long awaited reunion should occur the exact weekend that the musical dedicated to celestina warbeck opens at merlin’s music hall ? i hope we all see what they’re doing, here ; the final performance of their farewell tour was totally eclipsed by her TRAGIC murder and i’d bet all the galleons in my savings vault that they recognised the opportunity to pay her back in kind a mile away-   ❞

WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE :  

IN SCOTLAND : a mere week after news of their surprise reunion tour hit newstands across britain, a stage covered by the strongest of cloaking charms appears out on the moors beyond hogsmeade village. just like the final performance of their farewell tour a few years back, THE WEIRD SISTERS chose the location for the sense of symmetry it gives them - the famous band had a humble start in the depths of hogwarts castle and there’s something to be said for doing it all over again so near to the place where they first began. tickets were a hot commodity when they went on sale last week, with plenty of diehard ( & lifelong ) fans losing out due to the short notice of it all - the first concert of the uk & ireland leg of the tour sold out within the first two minutes and a lot of the wix who didn’t manage to score tickets on the knockturn alley black market in the aftermath have decided to camp outside the stage area anyway, just to be able to hear their favorite songs.  to get barricade, wix had to apparate in to the designated apparition areas or leave their nearby camping grounds or b&b rooms before the sun had even started to rise on saturday the 8th of july. anyone content with a slightly less impressive view of the reunited band is able to turn up a little later in the day, with people trickling in at a steady rate the minute that gates officially opened. there are food stalls and merch stands and people handing ponchos out to anyone who didn’t bring one because the sun was meant to stay shining all day and ultimately let them down, and there’s palpable excitement hanging in the air - everyone present, be they milling around inside the barrier or sitting on picnic blankets outside, feels the promise of new music and a longer term reunion.  IN LONDON : elsewhere, press have had a field day reporting on the unlucky coincidence that sees SPELLBOUND! ( a musical that was written about the late celestina warbeck and starring selina halkirk in the main role ) open on the exact same night as the first reunion concert. it was three years ago - almost to the day - that miss warbeck was murdered by walden macnair for daring to raise money via benefit concert for a charity aimed at providing crucial aid to those afflicted with lycanthropy, a tragedy that just happened to occur on the eve of the weird sisters final show. no doubt the wix in charge of organising both felt the importance of this time of year, but there are plenty of people who feel one or the other should’ve pushed their performance out of respect.  the show is undeniably a masterpiece that took the last two years to perfect, but tickets for the opening night of the musical haven’t sold out just yet, but they’re not far off it - the wwn has been giving them out as competition prizes all week, and even so, plenty of hardcore fans will be in attendance regardless. the daily prophet reported that the minister of magic and his lovely wife will be watching from one of the private booths ( and have made quite a large donation to said charity, too, though how someone on the outside of the karkaroff family circle managed to guess the exact number of figures in said donation is impossible to say ), making it an event that a number of highly influential families across britain feel they should at least show their faces at - that side of the guestlist including FLAVIA SCRIMGEOUR, minister hopeful. in addition to a small portion of the price of admission going to the same charity that celestina last backed, performers will head into the crowds during intermission and accept any further donations that kind souls ( or people looking for an instant good karma buff ) might want to add. 

OUT OF CHARACTER :

in a way, we’ve come full circle ! three years ago, we waved goodbye to the weird sisters on the exact same night that celestina warbeck was murdered at our very FIRST big, big event - the benefit concert launched us into a totally new era of nox and really set the tone for how the rp ended up continuing, in the best of ways. i feel like i’ll always want to memorialise her in various ways because i kind of feel as if i sacrificed her for something great and thus kinda owe the lady something, but i wanted this to be a nox classic as much as it is a sort of remembrance ceremony for her ! the benefit concert & weird sisters combo was also our very first double event, so here we are again, enjoying yet another ! it’s entirely up to you which event your character/s choose to attend, though they can each only attend one. just like the original duo three years ago, some of your characters may have been forced to choose between the event they actually WANTED to attend and the one that their boss highly encouraged that they make an appearance at, and for some that decision has not come easy. please feel free to get as involved as you want to and really explore the various levels to each event - you aren’t isolated to the performances at either one and can set your threads wherever and whenever you like ! 

the event officially begins with the posting of this message and will run for two weeks, right up to the 18th of july. the in game date is technically the 7th through the 9th of july - at least for concertgoers - though both events are taking place on the 8th.

you do not have to pause your current threads, provided that threads taking place over the course of the event are appropriately tagged and differentiated from them. this is a dash & discord hybrid event and you can find categories for both the concert and the musical on the side discord.

all event related starters can be tagged with nox.event035 ! the locations are the hogsmeade moors for the concert and diagon alley for the musical. 

if you have any questions or concerns, please do not hesitate to message the main with them ! please comment something nice about celestina warbeck on this post to show you’ve read it !

