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coffeebeanwriting · 2 years

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What Bores a Reader The Most?

I asked my followers to answer the question “what bores you the most when reading a book?”

Please keep in mind that these are all opinions and you’ll find yourself agreeing and disagreeing with some. Personally, I think this is amazing insight into the minds of unique readers all around the globe! I decided to keep reoccurring answers instead of merging them, just so people could see the repeating themes.

“Predictable conflicts or character actions. I want to be surprised.”

“When there’s no clear plot. When it looks like the book is leading nowhere.”

“Endless description. Nothing makes me more prone to skipping ahead.”

“When it feels like what you’re reading lacks purpose and there is no meaningful contribution to the plot.”

“Characters with less personality than a wet paper towel. Main characters with zero personality.”

“When I can’t picture anything in my head or what I understood changes randomly.”

“When a conversation is happening and I can’t follow which character is saying what.”

“Daily routines in a story. Like, I do not care.”

“When the world doesn’t move if the main character doesn’t interact with it. This applies to t.v shows, too.”

“Something that does not have a build up like a sudden relationship out of the blue.”

“When I’m so confused it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

“When there’s a 3 page description of some random object.”

“Wayyyy too much detail.”

“When the big plot twist is revealed and I guessed it ages ago.”

“Too slow or too long.”

“When the author unnecessarily drags the story and takes ages to advance to the climax.”

“Fan service that doesn’t contribute to the plot.”

“Useless descriptions and/or actions.”

“Over description of a landscape (cough old literature cough).”

“No action, no violence. I don’t like when characters talk for too long.”

“Long descriptions.”

“Too much descriptions when you are in a exciting moment. It breaks immersion.”

“Lack of imagery.”

“Constant usage of archaic vocabulary.”

“When the main character is extremely passive and doesn’t act or react.”

“Excessive description that doesn’t further the plot or meaningfully add to characterization.”

“Overly predictable plot, overly crude language for the sake of it, cringe/pompous scenes.”

“Long and boring exposition dumps.”

“Characters that never loose 😴.”

“When the world building starts out great and is really immersive until later on when things don’t add up.”

“When a character has too much internal dialogue.”

“Explaining “the science” behind magic systems in unnecessary detail.”

“Over description. I will skim and skip a lot of it.”

“Too much background info at the beginning.”

“When there’s small talk about a topic I don’t understand. It get’s sooo boring.”

“Too much inner monologue.”

“Slow plot.”

“When it’s just dragging on and on with the backstory.”

“Having to reread a sentence/paragraph a billion times because my brain got distracted.”

“When there’s no action, suspense or something similar for the whole chapter.”

“Things that aren’t relevant to the story.”

“Too much dialogue.”

“A lil too much fantasies.”

“Over drawn setting descriptions.”

“Overly long chapters, repetitive scenes, lots of complicated worldbuilding.”

“When it’s too simple or too detailed.”

“Long, long expositions.”

“Repeating phrases, plots ,etc.”

“Infodumps, especially in the beginning.”

“Too much history.”

“Overly descriptive settings.”

“Slow plot. I need drama!”

“Long chapters.”

“Slow pacing.”

“No major plot twist.”

“Miscommunication trope.”

“Massively long descriptive paragraphs.”

“Too much exposition in the beginning.”

“Long and confusing story building.”

“Repeating plot points. For example: the hero learning to trust his friends a million times without any real progression.”

“Training scenes that show nothing special. Especially sword fighting or head to hand combat.”

“Generic plot developments unless it’s written well.”

“Overuse of complicated words and sentences.”

“Long paragraphs.”

“I’m so over the bubble sunshine and extra grumpy trope.”

“When a character is overthinking.”

“Romanic subplots bore me. Having too many love interests.”

“When it switches between characters/subplots and one of them is awfully boring.”

“When too much information on a character is given one at a time.”

“Clichés.”

“When it takes a long time before the story gets interesting.”

“Long, long, long descriptions particularly of places that aren’t all that important.”

“Descriptions of unnecessary things.”

“Too much side character’s story. They’re a side for a reason.”

“I love beautiful writing so there must be some lovely descriptions... but don’t drone on.”

“Flat characters.”

“Scenes in which my favorite characters do not appear.”

“When the characters have no clear goal or the goal is too weak.”

“If most or all of the characters are unlikable. Then I don’t care what happens to them in the story. Being an evil/mean character is different from being unlikable.”

“When the plot does not move forward.”

“Writing unnecessary, irrelevant things that don’t have an effect on the story.”

“No real plot. The protagonist has no fire to them.”

“When the protagonist needs to figure out a love triangle and which person they like the most.”

“When the interesting parts happen right at the end.”

“When there’s too much info dumping with no easy transitions.”

“No progression after chapters and chapters. Characters not having development.”

“Too much description and a slow start to the story.”

“When characters are too oblivious to something.”

“Oblivious main characters, lazy plots, stereotypical encounters, main character is a god trope.”

“Unnecessarily long amounts of monologue or dialogue.”

“The second chance trope bores me.”

“Slow beginnings... like, get to the action in 3 chapters of less please.”

“Chapters being too long with small writing.”

“If the characters go through the same conflict over and over again.”

“Classic books... I don’t understand a thing, haha.”

“Being bombarded with unnecessary detail.”

“Bad boy meets good girl trope bores me.”

“Too much landscape descriptions like Tolkien or Stephen King.”

“Bad dialogue, too much excessive background details and too many character tags.”

“When the book moves too slowly.”

“Over described scenes or characters.”

“Descriptions without inputs of what a characters is thinking about. I need a lens of character POV to make descriptions interesting to read.”

“A badly written romance subplot where the characters involved don’t have any chemistry whatsoever.”

“I get a bit lost when there’s too much details about an environment.”

“When the story doesn’t go anywhere for a really long time.”

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itsagrimm · 9 months

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How to write a bilingual character

Plenty of characters across fandoms are multilingual. This is for those writers who feel like writing König, Nikto and whoever else. As polyglots ourselves, @sarapaprikas-blog and I figured this could be helpful for writing English-German or English-Russian bilinguals.

At the beginning we need to point out that writing bilinguals is not just a question of adding a few words from different languages but about a deeper understandings of language. So be warned, a lot is about grammar. fun grammar. frammar!

English-German Bilingual

Continental German speakers tend to be taught British English in school meaning often this is the basis of English knowledge and pronunciation. However, a lot of Internet slang with American English and AAVE mixes in, with most speakers not being aware of it. So mixing that up in your writing is one way to show the contemporary English-German bilingual (who possibly hangs out online too much).

Further, English and German share a lot of structural similarities as both are part of the Germanic language group. However, one key difference is sentence structure. English tends to go 1. Subject, 2. Predicate, 3. Object with indicators of time and space coming before or after that construct. German syntax is more flexible (or complicated if you will). Which is why the regular German speaker just nods wisely reading this, while the regular English speaker has no idea about grammar and is googling English syntax right about now. Fluent speakers of that combo tend to build really complicated and possibly wrong sentences in English which feel off but are understandable. Less fluent speakers will stick to the most basic syntax (with a lot of uhhhms and ahhhs in between).

This habit of being extra also shows up in the use of tenses. Both German and English have a wide variety of tenses and time forms to express who will or had done what or is about to do in the future or past or was planning to do or whatever. You get it. Spoken German does that a lot. British English does a bit less of it. And American English tends to be even less so in spoken form. The English-German could be written as that person who builds really complicated (and possibly unnecessarily and precise) tenses into their expressions. Basically think of a character who tries to express a very precise order of events instead of just saying "I took a shit".

Speaking of shit, German has more curses than “Scheiße”. Get creative, sarcastic and mean. Use backhanded compliments and wordplay to mirror German curses like “Backpfeifengesicht” (= A face that looks like it needs to be slapped), “Geringverdiener” (= highly ironic, someone who has a supposed low-paying job), NPC (= non-playable character), “Hund” (= dog, mutt), …

As German and English share not just grammar but also a history of cultural exchange and a lot of Germans moving to the US in the beginning of the 20th century, there is a lot of shared or similar vocabulary. E.g. the word house in English corresponds with the German Haus. So do all these words. Saying a word with German pronunciation that is very similar to the English one, can slip into the bilinguals expressions very easily. This works the other way around as well. Also, some expressions made it from German into English so a bilingual might opt to pronounce e.g. "Gesundheit" in German while speaking English.

Speaking of similarities, Yiddish and Pennnsylvania-Dutch, while being languages on their own, are very similar to German so a bilingual German might opt to pronounce words from those languages at least "more correctly" that the regular English speaker could do without practice. Those languages are also somewhat understandable to German speakers. So your bilingual character can hold a short and somewhat minimal but working conversation with someone speaking Yiddish or Pennsylvania-Dutch. It might also include a lot of desperate hand gestures and slowly repeating words tho. They are still different languages after all.

In regards to pronunciation. There is no TH in German so plenty of late learners have a hard time with that. Yes, that's where the "zhe" instead of "the" comes from. If your bilingual learned both languages from a young age they will not have difficulty pronouncing TH unless they switch between languages quickly or are stressed & tired.

German is famous for having super long and precise words. Let me tell you a secret: It's not really true. German just allows compounding of words, meaning to put words together to create more precise ones. Plenty of languages do that, including English. Just maybe not as much. A bilingual might opt for using the German compounding system as it is very flexible and can create precise and expressive words on the fly. Your English-German bilingual might then attempt translating this one word into English for possibly hours without ever having a satisfying solution.

Lastly, German speakers don't just come from Germany. The German Sprachraum is bigger than that. And while it might not impact speech patterns that much, it's culturally tactful to know the differences between German-speaking identities one writes about.

English-German bilingual characters can come in a wide variety. And some might speak very basic English. But plenty of English-German speakers are fluent in English. Their mistakes don't come from a lack of English knowledge but from a clash between two similar language systems. To write a fluent bilingual means not to just add "Ja" and "Nein" while making their expressions poorer but on the contrary having an over expressive character with language flaws and quirks.

