Eugenia Kingsdaughter

So I finally got the courage to read Moira’s Pen and then I went hunting for posts to help me cope emotionally, and now I NEED to talk about “Gitta” because. You guys. Everyone is talking like Gen and Irene were terrible parents and both their kids ran away and everything is sad. And completely sleeping on our girl Eugenia!

First off, the very person who says it’s a sad story is demonstrated to be an unreliable narrator who doesn’t have all the facts. (”Some of the [volumes] are missing”, “[Eddis’ grandson] ordered...”).

Secondly, let’s look at what happened.

Eugenia ran away. There was no politically-arranged marriage to a Braeling prince, no diplomatic exchange, no nothing. She ran away!

And ~somehow~ she just waltzed up and ended up RUNNING THE BRAELS.

The Braels. The country that betrayed her parents, her country, her god.

Can you imagine the LOOK on Yorn Fordad’s face when she arrived? 

Eugenia, daughter of the man who stole three countries, who stole a country herself. We know that Eugenia isn’t just a princess. She is the next Thief, the next chosen of Eugenides-the-God. MWT is careful to mention that she died “falling” asleep.

“We don’t know the queen’s reasons,” said Tykus. Neither do we, since we don’t get to see things from her POV, but we know that she refused to marry her daughter or granddaughter back into the Ephestalian royal family... until Gitta, who had a look in her eyes the day she was born that Eugenia recognized. Gitta she happily sends back to the land of her birth, almost as her last act.

Gitta, who Eugenia wanted to name after herself. The only battle Eugenia ever lost, Hennis tells Gitta, is when their father named her Gittavjøre instead. Well-born.

Eugenia, who ran away and stole a country, never lost a damn thing.

LIGHTWOOD HAS A CRUSH

RIVALS TO LOVERS JOSHWOOD WE ALL NEEDED THIS

Omg imagine crowd of thousands

Little eugenia smiling at princess kamala and bowing

Omg Cordelia and Alastair can be classicaly trained dancers that simply got screwed over and lost it all

okay wait what country is this in

i was thinking england because the english monarchy taking in an indian child would make more sense than anything else and it fits the canon but i don’t think there was ever an uprising around that time. however we have the power here so fictional english uprising that caused the british monarchy to have to flee and adopted child got lost in the chaos?

i’m not sure what the lightwoods would be but imagine the carstairs were a musical family, music education and entertainment, sometimes even performing for the royalty (like how vlad associated with nobles) alastair was a trained musician, dancer and singer, cordelia specialized in dancing but after an uprising, that kind of stuff is considered frivolous and no one can afford anything besides the bare essentials so the carstairs business becomes pointless and they go bankrupt. elias turns to alcohol to cope and to prevent cordelia from learning how dire their situation is alastair turns to conning to provide for the family.

maybe he meets eugenia when conning? if we’re keeping the whole academy thing it could’ve been alastair spreading rumours about the lightwoods to get better business in his scams and they only pair up for the anastasia scam out of pure necessity and it’s enemies to friends or that could be fully scrapped and maybe alastair grows up going to the lightwoods when elias gets especially bad and thomas and alastair are the childhood friends to lovers trope ? :,) SO MANY OPTIONS

and instead of journey to the past being about the family she was lost from, it’s about her original family

more details what happened with her backstory that would be the most complicated part

Let's Build Pyramids: Why to Destroy Cities and Capitalism!

“We must fill our eyes and ears with things that are the beginning of a great dream. Someone must shout that we’ll build the pyramids. It doesn’t matter if we don’t. We must feel that wish. We must stretch the corners of the soul like a sheet.”  — from Domenico’s speech, Nostalghia

For a series of different reasons, Andrej Tarkovski’s Nostalghia seems very actual as it portrays the image of the cities during these days of lockdown. In the most emblematic scene of the film, Domenico, the old madmen who enclosed his family at home for seven years attending the end of the world, gives a public speech from the top of the Equestrian Statues of Marco Aurelio in the Campidoglio square in Rome. Listening to him are a very few groups of mad, foolish and ordinary people standing on the different monumental stairs of Michelangelo’s piazza. In the scene, actors are symmetrically positioned on a precise and identical large-distance from one another echoing, in some rhetorical but also poetical terms, a sort of future scenario on how we’ll have to imagine one of the most crowded spaces in Rome and elsewhere if social distancing becomes a new way of living.

Apart from the poetics of social distancing and its anticipation, what emerges from Tarkovski’s film is also a different perception of space and time opposed to our everyday-life habits: namely when Gorchakov, the protagonist, steps in his large hotel room, where it is shown only the bed and the sink, when he meets Eugenia in the hotel hall and when he visits the thermal bath of Bagno Vignoni. In two hours of film, all these few passages and dialogs are shown very slowly, slow shootings with only a few actors, offering a sort of dilated space, which again recalls how cities and metropolis have been spatially transformed from when silence and emptiness reigns supreme since Covid-19 spread globally. In these days, which seems that will last for a long time, seen from the point of view of domestic segregation (mediatically called quarantine), comes clear on how much we are used to and educated to live in cities and how we suffer it now. We all work in offices, study in schools and universities, consume in supermarkets and shops and do travel for all these reasons abroad, away from home, which we use only as a sleeping-place when we turn back from outside by car, tram or bus.

Assuming all these activities and rituals as fundamental aspects for reproducing life, while thinking also to the urban form of contemporary towns, historical centers, metropolis and megalopolis, it clearly emerges that the very reason behind these common rituals are mobility and circulation. As we all can observe, without working infrastructures, without metros, tram-lines, car roads and highways, cities would have no sense. I thus argue that this is related to a contemporary crisis of space, which is a very tangible condition in actual problematics such as climate change, pandemic crisis, scarcity of land in cities as also in the countryside, as well as the property issue and housing shortage, the problem of minimum dwellings and high rents, conditions that are strongly related to the existence of the city and its urban form.

Wuhan: No One Cares

Who did theorize well the dialectic between circulation and the crisis of space was Karl Marx. In his Grundrisse Notebooks, Marx argues that within the circulation process, which is part of the whole process of production, Capital through the concept of time destroys the concept of space itself: “Capital by its nature drives beyond every spatial barrier. Thus, the creation of the physical conditions of exchange – of the means of communication and transport – the annihilation of space by time– becomes an extraordinary necessity for it.” [1] The circulation process, namely the process of exchange of goods, labor force, money and capitals, is the process where products are transformed into goods and this takes place within the so-called global market. 

As Marx put it out, in order to surpass any barrier, the production of cheap means of communication and transportation is fundamental to capital, that is why their realization is promoted by capital itself: “The sea route, as the route which moves and is transformed under its own impetus, is that of trading peoples ϰατ᾽ ἐξοχήν [pur excellence]. On the other side, highways originally fall to the community, later for a long period to the governments, as pure deductions from production, deducted from the common surplus product of the country, but do not constitute a source of its wealth, i.e. do not cover their production costs.” [2] To say it in more simplistic words, it is capital alone or through the intervention of the State that needs to build streets and communication routes connecting cities (market centers) through the territory, and doing so as quick as possible.

As we think to the form of the city since its origins, as highlighted by Henry Heller in his book The Birth of Capitalism: A 21st Century Perspective, the urban fabric of the medieval town was a fundamental apparatus in accelerating the passage from feudalism to capitalism. Collecting different arguments of historians and researchers on feudalism, Heller tries to explain the role of the formation of towns in a passage that coincided with the rise of the town both as a marketplace and as a terrain of class struggles. 

From the contemporary point of view of its most sophisticated form that is financial capitalism, David Harvey have always asserted that this aspect of accumulation and exchange is embodied in the ideology of the political agendas of growth. As highlighted by Harvey in one his lecture at Harvard Senior Loeb Scholar, after the 2008 crisis, while the UE promoted austerity policies, on the contrary, countries like Brazil or China pointed towards extreme growth (and urbanization) implementing large investments in order to increase employments and escape from economic depression. Examples like the Chinese project launched in 2013 to merge together Beijing, Tianjin and Hebei into a megalopolis of 130 million people called Jing-Jin-Ji, demonstrates not a mere imperialistic geo-strategic plan, but it also reconfigures the logic of financial capital applied to an archetype which does exists as capitalism does too: the city. In such a context, criticizing the city means contemporarily criticizing capitalism and its logics of production and reproduction. For this reason, through the history of architecture and urbanism the unbearable aura of capitalism and its logics has produced many alternatives by proposing models that served as attempts to escape from, to govern and to destroy it.

University of North Carolina Campus (1860). | Source: Turner, Campus: An American Planning Tradition

Escape was one of the main reasons behind the invention and ethos of campus planning in the USA in late 1700s. When university and education in the United States became a political project, for many campus planners the only way to make education efficacious was to build them far away from the city, in order to avoid its corruption, distractions, profligacy and chaos. The word campus, coming from Latin campo that literally means an open field, according to Paul Venable Turner was first used at Princeton College in the 1770s referring to the property land of its first college building [3]. 

From then, putting a group of buildings within the idyllic nature enhanced an alternative to organize life differently. Eliphalet Not, president of Union College during 1804-66, became popular through college pioneers for having invented a way of living and a new governance based on family life principles. During Nott’s governance, each professor was responsible of his class and had to consider it as his enlarged own family. This model of less-control over students structured a new democratic life that corresponded also to the architectural form of the college designed by French architect and landscaper Joseph-Jacques Ramée: a rotunda at the center of the campus and symmetrical wings of dormitories and classes limiting a natural common space where students and professors could live and work together as members of a large family. 

Union College, Schenectady (NY), Project and drawings by Joseph-Jacques Ramée (1813). | Source: Turner, Campus: An American Planning Tradition

Revisiting the same architectural and organizational model, the spread over the American territory of almost identical models such as Thomas Jefferson’s Virginia University, first projects for the Davidson College in North Carolina, plans for a National University near Washington and the Stanford University, echoed in certain ways Robert Owen’s parallelograms for a socialist utopia where mutual-cooperation based on living, working and centralized education could be organized within self-sufficient bodies spread over a farming landscape [8]. Everything but socialism, American university campuses however represented a dilated spatiality inhabited by students moving around in groups, social distanced or close to each other, and with buildings placed here-and-there into an open field full of trees, lakes, forests and idyllic green.

Ville Contemporaine. | Source Der Stadtstreicher

Fascinated by this same depiction of university campuses, yet operating through the same ideals of nature, but more perverse and decisive, Le Corbusier’s plans of Ville Contemporaine for three million inhabitants of 1922 and Plan Voisin of 1925, strongly opposing urbanism as we are all used to know it, can be considered as one of the most radical attempts to destroy the city and its historical aura. 

Plan Voisin. | Source Charnel House

While in both the two proposals the Swiss architect insisted on demolishing an entire piece of historical Paris for erecting his prototypical settlement with towers and low-rise buildings into an enormous park, the very response to the logic of capitalism was his Industrial Linear City elaborated together with the CIAM-France group of the ASCORAL in 1942-43 [5]. In the latter, Le Corbusier imagined a series of territorial strips (with highways and railways) connecting European most important historical centers through horizontal and vertical territorial axis containing housing, productive buildings and free-standing agricultural settlements. 

Diagram of the Industrial Linear City through Europe and fragment of the linear city connecting two historical centers (1942-43), Le Corbusier + ASCORAL. | Source Le Corbusier - Œuvre complète Volume 4: 1938-1946

In his vision he literally stretched the typical industrial city assuming the highway, that became a greenway, as its structural form: thus, historical centers in Le Corbusier’s vision were reduced into ordinary administrative bodies and exchange hubs—likely in the same way we intend Amazon distribution centers operating today—connected to each other by highways bordered with a green belt and rhythmed through factories and isolated Unité d’Habitations, horizontal garden-cities and facilities. The linear form assumed the infrastructure by explicating it in a new architecture dispositive for a new dilated city, the habitability of which could be imagined by thinking to the point of view of an adventure foreigner-guy traveling and sleeping in highway motels when stopping in filling stations.Though, rather than a real alternative to the capitalistic city, Le Corbusier’s linear city can be considered as a design diagram to control and govern accumulation and to give a specific form to the logic of growth against that neoliberalist laissez faire model that came after Le Corbusier era.

Detail of the Industrial Linear City (1942-43), Le Corbusier + ASCORAL. | Source: Le Corbusier - Œuvre complète Volume 4: 1938-1946

What Le Corbusier presented as a mere opposition, the disurbanization of the world imagined by the Italian collective Superstudio with their Continuous Monument, an enormous infinite white-grid element cannibalizing the city, to quote a very potent expression used by the Italian architectural historian Roberto Gargiani, collects all the frustration of an entire young generation emerging from the political struggles between 1968 and 1977 against industrial capitalism in Europe. While in the first collages of 1969-70 this imposing element cannibalizes the city in the sense that it really penetrates it by destroying emblematic landscapes such as Graz, Madrid, Rome, Florence and New York, in the latest collages of 1970-72 this immense monument could finally run through in full liberty: into world’s nature, canyons, deserts, valleys and rivers [6]. 

As Gargiani and Beatrice Lampariello have carefully narrated in their book Il Monumento Continuo di Superstudio, tracing its origins, infrastructure highways and viaducts were crucial references on the Superstudio research discourse by images as these infrastructures really addressed them on how to use one of the most emblematic inventions of capitalism for circulation in favor to a new spatial alternative. Inside the Continuous Monument, echoing Joseph Paxton’s Crystal Palace interior,—there have to be no rooms, no labor-division, no hierarchies, no typology and no program—just a free and pure envelope of nothingness. Rituals and forms of life had to take form in the same way urban communes and hippies did and, perhaps, life inside has to be governed in the same way the Italian autonomists were politically organized: through their same historical effort that helped to understand and made visible the inhabitability of the city.  