[tooxldtorememxer]

@heroicintention wrote: [ WARNING ] (from Walden to Colin) because I said so and I already wrote it before I confirmed who it was actually for

His mouth snapped shut, lips pressed into a thin line. He let out an annoyed huff as he narrowed his eyes at Walden. “But why though?” he questions. It made no sense that they still wouldn’t talk about it. Colin had always been curious about Walden and his world, his life before they moved here in such a rush. Or at least that’s what he remembered it as, but when he had been in the moment, it had felt perhaps a little fast, but not pushy.

“You literally know everything about me. My whole life up to this point.” he chopped his hand into his palm. “And I feel like I know barely half of yours still,” it was ridiculous is what it is. He had prepared himself for days to bring this topic to the table, pumping himself up and gathering strength to not fold like a wet napkin the moment Walden told him no.

It wasn’t that he was scared of his husband, no, nothing like that, but he tended to just fold at any order he was given. It had always been like that whenever he’d been around some people with a certain vibe. Not everyone could do it, but Walden certainly could. “Please would you just… share something with me for once?” he gently grasped at the front of Walden’s shirt by his stomach, showing that he wasn’t actually mad at him. Just a bit annoyed and frustrated, but not angry.

[siennarowle]

dead dove: do not eat

Sienna glanced around the small room when the portkey landed, desperately trying to find Glenda in the dark to no avail. Before she could try and move to her feet, a pair of rough hands grabbed her and forced her into a chair, her short slip riding up before a charmed set of ropes restrained her. 

Unsure of how long she sat in the dark, Sienna jumped at the sudden sound of thunderous applause coming from the outside room. Straining in her seat to try and hear what was going on, she heard a somewhat familiar voice rise above the crowds.  

"Welcome!" Ludo Bagman's amplified voice spun over the crowd in the outside room. "Welcome. Please, please, in your seats, gentlemen." He stepped up to a podium on the large stage outside of where Sienna was being kept. Sienna could feel heartbeat thunder in time with the applause as Ludo tried to control the crowd. .

Sienna couldn’t help but feel herself start to hyperventilate. She dipped her head between her knees, tears tracking down her cheeks, mouth open wide as she struggled to breathe. One of the guards went to check on her, wrenching her back up.

Outside, Ludo was beginning some kind of opening remarks. They sounded rehearsed. Some propaganda about the days to come. Sienna watched as the guard in the room with her moved towards a door, opening it to watch the proceedings and leaving Sienna with a cracked view of the outside stage.

Sienna looked onstage again, recognizing discarded set pieces as she pieced together that they seemed to be in Muggle London. She’d always wanted to go to a show in Muggle London. When she and Sirius had been together, he’d always promised that one day he’d take her once they were free from the ever present gaze of their parents, but that had never happened. She wondered where Sirius was now. Had he escaped the attack on the school? Or was he somewhere in the building, waiting for whatever was to come just as she was.

Sienna wondered where her brother was. Or whatever was standing in the place of her brother’s body. There was little doubt in her mind that he was out in the crowd tonight. After all, he had a lot to earn from the evening if the appraisal she’d had was anything to go by. Rodolphus was there too, probably.

Was Christopher?

Ever since she’d learned about Rodolphus while engaged to him, she’d always assumed that her brother and closest friend were likely involved to some extent. She never thought they were involved in the way that Rodophus was, but it simply didn’t make sense for them to have avoided it entirely. And if Christopher was in the crowd, did he have a plan to help her? Or was he just as lost as her brother was. In the back of Sienna’s mind, the memory of her appraisal played on repeat with the sinking knowledge of the projected cost being well outside of Christopher’s capabilities, but she didn’t allow herself to give any credence to the thought. She knew that Christopher would find a way. 

"We have seventy-seven Lots for auction tonight," Ludo announced magnanimously as Sienna struggled to watch the stage. The crowd erupted. 

"Gentlemen, we'll bring each Lot onstage, one at a time. I have here their grading, important facts, and blood status. All Lots sold as is. The winning bidders will coordinate with Walden Macnair at the end to arrange payment."

Sienna let the words wash over her. 

"Let's start off the evening right," Ludo crowed. "With a Potter."

The audience screamed, and somewhere in another room Mia thrashed.

 Ludo gestured to the other side of the stage, and out of the corner of Sienna’s eye Mia Potter was dragged out, hands stuck together behind her back as she kept her head up defiantly.

Ludo Bagman laughed and beckoned Mia to his side

"Twenty-years-old. Pure-blood. So, if anyone is looking for a blood traitor to play with..."

Ludo chuckled and the crowd hissed.

"Fine muscle mass, as you can see on your parchments. If you need another house elf, this might be your lucky day…although I’m sure there are far better uses that you could find for someone like her."

"Let's start the bidding at 3,000 Galleons."

~*~

“The fuck are we doing in Muggle London?” Christopher grimaced as Thorfinn led him through the streets. 

“I told you, you’ll see,” Thorfinn chuckled, ducking out of the alley the pair had apparated into. “It’ll be worth it. I’m certain that you’ll find it particularly interesting.”

Grimacing as Thorfinn beckoned him through an open door of the theatre, Christopher narrowing his gaze as his eyes adjusted to the darkened room as Thorfinn led him to a pair of empty seats. 