English-Russian Bilingual

Thanks to Hollywood there is a certain cliche accent for English-Russian bilinguals we dubbed the shitty Russian accent. And while obviously it’s possible that someone out there speaks like that, most fluent English-Russian bilinguals don’t sound like their offensively orientalised depictions. English has been taught very regularly in Russia or generally Eastern European schools along with other languages for decades. Plenty of native Russian speaking people live abroad for a while or migrate, giving them a lot of speaking practice. And of course Russian speakers have access to English speaking media, so they practice a lot by just watching youtube or whatever. The shitty Russian accent is something to be avoided or requires serious legitimization in character design before it’s use as most English-Russian Bilinguals that are fluent enough to be active characters in someone's English writing would not sound like that.

It's also important to point out that plenty of characters get labeled as “Russian” but there are a lot more languages, cultures and identities that are not Russian, do not consider themselves as such or do not natively speak Russian. It's also important that those who speak Russian or hold Russian nationality can have much more complicated identities. This is especially important as the blond, blue-eyed ethnically Russian archetype is part of an old stereotype which excludes plenty of the Russian minorities, or pressures people into a harmful white/slavic stereotype. Please be mindful of that when doing character design.

Similar to continental German-speakers, most Russian speakers tend to learn British English in school with huge influences from American English and AAVE coming through English speaking media and ✨the Internet✨. And just like English-German bilinguals, plenty of English-Russian bilinguals may not always be aware of the differences and use.

Russian and English are not as closely related as German and English because unlike the indo-germanic English, Russian is a indo-Slavic language. That means less shared vocabulary and grammar. However, plenty of vocabulary made it into Russian from both English and German as there is a history of linguistic and cultural exchange. This is especially the case with technical and professional vocabulary. Your bilingual character could choose corresponding English, German or even Latin academic vocab pronouncing it Russian depending on their profession and walk of life, as those tend to be the areas of expertise people have extra knowledge in. (Ever heard of an Awtomobil?)

Russian is a highly flexing (💪😏) language meaning it relies heavily on the inflection of verbs to communicate. As such, it is much less restrained in its syntax than English and it is entirely possible to build a sentence out of one verb (fuck yeah, peak minimalism). But what sounds very elegant and pointed in Russian, translates extremely poorly into English (;_;). Hence, less fluent English-Russian bilinguals will likely build very short somewhat stilted sentences in English: ‘I am hungry. You make food. I Love you.’. And while more fluent speakers will compensate due to practice and the difference vanishes, Russian could still be your character's preferred language due to its elegant and quick phrasing attributes. It’s like with the Latin veni, vidi, vici - its translations only do it half justice.

Speaking of verbs - as Russian relies on a number of verbs to communicate active, passive, finished, unfinished, tense and even gender of the corresponding nouns, a bilingual English-Russian speaker might struggle expressing the same thing with the English less grammatically loaded verbs or at least stress the importance of the verb. Imagine what it feels like to express yourself in English just saying “do”, “go” or “make” when those words tend to have 10+ other verbs saying variations of the same thing in Russian depending on the context, massively changing its meaning if you choose the wrong one. Suddenly you are not walking home, you are having a whole adventure! Naturally, putting emphasis on the right verb could be a telltale sign of your English-Russian bilingual character.

Adjacent to that - Russian differs in its use of auxiliary verbs. Making mistakes with be, do and have or just forgetting to add them when combined with other verbs could be a tell on a practicing bilingual character. (hurray, another note on verbs! It’s as if verbs in Russian are really important, huh?)

Another aspect that could influence your character's speech pattern is the Russian mode of negation. In Russian to say you are not doing something, works with the pattern of NO + VERB instead of the English DO + NOT (also known as do not / don’t). That means to say ‘i do not understand this grammar thing’ as a totally hypothetical bilingual character could go as ‘I not understand this grammar thing’. As you can see the ‘not’ is just put before the verb, making it sound odd. Combined with difficulty with the auxiliary verbs, it’s a classic mistake a bilingual character could make.

Enough about verbs and grammar. Famously, Russian pronunciation uses a bunch of sounds that are unusual for English speakers. Most importantly it’s the trilled R, similar to the Spanish trilled R, which can sneak into your character's pronunciation and is hard to lose. So if your character learned English later in life, they will likely have at least some version of the trilled R while a bilingual who spoke both languages from an early age will be able to switch between both Rs (and maybe sneer at everyone who can’t do both. ha, peasants. can’t even do two R sounds.)

Russian is not written with the same alphabet as English. Russian uses the Cyrillic alphabet unlike English, which uses a Latin-script. And while some letters look similar, they tend not to correspond. However, the uninitiated may not know the difference and try to read (and fail). Stories with bilingual characters or surroundings can use that for storytelling purposes. Also, one thing is to learn to speak a language but another is to read and write it, especially with the added difficulty of a new alphabet. Written cursive Russian has another feature, which makes it harder for the unpracticed to read it quickly - while looking very pretty it looks potentially like this.

Just like with the English-German bilingual, there is a wide variety of possibilities on how to create an English-Russian bilingual character. If you need help understanding what the Term Russian included, read here.

#grimmwriting #sarapaprikasblog #könig #könig call of duty #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 3 #nikto #cod nikto #writing #creative writing #call of duty nikto #call of duty 3 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #nikolai belinski #nick cod #nik cod #sebastian krueger

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monbons · 6 months

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an ask game for writers to procrastinate working on your WIP(s)

thanks for tagging me @bookish-bogwitch, @thewholelemon, @cutestkilla, and @noblecorgi!

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s): Currently, living, breathing, and eating my one and only WIP: The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch. Also, I am probably retiring after this fic because I do not think I can top it!

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___” Addie LaRue + SnowBaz = so much pain and angst

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it? Period-typical homophobia, Implied/referenced DV, Blood and Injury, Death... I mean truly the works. This is SnowBaz in the darkest possible timeline.

4. 🧭An alternative title to one of your WIP(s)? At one point, I joked with @thewholelemon about naming it "Baz Pitch's 300 Year Long Grope-Fest" but for obvious reasons that title would really do a disservice to this fic (although it is sort of true).

5. ⚠️Which WIP you're most likely to finish or update next? Now that I've created a posting schedule for The Eternal Life of Baz Pitch, I want to stick to it. While I'm "done" drafting, I am still making a few big revisions to the last six chapters. I've also been re-reading the first chapters for continuity issues that may have cropped up now that I know how this ends. Either way, I can see the finish line.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as) It started out as "Addie LaRue Working Draft." Once the one doc got unwieldy and long, it spun out into multiple docs titled all sorts of things - mostly chapter numbers, but I do have one not as fun as it sounds doc called "Sex Playground." (ha!)

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP. “Are you so naive as to think I cannot watch you whenever it pleases me, even if you cannot see me?”

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP. I actually have SEVERAL scenes I scrapped...like pages and pages! Largely this is because I have a whole document titled "Voice," which served as a sandbox of sorts where I could play with every possible combination of POV, tone, and style before committing to the final version you see in the story now. There's even a scene in there told first-person Niall! (Bonkers.)

I also have a whole ACTUAL scene I'd love to include as an answer to this question because it was well-written, but I cut it because it made the plot unnecessarily complicated, was frankly too close to the original plot of Addie, and would have made my ending impossible. It is also--sadly--too big a spoiler to include here, so let me give you a few sentences from "Sex Playground" that will not be making the cut:

“Stay.” Baz pushes his hand into the center of Simon’s chest, pressing him back into the mattress. “I want to look at you.” Simon gives Baz a filthy smile. He can look all he wants.

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet? I really want to write a canon divergence where Simon successfully but somewhat accidentally reveals Baz is a vampire fifth year, so Baz and the whole Pitch family have to flee from the Mage. I already have the "everybody finds out" scene written and the scene where the Mage realizes the Pitch family is gone, so I guess I have started it. But, I also have no idea where it's going or what it's about, so I haven't really accomplished anything. If anyone has ideas or wants to be a partner-in-crime on this, give me a little shout!

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on? Literally just this one. Again, I am retiring after this fic! (Or at least taking a very well-deserved break.)

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now? Absolutely 100% it is writing the smut. Having never written any on-page sex means I'm figuring it out as I go. Lots of frustrated growls from me (not nearly as frustrated from Simon).

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send. I know many of you have already posted, but tagging anyway since you've commented/liked past WIPsdays and such, in case you're interested in the behind the scenes!

@valeffelees, @roomwithanopenfire, @noblecorgi, @cutestkilla, @iamamythologicalcreature, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @youarenevertooold, @drowninginships, @emeryhall, @hushed-chorus, @rimeswithpurple, @aristocratic-otter, @larkral, @artsyunderstudy, @brilla-brilla-estrellita

#tag game #writers asks #the eternal life of baz pitch #carry on #i really wish i could share all the things but part of the joy of this story is the slow reveal #feel free to ask me again once it's all done!

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i-translated · 10 months

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I want to talk about syllable count in English vs Russian, and I'm going to use "Surface Pressure" as an example because of how fucking horrendous the official Russian translation is, let's go.

So English is a relatively simple language, and a lot of its simplicity is owed to how little various grammarical structures affect the modifications of words.

English nouns aren't gendered and only ever go through a transformation when you add a plural. Car - cars, city - cities, etc. Note that an -s at the end is itself a consonant, and in most cases does not influence the syllable count of the word.

English adjectives don't even have plurals. A fast car - two fast cars. The only modifications occur in comparatives (a fast car - a faster car -the fastest car) or in derrived adverbs (a quick move - to move quickly). All of these add only one syllable most of the time.

Verbs go through the most transformations. I move - I moved - I'm moving, etc. You can pair then with auxilary verbs (I have moved), though again in many cases it doesn't influence the syllable count (I move - 2 syllables, I've moved - still 2 syllables, only a bit more of a mouthful).