Fragment of the Continuous Monument entitled Manhattan Empire State Building, Superstudio (1969-70) 

It was nevertheless auspicabile that such critics emerged in times of gran abundance, on the apogee—to put it with Adam Smith terms—of the wealth of the nations. Although during modern and post-modern history of architecture there were many other examples going on the same direction, even more radical and polemic (i.e. soviet disurbanism linear aggregation of individual cells with episodic collective buildings is the most emblematic example towards the destruction of the capitalist city) [7], the three strategies analyzed above should tackle not a new projective aura, but, on the opposite, a ferocious critic to what have been done till now. The point is not to advance specific solutions but to raise questions and to address a hysterical reaction to everyday obviousness: Why are we at this point? Why streets and squares are there and we cannot reach them? Why did we all build them if, in a snap of fingers, they become inhabitable? Perhaps, because they have always been inhabitable—inhuman.

Fragment of the Continuous Monument On the River, Superstudio (1969-70) 

Going back to Tarkovski’s message, the invitation to build Pyramids should be read not as a mere nostalghia of how we were living before the global lockdown. It should rather serve to think on an historical moment that is yet to come and could give the possibility to share that common anger that lays in our souls and spirits; to finally express it in the form of a common effort for destroying the command of capitalism and building marvelous pyramids for a new form of democracy.

- Marson Korbi

---

[1], [2] Marx, K. (1073). Grundrisse. Foundations of the Critique of Political Economy, London: Penguin, 442, 449.

[3] Venable Turner, P. (1984). Campus: An American Planning Tradition Cambridge, MIT Press, 47.

[4] Benevolo, L. (2005). Le origini dell’urbanistica moderna,  Laterza.

[5] Le Corbusier, eds. Willy Boesiger, Oeuvre Complète (1991). Zurich: Les Editions D'Architecture, 72-75.

[6] Gargiani, R., Lampariello,B. (2019). Il Monumento Continuo di Superstudio. Eccesso del razionalismo e strategia del rifiuto, Genova: Sagep Editori.

[7] Aureli, P. A., Martino, T. (2018). The Forest and the Cell: Notes on Mosej Ginzburg's Green City. Harvard Design Magazine, no. 45.

Books read in December

I set myself some reading goals for the end of the year -- finish any books I’d already started, read the books I'd already borrowed, and to read ebooks I’d bought before buying any more. But I guess most of those books just weren’t the right genre? A few exceptions aside, this month I read a bunch of other things instead.

Also read: The Frost Fair Affair and Holiday Brew by Tansy Rayner Roberts, and Sweetest in the Gale and 40-Love by Olivia Dade.

Reread: Love Lettering by Kate Clayborn and Bookish and the Beast by Ashley Poston.

Total: thirteen novels (including two audiobooks and two rereads), three novellas, and three story/novella collections.

Favourite cover: The cover was what caught my attention for Finding My Voice and Old Baggage.

Still reading: Between Silk and Cyanide by Leo Marks, Or What You Will by Jo Walton and The Disorderly Knights by Dorothy Dunnett.

Next up: A Most Improper Magick by Stephanie Burgis.

*

Queen’s Play by Dorothy Dunnett (narrated by David Monteath): In 1548, Francis Crawford of Lymond arrives in France, incognito in order to protect Scotland’s queen, seven-year-old Mary. I enjoyed this, even though I am not very interested in the antics of the French court and thought The Game of Kings benefitted from having more characters who I found wholly likeable and/or who matter, personally, to Lymond. Dunnett is an impressive storyteller -- vivid descriptions, lively dialogue, nuanced characters and twists that take me by surprise. Moreover, those satisfying puzzle pieces explain the plots and intrigue, give insight into personalities and develop the narrative’s themes (here, the consequences of power). 

The Kinship of Secrets by Eugenia Kim: In 1950, four year old Inja lives with her grandparents and uncle in Seoul, while her sister Miran is in America with their parents. War delays the family’s reunion. This is a fascinating portrayal of two sisters growing up in different countries, and an incredibly poignant story about a family separated. Compelling, and beautifully written, and despite moments of intense grief, hopeful. I liked how, in the end, Inja and Miran didn’t have all the answers.. But I wonder if I’d have found the ending more satisfying if I had a deeper understanding of who they both were as adults.

Teacup Magic series by Tansy Rayner Roberts:

Tea and Sympathetic Magic: Stephanie Burgis recommended this novella as something similar to her Harwood Spellbook series and it certainly has a similar appeal: romantic fantasy, bordering on comedy-of-manners territory. Like Georgette Heyer but with magic and diversity and an intention to challenge problematic and outdated attitudes. Charming and cosy, like a good cup of tea rather than a frothy hot chocolate. Miss Mnemosyne Seaborne, a reluctant guest at a houseparty. She joins forces with the other guests after an unexpected abduction occurs. Entertaining, and even though it was too short for me to really become invested, I immediately wanted to read the sequel.

The Frost Fair Affair: After her previous adventures, Mneme has new friends, a suitor and a campaign: overturning the social conventions which prevent women from travelling by portal. After someone in Town steals her political pamphlets, she gets caught up in a mystery. I enjoyed this oh so much! I found myself caring a lot more about Mneme and her relationships; I liked the mixture of intrigue and danger, and how in the cause of dealing with these, Mneme learns more about the man she hopes to marry; and the Frost Fair, on a frozen river, makes a delightful setting. I'd love to read more.

Belladonna U(niversity) series by Tansy Rayner Roberts:

Unreal Alchemy: Oh, this is my new favourite! Urban fantasy about Australian uni students who are connected to an indie rock band, Fake Geek Girl. These stories are funny, geeky and romantic, with great chapter titles and lots of fandom references. They employ different points of view and different narrative styles in a way that’s really effective. I love the characters and how important and intense their non-romantic relationships are. Between them they have a variety of romantic/sexual relationships and feelings, but friendships and familial relationships, like the one between twin sisters Hebe and Holly, also drive the narrative. The first collection contains four stories/novellas.

Fake Geek Girl -- Ferd moves into the Manic Pixie Dream House; Holly and Sage argue about the future of the band.

Unmagical Boy Story -- Viola has feelings about her best friend losing his magic, transferring colleges and making new friends.

The Bromancers --  The band and frriends spend a weekend at a magical music festival.

The Alchemy of Fine -- A prequel about the band’s origins.

Holiday Brew: This collection is more serious and less overtly fandom-y than the first, but arguably still very meta (especially if you consider Viola, Jules and Ferd as a response to the trio in Harry Potter). I sat down intending to read just one of these stories -- and ended up reading them all.

Halloween Is Not A Verb -- Holly invites various people to their mums’ place for Halloween.

Solstice on the Rocks -- A short story about university graduation.

Kissing Basilisks --  Begins on New Year’s Day, is compelling, and picks up the non-band-related narrative threads from Fake Geek Girl.

Missing Christmas by Kate Clayborn: This novella is loosely connected to Beginer's Luck but stands alone. It's sweet. Business partners and best friends Jasper and Kristen pay a last minute trip to a client and get trapped by a blizzard, which pushes them to reconsider the boundaries they’ve drawn in their relationship. I liked the moments which showed that they’re an effective team because they know each other so well and can communicate through subtle body language. 

Finding My Voice by Marie Myung-Ok Lee: Ellen is a Korean-American teenager in her final year of high school. Her story is about applying for college, gymnastics training, Ellen’s relationships with her best friend and her first boyfriend, dealing with racism at school and with her parents’ expectations that she will follow her sister to Harvard. It’s very short, first published in 1993. I was aware of all the places where a YA novel written today would be allowed to give more details and to expand the story, but it was still interesting.

The Magnolia Sword: A Ballad of Mulan by Sherry Thomas: I’ve borrowed this several times this year, only to return it unread each time, and I was starting to wonder if I really wanted to read it. But once I actually sat down and focused, I quickly realised that I definitely did! I became completely engrossed in this Mulan retelling. It’s a tense adventure. I enjoyed the characters and their interactions, particularly the elaborate courtesy of formal conversations, and the way Mulan and her companions value loyalty and camaraderie. I thought this was a very believable take on the whole girl-disguised-as-a-boy thing too.

Dear Mrs Bird by AJ Pearce: In 1940, Emmy wants a newspaper job but is instead typing up letters for a women’s magazine and discarding mail from readers whose problems are Unacceptable. Frustrated that Mrs Bird won’t offer advice to so many women in need, Emmy's tempted to take matters into her own hands. Her optimism means she makes some naive mistakes, some of which made me wince, but it’s also an incredible strength. She's delightful company. I really like how much of this story is about her friendship with Bunty and I enjoyed the insight into women's magazines and the Auxiliary Fire Service.

The Lonely Hearts Dog Walkers by Sheila Norton: Recently separated, Nicola moves back in with her mother, starts as a teaching assistant at her daughter’s new school, gets a puppy and joins a group of dog walkers, who embark upon a mission to save the local park. This was very low-angst and, once I realised the sort of story it was, kind of predictable. I can recognise the appeal of this brand of realism, but personally would have preferred more humour or more emotional complexity. Were Nicola a colleague, it’d be easy to find things in common to discuss, but her story wasn’t quite what I was looking for.

Chasing Lucky by Jenn Bennett: When Josie and her mother return to Beauty to look after the family bookshop, Josie has plans -- keep to herself, finish high school, secure a photography apprenticeship, move to LA. But after Josie accidentally breaks a store-front window and her childhood friend Lucky takes the blame, Josie’s priorities change. I enjoyed this more than I expected to. I particularly liked how Lucky subverts people’s expectations, and how Josie’s family works at communicating better with each other.

Old Baggage by Lissa Evans (narrated by Joanna Scanlan): It’s 1928 and Mattie Simpkin, a now-middle-aged militant suffragette, lives in Hampstead with her friend Florrie Lee (aka The Flea). Mattie gives lectures about the suffragettes but realises she’s not reaching the younger generation. So she starts a club for “healthy outdoor fun” for teenage girls. Mattie is wonderfully forthright -- amusing, engaging and informative when it comes to things she’s passionate about -- but she’s also fallible.  A really delightful yet bittersweet story about friendship and loss and the opportunities available for women. I liked its awareness that being able to loudly be yourself is a privilege not everyone has. 

There’s Something About Marysburg series by Olivia Dade:

Teach Me: Rose is unimpressed -- not only must she share her classroom with the new history teacher, he’s been given her Honors World History class. There’s something particularly satisfying about people who have been hurt and lonely finding support and love in each other. I like that they get to know each other over many months. I like Martin’s relationship with his teenage daughter and Rose’s relationship with her ex’s parents is so touching that one scene made me cry. And it was interesting seeing the US school system from the perspective of experienced teachers; I appreciated the details about their jobs.

Sweetest in the Gale: a Marysburg story collection contains three novellas about couples in their forties.

Sweetest in the Gale -- Griff is worried when Candy, a fellow English teacher, returns for the new school year uncharacteristically sombre and subdued. A really sweet romance about people who are navigating loss and grief.

Unraveled -- Maths teacher Simon is assigned to observe and mentor the new art teacher, Poppy. I enjoyed the threads of mystery.

Cover Me -- After a concerning mammogram result, Elizabeth marries an old friend so she’s covered by his health insurance. Predictable as anything, but that made it a safe position from which to explore serious and sobering topics.

40-Love: I’m not interested in tennis or holiday resorts; I was disappointed that this novel wouldn’t show Tess being an assistant principal; and even though some of my favourite fictional couples have a significant age-gap, I’m wary about age-gap romances (and socially-programmed to think it’s odd for a woman to date a much younger guy). But I liked the other stories in this series and I was curious. It’s Not really My Cup of Tea, but I was convinced that Tess and Lucas were both capable of making their (somewhat unconventional) relationship work. An interesting exercise in challenging my social-programming.

The Viscount Who Loved Me by Julia Quinn: After watching Bridgerton (not always to my tastes but mostly fun), curiosity prompted me to read the opening of the second novel, and I was so entertained by Kate Sheffield verbally sparring with the viscount, whom Kate is determined to prevent from marrying her younger sister. I continued to be entertained up until the viscount acts a bit too entitled on his wedding night (that’s unattractive, if outrightly problematic). Which left me in rather an uncharitable mood for the final act, so I can’t identify if the drama of dealing with past traumas didn’t meet the standard of the earlier comedy or if I just hold such scenes to differing standards.

A Thomas Lightwood Bisexual Story (Part 1)

Art by NairaFeather

Takes place AFTER Chain of Gold,so will have spoilers.

Thomas Lightwood was currently at the Devil Tavern,drinking a ginger beer,and trying to understand his own feelings.

He didn't want to admit that he was struggling to understand what was happening to him. After telling Alastair Carstairs to never talk to him again,he expected to feel lighter,the rumors Alastair spreaded about his father were awful,and it caused pain to his family. It made Gideon angry,it made Sophie cry. And yet,there he was,wondering if he was too hard on Alastair.

Couldn't he simply forget all about it? Maybe that was why he asked for the beer in the first place,but then again,getting drunk would only make him forget for a period of time. He would remember eventually.

Still,it wasn't like he had a better idea anyway. The Devil was quite full this night,werewolves screaming and having fun,vampires drinking blood with some kind of weird extra ingredient,not to mention the faeries and their silly giggles.