Whatever sort of show that Thorfinn had brought him to, it already seemed to be well in progress as the pair sat down, and Christopher watched as Ludo Bagman began speaking. 

Following Ludo’s gesture, Christopher froze as Glenda Chittock was led on to the stage wearing not much other than a short white slip that did not leave much to the imagination as the stage lights focused on her. 

“Thorfinn, what-” Christopher hissed, turning to glance at his friend in confusion. “This isn’t…”

But Christopher was cut off as Thorfinn simply smirked in response and gave a nod as he handed him an auction paddle that he’d had in his robes. 

“Thorfinn, that’s your sister’s best friend. We can’t- this isn’t right,” Christopher muttered under his breath, debating whether or not to storm the stage himself. 

“What Sienna wants right now doesn’t matter,” Thorfinn replied venomously, shooting Christopher a glare that stunned him into silence. 

“Gentleman, we’ll start the bidding at 1500 Galleons,” Ludo Bagman’s voice echoed throughout the theatre, drawing Christopher’s attention back to the stage. 

Glancing around, several paddles rose into the air as the bidding began. 

“1700 Galleons.”

Christopher watched as a few hands lowered. 

“1850 Galleons.”

Christopher watched the bidding continue for a few minutes, paddles lowering and raising as the numbers grew higher, his mind racing with what to do. 

“3000 Galleons going once…Twice…” Ludo’s magnified voice echoed through the crowd and before Christopher could second guess himself, he reached for the paddle that Thorfinn had handed him and thrust it into the air.

~*~

Sienna turned her attention back to the stage as the gavel banged.

"Sold!" The audience erupted. "Glenda Chittock, sold to the Rowle party for 6,250 Galleons."

Rowle Party. Thorfinn. Sienna felt bile rise in her throat at the news that her own brother had purchased her closest friend. Before she could stop herself, Sienna threw up between her legs, the sound gaining the attention of the guard that had been assigned to her. The guard took his eyes off of the stage, cursing at the sight of Sienna but decidedly not doing anything to help her. 

Suddenly she felt the ropes behind her loosen and someone yanked her to her feet by her hair, maintaining a solid grip as a newly arrived figure led her towards the door to the stage where for the first time she had a solid view of it. Antonin Dolohov made his way on to the stage and secured Glenda’s wrists before being handed a parchment by Ludo Bagman, presumably to sign away his rights to Glenda as having been her original captor. After setting down the quill, Antonin gave Glenda’s backside a final slap as the crowd cheered him on before she was led off of the stage, passing by the doorway that Sienna was being held in. 

Their eyes met one final time, Sienna watching as Glenda helplessly tried to convey some piece of wordless information to her with no success as Sienna’s guard quickly yanked her attention back in front of her.    

"And now... our grand finale."

It sounded like Ludo Bagman was announcing the Seeker entering the stadium. Perhaps he had? It could be if she just closed her eyes. The theatre thundered.

She blinked, trying to focus. She needed to be present. Maybe once this day was over, she would fall asleep and never wake up.

They pushed her forward, escorting her onstage. Bagman was yelling something over the crowd, but she just squinted against the lights. Someone was operating the theatre spotlight, blinding her to the faces in the crowd as her eyes fought to adjust.

She looked down at her feet as they placed her on a red "X" next to Bagman. Her gold dress shimmered.

She looked up, remembering Mia Potter’s lifted chin. The theatre was full. Balcony after balcony. Must have been over a thousand people, and Sienna despaired at the thought that likely every member of the audience was someone she knew. Perhaps someone she had thought to be a friend. And now they were getting a far better look at her than she would have ever allowed. 

The noise continued for ages. Her eyes landed on the masked Death Eaters on the ground level, filling up the majority of the front rows. Some of them on their feet, screaming and taunting and punching their fists in the air. Some of them seated, whispering to each other and pointing to the stage.

She scanned the crowd, looking for her brother. 

"Alright! Alright!" Bagman laughed, sounding like his old self again. "I know we're excited. Some of us have special toys to go home to..."

Sienna slid her eyes to Ludo as the men cackled. He'd been seduced by it all. Infected. He met her eyes and quickly looked away.

"Our final Lot of the evening," he announced theatrically. He read off her appraisal notes. "Sienna Rowle." 

Hissing. Booing. Jeering. 

Much of the crowd were on their feet again, screaming. She heard the words Traitor and Bitch and Kill the slut.

String her up!

—deserves this, the dirty—

Show us her cunt!

Have a bit of fun with her, you will!

Make an example out of her. Sienna knew that this was what was happening. She was a warning to everyone who wasn’t there at how fast things could change if one stepped out of line. 

~*~

“What the fuck, Thorfinn,” Christopher hissed, starting to rise to his feet before being roughly pulled back down by his friend. 

“She’s made her choice,” Thorfinn snapped. “This is what happens when you step out of line. She knew the consequences.”

“Like hell she did,” Christopher yelled over the screams of the crowd. “You have to stop this. She’ll never forgive us.”