Now, there are obviously more complex structures out there, this is just a short sample for comparison. Now let's look at what's going on in Russian.

Nouns in plural typically gain at least one additional syllable. Conpare: cat - cats vs кот - коты. An ы is a vowel. A bitch to rhyme, too.

Nouns have cases. For instance: (this is a) house - дом, 1 syllable; (in the) house - (в) доме, 2 syllables.

Adjectives also have cases, and they match the nouns that they are describing. See: (this is a) big house - большой дом, 3 syllables; (no) big house - (нет) большого дома, 5 syllables.

If you have more than one adjective in a row, all of them have to natch the case of the noun they're describing. See: big pretty house - большой красивый дом, 6 syllables; (no) big pretty house - (нет) большого красивого дома, 9 syllables.

Verbs are even worse. There's no gerund, so every instance of it in English is a separate sentence. For instance: I saw him running - Я видел, как он бежал (lit. I saw how he ran). It's almost always at least two additional syllables, if not more.

Present participles get even longer. I need a separate bullet list just to demonstrate. Compare:

I run (2 syllables) - я бегу (3)

Running (2) - бегущий (3)

Running by (3) - пробегающий (5)

(A girl) running by (3) - пробегающая (6)

(To the boy) running by (3) - пробегающему (6)

And these are just the simplest examples. There are English infinitives that turn into whole Russian clauses (I want you to go - я хочу, чтобы ты ушёл). There are simple, everyday use words that are just longer on average, like:

If (1) - если (2)

When (1) - когда (2)

Which (1) - который (3)

This (1) - это (2)

Why (1) - почему (3)

Because (2) or 'cause (1) - потому что (4)

I could go on. Then there's also the fact that Russian is very phonetically consistent, meaning there's little to no phonetic reduction. You can't y'all'd've your way our of a long ass sentence. You have to work with it.

So here's what you end up with.

On one hand there are Russian-to-English translations that are short on syllables and you have to pull them out if your ass to fill up those bars. Not saying there isn't an occasional tight squeeze - Russian too can be concise and punchy in a non-verbose way - but to me the space within the lines seldom feels too cramped. You may phrase something in an unnecessarily complicated way or add a word that wasn't in the original, but as long as you stay humble and remember your role as a translator, you can do the original justice with minimal errors.

On the other hand you have English-to-Russian translations that always - and I do mean always - have too many fucking syllables. This is arguably much worse. One's ass may very well be a bottomless pit to pull words from, but you can't stuff them back in. Those syllables aren't going anywhere. You have a sentence on your hand and you can't cut any of that sentence without losing a part of its meaning.

If you've been following the logic so far, you're probably asking yourself: so what the fuck am I supposed to do with all those leftover syllables? That's a very good question! I ask it every day. It's agony.

Here are a few methods I've learned to utilize.

Sentence-slicing. Sometimes you can't match the lines exactly, so you step on the next oine until you get obe with some breathing room and "catch up". You can't do this too often or for too many lines in a row because the translation starts to "fall behind", but there are times when you can get away with it.

Wordplay! It's pretty hard to pull off in Russian but you totally can, and it feels amazing when you pull it off. Why use two words when you can use one with a double-meaning?

Use thesaurus. And if that don't work? Use more thesaurus.

Sometimes things will get cut. You must accept it. Not every metaphor can be translated. Not every rhyme can be preserved. Some words will have to be changed. This is very important to understand. A good translator must take responsibility for every meaning they twist. They must analyze the material on more levels than just literal and linguistic in order to accurately transfer it into another language with minimal, acceptable losses. I cannot stress enough how hard and how important this is.

Now, let's talk about "Surface Pressure".

The original lyrics were written by Lin-Manuel Miranda, and I don't fucking care what anyone says, this man got bars. It's kind of a trend to poke fun at Hamilton, but In the Heights won a ton of awards, and nobody fucking says the songs in Moana were bad, do they? Point is, I like his lyrics. They're extremely good. Great job, Mr. Miranda.

The Russian translation I'm going to be tearing to shreds today was, from what I could find with tough fucking luck, made by Disney Character Voices International, Inc.. This is only to say a studio approved it. I'm not harping on, like, one little guy. There were corporate decisions made there.

I'm also gonna compare it to my own translation because I just think that it's better. It's not perfect by any means, but then the bar is already pretty damn low.

With all that out if the way, lets read some lines! Out of order because this is my post and I can do what I want. Exhibit A.

"It's pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop // Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop" is a line from the chorus that gets repeated a few times. I likeit because it's cute, evocative, and alliterative - it creates a particular "beat" sound by using frequent consonant repetitions "drip-drip-drip" and "tip-tip-tip".

The original translation gives us: "Давит тебя вниз-вниз-вниз и всё ближе дно, Давит тебя вниз-вниз-вниз, выплыть не дано" - lit. "Pushes you down-down-down and the bottom gets closer // Pushes you down-down-down, it's impossible to surface". It's not the worst offender but the alliteration is gone to fuck, now it's "down-down-down" in both lines and sounds pretty repetitive.

I did it like: "Давление по кап-кап-капле прижало грудь // Тянет тебя вниз, вниз, вниз, не даёт вздохнуть" - lit. "Pressure by drip-drip-drip(drops) pressed your chest // Drags you down-down-down, doesn't let you take a breath". The first line is actually a wordplay, "кап-кап-кап" (kap-kap-kap) is the sound water droplets make, and "давление по капле" or "pressure by drops" is a lowkey classic metaphor for continuous strain on one's nerves. The line also isn't tautologic because it uses two different words for pressure.

I wanted to keep more of the origial meaning but "pop" did not translate. Couldn't imagine what one would say instead. Хоба? That's so rustic.

If you're thinking "it's not too bad" then we'll get there when we get there. Exhibit B.

"Diamonds and platinum, I find 'em, I flatten 'em // I take what I'm handed, I break what's demanded, but-" is one of my favorite lines in the goddamn song. Notice how the first line has a quadruple rhyme? So fucking crisp and juicy. Fuck yeah!

The original translation gives us: "Тверже бриллианта, сильнее Атланта // Я всем помогаю, я строю-ломаю, но-" - lit. "Harder than diamond, stronger than an Atlas // I help everyone, I build and break, but-" and y'all this is so cringe. What's up with "I help everyone"? It's so childish, it doesn't fit the tone of the song at all. All the rhymes in the second line are verb rhymes which is the laziest, most childish, most unoriginal type of rhyme in the entire goddamn language. Seriously. Silver Age poets are turning in their coffins right now. Good fucking heavens "Строю-ломаю" what a Care Bears ass phrasing. Also, Atlas? Really? Go off ig but I think that's just cause they couldn't find another rhyme for diamond and didn't even try for platinum.

I did it like: "Бриллианты и платина - вызов под стать, а мне // Брать что дают и ломать что некстати, но-" - lit. "Diamonds and platinum are a challenge to match (me), I have to // Take what I'm given and break what's not right (what's amiss, what's unneeded, neither here nor there)". So the quadruple rhyme still couldn't be preserved (sorry Mr. Miranda) but I did manage to rhyme platinum, and I kept the "I take what I'm handed" line in a way, which I feel is very important? Like, in the context of the song? It refers to her literally carrying physical items as a part of her work and to her metaphotically "taking" shit from her family that was pressuring her, and it reads both ways in translation too, it's kind of like "be content with what you're given", it's very in-character, I feel like. I did lose rhymes though. Can't be helped, I suppose.

"It's still pretty okay-" EXHIBIT C:

"Pressure like a grip, grip, grip, and it won't let go // Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it's ready to blow" - another line from the chorus, very good alliteration still, very steady rhythm, very evocative, I kiss this song on the mouth if you even care.

The original translation throws at our face: "Давит тебя вниз-вниз-вниз, это нелегко // Давит это, тик-тик-тик, взрыв уже недалеко" - lit. "Pushes you down-down-down, it's not easy // Pushes means tick-tick-tick, the explosion is already near". I fucking hate "it's not easy" for how stupidly blunt it is, I hate that "tick-tick-tick" no longer has as strong of a metaphorical connection, I hate that they repeat "down-down-down" for the third goddamn time, but y'know what? I could forgive all that if they haven't broken the rhythm. Allow me to illustrate.

Slashes are stressed, Us are unstressed, the dash is a skipped beat.

Do you see the extra syllable? Do you see it? I see it. I lose my sleep because of it. This isn't, like, a classic translation liberty. This is legit a mistake. They just said Fuck It, Who Give A Shit. Well, I does. I gives a shit

I did the line like: "Давление как взять-взять-взять и держать в тисках // Давит будто тик-тик-тикает и бабах!" - lit. "Pressure like to grab-grab-grab and hold you in a clamp (a vise? what's it called, the scary construction tool) // Pushes as if tick-tick-ticks and kaboom!" So... Ticking is a verb now! And a bit of a wordplay, too. My line is actually one unstressed syllable short but it doesn't break the rhythm because you can, y'know, stretch the previous syllable. Cause it's a song. And you do that in songs. Also the next beat is the one you skip anyway. God, I sound so arrogant but this is just so much better.

So I actually didn't check the official translation at all when I made mine, but there's a part we did very similarly but the official one is just... Clearly worse? Okay, hear me out. Exhibit D.

"Who am I if I can't carry it all? If I falter..."

The original translation presents: "Кто я, если всё не потяну? И вдруг дрогну..." - lit. "Who am I if I can't carry everything? And suddently falter..."

My version is: "Кто я, если всё не потяну? Если дрогну..." - lit. "Who am I if I can't carry everything? If (I) falter..."

Pretty straight-forward but I'll explain. My issue is with the "If I falter" part.

So. Mine is pretty word-for-word, the official one adds a "suddenly" in there. Why, I don't fucking know, but it's not thematically terrible abd doesn't step on the meaning of the line, so whatever. But.