It was hard to focus on the drinking with all that noise,Polly herself was quite curious when she saw Thomas enter all by himself. He couldn't blame her,The Merry Thieves were always together,it was hard for one of them to show up alone there.

But Thomas desperately needed to be alone. He loved his friends,but James, Matthew and Christopher wouldn't understand what he was going through now,and that was not a surprise for Thomas.

-Give me another one Polly,please.-Thomas asked,Polly stared at him with a concerned expression.

-You sure about this? Aren't your parents worried about you or something?-She asked.

-They always are,but i don't have time for their blabbering,at least not today.-Said Thomas.

-Got it.-Polly said,giving Thomas another ginger beer.

Thomas gave her a weak smile,and drank from his beer. In times like these,he wished he had the same ease Matthew had in getting drunk. Too bad,it would still take a little more for him to get there.

-Mind if i take a seat beside you?-Asked a female voice,unknown to Thomas,but she had a strong accent.

-Not at all.-Thomas said,turning his head to see who was the woman.

She had black hair,almost the same color of James',her eyes were light brown,and her skin light.

But what really caught Thomas' attention was the Voyance Rune on her hand. She was a Shadowhunter.

Thomas knew he couldn't hide his shock for a moment. A Shadowhunter girl in the Devil Tavern? Surely she was either mad or didn't knew of the reputation of the place.

-A fellow Shadowhunter in a place like this? Surely this was the last thing i thought i'd find here.-She said.

Thomas carefully chose his next words. It was kind of weird,he grew up with three women in his house,his mother and his two sisters. It was easy for him to talk with Lucie,Cordelia,even other girls that usually showed up in the balls. So why did it felt weird talking to this one?

-Pardon me,have we met before?-Asked Thomas.

-We did not. Or maybe we did. I can barely remember faces that i see in balls or other occasions.-She said.

Thomas didn't knew what to say. Surely he wasn't expecting anyone besides Polly to talk to him. He never really understood why some people would simply approach him for a conversation.

If Matthew were there,he could chat with the girl himself,or maybe if James were there,he would come up with a excuse to make them leave.

But they were not there,and Thomas had to be a gentleman,or Sophie would consider herself a terrible mother.

-I do believe we have not met before. My name is Thomas Lightwood.-He said,waiting for her answer.

-I am Giovanna Monteverde,pleased to meet you,Thomas. I am relieved to see i will have some company tonight.-She said.

-Monteverde? I think this is the first time i have met one of your family. Which is a little strange,considering that i have lived in Idris for a good part of my life.-Said Thomas.

-It is the first time i meet a Lightwood myself! Though your family is a lot more popular than mine. I do believe it is because of a certain Benedict Lightwood?-She said,smirking.

Thomas nearly blushed.

-Oh yes,there is quite a story there. Not really something us,Lightwoods,appreciate anyway.-Said Thomas.

-I see. Anyways,i have always been at the Rome Institute. Have you ever visited there?-She asked.

-I have not. But what is an Italian Shadowhunter doing in London?-Asked Thomas.

-I turned eighteen a few weeks ago,and i have decided to visit the London Institute. After all,it was here where the Mandikhor attacks happened,was it not?-She asked.

Thomas blinked,he didn't even liked to remember the Mandikhor. Their deadly poison took Barbara from him,and that wound would never heal.

-I see. So you took interest in London due to that? I assure you it was quite an awful time for us all. Luckily,we have an antidote,so if more Mandikhors show up,they won't be able to harm us that way never again.-Said Thomas.

-Oh i took interest in London for many different reasons. I heard balls in this time of the year are absolutely gorgeous. I'm excited to see all by myself.-She said.

But Thomas could barely understand her. The noise was way too loud. To be expected,after all,they were in the Devil Tavern.

-Would you like to talk in a more silent place?-Asked Thomas.

She nodded,and followed him upstairs.

When they got in the room,the thought of being alone with a girl crossed Thomas' mind,causing a strange sensation.

It was a little hard for Thomas to understand himself sometimes. He knew that people were different from each other. Even in aspects,that technically,they should be all the same.

One example was his very cousin,Anna Lightwood. He knew that dressing like a man wasn't the only thing Anna did. He knew she could seduce any girl she wanted,even though she was a girl herself.

But Thomas didn't quite felt like that. He felt attraction to girls,he knew that. But it wasn't only to them. His time in the Shadowhunter Academy made him realize that.

He felt attraction to boys too. But it seemed way too messy to think about that. He wasn't sure of the reactions something like that would cause.

His family did seem to accept that. His Uncle Gabriel and his Aunt Cecily loved Anna,and they got really mad when people used bad words to describe their daughter. All the others seemed to care for Anna the same way. His parents,his cousins too.

Still,Thomas simply didn't felt ready to reveal anything. Perhaps he was still figuring out who he trully was.

-Quite scandalous,isn't it? What would our society think if they saw a lady and a gentleman that do not have an understanding getting in a room together?-She said,laughing.

-Is that a problem for you? Also,we are only having a conversation. How could something like that be scandalous?-Thomas asked.

-Oh,i don't have a problem i assure you. But my parents would definitely have,if they knew i came to a place like this,they would be quite furious with me.-Giovanna said.

-They are not with you? Well,that's not surprising. I went to Madrid all by myself as well.-Said Thomas.

-You did? Well,seems like we have quite a bit of things in common. We are both 18 years old. Both went to different countries to visit different Institutes. And both don't really care about this whole "understanding" thing.-She said.

After Thomas locked the door,Giovanna suddenly kissed him.

It took him a few seconds to understand what was happening there. She was a stranger,still,they were kissing. Maybe he was not crystal clear in his intentions? He really brought her there just to talk.

They broke the kiss,both in need of air. Her lips tasted like alcohol and something sweet,almost like strawberry.

-Don't take me wrong,i don't really do this with every gentleman i see.-She said.

-I think you may have misunderstood me. I wasn't planning on...-Thomas was saying,but he didn't even knew how to finish that sentence.

-I was though. Unless you have an understanding with some lady in London? If you do,i am more than ready to leave.-Giovanna said.

Thomas just stood there for a moment,thinking about the answer he could give her. He could lie,lie and make her leave him alone there. Seemed like the more reasonable thing to do. He was a gentleman,and he didn't want to ruin her reputation,like a man once did with Eugenia.

Still,was that what he really wanted? If she was visiting London,then certainly they would meet again,probably at the Institute at any moment. But he could have this little secret of his.

-Should i leave,Thomas?-She asked again.

Thomas shook his head.

-No.-He said,and kissed her again.

They fought for dominance,deepening the kiss as they moved towards the small bed in the room. It wasn't a big room really,but then,Thomas never thought he would ever do something like this.

Giovanna unbottoned his shirt,revealing Thomas' tanned muscled body,she ran her hands over his chest and his hard abs,it was quite the sensation.

-Raziel bless the Shadowhunter training.-She said,Thomas almost laughed. It was surely something a lady should never say. But he didn't care,and Giovanna didn't seemed to care either.

-Is this okay for you? I truly do not wish to do something you are not okay with.-Thomas said.

-Do not worry,Thomas. Nobody in London knows me,and i don't really care about what people think of me. And it isn't like you are ruining me or anything. I want this too.-She said.

-Very well then.-Thomas said,taking his shirt off and laying with her on the bed.

"The Next Morning"

Thomas woke up with the sunlight on his eyes. He still was at the Devil's,and the memories of the last night invaded his mind.

Giovanna. They had slept together. It was definitely one of the most amazing nights he ever had. Surely one he would never forget.

He wasn't wearing any clothes,and only the bed sheets covered him.

-Damn.-Thomas said,after realizing that all his clothes were scattered on the floor. It was quite a wild night.

He heard footsteps,though he wasn't really sure if he had completely woke up yet. Perhaps he was still sleeping?

-How strange. I don't really remember locking the door after we left.-Said a voice he knew well.

Matthew. What bloody hell was he doing there so early?

-I'm pretty sure we left the key with Thomas.-Said James.

-We didn't find him anywhere though.-Said Christopher.

"Oh bloody damn hell!" Thomas thought,they were all here? And he wasn't even dressed!

-Thankfully,i always bring my spare key with me.-Said Christopher.

There was no time to do anything. They entered the room and saw Thomas in that situation.

All of them looked absolutely in shock. Matthew looked like he was about to laugh. Christopher was blinking quite fast,and James gasped.

-Tom? What on earth? Why is the room this messy? Are these your clothes on the floor?-James asked.

Thomas looked at the window. Alastair crossed his mind. He was probably awake and living his life as if nothing happened. He probably didn't even care if Thomas wouldn't like to talk to him ever again.

Yet,he was still there,on his mind.

Perhaps there was more than just attraction and sex in the world. Perhaps love was an actual possibility.

But Thomas wasn't sure if he would ever figure that out.

Just friends

Piedras rodantes pt.21

Sam xMexican!Witch!fem!readerx Dean (polyamorous)

Summary: ever since the trip to San Salvador, Dean has been thrilled with the extenses of your magic, making you feel quite burned out. That and also combined with the fact that Crowley got something brewing up. And to top it all up, we have some delicate jealousy. All to make the perfect disaster, altough something might be missing, or rather someone.

“Hey! We should go to Guadalajara.” 

You sighed and placed the knife you were holding down besides the cutting board that presented some cucumber and jicama already cut in long skinny pieces. You turned around to watch Dean enter your kitchen from your supplies closet. You never thought he'd be the one insisting in using this magical shortcuts but boy, you were wrong.

"Again? What do you want from Guadalajara now? We've just went a month ago."

"Exactly, it's been a month, it's too long."

You rolled your eyes and went back to place your vegetables in a bowl and prepping them with chile en polvo and chamoy, whilst murmuring "not long enough". 

Just as you were going to bring him back to earth, his cellphone rang. You closed your eyes and let your head fall back to your shoulders, you took a deep breath and whispered a thank you to whoever had blessed you with the interruption. 

“I gotta go.” His voice sounded closer than before. His finger tapped you in the arm, bringing you back to reality. 

“See ya.” He said before placing a kiss in your cheek. Act that left you astonished, but he didn’t have the chance to see it, because he quickly went back to the place he had come from. 

You sighed and closed sloppily the portal. You placed your hand on your left elbow, your hunger already replaced by nausea. You took the bowl filled with your snack and placed it in the fridge for later. Then you messaged Diego to open a portal for you, which he did gladly. 

He was waiting for you at the other side, reaching for you as soon as you stepped through the veil and into his room. He hugged you and placed a kiss at your temple. It seemed that it was something that had been repeating itself. 

“Cuidado.” You whispered. 

He let you go and watched your figure go as you made yourself comfortable in his bed. He studied your aura, your energy’s radius was short and it seemed that a greyish green was taking over all the colors surrounding you. 

He closed the portal and went to take out his pipe and weed. 

“What happened? You’re always real careful not to overwork yourself.” He prepped one pipe and went to prep the next one. 

“Tengo un corazón muy estupidamente grande.” You groaned onto his pillow. 

“¿Sí? ¿Por qué es eso?” He sat next to you, waiting for you to sit as well, before handing you one of the pipes and lighting it up. 

You took a drag, before answering. “Tal vez, sólo tal vez, I’ve been opening too many portals this past months.” 

“Months?!” 

You shrugged, letting the smoke out. “He’d never seen the beach or another country. He has never experienced something else than hunting.”

“You did this for him? Just him?”

“I suggested I’d plan for them a family trip but he reclined it.” 

“Selfish.”

“Mucho.” In unison, both of you took another drag and let out once again the smoke from your mouths. 

“Just today he came to me, asking if I wanted to go to Guadalajara.”

“Did you turn him down?”

“Didn’t get a chance. Lisa saved me, I guess.” You placed your head on his shoulder and he patted it softly. 

“Ay niña.”

You sighed. “Ya sé; tendré que hablar con él… Cuando no me duela el brazo.” You took in a deep breath, coughing a little bit at the tingle in your lungs. 

“¿Y tú? Me saludaste muy amoroso cuando entré.”

You both waited to finish smoking so the conversation would flow easier. 

“Te extrañaba.” He took your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. 

“¿Y?”

“Tyler fue a pasar el fin de semana con su familia.”

“¿Y son buenos?”

He shook his head. 

“Sí pero podrían ser mejor. Sabes son de esos que dicen que está bien pero no están dispuestos a escuchar de la relación. Except for his brothers and cousins. And I’m… I’m just a little worried for him.” 

You groaned in disapproval. 

He slipped down and turned so he would hug your waist, placing his head on your chest. You started playing with his hair, careful not to maneuver your left arm too much. 

“Don’t you feel like the energy is a little weird right now?”

“Thank you for saying that, I thought I was the only one who felt it.” You said, squinting your eyes. “It’s as if something isn’t quite in place. You know when you’re completing a puzzle and you use a piece that fits physically but in the picture it’s something completely different?”

“Yeah. It feels like that, right?”

“It feels exactly like that.” You both sighed. 

“Well, we only have to endure it.” Diego said. 

“If it were something natural we would, but it feels…”

“Supernatural?” 

You nodded as your head started to ache. Recently, you were having constant headaches and you thought that it was only the beginning of something worse. 

“Where are you going?!” Lisa called back as Dean stood underneath the doorway. 

“I need more supplies for the new job and…”

“And you thought of stopping by at Y/N’s?” She was already by his side, sweet smile on her face, even though her thoughts weren’t as sweet. 

“Yeah, why?” He asked nonchalantly, as if it was obvious. “I asked Ben if he wanted to come, but he said he wanted to hang out with his friends and you have that dinner you wanted to attend to.” 