“I don’t care what she thinks,” he said flatly. “This is on her. Not me.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Christopher glared, the look of disgust evident in his tone.

“I told you. She made her choice. I told her what would happen if she stepped out of line. She did it anyways.” 

“Fine, then. I’ll help her myself,” Christopher snapped, pushing himself out of the seat and away from Thorfinn before he pulled a wand on him. Without thinking, he moved towards an empty seat in the back, fighting the urge to be sick as he watched the scene unfold. 

~*~

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Bagman crooned. He raised his hands to call for peace. "I've not yet begun the bidding. In fact…It seems as though our little pureblooded princess has made something of a mess of herself. How embarrassing for her… What do you say we put her in something a bit more befitting of her personality?"

Laughter. 

Sienna stiffened as she felt the familiar tingle of magic on her sullied slip. She glanced down as she watched the slip tighten around her curves, the fabric transfiguring into a translucent white mesh as the neckline began to plunge. With a look of horror, Sienna realized the slip had been transfigured into a makeshift bridal themed teddy.

“Let’s not forget the most important part,” Bagman sang, procuring a white veil that he roughly thrust on to Sienna’s head as the theatre exploded, “After all, we must not forget just how desperate Miss Rowle has always been for a veil of her own.”

Sienna focused her hardened gaze on the crowd, her eyes finding the outlines of two men towards the back of the crowd who were not participating in the outroar. Sienna could feel hear heart begin to race as she began to hope as to who it might be.

Ludo read out her measurements. The crowd cackled when he suggested that she'd do fine in the kitchen, and whooped when he mentioned her muscle mass would be handy in the gardens. They crowed at the thought of her dusting their manors.

Thunder. The acoustics shivering with the applause and screaming. The lonely Death Eater did nothing but cross his leg.

"So, gentlemen... we start the bidding at eight thousand Galleons."

Fifty paddles shot into the air, calling Ludo's attention.

Sienna swallowed as her attention turned towards the front of the crowd, her eyes locking on Rodolphus’s lazy hand in the air. 

"Let's weed you out a bit, shall we?" Ludo quipped. "Nine thousand."

Only about five wands dropped.

"Nine-five. Jumping up to nine-five, gentleman," Ludo began.

She watched as wand hands slowly descended, Rodolphus and Mulciber keeping up with each other, laughing at their little game.

Her knees felt shaky, and she wondered if she would be seeing food again anytime soon. Perhaps never.

"Eleven thousand Galleons. Do I hear—Yes, sir, eleven thousand. What about eleven-five?" He pointed to Rodolphus. "Eleven-five to Lestrange. Several others still in. Twelve?"

She let her eyes glaze over, watching the unmoving figure in the back. He sat still, wand in his lap, head supported in his hand. He looked young. Thin shoulders. Tall. If this was in fact Christopher, then why wasn’t he doing anything?

"Twelve-five? Yes, Twelve-five to Mulciber. Do we have—?"

"Fifteen thousand." A tense voice. A voice that Sienna knew better than nearly anyone. Sienna blinked as every person in the first three rows turned to look at the figure in the back. He'd raised his paddle.

Whispers and shuffling. She knew that Mia Potter had just sold for a bit more than that.

"Er, yes. Fifteen thousand to..."

"Fifteen-five," Rodolphus snarled, sending a glare back at the younger man.

"Sixteen," from the fourth row.

"Sixteen-five."

"Seventeen."

"Twenty!" Rodolphus stated firmly, like he’d ended a game of cards, irritated with Christopher.

The theatre was buzzing. Most of the crowd had figured out that it was Christopher Flint who was throwing his money against Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Do I hear twenty thousand five?" Ludo asked, speaking up again.

Rodolphus’s paddle shot in the air. Christopher’s followed.

"Twenty-three" Rodolphus grinned, his eyes locking on to Sienna’s.

She wasn't sure if it was the warm stage lights or the future bearing down on her, but Sienna felt her lungs begging for air.

She'd known that this would happen. That she'd be leaving with someone like Rodolphus. In the back of her mind, she'd been mentally preparing for a week. Even so, her hope hadn't died.

She'd felt a spark of possibility when she’d heard Christopher’s voice. But now, as he hesitated before yelling, "Twenty-three five," she wished he'd never jumped in at all. The inevitable heartbreak of his loss was something she didn’t think she would ever recover from.

"Twenty-eight," said Rodolphus, chuckling at her expression.

Ludo was white next to her as he waited. "I hear twenty-eight thousand," he said at last. The crowd started twisting, buzzing with whispers. "Do I hear twenty-nine?"

She didn't dare look at Christopher. Couldn't bear the idea that if she looked, she might see the realization in his face that this was far beyond what he could afford. The way he would hold that guilt in his shoulders. Maybe she could pinpoint his thoughts like she had growing up as they worked on potions homework, when he'd roll his shoulders back and reset his posture before diving back into his cauldron.

"Twenty-eight thousand going once."

Or the way he'd stare at the chalkboard in transfiguration, tilting his head towards her as he would silently reassure her that he’d help to explain the lesson later on.