But! I know y'all can't read cyrillics so let me translit that real quick.

First, my version: Если дрогну - Yésli drógnu

Now the other one: И вдруг дрогну - I vdrúg drógnu

This isn't, like, critical, but if you look at the consonants on the second one, it's just VDRGDRG

I mean, fucking hell, right? I'm a native speaker and it's hard for me to say out loud. Why did they feel like it needed to be there? Why did they not just translate literally this one time where a word-for-word translation would fit perfectly? Who thought this soft gentle fade-out part needed to sound like a steel bolt in a cheese grater? Top fifteen questions that keep me up at night.

We're getting to the really bad ones.

So, the verse repeats the phrase "under the surface" a few times and rhymes on it. Like, a lot. It's very impressive and I love it.

Me, I'm a madman who loves pain and suffering, so I translated it as "сказать открыто" lit. "to tell openly" and then stayed up all night rhyming on Ы.

The official translation, however, hates to use its brain, so it went with "на самом деле" lit. "actually" and then rhymed with fucking. Nouns in the same case. Like some type of kindergarten.

I'm gonna list a bunch of lines that use this bit so I wanted to get that out of the way. Now, exhibit E.

"Under the surface, was Hercules ever like 'Yo, I don't wanna fight Cerberus'?" is a line I like for it's rhyme and dislike for something else I'll tell you in a bit.

The official translation smacks me upside the head with: "На самом деле, а мог ли Геракл сказать: 'Подвиги мне надоели'?" - lit. "Actually, could Heracles say 'I'm tired of (heroic) feats'?" which breaks the rhythm again and follows neither the original nor the music, but is overall okay if you don't count how childish it all sounds.

I did it like: "Сказать открыто Геракл не смог бы, что, мол, этот подвиг претит ему." which is actually a wordplay, so a literal translation would do something like "To tell openly, Heracles couldn't (tell openly) that he's sick of this (heroic) feat".

Note how we call him Heracles, not Hercules. That's cause that's his fucking name in the myth.

He didn't fight Cerberus either, he tamed him.

Also my translation follows the beat of the song, at least. Fucking hell of a line.

Okay, ready for the worst goddamn line ever? Meet exhibit F.

"Under the surface, I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service" is a hella powerful line to me personally.

Let me show you my version first this time, it goes like: "Сказать открыто, невыносимо стыдно, что я непродуктивна" - lit. "To tell the truth, (I am) unbearably ashamed that I am unproductive". It's not the prettiest line but it's solid enough.

The official translation curses my fucking bloodline with: "На самом деле, я каждый день недели стараюсь быть при деле" - lit. "Actually, every day of the week I try to be at work". You don't need to speak Russian to notice that within the span of a line these people actually and with full seriousness rhymed "деле" and "деле".

"Well maybe it's just a different word" no it's not.

It's the same word.

They rhymed on the same word.

I actually wanted to add more but Tumblr glitched and posted instead of saving to drafts. I think it's good like that. We're done here.

#discussion #surface pressure

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o0anapher0o · 1 year

Text

Four theories about the Devil’s Minion

First off, I don’t claim this is in any way comprehensive or that I have come up with any of those. I might have overlooked something really obvious, with this show that happens quite frequently. But these are ideas of what I think could have happened with Armand and Daniel in the seventies, based on the information we have so far, which is that they met in the seventies and Armand saved him from Louis, and that Daniel’s oldest daughter was born in the mid to late seventies (judging from the ‘seven years before car seats where mandatory‘ bit in Daniel’s autobiography).

1. The Devil’s Minion hasn’t happened (yet). I would say unlikely given they did meet, Armand decided for some reason to save Daniel’s life and Daniel’s memory of the time is shot. None of that would be necessary if nothing had happened (and where would be the fun in that). But it is of course possible that it’s all a red hering.

2. The relationship lasted shorter than in the book. Considering the show is on a condensed timeline and all the other relationships are also shorter, it would make sense if the ten years Armand and Daniel were together in the book would have been condensed to two or three years. Personally I’m not a fan because I think to get to the breaking point Daniel reached in the end in the book it would take more than a year or two, but it seems very logical for the show to do.

3. Alice is Armand. The theory that Armand twisted Daniel’s memories of him into memories of a first wife ‘Alice‘ and the reason Daniel’s eldest daughter doesn’t talk to him is that she doesn’t exist. Now I love this theory. I have written this theory. It’s fun and messed up and insane. But I don’t think it’s true. It seems like a neat way to circumvent enormous gaps in Daniel’s memories and it crazy enough that Armand would do something like that but. The sentence ‘my ex-wife reminds me I never owned a buik‘ indicates she was in some form consulted for Daniel’s book and that they therefore are (or where at the time) still in contact. Which makes sense for the woman he has a child with, but not for the vampire who erased himself from his memories. There is also no reason for Armand to add a fake daughter to the story, a lie that is unnecessarily complicated and difficult to maintain longterm.

4. There was overlap with Armand and Alice. This one seems the most likely to me. For one it fits the timeline. Two, it explains incoherent memories (maybe Daniel did own a buik with Armand that Alice didn’t know about). But most importantly it would explain why things went differently than in the book. One of the main reasons Daniel in book could never get away from Armand (other than being addicted to his blood) was that in the end he had nothing/no one else left he cared about. He was alienated from friends and family and barely working anymore. The only future he could see was as a vampire with Armand. If Daniel had had another relationship and a child that would have opened the option for another future. Another future he might have wanted (or that Armand was convinced he wanted). A child changes everything. And Armand in the book already assumed Daniel would grow to resent him if he made him a vampire, if doing so also meant taking him away from his child it makes a ton of sense for Armand, especially given his very (for vampires) recent experience with Louis and Claudia to not want to repeat that mistake. If he’s going to lose Daniel anyway at least he can let him have a life.

#and how enraged he would be to find he gave up Daniel to give him that and he fucked it up #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv speculation #the devils minion #daniel molloy #armand

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randoms-fandoms · 1 year

Note

Hi!! Can I please request the ninja(from Ninjago) X older brotherly reader platonicly?? Ofc where the reader acts like an older brother to each of the ninja.

If U can only do one may it please be kai that boy needs some brotherly affection

Have an amazing day💖

YES IVE BEEN DYING TO WRITE KAI CONTENT :D in this one, the reader will actually be Kai’s (and Nya’s) older brother :)

Warnings: none, I just make things unnecessarily sad and Kai has a breakdown.

Relationships: Jay has a crush on Nya 🫢

Kai had always had a hard time expressing himself. That, paired with his strong emotions, lead to one thing: consequences.

He picked fights. When he didn’t like something, everyone knew. He was constantly rumbling with other kids in his neighborhood growing up, and you (as his older brother) typically had to patch up his wounds afterwards.

Not much about this aspect of Kai changed you and your younger siblings moved in with Sensei Wu and the rest of the ninja— except now, Kai got in bigger fights, with his friends, and you were now realizing that your job had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

“You should go check on Kai.” Nya said, poking her head into your room on the Bounty.

You groaned, already having a headache from trying to work out your responsibilities with the blacksmith shop. The building had already been repossessed, but somehow the local government hadn’t got the memo and was still sending you business taxes. Still, no matter how hard it got, you refused to ask Sensei for help.

“I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry about it.” You said to Nya after a pause. She nodded, not quite comforted, and left the room.

Leaving the papers on your desk— that way I won’t forget about them— you stood up and stretched. You had been working for quite some time; it was already nearly dinner.

You found Kai in the ninja’s shared bedroom, lying on his bunk facing away from you. He held completely still, obviously pretending to be asleep.

“Hey.” You said, sitting on one of the other beds.

Kai didn’t turn around. He didn’t say a word.

“How’ve you been?” You tried again.

This one got a reaction: “Just fine.”

You didn’t believe that for a second, and were kind of losing your patience. Why does he always do this?

“Okay. Why are you in here instead of training?”

Kai groaned and flopped onto his back. “Because I don’t want to! Just leave me alone!”

You briefly regretted not asking Nya for more details when she initially came to you. Kai rarely ever told you what was on his mind.

“I can help you, you know.” You said, impatiently. “Whatever you’re dealing with this time—“ you struggled to make your thoughts into a coherent sentence. “We’ve always done things together, why can’t—“

“You don’t get it!” Kai shouted, sitting up. “You’re not a ninja!”

“So what?” Your expression didn’t change. You felt bad for pressing his buttons, but you knew he’d get over it. “I still want to do what I can.”

“What could you do?” He asked.

You frowned. I don’t know. You were silent for a moment. “…I’m sorry, Kai.”

Kai glared. It wasn’t very threatening, with fresh tears running down his face. “Why.” He demanded. “It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault, this is just how it is.” He replied bitterly. “So don’t apologize. There’s nothing you can do.”

You had no idea how to make him understand just how much his pain broke your heart.

You remembered when he was younger… how excited he was when you finally let him help make weapons. How he always hid his report cards from you so you wouldn’t know he was failing. How he put on a brave face after your parents went missing, how he’d insist on staying awake to protect your home during the night.

Kai sighed. He took a deep breath. He leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

“Who are you fighting with?” You tried, voice lowered, almost a whisper.

“All of ‘em.” Kai replied just as quietly, shaking his head. “…Jay.”

You looked over him more closely, noticing a bruise forming under his right eye. You didn’t comment on it. “What about?”

“Family stuff.”

You nodded in understanding. Kai was easily ignited when it came to his family.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to upset you, he’s just kind of an idiot sometimes.” You said sincerely. Jay really was a sweet kid, you thought, but he was kind of tactless.

Kai frowned. “I’m not upset, he’s just being stupid.”

“What did he say?”

“It’s dumb.” Kai prefaced, not meeting your eyes. “We were training, and you know how he likes Nya…”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded along. You knew Kai was protective of Nya in general, but his anxiety really amped it up after your parents went missing. You also knew that Jay was aware of this, at least the first part.