“Right but, I wanted you to come with me.”

He frowned. That was weird, when it came to couple’s stuff usually it meant a night in, in the comfortable intimacy of their home. It wasn’t as he wasn’t excited, but she had never invited him before. 

“Oh. that’s new.”

“Yeah, is that alright?” 

He smiled affectionately at her. “Of course it’s alright.” He dragged her close to him as he kissed her sweetly on the lips. She hummed at the affection in the kiss, which made all of her insecurities drift away, for the moment. 

“You really are playing with fire here, little one.” Crowley’s voice sounded behind you. You didn’t even flinch; instead you sighed and continued spraying water to your plants. 

“And why would that be?”

“Please, don’t tell me you’re not seeing what’s happening here.”

You shrugged and placed your spritzer on the coffee table. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  You said as you went to get your cup of wine, which you left at the other side of the table. 

“Oh, come on! Another Winchester? I thought that with your friend’s warning it would be enough, but it seems you are really stubborn.”

You sighed, sitting down at your couch, kicking your feet up the coffee table. 

“It was fate, not me, okay?”

“That's the oldest cope out ever." He said as he sat beside you, crossing his arms. 

"It's not a cope out. You know better than anyone the lengths I went through so I wouldn't find him coincidentally again, you know after the shadow travel thing." 

"Yeah, I'm still mad about that." 

You glared at him. "You and I both know you cannot stay mad at me." 

He resisted the urge to shove your face in the opposite direction so he wouldn't have to endure your gaze. "Shut up." 

You giggled and hugged his arm, leaning your head on his shoulder. "Why are you so worried?" 

He sighed and tried to avoid the stiffness that wanted to take over his body. 

"I just don't want you to get hurt. And I know that if you get stuck with the Winchesters you will end up badly broken." 

You skipped a heartbeat at his words. He said Winchesters, plural not singular. He knew something that you didn't, you were sure of it. Your intuition kicked in and suddenly, the dots started to connect slowly. Something was coming and whatever it was, it was part of Crowley's plans. That's why he kept warning you over and over again to get away from Dean, he didn't want you to get in the middle of the cross-fire. 

You sighed, hugging him tighter. You always did that, but not even him could tell the difference between a tight sweet embrace and a stiff calculated one. 

"I love you, Crowley. But I'm not a child."

Your phone rang just after you ended meditating. You sighed massaging your temples before answering, thinking: Perfect timing, Dean. 

“Hi.” You said groggily. 

“Hey. Did I wake you up?” He asked, a little thrown aback, he wasn’t expecting you to be asleep so early. 

“No, I just came back from meditating, I’m a little groggy.” 

He frowned, not getting why you would come back groggy from something like that. 

“Okay, hey, Lisa and I are going out, could you watch Ben tonight? If it’s not too out of the bat.” 

You took in a deep breath. Normally you wouldn’t hesitate but recently everything just felt wrong, like nothing you did had the result you were expecting and you that you had a lack of control over the simplest things. Your intuition had a rough time ass well, the only good kick it had so far was when you were with Crowley. That demon had something boiling up and you were determined to find out, something you wouldn’t ever do, because you’ve never cared enough. But this time, he was really messing up with the big stuff that it had a direct effect in the whole world. And you been connected to the world, well, it affected you and your coven in an awful lot of way. 

“Or do you have plans tonight?” He asked. You had no idea you had disconnected from the conversation.

“Oh, um, no, I mean I don’t have plans, I’ll gladly watch Ben.” I hope this doesn’t backfire, I already have too much in my plate. You thought. 

“Great, thanks.” you could hear the smile in his voice and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“You’re welcome, Winchester.  But I expect something in return.” You teased. 

“Oh yeah? Like what? I ain’t helping you get rid of that creepy spider.”

“What Eugenia? She’s chill, she helps me not get bitten by mosquitoes, I would never kick her out.” 

He rolled his eyes, of course you would let a creepy potentially venomous spider stay at your home. Although you would probably argue that almost all spiders, if not all, are venomous just in different dosis. 

“Alright, then how?”

He thought you would be shrugging, he had a feeling you were shrugging. “I don’t know, I’ll think of something.” 

“Y/N.” He warned you 

“What?! Maybe I’ll ask for a lift someday, you don’t know that. But I can assure you it won’t be something out of the other world. ‘kay?” 

“Fine, but I expect the right to refuse if it’s something too wild.” He saw Lisa enter the living room with a smile that faltered for a moment when she saw him on the phone. 

“Of course, I’m not that cruel. Expect me there in a minute, maybe two.”

“Alright, bye.” He hung up the phone, reaching immediately for Lisa, planting a kiss on her lips. 

“So, you were talking to Y/N?” 

“Yeah, I asked her to watch Ben, she’s already on her way.” Her breath hitched a little bit, but she managed to stay smiling and nod. 

“Great.” She fiddled with her fingers at the back of his neck. And curse him and his keen eye, because he knew something was not right. 

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

She hesitated, fiddling with her fingers a little bit more before answering. 

“I don’t like it when you spend a lot of time with her.” 

He gulped. “Okay?”

“It’s just, I feel, every time you spend too much time with her… I don’t know, it’s like you-” She bit her lip before continuing. “-like you forget about us for a moment. And it’s the tiniest moment-” She rushed as she saw him open his mouth to answer. “-but it happens. It’s not like a I don’t like her, I do, but I think we could step back a little bit. She has her own life after all. Not everything’s about friends, she could be dealing with other things too.” And it was true, she did think of that too, but that didn’t hide the fact that she was growing a little jealous. It would be a lie to say that she didn’t have a little pride for being one of the people Dean trusted in. So when she saw him open up to you as well, it was like a hit in her ego. And she knew it was ridiculous, although you would probably say that she was entitled to feeling that way. As you had said once, a little jealousy was okay, it was when it was getting out of hand that it needed to be taken care of. 

He took a deep breath in. He did had his head deep in magic since he found out of the doors. A little bit of grounding would be good for him. “Okay. I guess, uh, I got too carried away, huh?” 

She laughed, relieved to hear those words coming out of his mouth. “Just a little bit. But we…” She kissed him in one cheek, then the next, before lightly her lips to his. “...can fix that.” 

“Listen here, buddy! If you think you will win this hand…” You arched your eyebrow at Ben, who was laughing his ass off at your funny faces. He tried mimicking them once, but he just looked funny, not in the purpose of the faces but just in a failing manner. 

“...Then you’re right! Dang it!” You said, tossing your cards on the table, revealing your pathetic hand. 

“Yes! The treasure is mine!” He screamed as he claimed the m&m’s in the center of the table. 

“Alright, alright. Calmed down, Smaug. You won’t be eating those before the pizza gets here.” 

“Smaug? Pssss, what a nerd.” 

You gasped, making your most offended face ever, before smiling. “Thank you! That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Nerd.” 

“What?! I’m not a nerd.” 

“Sure, sure, let me just ask you something. How did you know Smaug’s a nerdy thing?” You saw him blush and stamer as he tried to justify his nerd ass. 

“You read the Hobbit! You’re a nerd just like me!” 

“Shut up! I had nothing to do and I already had finished all my videogames and…”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. You certainly didn’t care enough to learn the name of the characters. Oh, wait…” You laughed and he tossed candy at you, intending it to hit you, but you just made it land in your mouth and ate it. 

“Dang it! Stop it, Y/N, I want it to hit you!” 

You shrugged. “Sorry, you just have to have better aim. He, he.” And just as he was opening his mouth, the doorbell rang. “Pizza!” You both yelled. 

It was more late than they normally arrived. Ben was already asleep up in his room. You however, were reading on the couch, trying not to sneak glances at the window with every passing shadow. Now that you knew it wasn’t something specifically caused by you, like your own paranoia making you see things that weren’t there, you had a better way of thinking and analyzing the situations. 

Just as you almost complied and looked through the window angrily, you heard the lock of the front door turn. Dean and Lisa entered and you sighed in relief. Perfect timing. 

Lisa’s gaze was the first to land on you. And you perfectly saw how her smile faltered for the slightest moment. 

“Hey.” You whispered, not knowing why but you didn’t want to speak to loud. 

“Hi. Is Ben already…?” 

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah.” She nodded with a smile like yours before telling she was going to head upstairs to her son. 

When she was upstairs, Dean came into the living room, stopping in front the couch you were at. 

“Hey.”

You arched your brow at him. “Hi?” 

“Uh, can we… Can we talk?” 

You frowned and shrugged. “Sure.” He motioned with his head towards the door, before heading there himself. You followed him, picking up your stuff as you made your way out. 

“Qué paso?” 

He scratched the back of his neck, looking at the pick up, the grass, the porch, anything but you. 

“Dean? What is it? Surely it can’t be that bad.” 

“It’s just…” He sighed, rubbing his temples. 

“Lisa’s… a little bit jealous.” Then he looked at you and your surprised face. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” You said whilst hugging yourself. It was surprising, you never thought she could get jealous, after all Dean was a friend. Just a friend. Did she think you wanted to screw up her relationship with him? 

“She just thinks we spend too much time together.” You nodded for him to continue, but that was it. He shrugged. There was nothing else to say. 

“Okay, then. So we spend less time together.” You shrugged, surely it wouldn’t affect you, that way you could get a break from the overwhelmingly use of your magic. 

“Yeah, I know, it’s just…”

You smiled, laughing to yourself as those words escaped his lips. “Ah. So you’re bothered by this.” 

“Only by the idea that she’s jealous. It’s… it’s not like we spend that much time together or that I would do anything or you for that matter.”

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. “I know, but we have to respect her feelings. And just make it clear that we’re…”

“Just friends.” You both said, and you couldn’t help to smile at each other. 

“Jinx, you owe me, Winchester.”

“Oh come on!” 

You shrugged as you walked away from his porch. Something told him that you were shadow traveling home. “Ni modo, mijo. ¿Pa’ qué se duerme?”

You checked your purse as u exited your home. Everything that you needed was there. You turned around and locked your door, recasting every security spell that started to wear off. You were meeting Dean at a bar, you’re meetings had become less frequent for Lisa’s sake and he had told you that it actually helped. This time in particular had been quite long since you two had hang out together so it was refreshing to see him again and hear his stupid jokes. 

Just as you were heading out, you heard a rustle near your bushes at the side of your house. You neared them cautiously. Maybe it was a cat that wasn’t Shcrödinger. But it didn’t feel like a cat. 

You were a few steps away when… “Don’t!” Impossible. You turned your head but your vision turned blurry, you could only make out a tall figure running towards you, but that voice. 

“Sammy?”

Bisclavret Round-Up

Unholy took about three months to write. Fairy Tale took five. Hindsight took six.

Bisclavret took nineteen, and that should be the biggest indicator to you that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

This was my first venture into another fandom, and out of my comfort zone (though not entirely – supernatural elements for life). I’m not sure whether or not I did the source material and its characters justice, however, especially with the supernatural element I went with (Wolves are believed to have gone extinct in England in the late fifteenth or early sixteenth century), but I will try to explain my reasoning behind some of my decisions here.

The Characters

My main concern.

We get a good view of Monty’s thought process throughout the show, through the framing device of writing his memoirs and views of his private affairs. Phoebe and Sibella, on the other hand, are characters we don’t get much of in the way of examination – we only see them through Monty’s eyes until the very end, where they reveal themselves as more than that.

Sibella is a bit self-centred, and extremely practical when it comes to how she sees her place in society, which implies some self-confidence issues. Phoebe is more idealistic, and independent, but still hopes for a match fit for a storybook. But, towards the end, Sibella demonstrates she is more than a vain god-digger, afraid of losing the man she loves and willing to potentially compromise her image to save him, while Phoebe shows that she is not nearly as innocent or naive as the people around her consider her to be.

I interpreted the two women’s characterisations as thus; Sibella believes she is bound by society’s view of her. Phoebe does not. This, I believed, needed to be the focus.

Which is where we introduce…

The Whole Werewolf Thing

“[Post-modern Gothic] warns us to be suspicious of monster hunters, monster makers, and above all, discourses invested in purity and innocence. The monster always represents the disruption of categories, the destruction of boundaries, and the presence of impurities and so we need monsters and we need to recognize and celebrate our own monstrosities.”  - J Halberstam, Skin Shows: Gothic Horror and the Technology of Monsters

I gave a number of possible causes of the D’Ysquith ‘family curse’, if it is one – the actions of the first countess, Gregory D’Ysquith burning down a monastery (divine punishment is a possible cause), but I never gave a specific answer. I think I might be operating on the logic of the original Bisclavret – it’s irrelevant.

The reason there isn’t is because I intended it as a metaphor – which I think I’ve made clear with my chapter updates here (though you don’t have to read it that way, Death of the Author and all that), but I never quite decided and what it was a metaphor for. In terms of this particular narrative, it can be read as a metaphor for feminism, and/or a metaphor for same-sex attraction.

Feminism

Edwardian Era England, where A Gentleman’s Guide takes place, is not overly-represented in fiction. Not surprising, considering it’s a pretty short time period between the surprisingly long Victorian era and the world-changing events of World War One. However, when you think of that time period, a certain group tends to come to mind – the suffragettes.

(Just a note. Agatha D’Ascoyne, the character from Kind Hearts and Coronets who inspired Hyacinth D’Ysquith in the musical, was a suffragette. She has no lines, apart from “Shush!” – Deeds, Not Words.)