"Twenty-eight thousand going twice."

Or in seventh year, when he'd spent much of the first weeks at school keeping her company as she avoided the halls where Sirius might be.

A gavel banged.

The world cracked open, and a violent sound poured into her ears like lava.

Her eyes on the "x" beneath her feet as Rodolphus ignored protocol and jogged up onstage and met a blank-faced Thorfinn in the middle. The scroll. A burning on her left arm. And then a fist in her hair, dragging her head back. Rodolphus was there, grinning down at her. He licked her face and the balconies went wild.

She didn’t dare move, her palpable fear causing her to freeze. She could tell how much he loved that.

He laughed, grabbing her head to push her down to the floor. When she looked up from her knees, Rodolphus was smirking at the audience, basking in his victory, and unbuckling his belt.

She recoiled, shaking her head.

Thorfinn had a slight look of disgust at the sight, shoving him back lightly as he handed him the parchment. "Not until I get my money, Lestrange."

She couldn't make out sounds anymore. Too much in her ears.

As Rodolphus wrenched her up, throwing her to the backstage guards, she chanced one last look to see the crowd on its feet, one seat in the back row now empty.

[hoidn]

checking sources and giving proper attribution are two issues near and dear to my heart, especially in the age of Everyone Makes Quote Graphics. don’t get me wrong, i love a good quote graphic as much as the next girl. i’ve even got an isak dineson quote on a cushion cover! but the internet is rife with the promulgation of misattributed/incorrect/badly used quotes because apparently doing a quick google search to check the information is just too much effort. here’s a rant about three quotes i came across on a single day:

We need the tonic of wildness -- [misquotation of] from Walden, by Henry David Thoreau. this is the beginning of a paragraph in chapter 17. i’ve never read walden, but i found this information in about three seconds. the full text of the book is available online! it was the third result of my search! yet there are dozens of graphics that say, “We need the tonic of wilderness”. is it a reading comprehension issue or what?

No legacy is so rich as honesty -- [that does not mean what i think you think it means] Shakespeare, from All’s Well That Ends Well. i read this somewhere and wanted to know which play it came from. my first search result was a link to a Forbes article where the author tells us earnestly, “I've lived by Shakespeare's words since I started my business.” except that a brief scan further down my search results tells me that the quote is actually a joke, using a play on words, where ‘honesty’ means ‘virginity’. awkward, bro.

You have bewitched me, etc. -- [misattribution] ugh, i can’t even bring myself to fully type out this insipid, trite garbage that whoever wrote the 2005 movie adaptation of P&P inflicted upon the world. it’s been spread around like manure but without any of manure’s usefulness, so it just sits there stinking up the place with its foul miasma. anyway, i saw a graphic in which this drivel was attributed to jane austen and i think i had a small aneurysm. (i also read someone quoted as saying she’d seen the movie 4,000 times and knew every line and i was like, oh, honey, that’s not something to brag about.) (AND OH MY GOD SOMEONE GOT IT TATTOOED ON THEIR BODY I AM SO EMBARRASSED FOR THEM AND THEIR BAD TASTE)

so anyway. the c.s. lewis foundation actually has a page for quotes misattributed to him. 

then there’s quote investigator which i love because they correct misattribution and provide the original context.

and don’t forget six things darwin never said, which is what it says on the tin.

(if anyone knows of other resources like the above, please share!)

last but not least, some advice: if the only mentions of a quote in english that you can find are on quote websites and/or pinterest, there’s a 99% chance it’s not authentic for one reason or another. when the quote is an english translation of a text, it gets more complicated, but for well known writers/works it’s typically not difficult to establish provenance. if you can’t do that, at least consider it highly suspect.

[pixeldolly]

Walden BACC

Evelyn: "Damn dude, I'm sorry about your cat."

Louis: "Thanks. I appreciate it, especially considering..."

Evelyn: "I'm a wolf?"

Louis: "Yeah. I never even asked how werewolves felt about cats."

Evelyn: "Most cats don't like us, but I got nothing against 'em. And I know how tough it is to lose a pet you love."

Louis: "Yeah...Yeah, it is."

Evelyn was cool. Louis liked hanging out with her, even if she was a tad older, having gone to college with his sister.

She was nothing like his sister though, which was partly what he liked about her. She didn't judge him, like Eleanor did.

For an aspiring politician, she was super chill.

However, all of Evelyn's chill seemed to evaporate whenever his mother came near.

Abby: "Evelyn, hello! I'm glad you decided to drop by."

Evelyn: "Hello, Mrs Calhoun. Louis and I were just hanging out."

Abby: "Of course, and I hate to bring up work stuff on your day off, but do you have a moment? There's someone I'd like to introduce you to."

Abby: "Evelyn, this is Jake Webster, the Mayor of Mistvale and a good friend of mine. Jake, this is the young lady I've been telling you about."

Shit! And here I am dressed like a slob!

Evelyn: "Evelyn Morgan. Nice to meet you, Mr. Webster."