“He said we could duel, and if he wins he gets to ask her out.”

“You know he’s not going to do that,” you reasoned.

Kai nodded. “Whatever. He won obviously, you know I’m not that good at fighting—“

“No way dude,” you objected.

Kai just rolled his eyes. “—anyway, I got all mad, and he made fun of me. I was pissed. Whatever.”

You knew that wasn’t the full story. “Anything else?”

“He said… that Nya prob’ly hates me ‘cause I’m so— you know.” Kai scrunched his face up, trying not to cry again.

You stood and made your way across the room to sit next to him on the bed, waiting for him to start breathing again. When he did, they came ragged and short. “Kai.”

Kai turned away, bringing his hands up to cover his face. He rolled over to face the wall, whole body shaking from the effort to hold on a sob. The room was completely silent.

“Kai, he wouldn’t say that. It’s not true.”

Kai finally broke, gasping and sobbing. He balled his fists up in his hair, groaning in protest.

“Come on, bud.” You placed a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe.” You gently pulled him into a sitting position and modeled measured breaths for him while he coughed and heaved, still not wanting to cry. “You gotta breathe. It’s okay to make noise.” You said more firmly.

Kai shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. You gave up and just held him, tightly, regretting that you couldn’t remember the last time he’d let you hug him. How did we get to be like this?

Kai finally began to cry in earnest. He cried hard. He was hurting too much to hold it back anymore, head pounding, lungs burning, bruises from training blooming on his ribs.

You couldn’t think of anything to say. It would be easy to comfort Nya if she was breaking down, but with Kai, you didn’t want to accidentally set him off again. So you just waited.

When Kai finished crying, he just lie back on his bed, exhausted and angry-looking. His face was red as he wiped his tears with his sleeve.

You found his backpack and dug around in it until you found his water bottle and a box of pain relief pills. He took them wordlessly, before handing the bottle off to you so you could take some as well. Your head was killing you.

“You hungry?” You asked. Kai shook his head. “Okay, I’ll let you skip dinner tonight if you promise to have a midnight snack later.” He nodded.

You stood up, pausing. “Uh, Kai?”

He still didn’t say anything, not looking at you. You thought he might be embarrassed about crying. I should probably leave.

“Nya loves you. I love you too.” You said a little awkwardly. “And you know what? I bet Jay loves you. And Cole, and Zane, and Wu… so just…” your confidence wavered when a tear slipped down his cheek. “You can tell us if something’s bothering you. I know it’s hard to be a ninja.”

Kai nodded. He took a shuddering breath. “Thanks,”

You nodded. “Any time. Get some rest.”

As you left the room, you checked your phone. It was ten minutes into dinner time. You were hungry.

You also noticed, a moment later, a text from Jay.

Is Kai ok?

You smiled, exhausted, and just replied with a thumbs up emoji. I’m turning in early tonight.

A/N: Jay actually said “I bet Nya hates how overprotective you are” btw Kai is just depressed and thinks everyone hates him. Anyway hope you enjoyed ❤️

#lego ninjago #Ninjago #kai smith #kai jiang #platonic x reader #kai ninjago

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winchesterszvonecek · 3 days

Text

I See Red 18+

Chapter 8 - What The Hell’s a Dutch Baby?

Word Count: 5179

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Two weeks had gone painfully by and yet Crowley still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Selina. Not a single text, call or even a summon had been fired his way by her. Or anyone bearing the surname Winchester for that matter.

He was becoming antsy. Impatient. Scared that Selina might never be able to forgive him for the events that transpired between herself and Damien, who Crowley still wished he’d killed slowly as it was his fault all this was happening in the first place. Had that complete and utter moron not gone and kidnapped Claire, who was basically Selina’s little sister, then maybe Crowley wouldn’t have spent the last two weeks sulking around his palace, miserable and on the verge of insanity.

Maybe he wouldn’t have been left stewing in the false hope that perhaps his days were off and he was still inside that two week wheelhouse that Alex had mentioned. Of course, he knew his calendar was correct. After all, he was punctual like that, but still, you can’t fault a guy for dreaming now can you?

Crowley was just hanging onto the hope that perhaps it would take Selina just a little while longer to decide to talk to him again given that the situation hadn’t involved only her. That maybe because Claire had been involved, that the situation had fallen higher on the ladder and deserved a lengthier punishment than Sam not looking for her in Purgatory did.

Chances are Claire was the reasoning behind the entire silent treatment he was receiving as something told Crowely that Selina wouldn’t have even been phased, let alone angry enough to freeze him out had Damien only kidnapped her.

If that had been the case then nothing would have changed between the two of them at all. It would still be drinks, near kisses and texts all round like it had once been. Unfortunately for him though, that wasn’t the case. Therefore he hadn’t heard a single peep from Selina since that fateful day and to tell the truth… Crowley wasn’t quite sure how much longer he could keep going like this.

Even his subjects had started to notice he wasn’t his usual self. Hard not to when they’d be in the middle of trials and punishments, the latter being a personal favourite of the King, and yet Crowley would zone out completely, appearing like he’d rather be anywhere else but there.

Obviously they didn't know exactly why he was so out of it these days, although they had an inkling, but they were hoping that whatever it was would sort itself out eventually. They couldn’t believe they were thinking this but they actually missed the old Crowley, even if he did use them as dartboards as at least that way he wasn’t slouched on his throne, frowning and with his eyes glued to his phone like a teenager instead of doing his job.

“Sir?” Guthrie’s slightly confused voice seemed to snap Crowley out of wallowing in his own self pity. The King’s head slowly lifted from his phone as his brow furrowed a little in question, to which Guthrie replied with, “The trial, sir.”

Following the brief cock of Guthrie’s head, Crowley’s tired gaze came to land on the row of demons patiently awaiting their sentencing. For crimes they swore up and down they didn’t commit and to be honest, some of them probably were innocent but this was Hell-related after all, so they can’t exactly expect a fair trial. Sighing, Crowley beckoned the next fear riddled demon forth, holding out his hand that was soon met with a clipboard.

Another sigh escaped Crowley’s lips, his eyes falling to the parchment in his hand as he brought it towards him, flicking briefly through the vast amount of pages. He began to read, or more so skim, over the unnecessarily small writing that riddled them, telling him in excruciating and over-complicated detail exactly what the demon before him was being accused of.

Truth be told, Crowley’s mind wasn’t taking in a single word of what was in front of him. Unless it was a letter written to him by Selina, one telling him that all was forgiven and that she was ready to talk to him again, then he simply didn’t care what the contents were about. Fed up already, he flipped the pages all the way back to the first one, tossing it aside and finding a touch of satisfaction when it clattered against the floor and was no longer his problem.

“You’re guilty of… Something.” Crowley began, waving his hand lazily in the air as he was too un-bothered to care about coming up with a proper crime. “Which I won’t tolerate… Whatever it was… Your sentence is death.” He said happily, motioning for his guards to take the accused away and once they did so he turned to the other occupants in the room, adding sternly, “The rest of you, get out.”

Those left in the throne room were gone mere seconds after the words left Crowley’s lips, not wishing to face the fierce wrath of the King. Certainly not whilst he was like this, all surly and unpredictable. Last time that happened he ended up feeding the demons to his hound, who had now developed quite a taste for demon blood so forgive them for being wary.

The only one who remained in the room was Guthrie, who was slightly less afraid than the others as he was Crowley’s right hand man after all. Although, that didn’t mean he was exempt from becoming Juliette’s chew toy and so he approached the throne with minor trepidation.

“Sir, if I may.” Guthrie began, backing up a touch when Crowley stood from his throne and stepped down as he half expected an angel blade to the chest for lingering. Only to his surprise, Crowley simply walked past him and beelined for the drink’s cart, beckoning with his hand for the demon to carry on. “There have been rumours floating around the asylum recently, sir.”

“Rumours?” Crowley repeated, arching an eyebrow as he poured himself a hefty drink.

“About your majesty and… Selina Winchester.” Guthrie replied carefully, not daring to make eye contact.

The second the words escaped into the air Crowley’s grasp tightened on his glass, his knuckles quickly turning white with how hard he held it and he was surprised it hadn’t shattered in his hand. He sucked in a breath, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth as he closed his eyes, needing a second to prepare himself for what he was about to hear.

Opening his eyes, Crowley took a long sip of his scotch before repeating in question, “Myself and Selina Winchester?”

“Yes sir.”

“And what, precisely, do these rumours say about us?” Crowley turned, eyebrow raising again as he tried his best to act casual. When in reality his heart was racing and for once his palm grew sweaty. So sweaty, in fact, that he could feel his glass fighting to slip from his hold.

“For starters, there's the texting… Something that’s been noticed even by those of simple minds.” Guthrie said, hearing a faint huff of amusement coming from Crowley. “Secondly, there’s Arman, sir, who has been rather vocal about the fact that he witnessed you saving Miss Winchester from a human attacker… That you seemed almost concerned about her wellbeing and that you sent her attacker to Hell… Personally.”

“Hmm.” Crowley’s eyes narrowed, tongue running over his bottom lip as he made a mental note to have Arman killed. Painfully.

“Not to mention Damien. Who appears to have gone missing after reporting in that he’d kidnapped Miss Winchester. Along with another young hunter girl.” At that Crowley couldn’t stop his eyes from flicking red and the way his features tightened out of anger was enough to make Guthrie recoil out of fear. He quickly bowed his head, stammering out in order to save himself, “But like I said, sire… Rumours.”

“Exactly.” Crowley’s eyes returned to their normal shade and he took a breath, that usual cocky grin of his rising slowly on his lips as he made things abundantly clear with just one word. “Rumours.”

Crowley was quick to leave the room afterwards, doing nothing but staring down at the darkened liquid of his refilled drink as it swirled in his glass with each step he took, slowly making his way through the stone halls of his asylum. He wasn’t overly worried about these so-called rumours, not really anyway.