We know what these people wanted – Votes for Women. They were not prepared to wait for society to change to get it, and when peaceful protest was ignored, they began to act out. They refused to fit into their role of quiet, demure, loyal wives, and for some groups, this was seen as threatening. Anti-suffragette cartoons of the time often depicted these women as old, ugly and/or selfish for wanting similar rights to men instead of accepting their place as a ‘lesser being’.

The point I am trying to make is, being in defiance of the role you are expected to play – which Sibella is afraid to show – was seen by many to be ugly. Beastly.

Phoebe runs Henry’s country estate for him. Phoebe flaunts societal expectations by proposing to Monty, instead of waiting for him to propose, the ‘proper’ way to do things. While she is feminine, she does not fit the idea of what a woman ‘should be’.

Sibella makes a point to meet her obligations as a wife, though she does surreptitiously carry on an affair. She sacrifices her own happiness to get what she wants in a socially acceptable way. She has no intention of leaving Lionel in the source material, but she convinces herself that a rich, good-looking, polite man – what society thinks of as the ideal male – is what she wants, and realises on her wedding day that it isn’t.

And goes through with it anyway.

When she can no longer fit that mould, when she refuses to go along with Lionel’s plan to leech off the countess, when she undermines and argues with her husband, that’s when things start happening. Indeed, her ‘beastly’ outbursts manifest as standing up for herself. She ends the story as a much happier and self-assured person than she was at the beginning, and attempts to bring justice to other women.

Same-Sex Attraction

This is a bit more straightforward. We’re coming right off the back of the Victorian era here, where Oscar Wilde and others like him got their lives ruined. Same-sex relationships aren’t viewed in a positive light at all at this time – you like the same gender? Off to prison with you, deviant!

As people that were (and often still are) villainised, misunderstood and attacked for the crime of existing, some members of the LGBT community reclaim monsters such as vampires, werewolves and the Babadook as their own as a means of subverting their image in a heteronormative society. Being ‘monstrous’ is not bad. Being different is fine. You may feel malformed and wrong, but you are not. You and your quirks are accepted.

For some, the ones to fear are those who appear in the daylight.

Sibella, for all her talk of being a monster, only fights back when threatened. Morton has a heart attack when put in the position of his victims, subverting the formula he’s used to. Lionel, fearing that Sibella will leave him and damage his image, resorts to violence against Sibella and several other women he sees as substitutes for her. Mary attempts to murder Sibella for getting in the way of a monogamous man-woman relationship. In her eyes, Sibella is an irredeemable villain, but Phoebe can be ‘fixed’.

If you want to look deeper into this link between horror and the LGBT community, here’s a video essay discussing gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender representation in horror films.

There are only a few non-metaphorical references to werewolves. The wolf head in Eugenia’s dower house is a family member – as previously mentioned, wolves went extinct in England during the reign of Henry VII. St Hubert’s Key is a charm that more often than not looks like a nail, and was supposed to be able to rid the body of disease caused by a dog or wolf bite. There is some science behind this – the metal was heated before being pressed to the wound, and, if the subject was at risk of contracting rabies from the injury, the heat would likely sterilise and cauterise the potential infection site.

Not the First Murder-y Heir

There are a couple of characters named or directly taken from Israel Rank – Autobiography of a Criminal, the inspiration for Kind Hearts and Coronets and A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder. I’ve compared these works before, so I’ll just go over those that appear here.

Esther (Lane) – The third object of Israel Rank’s affections, and a governess. Knows more than she’s letting on in Israel Rank, and in this story as well.

James “Jim” Morton – Appears for about a page to explain Israel’s disillusionment with the ideal male – while Morton seems great to some, he really isn’t. Since Jim only appears as a child in the book, his characterisation here is drastically different.

Lord and Lady Pebworth – Almost directly lifted from the book, with Lady Pebworth being a bad singer and Lord Pebworth an older gentleman who lets his wife get away with a lot. The difference here is that Israel introduces the Hollands to the Pebworths, while the Pebworths are hoping the Hollands introduce them to Lord and Lady Navarro.

Sir Anthony Cross – Quiet, very well-off, slightly older gentleman who is quite taken by Sibella, but it doesn’t go anywhere. Acquaintance of the Pebworths. Pretty much the same guy.

Ethel D’Ysquith (Gascoyne) – An ancestor Israel is quite taken with, not only due to the resemblance between the two. He’s made the 3rd Earl of Highhurst because I didn’t feel like making an imaginary preceding title (Monty is only the 9th Earl, while the 10th Earl Gascoyne is about five generations before Israel – Ethel was the 6th Earl) and the 2nd Earl, Roland, had already been named in the musical. Phoebe’s description of him is meant to heavily imply he was also a werewolf. If I had read the book before fleshing out the D’Ysquith family tree, he would have taken the role that the first countess plays in the narrative’s events (Ethel Gascoyne hid in a tower with an Italian magician for 20 years).

Kate Falconer – The character who would later be known as ‘Boat Girl’ in Kind Hearts and Coronets and Evangeline Barley in A Gentleman’s Guide. Her great crime is to go on holiday with her boyfriend, and gets poisoned for her troubles. She survives here, and I used her to try a formatting technique (while she speaks, none of her dialogue is in quotes: in a way, she is voiceless).

(Sir) Cheveley Drummond, (Lady) Enid Branksome, and Catherine Goodsall – only mentioned briefly. Drummond is described as handsome and ‘interesting’ by Israel, Lady Enid is a young woman from a penniless but aristocratic family, and Catherine Goodsall in an actress whose abusive husband was beaten so badly by a Gascoyne he joined the navy and never came back to land.

In addition, Lionel’s later characterisation comes directly from Kind Hearts and Coronets, since he gets  almost none in the musical. His breakdown in Chapter 11 follows his emotional journey when asking for a loan – affability, begging, threatening suicide, insults and physical violence.

Literary References:

Not always relevant, but there is a wide enough variety that I’m collecting them.

Every chapter title, and the tagline of the work, comes from Manners and Social Usages by Mary Elizabeth (Mrs. John) Sherwood. It’s a bit out of date by the time of this story (written in 1884), but Sherwood does have some great phrases in her etiquette handbook.

Ruddigore is mentioned in chapter 2, only because it is a musical theatre production (opera) where ancestors play a role and family expectations are subverted.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Hamlet. It’s Hamlet.

When in the chronicle of wasted time, I see descriptions of the fairest wights, and beauty making beautiful old rhyme in praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights...  Shakespeare’s Sonnets, Number 106.

I desire, and I crave… Fragment from Sappho’s poetry.

The countess closes her book; something by a George Reynolds. George W. M. Reynolds wrote Wagner the Wher-Wolf (with that spelling) in 1857.

I met a lady in the meads, full beautiful, a faery’s child: Her hair was long, her foot was light, and her eyes were wild. La Belle Dame sans Merci (The beautiful lady without mercy) by John Keats.

Sibella also briefly mentions Algernon Blackwood, a supernatural fiction writer who wrote a short story about a werewolf (portrayed quite differently here) that a character in 1909 could have possibly read (the story was first published in 1908).

In addition, the whole story is named after a very early depiction of a sympathetic werewolf, Bisclavret by Marie de France (and the most direct I think I’ve ever been with a title). It depicts, naturally, a werewolf (who is also a knight, because not being human doesn’t disqualify you from doing that – cutting social commentary for the 12th century) who is trapped in his wolf form after being tricked by his wife and her lover. Through chivalric behaviour to the king on a hunt, he works himself back into the royal court and, when his former wife pays a visit, bites off her nose. The king thinks the sudden aggressive behaviour from his pet prompts further investigation, the wife reveals all, and the knight is restored to human form. Also, all of the wife’s children are born without noses from then on. Lionel getting his nose bitten off is a reference to this poem.

Uncategorised Trivia

This work was written with the UK spellings of certain words, because it takes place in England. Previous works all took place in the US, and so used US spelling.

Les Patineurs Valse is French for The Skater’s Waltz. Reference to Asquith Jr. and Evangeline Barley.

All of the racehorse names Sibella finds are either variations, anagrams or synonyms of actual racehorses in the Victorian and Edwardian eras. Sir Hugh is Sir Huon, Gil Owen is Neil Gow, Irish Lass is Irish Lad, Supervision is Oversight and Pinnacle is Meridian.

Lionel was right to be concerned about Phoebe’s flower arrangement. Red begonias represent love, lavender-coloured heathers represent admiration and loneliness (and are a reference to another fandom I write for), tuberoses are symbolic of wild or forbidden passion (and was commonly used as a funeral flower), and verbena is reference to romance and sweet memories. The dead foliage is meant to mean sadness. Overall, the intended meaning is I miss you, my love.

Survey #235

“the monster you made is wearing the crown; i’ll be the king and you be the clown.”