Jake: "Likewise, Miss Morgan, likewise!"

[bowtiesnmusicals]

Here is my recap of the Just Like A Prayer with Ryan Murphy episode of the podcast.

Madonna was a passion episode for Ryan.

Ryan Murphy was given the Carol Burnett Lifetime Achievement Award.

Ryan said he is his relatively young to get a lifetime achievement award.

He had to fight to get so much of his stuff to air. At some point it got easier.

He had taken a Claritin D and was worried he wouldn’t be able to speak right when he accepted the honor but he got through it.

Ryan went into the 2010 Golden Globes not really caring. He was just happy about his outfit. He wasn’t surprised this time but he was surprised the next year when they won again.

They were shooting the Madonna episode around the time of the Golden Globes.

Dana Walden fought for the show. Modern Family is also one of her shows.

Winning made Ryan realize the show could go on for several more seasons.

Everyone was apparently drunk. He thanked Barbra Streisand.

Someone behind Ryan tickled him making him smile at just the right time for the picture they took of everyone grabbing for the Golden Globe award. Ryan was tricked into smiling for the picture.

Ryan pushed for the first episode to be aired after American Idol.

When Glee started to air Ryan was out of the country working on Eat, Pray, Love.

By the time Ryan was in India he found out the back 9 had been picked up. That meant they would have to start writing those episodes.

The Madonna episode changed the show in a huge way.

Ryan was shocked that no one seemed to ever understand that the show was a satire.

They tried to make it work writing the episodes separately but eventually Ian, Ryan, and Brad came together in Bali. Julia Robert’s would drop off snacks for them. Ryan had to teach Ian and Brad about Madonna. It was a learning curve.

Ryan told a story of a college party and he put on a Madonna cassette he had in his car and the energy completely changed. After an hour some guy took the cassette out of the player and ripped it. He liked that Madonna could bring together a group of outcasts.

This episode was when Ryan and the show changed. It was when the audience’s perception of the show changed. Looking back Ryan probably would not have done something so big. He probably would have kept it small and more about ordinary kids in ordinary circumstances.

There was a generational divide between Ryan and the cast. The cast were the reason for Theatricality and wanting Lady Gaga songs.

The tribute episodes had a life of their own.

Ryan loves moments where he gets to say thank you to people he loves like Madonna, Stevie Nicks, Barbara Streisand.

Ryan said Madonna felt impossible.

Ryan had worked with Madonna before early in his career.

Ryan got offered a job to fly to New York and interview Madonna once a week about her life to help write a script for a movie. He lied about when he was born because he was told that she doesn’t like Scorpios. He was fired after a draft because Rupert Everett didn’t like that it was all about Madonna and possibly because of who he suggested as a director for the movie. Madonna was kind and wonderful.

Ryan reached out to her manager to get permission for the episode.

Since this was the first tribute episode the person was going to have to just take a leap of faith. It was a huge ask to get the rights to an entire catalog of music, record an album, and let Ryan interpret the music in the way they want to. Basically you are asking them to be allowed to have free reign.

Ryan thinks that when it was explained to Madonna it touched a nerve because she had grown up in that world. She was a dancer.

Because of Madonna’s generosity and kindness they were able to do many more tribute episodes.

Ryan doesn’t remember how he picked the songs for the Madonna episode.

He loves that Sue Sylvester is the biggest Madonna fan. It just made sense and felt so right.

They talked about who would direct and Brad said you’ve got to be kidding. No one else would understand what to do with this episode.

Ryan knows the hallway scene with all the different Madonnas made no sense. Ryan loves that Madonna never got pigeonholed and changed with the times. He wanted to pay tribute to this quality. He spent hours with Lou going over ideas for costumes for this scene.

Vogue was the most fun thing Ryan has ever done.

Jane won an Emmy for this episode.

Looking back Ryan is glad he did it but should he have done it probably not.

They had to get permission from the studio to do a black and white segment.

Madonna had to approve the lyric changes in Vogue.

Everyone dropped by to watch Vogue being shot.

A lot of the props David Fincher used in the original Vogue music video were found and used in the glee version.

They had to figure out how some things were done in the original music video like when Sue looked like she was floating over some fabric.

The cast. would come into the editing trailer sometimes to watch the rough cuts. Ryan would give them snacks.

Express Yourself was really fun. Jenna was the only one that could do the monocle correctly. The boys were directed to be bored but between takes they would go crazy. This was also the start of people from around the studio lot coming to watch performances be shot.

Jenna’s favorite number is. Like A Prayer.

Ryan only chose songs for that episode that meant something to him.

They only caveat was that if she didn’t like something she would like to have a discussion about it.

Madonna put out a press release the day the episode aired to say she supported it.

During Bad they had no idea time to rehearse in the parking garage. They were using an actual parking garage on the Paramount Lot and had to wait for people to leave. They would just map out the dance and just shoots it in bits and parts. They were behind shooting that day. They were shooting two episodes at time. That is why Jenna isn’t in pat of Michael.

Ryan was very in Glee for the first 2 season. He then had American Horror Story and he also had a baby.