Demons always did have a tendency to gossip amongst themselves as a way to stave off boredom and even if the rumours reached other ears, hunter ears to be exact, nobody in their right mind would ever believe them. Why would they?

Who would be stupid enough to believe a demon spread rumour about Selina Winchester being best friends with the King of Hell?

Nobody, that’s who.

Nobody, whether they be a hunter, angel or even other demons would ever believe such a tale as given Selina’s history, she’d made it perfectly clear how she felt about all demon kind. Just ask Azazel or Ruby… Oh wait, you can’t, because she killed them.

Crowley himself may have been a special case but even he knew Selina hated demons. With a passion.

Everybody knew it. Therefore he didn’t have much to worry about in terms of her safety as even should someone try to take her out, whether it be another hunter who assumed she was compromised or perhaps a rogue demon who accused her of poisoning the mind of the King, they wouldn’t stand a chance against her and that much Crowley knew for sure.

In another part of the country, in a town only about an eight hour drive away from Crowley’s asylum, Selina and her brothers were in the middle of what would end up being a rather crazy case. One that was about to start when they rolled slowly into the parking lot of a local diner and pulled up beside a rather familiar looking logo.

“God, I hate these guys.” Dean grumbled, shutting off the engine and taking a second to fully psych himself up for what he was about to endure.

“Oh come on, they’re fun.” Selina chuckled, patting Dean on the shoulder and hopping out of the car, surprising both of her brothers as lately she’d been downright miserable.

Like seriously, it had taken a hell of a lot longer than it should have to drag her out of bed this morning. Not even Sam’s famous chocolate chip pancakes could have enticed her and had it not been for Selina’s need to pee, she might have still been hidden under her covers, refusing to talk to anyone.

To make things worse, she hadn’t even seemed interested in this case when Dean told her about it. She hadn’t even batted an eye at the strange crime scene photo and had it not been for Sam physically pulling her out of her room then she wouldn’t be here. Although now that she was, Selina was kind of glad she’d tagged along as not only did she need this, but she’d also kind of missed the owners of the white van parked next to them.

A van with only a single word painted on the side… Ghostfacers.

“You’re only saying that because they both think you’re hot.” Dean mumbled, his lips scrunching up a little at even having to say that. Just because his sister would be considered conventionally attractive, didn’t mean he’d like to think about it, thank you very much.

“I am hot.” Selina replied plainly, and with a cocky smile which had Dean roll his eyes as they headed towards the entrance of the diner.

The bell above the door dinged faintly as they entered, their noses greeted with the mouthwatering smell of food and reminding Selina she hadn’t eaten yet. It was relatively quiet inside, it being just a little before the lunch rush which meant this conversation would go a whole lot easier as they didn’t have to worry about eavesdropping ears.

It was never fun explaining to those unfortunate enough to overhear their supernatural related talks. Most of the time they just pretended they were writing a book as it was much simpler that way.

“No way.” Selina breathed out, coming to a stop next to a lonesome sign that stood just inside the door. “They make Dutch babies here… Let’s order one.”

“What the hell’s a Dutch baby?” Sam asked, his brow a little furrowed as he glanced towards the poster.

“About two thousand dollars less than an American baby.” Dean replied wittly, grinning at his own joke which only had Sam frown in response.

At least Selina found it funny, Dean thought to himself. And honestly, he was glad she did as he hadn’t even seen her smile since she got back from Jody’s let alone laugh at something. She was still taking what happened to Claire rather hard on herself so any chance he’d get to cheer her up, he’d happily take it. Especially if it meant aggravating Sam in the process.

“It’s their world famous high-rise pancake.” Selina informed them, speaking as though it was obvious by the name. Which it was. For some anyway.

Clearly not Sam though as he still looked a little confused. However, not confused enough to point out how long they took to cook.

“Cat, it says it takes twenty-five minutes.” He tapped his knuckles lightly against the sign, casting his gaze back towards his sister. “Have you forgotten that we’re on a case?”

“I don’t care.” Selina replied, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m still reeling from being kidnapped… Not to mention I’m currently bleeding from my-”

“Okay, okay. You don’t need to say it. We get it.” Sam held up one hand, silencing her before she said anything that might scar him for life.

“Oh grow up, will you?” Selina muttered with a roll of her eyes. She’d never understand men and their disgust for periods. Sam and Dean especially as they’d experienced far worse over the years than a little bleeding.

They’d literally been to Hell for crying out loud but God forbid Selina ask them to buy her a box of tampons or mention she had cramps.

“It’s just a vagina. We’ve all seen one.” She added, for good measure as they really needed to get over themselves.

“Well, Sam hasn’t. He’s still a virgin, remember.” Dean happily pointed out, making Sam frown more than he already was and even his eyebrows seemed to fall with it.

“Right, from the chastity group thing.” Selina chuckled, shaking her head a little. “That’s unfortunate… It's been a while, Sam. You want me to help you find someone?” She glanced up at him, rolling her lips and finding clear amusement in his blank expression.

“Can you both focus? We’re working.” Sam said bluntly, a soft sigh escaping his lips when all Dean and Selina did was snicker in response.

Maybe Crowley had been right that day in the car, maybe Selina wasn’t his twin after all as she was far too similar to Dean than she was him.

“Okay, jeez, relax you big virgin.” Selina teased, giving Sam a playful tap on the arm. “We can work and order a Dutch baby at the same time.”

“Fine, you order your baby, Dean and I will go talk to these two idiots.” Sam replied, about to spin on his heels before Selina spoke again.

“Oh, is there a mirror in here?” She joked, this time making both Sam and Dean frown. She rolled her eyes, exhaling tiredly, “I’m kidding. God, you’re both so stiff it’s hard to believe we’re related.”

“Let’s just go.” Sam nudged Dean, cocking his head towards the table where he’d spotted their old friends. Or acquaintances rather? Whatever they were, they were a pain in their ass.

“Hey, order me one too.” Dean whispered towards Selina before he was dragged away by Sam. She flashed him a thumbs up, making a happy grin rise on his face.

Only that grin quickly fell when the two of them collapsed into the booth next to their two least favourite people, Ed and Harry. Both of whom looked equally as amused to see Winchesters as they did to see them.

“Ah, the Winchesters... Yay.” Harry muttered, equally as fed up as he was sarcastic.

“Says nobody.” Ed carried on.

“Ever.” Harry finished, rolling his eyes a little before Selina approached, slamming a chair down at the end of the table which had both himself and Ed jump in their skin.

“Hey boys.” Selina smiled, clearly pretending to flirt with them as she spun her chair around and straddled it, noticing the drastic change in behaviours the two boys seemed to exhibit over her appearance.

“H-Hey, Cat. Nice to… To see you again.” Harry stammered out, doing his best not to look her directly in the eyes.

“You changed your hair…” Ed pointed out, ignoring the furrowed eyebrows being fired his way by Sam and Dean. “Looks… Looks good.”

“All right, keep it in your pants.” Dean muttered, fed up already as it was bad enough just running into them, he didn’t need them both drooling over his sister too.

“What… I don’t…”

“Just up and listen, both of you. This is how it's gonna go.” Dean carried on, banging his fist on the table a little before pointing at them. “You two clowns are gonna get into that mystery machine outside and you’re gonna leave town… Or I’m gonna put holes in your knees.”

“Okay, first of all… You guys don’t scare us.” Harry said bravely, gesturing only between Sam and Dean as despite how attractive he found Selina, he was rather scared of her.

Last time they’d been together, locked in that Morton House, she proved just how scary she could be so the last thing he wanted was to provoke her. Dean might not make good on his word of putting holes in their knees, but Selina would, that much he was certain of.

“Not at all.” Ed added, trying his best to act cool when in reality, he was a tiny bit scared.

Lifting his shirt to reveal a gun tucked into his waistband Harry carried on, “Say hola to my little pistola.”

"Am I supposed to be impressed with that treasure trail or the lady gun you got hiding in your pants there?" Dean asked, pointing briefly towards the world's smallest gun.

“Uh… Both?” Harry hesitated, brows knitted together as that had sounded more like a question than a statement. His face relaxed, his shirt dropping as he unconvincingly shrugged, “Mainly the gun.”

“Hmm, I think mine is bigger.” Selina teased, lifting her own shirt to reveal not only the much bigger gun she had tucked in her own waistband, but the bottom of her bra too.

Obviously she hadn’t meant to show it. She’d just pulled her t-shirt up a little too high but it seemed to only add to the impact as it appeared as though the boys were practically whimpering to themselves and she couldn’t help but think that was the only bra they’d ever seen on a woman.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Sam interrupted, motioning for Selina to lower her t-shirt. “Maybe you should go and wait outside.”

“Yeah, before these two melt into a puddle of ectoplasm.” Dean added, a soft scoff leaving the back of his throat as he looked over at the dazed boys.

“Fine.” Selina stood up, lifting her chair and placing it back under the table she got it from. She glanced over her shoulder, catching the eyes of the obviously disappointed Ghostfacers and adding, “See you boys around… And as for you two, don’t forget my Dutch baby.”

“We won’t.” Sam and Dean called after her in unison, knowing better than to forget anything food related when it came to Selina as she was worse than Dean when it came to pie.

Satisfied, Selina left, allowing her brothers to do whatever it was they’d come here to do as honestly she hadn’t been listening to them. The entire car ride here she’d been scrolling through her phone. More specifically her text thread with Crowley, which had been mostly one sided as she’d yet to respond to any of his messages.

He’d given up trying to call her as she only declined it the second his name flashed on her screen. So instead he’d restored to texting her a few times a week to see if she was ready to talk to him again. To be honest, Selina didn’t even know if she was ready or if she ever would be , hence the fact that she’d straight up ignored each message no matter how hard it was for her to do so.