What is your favorite move franchise? The Lion King. What was the last fast food you ate? I had a hot dog from Sonic and one of those pretzel twists things. What is the saddest book you’ve ever read? Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. Do you prefer heroes or villains? Villains. Duh. They're like, always more interesting. What is something you think is overrated? Uhhh coffee, for one. But like what you like. What political cause are you most passionate about? Gay rights. What country would you most like to visit? South Africa. Have you ever considered having children? Literally the only period where I wanted kids was later into Jason's and my relationship. Hell, I wanted three while he was always like "onLY TWO." Now, I don't want a single one, ever. I would be an awful mother for many reasons. If you ever took field trips as a child, which was your favorite? The zoo with Dad, my then-best friend, and her mom. One and only time I've seen meerkats. I was so excited I almost cried. Do you have any weird family traditions? It's not like, a tradition, I think, but we have a unique thing where saying "I love you mostest period" is something Mom, Dad, and my sisters have used for all my life. It's a way of saying "I love you more than you could ever love me, no arguments." Now Sara's been dragged into it lmao. Have you ever considered acting? Nope. Who was the last person you slept next to? Sara. Do you think you can be in love and still cheat on your S.O.? You can't "be in love" with a person and fucking cheat on them, no. Do you subscribe to any streaming services? We have Netflix. Idk about anything else. Have you ever been in a physical fight? No. What is the most embarrassing thing anyone has on video of you? I don't even wanna know. Did you ever get lost as a child? Yep, in a Wal-Mart lmao. This old lady helped me find my fam. What is your favorite condiment? Honey mustard. Or ketchup. Depends. Have you ever had an existential crisis? Very surprisingly, not really. Do you like country music? Begone, demon. It's still so weird to me that I loved it as a kid, but I really just grew up with it. What color are the eyes of the person you love? Brown. What is your favorite kind of flower? I looooove orchids. What town were you born in? Not the best thing to share on the Internet, eh? Do you know how to play any card games? I only vaguely understood/understand Magic: The Gathering. It's honestly really fun, but very complex in rules. It was Jason's thing so he got me into it. I miss my PS3 working because I used to have the "Duels of the Planeswalkers" on there, and doing it digitally is much easier and helpful. I loved it mostly because the art is fucking incredible. It was an old little aspiration to wind up designing the art some day and I don't think I ever saw Jason more excited. What is something about your childhood that you miss? Being more into video games than I am now alskdjf;awe. I'm more of a viewer of let's plays now than an active gamer; meanwhile, as a kid, video games were my favorite things in the world. Did you ever have MySpace? Do you miss those days? Yeah, I had one. Honestly though I can barely remember it (other than the song on my page was "Pocketful of Sunshime" lmaooooo as well meerkat-flooded), so it doesn't matter. What is the best television show you’ve ever watched? Meerkat Manor is my favorite show of all time, but as a proper show could have been better. AP made up their own shit and deviated from the KMP facts A LOT (guess what: Mozart killed a competitor's litter before; not exactly MM's her, right?), and not only was that confusing, but just annoying. Give me the real shit; don't just tweak stuff for dramatic effect. I could list a novel of lies in the series. Now, what I feel is the best show without a meerkat bias and just has an overall good plot. I kinda wanna say Supernatural, but the boys dying five million times got old. Possibly Fullmetal Alchemist. Are there any songs you can’t listen to because they bring back memories? I 110% refuse to hear "Stairway to Heaven." Have you ever saved someone’s life? Funny this is brought up after recent events. My sweetheart online bud had a cerebral aneurysm while having an extremely difficult time talking to me, and no one was home quite yet. Her final message was concerning and she didn't reply to me for a while, so I wound up messaging her again after a bit, and her boyfriend heard the b.net notification sound. Saw it was me and asked what was up. Told him, and he figured out she wasn't sleeping on the couch, she was passed out. He told me he never would have known if I hadn't said something. So does that count, even though I didn't like, physically save her? Have you ever broken any major bones? No. Are there any websites you’ve used for over 10 years? Good question? Idk. WAIT HOLD THE FUCK UP, KM's 10th birthday is coming up real soon. Wow. I know YouTube has been much longer. Idr when I joined deviantART. Maybe there's more, I dunno. Do you have any siblings? If so, what are their ages? My two immediate are 22 (ew) and 26 (double ew). Anything exciting taking place today? No, today was A N X I E T Y !! ! ! !! !! What are you craving? Okay so I have been MEGA in "the mood" lately and it's frustrating especially because I don't masturbate so I have like nO OUTLET. Who did you last hit? Nobody saving for when I was a kid repeatedly slapped my sister's arm for doing something I don't remember. How do you do in school? It depends on the subject, but in anything, I am a MASSIVE procrastinator, and I need to fix that. Schoolwork, good good, homework in the library, good good, but when I'm at home, I cannot seem to convince myself to work. As Sara puts it, home is like my "safe" place, and I don't want to bring school into it. Adjusting to school life again after like... two whole years or so of doing NOTHING at all, almost every day all day, is very difficult. I'm SO glad I picked school again, it's just a lot for a person who was so isolated and void of responsibilities to get used to. What’s your biggest goal? Right now, continue to improve my mental health. Fight social anxiety and AvPD. Who have you texted today? Just Sara. Who do you aspire to be like when you grow up? In most ways, especially in kindness, wisdom, relentless determination, passion, creativity, etc. etc. etc. etc., Mark. I think it's obvious he's Role-Model #1. I would loooove to be like Jane Goddall and Steve Irwin, too, feeling with such ferocious potency for animals and how they should be respected and loved. UM AND ALSO, EUGENIA COONEY IS THE SWEETEST PERSON ON THE ENTIRE GODDAMN EARTH AND I WOULD LOVE TO BE AS FRIENDLY AND PRECIOUS AS SHE IS. Oh, and then there's Shane Dawson. I relate to him SO much. He is the most selfless angel that seems SO down-to-earth and relatable as hell. I feel like he could be like, my best friend. Ahhhhhhh there are so many more, I love talking about my inspirations, but I'll chill here. Do you know if you want to go to college or not? I'm in college right now, and I desperately want it to stay that way. I'm fucking going somewhere in my life, and the education it provides will bring me closer to that. College is far from mandatory for everyone, but I feel it is beneficial for me. Do you like grapefruits? I haven't had one in a LONG time, so I don't really remember how they taste. I just know sour. What do you think of guys who wear eyeliner? *drools in Darkiplier* the fuck do you think Do you like online games? Only World of Warcraft, really. Who’s one person you care about more than yourself? Okay, real talk, and I hope this is everybody's answer. No one. I'm putting my goddamn self and my mental peace first for the rest of my life. Are there any pets you’re wishing for? I want another ball python. When’s the last time you used hand sanitizer? Two days ago when Mom and I stopped somewhere to eat. Wearing anything that isn’t yours? No. What type of bread did you use on the last sandwich you made? White. How many doors are in your house? Uhhh six. What was the last compliment you received, that made you smile? Sara said she was really proud of me, and to me, that's one of the biggest compliments you CAN give me. Think you need to lose weight? How much? ugh When was the last time you watched a VHS movie? I don't have a clue. We kept our VHS longer than most, though. We had too many movies on it. What event would you go back in time to see, if you could? Ummmm I dunno. Do you remember the last thing you said you wanted? To hug Sara. Who was the last friend you hung out with&what’d you do together? Sara stayed for a week. We did a lot. Who is the person, other than a spouse, that you are closest to? Sara. If you watched it, who was your favorite Hey Arnold! character? Oh my god, I hated that stupid show, but one of my sisters liked it. Have any good school pictures? or do they all just suck? There is literally ONE picture from elementary school where I think I looked pretty. Do you like trying on clothes or not? & Why? NO. I try to avoid it if I can. It's just annoying to change clothes for like five seconds. What are your thoughts on marriage? It's sweet, but I've come to find it... kinda needless for the most part? Like I know it has financial pluses and the symbolism is beautiful, but it's just that: symbolism originating from fantasies (imo, don't scream at me). It only adds pressure to stay in a dying relationship and makes splitting much more complicated. BUT, even with all that said, I personally want to get married someday, but only if I am *sure* about this person. It's the symbolism I like. That and it's so ingrained into my head that that's the "end goal" of relationships, so I'm pretty much just conditioned to want it. How long have you lived in the current place you’re living? Two years. Do you plan on moving anytime soon, if so where? I want to, but I am not in the financial position or at a level of independence where I'm ready for that. Are you more of a follower, or a leader? Be honest. This may alter with the situation, but mostly, I'm definitely a follower. Are your dreams/nightmares in black&white or color? I've heard of this condition before and it really intrigues me. I dream in color. Have you ever wanted to be some sort of hero outside of video games? I mean, define "hero." Like an action superhero in a literal way, nooooo. I'd die on Day #1, lmao. As a hero/inspiration as a person, of course; who doesn't? Will you admit that you’re at least somewhat superficial? I mean, probably in some places? How often do you go to the mall closest to you? Almost never ever. Our mall sucks and has experienced too many shootings. Do you still count with your fingers, even if only every so often? Yep. Like, always. Have you ever gone on a road trip with just friends? No. Well, I went to the beach with my friend and her mom, but just for a day or two because my separation anxiety from Mom got too bad oof. Without trying, do you act differently around different friends? Depends on the friend. I don't "fake it," just how reserved I am can move around. What was the last thing you drew/wrote on your own or someone else's skin? Probably a butterfly on my wrists when I was actively part of the Butterfly Project community. The last time you spent money, what was it on & how much did you spend? $1.25 for a drink at school. What’s the most money you’ve ever spent on one piece of clothing? Idk, but definitely not a lot. In elementary school, were you more of the bully or the bullied? Thankfully, neither. Do you like when a spouse is clingy, or can you not stand that? I'm sure to a certain degree it would be annoying, but for the most part, hell, I think it's attractive. Especially since I NEED validation you like me. How much do you say you walk in a week outside of school &/or work? Just around my house if you exclude school. Is there anything you wish your parents did differently in raising you? I wish they'd given us chores. Wish Mom didn't spank us. What would you do if the last person you texted asked you out? Lol yo we JUST broke up like an hour ago. We're not ready to get back together yet, obviously. Don't worry a bit, we're both cool. Still best friends, even. To compress a long story, needed personal growth and distance have brought us to returning to just friends. For now, at least. Have you ever received a scholarship? I think so... but not like a huge one, I believe. Who was the last person who got frustrated with you? Most likely Mom. When was the last time you mopped your kitchen floor? I myself have never mopped it. Or maybe once. What is your favorite work of art? I mentioned the Denialism painting in my last survey. What was the last appointment or plan you had to cancel? Plan, my next one with my psychiatrist. What spur-of-the-moment decision that you’ve made has had the biggest impact on your life? I don't know if any have truly changed my life. The ones that did (that I remember) were pondered over. Do you know anyone who is (or has been) a refugee? I don't think so, What is your best friend’s worst habit? She doesn't have faith in herself for ANYTHING lj;ljalwie Do you like spinach and artichoke dip? alksd;fjwei no Have you ever felt like you were about to pass out, but didn’t? Yep, a couple times. What was the name of one of your childhood imaginary friends? I didn't have any. What’s your favorite phase of the moon? Full. Do you wish you were richer? I physically refuse to be anything less than stable, hopefully even above that, once I'm independent. We've been poor all my life and it is fuck-ing HARD. It's stressful as a motherfucker and I am done with it. Very. What’s a middle name you like? Quinn. Fits a lot. I planned on giving that middle name to my hypothetical daughter. Are you scared of spiders? y e a h Do you weigh the same as your mom? No. Were you a Mary-Kate and Ashley fan? Like the average 90s/early 2000s kid. Coffee mugs, teacups, or water bottles? Uh, aesthetically? Teacups, probably. Bubblegum or cotton candy? Gum. I like the taste and texture of cotton candy, it is just RIDICULOUSLY sweet. It bothers my sensitive teeth sometimes. Do you prefer to drink soda from cans, bottles or cups? Cans. They get the coldest. Game you were best at in P.E./gym? Idk, I didn't excel at any. What do you have for breakfast on an average day? I'll typically just have a meal replacement shake or a Pop-Tart. Favorite non-chocolate candy? Sour Punch Straws (gotta be red). Favorite book you had to read for school? The Outsiders. Most frequently worn pair of shoes? My flip-flops, 'cuz they're easy to just slip on. Ideal weather? Cool but not windy (a light breeze is fine) with a partly-cloudy sky. Obsession from childhood? Webkinz. Favorite crystal? Dragon's breath opal. Favorite activity to do in warm weather? Swim or stay the fuck inside. Favorite activity to do in cold weather? Taking pictures in the snow. Five songs to describe you? "Get Up" by Mother Mother, "That's What You Get" by Paramore, uhhh... I don't feel like thinking over this any longer. My iPod isn't near me to scan through what I have, so yeah. Best way for someone to bond with you? Let's have deep philosophical talks about like the meaning of life 'n shit. Top 5 favorite Vines? Oh my god, this is impossible. To name some that come to mind first, in no order: "It's Wednesday, m'dudes *insert mating call*", "I cOUld'vE dROPPED My croiSSANt," "this is why mom doesn't FUCKING LOVE YOU," that one at a club where a girl is doing smoke tricks and the dude just goes "check that out" (or "wow," idr) or something similar (I couldn't find it), and omfg I adore that Snoop Dogg one with the little boy just semi-dancing to that iconic song???? I LOVE IT??????? Man, there are so so many more. Very honorable mention: "a d a m". Ads you have stuck in your head? None, thankfully. What is the first meme you remember seeing? Uhhh maybe Happy Bunny? Idk. Sci-fi, fantasy, or superheroes? Fantasy. Favorite type of cheese? American. What saying or quote do you live by? There's a lot I've picked up on and cling to. #1 is perhaps "Deal with life, or life deals with you." What are you currently stressed about? Some... things I realized about myself that disgust me. Favorite fairy tale? Shrek is a goddamn fairy tale and I will fight to the death against anyone who claims otherwise. Favorite tradition? I don't really have one anymore, but I remember as a kid, I would NEVER let Mom forget to throw some "reindeer food" outside for them lol. Talent you’re proud of having? One that warrants pride, exactly? Not just random talents? Well, uhhh. I suppose writing. I mean it modestly, I really do, but as a kid, my teachers all the way through high school always thought I was cheating or a parent did my papers at home. Some were only convinced by me writing in the classroom. I don't feel as good about my writing as I did in high school, but I am sill proud of excelling in it and taking writing anywhere seriously. If you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? I mean, name the game and genre here. Probably like "what the fuck" at like, everything, because I already do that. If you were an anime character, what genre of anime would it be? Like, based on my current life? I dunno. A sad and repetitive one with some bright days to it. Ohhh, and the color scheme and lighting vary with my mental state. Yo that would be dope. Character you relate to? lmao THRALL from WoW for being like "can y'all bastards just chill tf out" until he goes off to an isolated land away from civilization bc he's seen enough shit. Also compelled to help. Any good luck charms? I don't believe in those. Least favorite flavor of food or drink? As far as consistent flavors go, normally cherry or grape. Left or right handed? I'm a righty. Favorite potato food? Fries, when I wish they weren't. Earth tones or jewel tones? Jewel. How many phone numbers do you have memorized? Literally just Mom's. Not even mine.

Women in Amerindian Literature: an essay by Elisa Taber

(Image: armadillo carving, a handicraft of the Mbya Guaraní, the indigenous community the poet Alba Eiragi Duarte belongs to.)

Women writing in indigenous languages in Latin America are working to both decolonize hegemonic feminism and to counter systematic linguistic censorship. Their poetic discourse posits that women’s rights do not need to be individualistic but communal and that national identity needs to be multicultural. It is not why but how they write, and the range of languages they use, that makes their writings impossible to group together under the label “indigenous literature.” The Mixe writer and linguist Yasnaya Elena Aguilar Gil has rejected the standard binary imposed on literary production in indigenous languages in Mexico, “I have yet to find a common trait that justifies that a literature written in such distinct languages and that belongs to eleven disparate linguistic families shares any grammatical features or poetic devices that, together, can be contrasted to Spanish.” (“(Is There) An Indigenous Literature?”) The distinctiveness of each indigenous language and culture must be respected and the conception of a ‘minority’ literary category that homogenizes them must be questioned.

Those eager to discover linguistic, cosmological, and poetic diversity should read the work of the following contemporary women writers: Natalia Toledo and Irma Pineda, Zapotec poets; Ruperta Bautista Vázquez and Marga Beatriz Aguilar Montejo, Maya Tsotsil and Maya Yucatec poets, respectively; Liliana Ancalao and Faumelisa Manquepillán, Mapuche poets; Lucila Lema Otavalo and Eugenia Carlos Ríos, Quechua poets; Alba Eiragi Duarte and Susy Delgado, Mbya Guaraní and Jopara poets, respectively.

The community of Latin American writers and academics studying Amerindian poetry–especially Violeta Percia and Juan G. Sánchez Martínez–have generously shared with me the work of these contemporary women writers. I encourage readers to visit Sánchez Martínez’s multilingual digital collaborative anthology platform, Siwar Mayu. The digital nature of this anthology shows that, as Walter Ong posits, it is electronic, rather than print, media that makes visible the transgressions writing inflects on transcribed orality. The auditory and visual performance components of oral literature are rendered through multimedia; i.e. the translated text is accompanied by recordings and illustrations. A lyrical, fictional, or non-fictional piece is published in the original indigenous language as well as in Spanish and English, together with an illustration by an indigenous artist and an essay by an indigenous academic reflecting on the work’s literary value. The result, which is not simply the transcription but the multi-sequential and multisensory translation of oral literature, calls forth a secondary orality.

The poetry of these Zapotec, Maya, Mapuche, Quechua, and Guaraní poets present distinct modes of production, lyrical devices, and linguistic features that are jointly defiant of their Western counterparts. Their collections live between Spanish and an endangered indigenous language. They are crafted and distributed orally; transcription is a secondary and sometimes unnecessary step. Many are self-published in print or online, via social media. Language loses its weight this way; it becomes ephemeral, alterable, it ceases to belong to one person. However, the content is firmly rooted in the soil, sometimes focused on the quotidian–specifically, the act of boiling a potato–and other times on the metaphysical– specifically, the distance between life and death bridged by another conception of corporeality within time and space. I believe this poetry is excluded from the national canon of each country these poets belong to precisely because there is so much complexity encrypted in its apparent simplicity.