It is insane that they did 22 episodes a year of a musical. Now you would do maybe 12.

So many nights RIB would be at the Chateau Mormont trying to figure out how to fill out 22 episodes.

Ryan’s favorite word is yes. From yes comes many joys He felt like he might never get the chance again so he just kept saying yes.

Glee was a learning curve in so many ways.

In the beginning Ryan didn’t feel like their boss. He felt like their peer. He was so involved in the beginning and felt so much pressure. Who knew that glee would blow up the way it did.

Naya introduced Ryan to social media. She helped him set up his Twitter account.

Ryan learned that you should never service relationships based on what fans want.

They were encouraged to have tweet parties and engage with the fans.

In the second year of the show Ryan had death threats. He had to get security. He had people showing up at his door.

Glee was written in a place of love.

After season 2 Ryan was pulled in too many directions.

Ryan said that coming on the podcast is like a therapy session.

Ryan got a call once about doing a Glee haunted house. He says looking back he should have done it.

Ryan had so much fun doing the pilot and Madonna episode.

As a director Ryan is so good. The choir room scene between Artie and Tina in Madonna is a great example. Ryan completely rewrote the scene. It was a learning moment for Kevin.

Ryan has kind of retired from directing. He loved it when he was doing it.

When you direct you only need to know how you get into the scene, how you eat out of the scene and the tone of scene.

In the scene with Tina and Artie they nailed down a feeling and reworked it around that.

The day they shot that scene it was raining so hard they had to do one take over. He was smoking cigarettes break. If he got something right he would take a smoke break. It was crazy that he was able to just redo the scene and not call the studio or check in with anyone.

Just as the cast was showing people what they could do Ryan was also doing this with his directing and writing.

The cast knew when Ryan was there the episode was going to be cohesive and streamlined.

It feels good to walk away from something and feel good about your work.

Ryan wanted everyone to show what they could do. He didn’t want them to feel constricted. People were allowed to be their best.

After a couple of episodes Ryan came in saying he was over the nerdy thing with Artie.

Ryan loved the camaraderie of making the Madonna episode.

The thing that Ryan treasured were the moments of after doing something nutty just sitting and talking and eating together. Everyone would just hang out and laugh.

He would tell them to do more of the thing that makes them a sparkly person.

He had a lot of fun with Amber teaching him runs. They taught him about all the up and coming artists.

Madonna is not someone who looks towards the past.

Ryan is going to see Madonna, Beyoncé, and Taylor Swift on tour.

Kevin wants to go see Beyoncé with Ryan. Ryan said he would pay for the tickets.

Kevin was with Jay-z during a Beyoncé concert. He stood in the corner not saying anything because he was so scared. He felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there in Beyoncé’s family’s suite.

Beyoncé was so supportive and sweet.

Ryan ran into her at a doctors office. He was getting a vitamin shot or something. He opened a door and there was Beyoncé getting an iv drip of vitamins.

Jenna said she would go see Taylor Swift with Ryan.

Ryan asked Jenna and Kevin how they felt about a reboot.

Kevin said what does that look like to Ryan.

Ryan is of two minds one is that you can’t say anything worse then what has already been said but there is also a new generation watching the show.

Wouldn’t it be great to do another run of the show and do new songs?

Kevin said they would have done Hamilton or Dear Evan Hanson. Jenna said they would do a Beyoncé tribute and a Taylor Swift Tribute.

The Justin Bieber experience was not the original idea. It was supposed to be the Taylor Swift experience and when that fell through it was the John Mayer experience. They couldn’t get the rights for that either.

Ryan said they definitely would have done a Taylor Swift Tribute. Tina would have sang Lavender Haze. For Kevin he would have had to do a Beyoncé episode.

In the original show they did culture things connected to Ryan.

Ryan was told not to do Don’t Stop Believing. It had just been done on the Sopranos.

Ryan said if it did a reboot he would want to take it back to the feeling of the first season.

Ryan said if he did a reboot he would just pretend the final episode was just a fever dream.

Tina is a business woman tycoon that does crazy TikTok’s. She has a line of non alcoholic drinks.

Artie is in the music business. Kevin said is an executive in the music or film business and lives in Miami. He is connected to Bad Bunny and Ricky Martin.

Ryan wants to come back for the Gaga episode and Rocky Horror.

Ryan loves Blame it On The Alcohol.

They said he could come back for Rumors and Born This Way.

They asked Ryan some fan questions.

Sue was the hardest to write but that was Ian Brennan’s problem. Ryan didn’t want to touch it. Mr. Schue was also hard to write.

Jesse St. James was named that just so Cory could sing Jesse’s Girl.

Ryan wouldn’t change any storylines.

There was at least one actor that didn’t like a storyline and wanted Ryan to change it. He changed it for them.

Ryan doesn’t know if Fondue For Two was a fan idea. You’d have to ask Ian.

If an actor was sick and couldn’t record they would either change things around or the actor would just do it anyways.

Jenna said she wishes they could have Ryan every week. He is like the third host.