With a sigh, she locked her phone and tucked it back into her pocket after making note of the time as she was rather looking forward to her Dutch baby and was counting down the minutes to when she could eat it. Selina leaned back, hearing the slight squeak of the leather of her jacket against the car door as she glanced up at the sky, wondering at what point in her life had things gotten so damn complicated that she felt bad for ignoring a demon.

She knew it was the trials. That the last one had bonded her and Crowley in a way she never would have expected it to, but she didn’t like thinking about that day. Not when she only ended up remembering what Crowley had confessed to her and how badly she wanted to be able to give it to him.

Meow. Saved by the cat, thank God.

Selina’s head cocked to the side a little, her eyes soon spotting the small, black cat that was strolling towards her. She couldn’t help but smile a little, crouching down and holding out her hand as the cat approached her cautiously. It sniffed at her fingertips, eyeing her carefully and when it came to realise she wasn’t a threat, it happily allowed her to pet it.

“Aren’t you such a cutie?” Selina cooed, trailing her fingers along the cat’s back as it brushed up against her, purring softly and in a way that made her feel all warm inside as she always did like when animals took a liking to her. Cats especially.

If she had it her way, there would be a cat running around the bunker but unfortunately her brothers were absolutely no fun at all and therefore wouldn’t allow it, making herself and Castiel rather disappointed.

“The cat seems to like you… No surprise there.”

Two weeks was a long time for Selina to have gone without hearing that utterly smooth voice, meaning she was unable to stop the intense shiver from running up her spine and having her entire body shudder in response. She glanced to her side, spotting Crowley’s signature black suit as he made his way closer, every step only accelerating her otherwise calm breathing.

Selina’s eyes moved slowly up the length of his body and she swallowed thickly the closer she got to his face, the one she hadn’t been able to get out of her head no matter how angry she was with him. The second her gaze locked onto his, she was practically done for, her heart hammering furiously beneath her enochian carved ribs and for a second, she played about with the idea of throwing herself at him.

“Hello Selina.” Crowley added, deepening his voice purposely as he could almost sense the way Selina was feeling about him. He took one step forward, only to stop instantly when the cat she had been petting hissed at him before scarpering away.

Now annoyed, Selina sighed then muttered, “Did you have to do that?”

She was unable to help the slight scowl that flashed across her face as she straightened, folding her arms over her chest. She did her best to avoid making more unnecessary eye contact now that she was face to face with him, should she roll over and submit to his every need and desire.

“Apologies.” Crowley replied, edging his way closer to her as she leaned back against the Impala, still opting not to look directly at him again. But he had hope. After all, she did talk to him.

“What do you want?” Selina asked, a soft sigh leaving her lips as nothing but the sound of gravel crunching beneath Crowley’s feet met her ears in response.

A moment went by and still silence. For a second Selina thought he might have left due to her attitude, until the gap between them closed a lot more than she would have expected it to. She felt Crowley’s finger hook gently beneath her chin, slowly raising her face to meet his.

“For starters, for you to look at me for longer than five seconds.” He began, watching as Selina’s lips pressed together into a tight line, almost apologetically. And when she didn’t drop her gaze after more than those five seconds, he began to feel hope spark beneath his chest.

“There.” Selina breathed out, her heart hammering even harder against her ribcage at just how close he was to her. That still wasn’t enough to make her fully forgive him though, which may have been why her tone seemed so hostile when she next spoke. “I’ve looked at you. Now what do you want? ”

“Selina, don’t be like that.” Crowley said softly, opening the hand still beneath her chin to land lightly aside her face, watching the way her eyelids slowly fluttered and for a split second, her lips curled upwards. “I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

Wrong choice of words Crowley thought to himself, as the second they crossed his tongue and escaped into the air Selina’s face dropped beneath his touch. She raised her hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around his wrist and pulling his own away from her face, all but throwing it back at him as she moved away from the car and out of his intoxicating personal space.

“Because that makes it so much better.” Selina scoffed as she turned away from him, not finding herself able to look at him for another second. “Sorry doesn’t change the fact that Claire and Alex could have been killed, all because you don’t know how to keep your demons in check.”

“I know.” Crowley said softly, choosing to be patient as Selina was far, far more stubborn than he ever was. He edged his way closer to her, reaching out and lightly ghosting his hand over her shoulder, a spark of relief igniting within when she seemed to relax under his touch rather than tense up. “But I truly am sorry, Selina.”

Crowley’s hand landed properly on her shoulder, a soft sigh meeting his ears after it escaped from Selina’s lips. She turned her head, eyes flowing up from the warmth of his hand to meet his, the honesty behind them making it all the more difficult for her to stay mad at him. She knew how hard it was for Crowley to admit fault let alone apologise for anything, only adding to the confirmation that he really had changed.

“And I promise you…” He began, his touch slowly working its way up the length of her neck. He gently cradled one side, running his thumb along the almost faded bruise on her jawline, all while his eyes never once left hers. “For as long as Hell follows me, it will never happen again.”

“It better not.” Selina whispered, her breath hitching a little as this was all so much for her to take in at one time.

The gentleness of his touch. The softness of his words. Not to mention the look in his eyes, the one so filled with care and adoration that it had her unable to fully believe he was the same demon who had once tried to kill her. It was overwhelming to tell the truth, and for once she was praying that her brothers would show their faces and scare Crowley off as she didn’t know how much resistance she had left in her.

“You have my word, darling.” Crowley said, continuing to draw light circles over her skin with his thumb. And for his own sake he ignored the rapidness of her pulse against his palm as chances are her heart was beating fast for entirely different reasons and not because of him. “And you know I always keep those.”

It was true, he did always keep his word which is why Selina simply nodded her head once in response, her lips twitching upwards just enough to allow Crowley to let out the breath he’d been holding since the moment he showed up.

She’d forgiven him.

“I’ll do what I can to make it up to you.” Crowley added, for good measure as it couldn't hurt to offer her more in terms of an apology.

“Just keep your demons away from my girls and we’ll call it square.” Selina breathed out, doing her best to ignore the way her hand twitched out of eagerness to touch him. “They’ve been through enough.”

“You have my word that I’ll try my best.” Crowley replied, unable to fully promise her that he would as he couldn’t control every single demon on earth. “But you know as well as I do, there are unruly demons still out there.”

“That’s okay… As long as they aren’t yours, then we won’t have a problem.” Selina said assuringly, offering him a warm smile which all but had his heart want to leap from his chest.

Once again their bodies seemed to involuntarily lean forward, as though they were magnetic and unable to stop themselves from connecting. Their eyes found one another and they both knew what was about to happen, yet neither of them did anything to try and stop it. They wanted this, more than anything did they want this to happen but unfortunately for them, the universe was, once again, not on their side.

“I’m just saying, the sign said they take twenty-five minutes. Ours came out in twenty. That makes it preemie.”

“It’s a pancake, Dean. Not a real baby.”

The sound of her brother's nearing voices had Selina step abruptly away from Crowley, despite how hard it was to move her legs away from the gravitational pull they seemed to have towards one another. Not that it mattered as in the blink of an eye Crowley was gone, leaving her to do nothing but think… What if?

What if life didn’t keep getting in the way? Would she kiss Crowley? Or would her conscience get the better of her and stop her because deep down, she knew it was wrong? Selina wasn’t overly sure, but she was sure she’d find out next time as you know what they say… Third time’s the charm.

Chapter 9 ->

#supernatural #crowley #crowley x original character #crowley x oc #supernatural fanfic series

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dramaticpeony · 1 year

Text

I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief.

C.S. Lewis

David is thorny at the beginning. And I like the idea that he knows that. That he realizes, in the months that follow his father's death, that his grief has made him unnecessarily cruel. Especially towards people he loves. People like Asher. People like Milo. People like Marie and the Talbots and Gregory.

And it's annoying because he can't stop it. Whereas before he was too grief striken to to notice, now he has enough perspective to see that the way he talks to people has changed.

[Is it because he is the Alpha?]

And he knows that it hinders his ability to lead, because he may not have experience as an alpha, but he has seen how others were around his father. They were open, and honest and willing to be vulnerable.

And when he enters a room everyone tenses up. There must be things he is missing because his own pack members won't open up to him. Because he cannot just stop being so guarded and prickly.

He must've met angel at that sweetspot of his journey through grief. Where the hurt is still there,but has become more habitual and there is willingness to try living again.

Angel doesn't care much for his thorns. Which is good, because he cannot bring himself to trim them yet.

And they don't expect things of him: like leadership or guidance.

He's a hot dude, and his foul mood just makes him funny. Not uncomfortable to be around. Not an authority to suck up to or second guess.

And that's refreshing. That's new.

Here is something that the calamity hasn't touched. Here is something outside of it, or maybe it is the eye of the storm.

But of course that would be too simple.

Because they get closer. And he craves their presence but he still is David. He still says things in a somewhat cruel way sometimes. He doesn't say sweet things without prodding.

And it all comes to head when his own mate, in their own home, says that they didn't tell him about their pet cat for fear of upseting him.

And that just gives him pause for a while. Because it confirms what he already suspected; his loved ones wouldn't seek him out if they needed his help.

That's a failure, as an Alpha, as a mate, as a friend.

I think he spirals for a while. Old insecurities rise to the surface. He is a man of few words which means, of course that he is listened to when he speaks only the bare essentials. But it also means that he cannot (or has lost the ability to) express more complicated feelings that would require lengthy and heartfelt sentences.

So when his mate admits to being scared of storms, and he tries and succeeds to calm them, it's a paradigm shift. He can say things how he feels them now. Without being too mean.

He has less thorns on him and the ones left are dulled.

The rest follows. Milo talks to him about the bullying. He catches up with Tank. He invites Asher for Halloween. And yes, his handelling of things isn't always perfect ,but he is handling them. In more words than he used to. With more of himself than he used to give.

And the pack senses that.

It's like the final piece of the puzzle that would solidify his footing as Alpha.

Better yet; his progress is not lost after the inversion. He can still open up when he needs to or wants to. Like with the anniversary of Gabes death in the hoody thief video.