In this post I will introduce the poetry of the Paraguayan poet, Alba Eiragi Duarte, who writes in Mbya Guaraní (which is distinct from Jopara, a variant of Spanish-inflected Guaraní) and will discuss how her work is excluded by a definition of national literature so narrow that it has no place for indigenous poetries. Eiragi Duarte has introduced, illustrated, and self-published her collection Ñe'ẽ yvoty, ñe'e poty (Our Earth and Our Mother), writing bilingually in Spanish and Mbya Guaraní. The first section consists of sixteen of her own poems. The language and content are simple. The poems address ontological subjects: what it takes to survive, to cook, sleep, and work. Or what it means to be alive: the passing of the seasons, the transition from dawn to dusk, the birth and death of loved ones. The lines are short but read as sentences, almost like instructions. The language is formal and distant until speech erupts, In “Pore’ỹ” (The Absence), the third person narration shifts to the first with the lines

Che kérape rohecha,

che páype rohechase

che membymi porãite

I see you in my dreams and

when I wake, I wish to see you,

my daughter, my life.

Emotion is unmediated yet counters nostalgia with a sense of what is real now: her daughter is deceased and the narrator, alive. There is nothing mythical about these poems, if myth is defined as the attribution of human intentionality to the inexplicable or meaningless.

In her last poem, “Che Rata” (My Fire), day dawns, the narrator lights a fire and sets a sweet potato, a mandioca, and a kettle atop it. The poem ends with the lines, “che rata ikatupyry, / ombojy ha’uva’erã” (fire is vital, / it cooks food). Life appears to be as simple as waking. Regaining this clarity is a task that is as complex for the reader as it is for the author. The poet refuses to be distracted by the superfluous and encourages the reader to do the same. Alba Eiragi Duarte is, above all, an ethical poet. There is a circularity in each text that is intrinsic to the author’s conception of life and poetry: what is simple is complex and what is complex is simple. She has no need to resort to complex metafictional device to underscore this paradox.

In the second section, titled “Mombe’u añeteguaite Avá Ruguái rehegua” (The True Story of Avá Ruguái), Eiragi Duarte retells a religious myth. (In Guaraní Avá means man and ruguái, armadillo.) Avá Ruguái is like a man, but is more solitary, agile, and cruel. When men hunting in the jungle enter too deep to return before nightfall, he puts them to sleep and kills, quarters, and skins them. The poet recounts the story of the man who kills Avá Ruguái because Ruguái has killed his brother. In one scene, the narrator squats in the scrubland, watching Avá Ruguái lift his sleeping brother by the nape of his neck. There is something cinematic about the specificity with which corporeality in space is described. Time is ambiguous but the events that are recounted seem to occur in the span of one night.

The wilderness—its flora and fauna—is heightened by the descriptions and accompanying illustrations. It is as though the quebracho and palm trees witness the events as the readers do. Behind a low stand of thorn bushes, a man lies stiffly on the ground. The tips of his feet point right. He wears a dark shirt and light pants. His silhouette is delineated by the darkest line in the drawing. His eyes and mouth are lightly sketched, they fade into the white paper. He grips his hand over his abdomen. He seems dead, not asleep. Another man stands over him with a bow in his hands and a sack full of arrows on his back. Palm trees lean left and right in the background. The rigidity and lack of expression of the human figures is in stark contrast to the ornamentation and movement of the bushes and trees. The book’s illustrations underscore people’s inflexibility towards the elements of nature, which in turn adapt to them. The narrative shows the retribution of nature, embodied by Avá Ruguái, to the transgressions of humans.

Eiragi Duarte recites these poems and stories, transcribed on illustrated placards, to children in rural schools across Paraguay. This educational program counters the loss of knowledge of the Mbya Guaraní language and of sacred narratives. She comes from an oral or mnemonic tradition in which authorship is not individual but communal. The poet compensates for the transgressions writing inflects on transcribed orality by combining her poetry with stories that have been passed down to her and by illustrating both on the placards.

She aspires to create a national Paraguayan literature that is multilingual and multicultural. Yet her poetry is intrinsically untranslatable unless the conception of literature broadens to include her manifesto of social ecology. In the introduction to the book she not only posits an equality between genders but also between human beings and nature. By conceiving of human rights and authorship in a communal sense, and at the same time blurring the distinction between the social and ecological, she forces readers to regard the parts of a whole as distinct yet interconnected in new ways. Behind the apparent simplicity of these poems and stories lies a true reconception of reality and how it is rendered in fiction and poetry.

The term literature must be challenged because it reduces these verbally organized materials to a variant further developed by literate cultures. With respect to sacred narratives, the term authorship must shift from an individual to a communal definition. The narratives do not belong to the ones reciting them—they only author a version—but rather to the millenary indigenous cultures the reciters belong to. The history of the transcription and translation into Spanish of poetry from indigenous languages since the conquest has three stages. The first was carried out by missionaries; the second, by social scientists, specifically linguists and anthropologists; and the third, by writers.

I have featured the work of Alba Eiragi Duarte in this post because it speaks to the literary properties of the text, rather than exclusively to its cultural or linguistic aspects. She shows that the culture or language is not so much in danger of extinction as it is at risk of voluntarily subjugating itself through national aspirations to westernization. She also proposes that her translations are parallel versions of the original. It is only by challenging the terms “literature and authorship” that the national as well as the continental canon will be broadened to include indigenous poetry. Failing that, its lyrics will continue to circulate orally as common knowledge, but without validation as artistic works in their own right, not folkloric artifacts.

—Elisa Taber

Works Cited

Aguilar Gil, Yasnaya Elena. “(Is There) an Indigenous Literature?” Translated by Gloria E. Chacón. Diálogo, vol. 19, no. 1, Spring 2016, pp. 157-159. (Original article in Spanish published in March 2015 in Letras libres (https://www.letraslibres.com/mexico-espana/libros/literatura-indigena).

Chapter 13

“Everyone else has got one page each but you’ve got two,” Genie announces with a shrug.

Curly’s leant back on the couch with the laptop open on the coffee table in front of him. The TV’s playing on mute on the other side of the room whilst his sister tells him all about her family project.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, shaking his head. “How have you filled two whole pages up about me? Have you just listed all the daft things I’ve done?”

The joke goes right over her head and she insists, “no, honest! In a minute - I’ll get it,” and jumps out of the frame before he can tell her he’s only joking.

As he waits, Curls hears the news on her end of the line; a car bomb attack averted in London; some belled in Glasgow drove into the side of the airport, and they’re still looking for that girl in Portugal...

Only four years old and lost somewhere in a foreign country - Curls can’t even imagine what he’d do if it were Genie. She looks nowt like her and is half her age but it still leaves him feeling off.

“See.” She’s back in front of the camera again, oblivious to the scary things going on in the world as she grins with pride. “All this page and all this page is you,” Genie points at the double A5 spread. “I can read it to you if you want.”

“Yeah, mint. Read it,” he encourages, shuffling recklessly as his sister flips the book around and gets ready to read.

The image on his screen is pixelated and jumpy but he never bothers telling her - it’s the best their connection’s been in ages anyway. Her voice is clear enough and he can make out the ponytail Jen’s forced into his sister’s ridiculous barnet and the red school cardigan that Curls knows she wouldn’t be allowed to have on still if it wasn’t a Friday night.

“My brother, Elliot Michael Clarke, was born in Brentwood, Essex on 26th February 1987 at… Ten past six in the morning,” she begins, a little stop-start but who’s judging? Curly was still reading Biff and Chip until year five. “We have the same dad but, unlike me, his mum is named Kimberly as they met before I was born.”

Curls chuckles, “very eloquent, Gee.”

“Obviously. I’m getting more than seventy marks in all my English tests.”

“You’re joking,” he muses.

“No, but shh, I’m not done.” She puts a finger over her lips and he does the same before she goes on: “he’s got curly hair like me and my dad which is why his friend call him Curly. He moved to America when I was six years old but we talk on the phone about three times a week—”

“Only three times?” He frowns. “Surely-”

“Eugenia Clarke,” he hears his dad put on his best strict voice in the background. “Finish your food. Go on, I’ll talk to El ‘til you’re done.”

His sister whinges as she closes her book and looks up to her left, presumably at the man. “I’m nearly done.”

He’s not having any of it though, and soon his sister is ushered out of the way and is replaced by his dad instead, sat at the computer desk in her place in his work top and green fleece. Genie’s shouting something but, as she walks further from the computer, it becomes more and more unclear and all Curly gets is, “haven’t...” and, “...in ages.”

“Alright, El?” His dad brings a mug to his mouth and takes a long swig as he gets comfortable. “Not out tonight?”

Curly chuckles although he feels guilty: Skype night used to be every Friday before he started going out over the weekends. It’s been a good few months since the last one fell on-schedule. “Not tonight, no. I’m shattered.”

His dad hums into his mug, taking another sip before he sets it down. “We’re going to Cornwall in September if you fancy it, mate. We’ll go for a fortnight, make it worth the trek for you.”

He groans, ruffling a hand through his own hair, frustrated as he says, “you know I’d love to dad, but I’m skint. Maybe next time,” with a disappointed huff.

His dad sighs too but says, “if you change your mind, we’ll pay for the stay if you can do the flight - let me know.” Curly nods but doesn’t reply - already fed up with the idea of his family going on another annual holiday and him missing out again. But then his dad says, “listen, Jen fancies visiting you soon. We’re thinking early next year. Just don’t tell your sister yet; don’t want her getting excited just yet.”

Curly spends the rest of the night beaming.

***

He startles from a dream the next morning and his bed is wet right up to his pillow. His head is pounding and his eyes ache so much he can barely keep them open for long enough to check the time.

6:47am.

The dream becomes hazier and hazier the longer he sits awake, but he grasps onto what he can before it goes away.

He remembers a world too full -- a system he minored in. He remembers a page full of words that jumbled up and meant nothing, remembers saying “please, just give me another chance,” as they dragged him out of a room and down a dark corridor that got hotter and hotter the closer they got to the pit.

He remembers knowing what the pit was, but not knowing why, and he remembers passing a huge window, stumbling past his family and his friends who stood waving him off at the other side, green stamps on their wrists where he had red.

He remembers the shove, burning and falling, and then waking up.

Once he’s caught his breath and sat upright, he touches beneath his nose, but it’s not bleeding - not yet, at least. He feels that pressure behind his eyes already though, so he forces himself out of bed, bare feet thumping against the trodden carpet as he sulks out of his dark room with a finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose.

The light’s on in the lounge (still or already - he’s not sure which) and it hits him so hard he wobbles, squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t even notice Jules sat in the armchair until he says, “you’re up early.”

He hums and reaches out blindly to flick off the light, ignoring Jules’ irritated, “hey,” as he stumbles over to the couch and curls up on his side against the cushions. It’s lighter in here than his room anyway, curtains open and letting the light in from the street outside. What did he leave his room for again?

“Painkillers,” he grumbles. “‘Ave y’got any? Strong’uns.”

He hears Jules grumble a little before he shuffles around, Curly’s eyes shut again as his mate digs about somewhere, clicking his tongue as he searches.

“I’ve got... OxyContin,” Jules offers, and Curls doesn’t really care what that is as he nods and holds a hand out, eyes still shut as his mate adds, “take… Two, I guess,” and places them in his palm.

Curly pops them both into his mouth and swallows them dry, nose screwed up like it’ll help get them down. “Head’s banging,” he now explains, as if it wasn’t obvious by now, and opens his eyes just a bit to watch as Jules packs everything away again and slips in beneath the chair.

Jules doesn’t answer as he gets comfortable again, just goes back to whatever it was he was going before, which seems to be… Sitting and watching the opposite side of the room.

A familiar song pulls Curly back out of the silence, and he braves a glance at the TV where colourful lights assault his eyes and watches the Red Dwarf intro play on-screen.

“You’re finally watching it,” he says.

“Not really. Got high to it with Oz, but couldn’t keep up.”

“Oh.”

Back to silence.

He closes his eyes again and breaths deeply, cold air soothing the back (but burning the front) of his brain. Curly sees images flicker behind his eyelids like he usually would when he’d clamber into bed at around this time, still drunk and high and half-hallucinating that the night is happening all over again.

Except now he sees his family waving again, not smiling and not crying as he gets dragged off. Then he sees that man who says, “this test will determine... (something something) ...a place after the cleansing,” and then, “I’m sorry to inform you that—“ and then a stamp on his wrist.

“Jules,” he croaks, and there’s still silence but, when he opens his eyes, his roommate is looking over at him, waiting. “Do you ever feel… Small?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Curly hums. “Sometimes the world just feels a bit shit, doesn’t it?” Another shrug from Jules. “Sometimes I wish I could fix it, but I think a lot of people would see people like us as the problem.”

“Maybe we are,” he offers, then coughs into his fist. “Why do you care? We all die in the end.” Typical, nihilistic Julian.

“That’s the worst bit.” Curls sniffs, watching his eyelids again - all black this time. “... We die and people say ‘well, what did he expect?’”

Jules laughs then, short and mean, but Curly knows him and he knows he doesn’t mean for it to be cruel. It’s a ‘don’t be daft’ laugh.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m summet special. Do you?” Another laugh. “And then sometimes I feel so… Wasted.”

“You usually are.”

He groans. “Not like that, just—“

“I’m kidding.”

His breath catches in his throat and he shivers, arms winding around himself and hands clinging to his elbows.

“Don’t fucking cry, Curly.”

“I aren’t,” he sniffles, frowning instead.