[yhwhrulz]

Morning and Evening with A.W. Tozer Devotional for December 4

Tozer in the Morning

Man - The Dwelling Place of God - Some Thoughts on Books and Reading

ONE BIG PROBLEM IN MANY PARTS of the world today is to learn how to read, and in others it is to find something to read after one has learned. In our favored West we are overwhelmed with printed matter, so the problem here becomes one of selection. We must decide what not to read.

Nearly a century ago Emerson pointed out that if it were possible for a man to begin to read the day he was born and to go on reading without interruption for seventy years, at the end of that time he would have read only enough books to fill a tiny niche in the British Library. Life is so short and the books available to us are so many that no man can possibly be acquainted with more than a fraction of one percent of the books published.

It hardly need be said that most of us are not selective enough in our reading. I have often wondered how many square yards of newsprint passes in front of the eyes of the average civilized man in the course of a year. Surely it must run into several acres; and I am afraid our average reader does not realize a very large crop on his acreage. The best advice I have heard on this topic was given by a Methodist minister. He said, "Always read your newspaper standing up." Henry David Thoreau also had a low view of the daily press. Just before leaving the city for his now celebrated sojourn on the banks of Walden Pond a friend asked him if he would like to have a newspaper delivered to his cottage. "No," replied Thoreau, "I have already seen a newspaper."

In our serious reading we are likely to be too greatly influenced by the notion that the chief value of a book is to inform; and if we were talking of textbooks of course that would be true, but when we speak or write of books we have not textbooks in mind.

The best book is not one that informs merely, but one that stirs the reader up to inform himself. The best writer is one that goes with us through the world of ideas like a friendly guide who walks beside us through the forest pointing out to us a hundred natural wonders we had not noticed before. So we learn from him to see for ourselves and soon we have no need for our guide. If he has done his work well we can go on alone and miss little as we go.

That writer does the most for us who brings to our attention thoughts that lay close to our minds waiting to be acknowledged as our own. Such a man acts as a midwife to assist at the birth of ideas that had been gestating long within our souls, but which without his help might not have been born at all.

There are few emotions so satisfying as the joy that comes from the act of recognition when we see and identify our own thoughts. We have all had teachers who sought to educate us by feeding alien ideas into our minds, ideas for which we felt no spiritual or intellectual kinship. These we dutifully tried to integrate into our total spiritual philosophy but always without success.

In a very real sense no man can teach another; he can only aid him to teach himself. Facts can be transferred from one mind to another as a copy is made from the master tape on a sound recorder. History, science, even theology, may be taught in this way, but it results in a highly artificial kind of learning and seldom has any good effect upon the deep life of the student. What the learner contributes to the learning process is fully as important as anything contributed by the teacher. If nothing is contributed by the learner the results are useless; at best there will be but the artificial creation of another teacher who can repeat the dreary work on someone else, ad infinitum.

Perception of ideas rather than the storing of them should be the aim of education. The mind should be an eye to see with rather than a bin to store facts in. The man who has been taught by the Holy Spirit will be a seer rather than a scholar. The difference is that the scholar sees and the seer sees through; and that is a mighty difference indeed.

The human intellect even in its fallen state is an awesome work of God, but it lies in darkness until it has been illuminated by the Holy Spirit. Our Lord has little good to say of the unilluminated mind, but He revels in the mind that has been renewed and enlightened by grace. He always makes the place of His feet glorious; there is scarcely anything on earth more beautiful than a Spirit-filled mind, certainly nothing more wonderful than an alert and eager mind made incandescent by the presence of the indwelling Christ.

Since what we read in a real sense enters the soul, it is vitally important that we read the best and nothing but the best. I cannot but feel that Christians were better off before there was so much reading matter to choose from. Today we must practice sharp discipline in our reading habits. Every Christian should master the Bible, or at least spend hours and days and years trying. And always he should read his Bible, as George Muller said, "with meditation."

After the Bible the next most valuable book for the Christian is a good hymnal. Let any young Christian spend a year prayerfully meditating on the hymns of Watts and Wesley alone and he will become a fine theologian. Then let him read a balanced diet of the Puritans and the Christian mystics. The results will be more wonderful than he could have dreamed.

Tozer in the Evening Growing Despite the Obstacles

A lifetime of observation, Bible reading and prayer has led to the conclusion that the only thing that can hinder a Christian's progress is the Christian himself.

The true child of God can live and grow in circumstances that are wholly unfavorable to such life and growth. Outward circumstances can help little or none in a Christian's spiritual life. The whole philosophy of the spiritual way requires us to believe this.

For this reason, it is always bad to blame anyone or anything for our spiritual or moral failures. God has so ordered things that His children may grow as successfully in the middle of a desert as in the most fruitful land. It is necessary that this should be so, seeing that the very world itself is a field where nothing good can grow except by some kind of miracle. The old hymn asks the rhetorical question, "Is this vile world a friend to grace, to help me on to God?" And the implied answer is no. Grace operates without the help of the world.

Copyright Statement This material is considered in the public domain.