I know it's been said before but he's come so far from the frustating guy we meet in the first couple of videos.

I love him so much!!!

#He makes me feel so much!!!!!!!#my beloved beautiful man💖💓💓💗💗#are we surprised that I am gushing over him?#no we are not‼️#i just love him a lot ok????#redacted asmr david #redacted asmr #redacted davey #redacted david #tw grief

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ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey · 1 year

Text

The Executor

Something totally random, not at all what I usually write, but I hope you enjoy it anyway <3

The day had been long and arduous, made unnecessarily complicated by continuing interference from the school governors about the proper direction of fourth year Transfiguration curriculum, a subject about which Albus wished he cared less so that he might have avoided yet another tedious back and forth with the persnickety Ophelia Greengrass.

Albus interrupted his curriculum review to glance at the bit of parchment detailing the date and time of the interview he had scheduled, realizing with a great sigh that the man was due to arrive any minute.

With each passing year it grew more difficult to identify a qualified candidate to fill the role of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, and this year was proving especially impossible. Word had infested even the farthest corners of Britain that no teacher could last longer than a year in the post, forced to leave or resign due to some misfortune or other. Albus mentally cataloged the now undeniable litany of afflictions that had swept away two decades’ worth of colleagues - a home burned to the ground, a serious case of spattergroit, hippogriff injury, an incorrectly brewed Pepper-Up potion…

He had butted up against this moral quandary for years and had not devised any resolution. Indeed, it was a neat little problem that Tom had devised.

Albus could not do away with the subject of Defense Against the Dark Arts altogether, as Tom had surely wanted, for this would leave an entire generation of students vulnerable to what seemed to be Tom’s inevitable return.

He could not fill the post himself, lest he planned to be permanently expelled from the school.

He could not allow someone to walk into the post blind to its dangers, but if they knew the dangers surely they would not take it. Indeed, no sane person would knowingly subject themselves to the myriad of misfortune that had befallen past professors. It did not, after all, take a particularly intelligent individual to deduce that twenty three failed professors was not so much of a coincidence as it was a prophecy - whoever took the post would not remain in it.

And so it was that Albus was left to sift between candidates too obtuse to heed the warning signs that they were walking into a lion’s den or candidates ignorant of the lion altogether, both of which were decidedly unsuitable options.

Albus would have respected Tom for the effective simplicity of his little moment of spitefulness, if it were not so distasteful.

And now the game had changed, the stakes had heightened, because Quirinius Quirrell was dead.

There was no escaping it. Albus was not so desperate to claim moral responsibility as to ignore that Quirrell had done much of his own accord to achieve this particular result, but the fact remained that he had died. No other Defense Professor had died before, and so Albus had been operating under what he now considered to be a naive delusion that offering someone the post was not tantamount to a death sentence.

But he could not now ignore the reality that new data had come in, and a job offer was potentially fatal. The possibility of it was sufficient to cast a pall over the whole interview procedure. Next to no one had applied, and he dreaded the thought of hiring the few that had put themselves up for the job.

But, slave as he was to his staffing problems, he had scheduled an interview. He wondered vaguely if his dark purple robes were inappropriate attire for the grim task of choosing Tom Riddle’s next victim.

Albus heard a knock at the door. The candidate had arrived for his interview, but Albus had not arrived at any solution. Indeed, he had not for over twenty years.

But the show, as they say, must go on.

“Enter.”

The man called Gilderoy Lockhart stepped purposefully into the office, his robes of garish magenta swishing behind him. Albus quickly assessed him, this first time seeing him in the flesh rather than on the cover of some magazine, trying to quash his dubiousness as to the man’s credentials so as to offer him a fair interview.

Or, perhaps, a properly fair interview would have meant Albus had advertised the jinx on the job posting to begin with, and therefore fairness was but a bygone illusion. Alas.

“Albus Dumbledore,” the man proclaimed, extending his hand for Albus to shake. “I’ve long thought we ought to meet.”

“Mr. Lockhart,” Albus returned, shaking the man’s hand and marveling inwardly at his faultless quaff of blonde hair. “It is a pleasure. Please, have a seat.”

Lockhart sat, gathering his cloak and draping it artfully over the wooden armrest.

“Thank you for coming in to meet with me, “ Albus began, eyeing him shrewdly. “I daresay I was surprised to learn you were interested in a teaching post at Hogwarts. I’d think instruction a dull departure from your many adventures.”

If Gilderoy Lockhart understood the veiled skepticism Albus had levied his way, he ignored it admirably. “Well, it seems that this post is at least as dangerous as banishing a banshee!” Lockhart quipped roguishly. “The poor fellow who last held the position died, did he not?”

Albus raised his eyebrows, surprised in spite of himself. “He did, indeed. I did not imagine such information would endear you to the post.”

Lockhart puffed out his chest so that his frilly cravat threatened to escape his lapels. “On the contrary, I can’t imagine a man better suited to dealing with a pesky problem than myself. I’ve done a fair bit of research, Dumbledore, and it seems that something nefarious is going on with this position. Haven’t you noticed?”

The air of condescension with which he asked the question might have irritated Albus were he not so intrigued. “Nefarious?”

Lockhart nodded self-importantly. “Not a single person has lasted in this post for longer than a year. Something is driving them away, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would,” Albus agreed, eyeing the man.

This was not at all the way Albus had expected this interview to begin. If he were perfectly honest, he had certain reasonable doubts as to the veracity of Lockhart’s many claims to fame. Lockhart had not been a particularly outstanding student during his time at Hogwarts, and if memory served correctly, he had been a tad shy of mediocre at Defensive magic. And, it all seemed suspiciously convenient that he should manage to be in the right place at the right time to save the day in so many far-flung locations, with seemingly no prior connection to any of the villages he had allegedly plucked from peril. Albus had perused Lockhart’s (overpriced) collection of works and found the prose to be lacking and the claims of infamy so ludicrous as to be sensational. And yet, further probing into the matter had not revealed any confirmable falsehood.

At least, not yet.

“Well,” said Lockhart, as though this settled the matter. “There you have it. I offer you my services. I think you’ll find my resume speaks for itself.”

With a flourish, Lockhart pulled a scroll of parchment from his pocket and handed it to Dumbledore. It did, indeed, speak for itself, for as soon as Albus unfurled it, an oily voice began reciting its contents in a manner similar to a sports announcer.

“Gilderoy Lockhart, wizard extraordinaire and Five-Time Winner of Witch Weekly’s most charming smile award–”

Albus rolled the parchment firmly, thankfully silencing the voice. “Thank you, Mr. Lockhart. For fear of being obtuse, I wonder whether you might elaborate on what precisely you mean when you say that you are offering… ‘your services.’”

Lockhart grinned, and Albus could have sworn a tooth gleamed in the firelight. “It’s quite simple, is it not? It seems to me that Hogwarts is currently under the thumb of some Dark and nefarious magic. And here I am, with an entire collection of works illustrating my capabilities in dealing with danger.” Lockhart paused, and chuckled in a way that Albus presumed was supposed to be charming. “Which, incidentally, could be the title of my next work, after I’ve done away with the danger at Hogwarts.”

Albus sat back and appraised the man who fancied himself capable of ridding the castle of jinx he had been plagued by for decades, still grinning in a way befitting of a magazine cover. “And what of the primary responsibilities of the post? Teaching?”

“Oh, I think young minds would have a lot to gain from hearing of my travels,” Lockhart replied easily, running a finger over his silk lapel. “Who could be better qualified than myself to instruct the next generation to defend themselves from magic unknown?”

Who, indeed. There were not, after all, hordes of candidates clamoring for the role, and certainly none with the notoriety that Lockhart had garnered. And yet, as Lockhart continued to smile with those unnaturally white teeth, all Albus could see was veneer.

Everything about him was facade, from his quaffed hair down to his polished boots; a perfect image of a storybook hero. And just like a storybook hero, completely lacking in substance. Albus imagined that the illusion might be broken in a strong wind, if even one hair fell out of place.

Albus searched the man’s eyes, probing gently into his mind to see what he might find there, but found it to be interestingly blank. Suspiciously blank. Defensively blank. Interesting. This man was protective enough of his secrets that he had practiced in the art of Occlumency.

Albus was sure he could break down his defenses, but such an intrusion would surely alert Lockhart to his probe, and for what purpose? Albus did not need Legilimency to discern that this man was but a talentless hack adorned with the trappings of a hero. He could not prove it, and he would be hard pressed to cite evidence even from this conversation to back his assertion, but he was sure of it: Gilderoy Lockhart was a fraud.

But, he was a fraud with one quality that Albus could not overlook: he was consenting to the jinx on the post.

Albus rotated the thing in his mind, trying to see it from all angles. There were no other candidates who had applied that seemed even remotely qualified for the role, and none further who seemed at all inclined to view the jinx as the opportunity rather than the curse it was. Albus had done his research, enough to know that the tales told in Lockhart’s books had at least some truth in them. There had indeed been yetis and trolls and banshees in all of the places Lockhart claimed he had rescued; Albus was now merely convinced it had not been he who had rescued them. But he apparently knew enough to write about them. Even if the knowledge was not firsthand, surely he could communicate some of it to the students?

The matter was quite simple, really. Albus could hire a mediocre fraud, or he could twist himself into one by deceiving a different, unknowing candidate, yet again.

“I appreciate your application, Gilderoy. Hogwarts would be pleased to have you,” Albus said, standing to extend his hand to Lockhart. “I can provide information on Hogwarts curriculum by owl.”

Lockhart took it with a roguish grin. “A wise decision, a wise decision, Dumbledore. You won’t regret it.”

Albus smiled through his misgivings, patently sure that he would.

But this was what Tom Riddle had made of the great Albus Dumbledore - the executor of his wicked designs.

#hp fic #dumbledore #gilderoy lockhart #righting canon wrongs #defense against the dark arts #canon compliant

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