“The fuck is wrong with you? You been hanging out with that—“

“Jules,” Curly stops him because if Jules doesn’t say it, he can pretend he was never going to. Then he doesn’t have to be mad. They’ve not mentioned Jordan since that night. “Fuck sake, my head.”

It’s only been a few minutes, but Jules says, “maybe they’re expired. I’ll get you another.”

“Can I pay you next week? I’ve got—

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Curly is about to argue (he’s sick of feeling like he owes anyone anything) but then Jules says, “fuck Curly, you’re bleeding on the couch,” and he’s distracted by the effort it takes to drag himself from the couch to the kitchen, hand over his face to protect the carpet.

Protecting What's Important

Obiyuki Week, Day Seven: Protect

Title: Protecting What's Important

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing in this fan-fiction except my horrible grammar and writing skills. All of the characters or cities mentioned in this fan-fiction belong to Akiduki Sorata unless said otherwise. Any references to real people or places are purely coincidental.

Synopsis: When Shirayuki gets kidnapped by the Sea's Talons, Zen and everyone else come to Tanbarun to execute a rescue plan to rescue Shirayuki. How does Obi feel throughout this whole ordeal?

SPOILER ALERT: This prompt was inspired by the Tanbarun arc (chapters 22 – 26), so if you haven't caught up that far, please don't read this. It will spoil a lot of the plot for you.

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"Are you ready to go, Mistress?" Obi asked as he held out his arm for her to take. Shirayuki gripped her dress tightly, anxiety clearly showing in her emerald eyes. "Y-Yes, but I'm afraid I'll do something wrong... If I do anything uncouth, it would reflect badly on Prince Zen and his country..." It's just like her to doubt herself like that, even when she's so talented. He waved her off. "Don't worry so much. If you just act like yourself, you'll be just fine." She gave him a gentle smile and was about to say something when they were interrupted by an urgent knock on the door. "Excuse me? Mistress Shirayuki and Sir Obi? We've received a letter addressed to you both." They shared a skeptical glance before the ex-assassin went to open the door. "Who was the message from?" The messenger gave him an apologetic look as he held out the letter. "My apologies, but we didn't open the letter and therefore have no idea who sent it. All we know is that we were told to deliver it to you post haste on the Royalty of Clarines' orders." So that narrows it down to three people; Queen Haruto, Prince Izana, or Master, He thought as he took the envelope from the messenger. "Thank you for delivering this to me." "What does the letter say?" Shirayuki asked once he had shut the door and made his way towards her. He skimmed it over before answering, ""You can't go to the ball. It's not safe. Mihaya has discovered new information on the kidnappers. They know you're in Tanbarun."" Suddenly, a deep, cold chill enveloped them. They both turned towards the direction of the source and found a young boy standing on the railing. The balcony doors were forced open somehow and the drapes were flowing freely with the will of the wind. He had an indifferent expression on his face at first, but then he smiled. "Shirayuki! Found you!" "You're the pretty boy!" They both said simultaneously. He continued to smile at them. "Although I am pretty, don't you think it's strange to say that in sync on our first meeting?" Just then someone else jumped from the balcony, landing skillfully on the floor. Obi quickly positioned himself in front of his mistress and held a protective hand in front of her. "Run away now, Miss!" The man who had jumped down charged at him, quickly aiming blow after blow. He looked like he was a young man of about twenty and had a scar running across the left side of his face. Judging by the way he so easily dodged Obi's oncoming attacks, he was also a very skillful assassin who had previous experience in kidnapping someone. "Someone hel—" His mistress' plea was cut short and he glanced quickly to see why. The pretty boy had somehow managed to pass him and had now succeeded in tying her up. Right now, he was covering her mouth with his hand to prevent any words from becoming audible. Obi bit his lip as he returned his senses back to the battle at hand. I'll never be able to save her if I don't stop this guy first! Just as he was about to land a blow that would make the scarred man unconscious, the door was open and momentarily took his attention away from the fight. "Obi, Shirayuki, are you going to—"  The voice belonged to Princess Rona, and as she took in the scene before her, she instantly fell silent.   That moment was all the assassin needed to knock him out. While Obi was distracted, he aimed an attack on his neck so quickly he couldn't stop it. He found himself slowly fading from consciousness. "Sorry," The assassin muttered under his breath as he looked him in the eye. Obi could find no hint of malice in his eyes, but he couldn't find a hint of regret either. "Yeah... I... bet..." The Prince's Attendant barely managed to mutter before hitting the floor and falling unconscious.

"OBI! OBI!!" He quickly came back to reality as Shirayuki's frantic voice yelling his name ringing in his ears. "You're awake," A lady wearing the uniform of a castle worker said with relief. "You were knocked out before. Are you alright?" He nodded. "I feel alright. I don't feel like I've broken anything, so I'll be fine." "I'm sorry, Sir Obi," A small, familiar voice apologised. He turned towards the source and found himself face-to-face with Princess Rona. Her brother, Prince Eugenia, was right beside her. The black-haired visitor gave her a tight-lipped smile. "It's not your fault. I'm the one who got distracted right in the middle of a battle and lost the upper hand." "Still..." The Princess gripped the hem of her dress tightly. "If we hadn't intruded, Shirayuki wouldn't have been taken..." Obi quickly turned towards the nurse. "Where is Shirayuki?" The nurse gave him a solemn look. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that after you were knocked unconscious, Shirayuki was knocked out with a sleeping drug. The kidnappers made off with her." He mentally slapped himself for letting this happen. Shirayuki was counting on me to protect her, and I just let her down... What kind of knight am I...?! After seeing the worry in his eyes, she tried to reassure him. "Please don't worry. As we speak, all the guards Tanbarun has to offer are already up and searching for the kidnappers." He mustered up all the courage he could and plastered a smile on his face. "Good to hear, but do you mind letting me be? I've had a rough day and need some sleep to rest." The nurse nodded and directed the two youngest royals in Tanbarun towards the door. "If you need anything, just holler and I'll be there with time to spare." After the nurse had closed the door, he looked around to gather his surroundings. On the bedside table, someone had placed the letter addressed to him and Shirayuki. Right next to it was a new package. Although he knew he'd feel bad about it later, he opened the package and found a blue ornament that looked like it was made out of walnut stone. Kihal must've made this for Shirayuki.... He clutched it tightly in his hands, visibly trembling. I let Shirayuki get kidnapped... Not only did I let her down, I let everyone who cares about her down too...! He tucked it into his pocket and quickly wrote a note to explain where he'd gone. Once that was done, he opened the window and was gone in pursuit of the kidnappers.

Being an ex-assassin, I know they wouldn't want to get caught, so they probably avoided going on the main roads and stuck to forest paths instead... The amble knight jumped from tree to tree, trying to think like the kidnappers would. They should be around... "Kazuki!" He heard the scarred kidnapper call out. I was right on! They're here! In a few swift moves, he swooped down and landed a fatal blow on his stomach. "Kyah!!" The silver-haired man let out, completely blindsided by his attack. Obi quickly took advantage of this and pushed him up against a tree, lifting him off the ground. "Where. is. Shirayuki?" He demanded in a scary, deep voice. The scarred man withered against his grip, trying so hard to get free of it, but eventually went limp when he realised it wouldn't do any good. "I don't know. My partner was with her when I last saw him, but then I went to go get water from a nearby stream. I came back and they were gone." The black-haired man glowered down at him, daring him to lie. "Are you telling the truth?" The unfortunate mercenary gulped before answering, "Y-Yes! I'm not sure where he went or why--" The man froze as he looked more closely at the bark of the tree he was pressed against. He began withering again. "You have to let me go! It's an emergency!" Obi tightened his grip on him more. "What's with the sudden change in attitude?"  The silver-haired assassin kept trying to get free of his grip. "You don't understand! You have to let me go, otherwise, Kazuki and your friend will be sold somewhere far away!" The Prince's Knight loosened his grip on him, but quickly got out one of his kunai and stuck it in the bark beside the kidnapper's head. "I'm not letting you go. You will take me with you to find out where they were taken, alright?" The kidnapper was too stunned to do anything but nod, and Obi let him go.  "So, what did you mean when you said they could get sold somewhere far away?" The kidnapper dusted off himself before answering, "The mark on the tree was one that the Sea's Talons always leave to show they were there. In other words, they took Kazuki and Shirayuki and wanted us to know that." The black-haired traveler sighed before giving him a glare. "So in other words, Shirayuki was kidnapped twice?" The scarred man nodded, his eyes widening. "It-it'd be a good idea to join forces and help find them together, don't cha think?" He rolled his eyes. "Guess I have no choice. How do you plan on pursuing the kidnappers?" "By using the two horses Kazuki and I tucked away. You can use Kazuki's and trail behind me." "I'll be trailing very close to you. If you so much as move an inch without reason..." Obi took out one of his kunai and whisked it through the air, over the kidnapper's head. "...I won't miss next time." Shirayuki is too important to me—I mean, Master and everyone else—to let get kidnapped! He gulped, too terrified to do anything but nod in acceptance. The ex-assassin give him a tight-lipped smile. "Glad we have now properly communicated. Now, let's go rescue Shirayuki and Kazuki!" The kidnapper—who now introduced himself as Itoya—and he both mounted their newly acquired horses and set off in pursuit of the Sea's Talons. Shirayuki, wait just a little bit longer... I swear I'll find you and protect you this time!

Why I hate... #1

“The headcanon that James changed for Lily" 

 There is no evidence whatsoever that James Potter changed for Lily Evans. It’s something that fans have decided is ideal to want. 

The main quote–if not the only–referencing James changing is from Order and the Phoenix, Career Advice (The chapter after Harry finds out Lily ‘hated’ James). 

keys:

[my thoughts]

{summary}

quotes/quotes

The conversation goes as follows:

When he had finished, neither Sirius nor Lupin spoke for a moment. Then Lupin said quietly, “I wouldn’t like you to judge your father on what you saw there, Harry. He was only fifteen–” [He was actually sixteen at that point since his birthday is in March, but whatever.]

“I’m fifteen!” said Harry heatedly.

“Look, Harry,” said Sirius placatingly, “James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other, it was just one of those things, you can understand that, can’t you? [We know this is true from the flashback of them meeting in Deathly Hallows.] I think James was everything Snape wanted to be–he was popular, he was good at Quidditch, good at pretty much everything. [Snape does complain to Lily about how great everyone thinks James is in DH.] And Snape was just this little oddball who was up to his eyes in the Dark Arts and James–whatever else he may have appeared to you, Harry–always hated the Dark Arts.” 

{Harry says James attacked Snape for no good reason. Lupin explains how they were the height of cool and sometimes got a bit carried away. Sirius and Lupin reminisce, and Harry says he thought James was a bit of an idiot. Sirius replies they were all idiots, “Well–not Moony so much.” Remus says how he never told them to lay off, and Sirius says he made them feel guilty sometimes.} 

“And,” said Harry doggedly, determined to say everything that was on his mind now he was here, “he kept looking over at the girls by the lake, hoping they were watching him!”

“Oh, well, he always made a fool of himself whenever Lily was around,” said Sirius, shrugging. “He couldn’t stop himself showing off whenever he got near her.” 

“How come she married him?” Harry asked miserably. “She hated him!” 

“Nah, she didn’t,” said Sirius.

“She started going out with him in seventh year,” said Lupin.

“Once James had deflated his head a bit,” said Sirius. [Notice he says “a bit,” and not had a change of personality like in a numerous amount of fanfics.]

“And stopped hexing people just for the fun of it,” said Lupin.

{Then they start talking about James and Snape and them hexing each other and whether Lily was okay with it.} 

The point is James had more important things to worry about than if a girl he fancied didn’t like him. Also, nowhere in that passage does anyone refer to him as changing, I mean he stopped doing things and deflated his head a bit but his essence was still the same (hated the Dark Arts, didn’t care about blood status, a good friend), he just grew up. 

Such things being:

Sirius said he (as in Sirius not James) ran away when he “was about sixteen.” When Harry asked where he went he told him he went to James’ place and that James’ parents “sort of adopted [him] as a second son.” Sirius' birthday, according to Rowling, is November third meaning he turned sixteen two months into fifth year, so ran away before sixth year started seeing as he has no chance to runaway after he returning to Hogwarts for sixth year but before he turns seventeen. He either ran away during Christmas or Easter break during fifth year or the summer before sixth year. But seeing he could have stayed at Hogwarts or just stayed at James’ (Harry never needed his guardians’ permissions to stay at Ron’s house during breaks), it’s more likely he ran away during the summer. And James grew up after fifth year but prior to dating Lily in seventh year. And Sirius running away could be part of the reason.

Also, Voldemort was on the rise (knowingly and not) while they were students at Hogwarts:

By the time that Remus was four years old, the amount of Dark magical activity across the country was increasing steadily. While few yet knew what lay behind the mounting attacks and sightings, Lord Voldemort’s first ascent to power was in progress and Death Eaters were recruiting all kinds of Dark creatures to join them in their quest to overthrow the Ministry of Magic. 

Eugenia Jenkins (1968-1975) Jenkins dealt competently with pure-blood riots during Squib Rights marches in the late sixties, but was soon confronted with the first rise of Lord Voldemort. Jenkins was soon ousted from office as inadequate to the challenge.

So Voldemort was known to be on the rise at latest late in their fourth year or early in their fifth year (between January 1975–fourth year–to December 1975–their fifth year). 

If the roles were reverse:

If Lily and James switched roles no one would say Lily changed for James, Meaning if Lily was the bully who hated the Dark Arts and taunted James’ non-popular Dark Arts obsessed friend who hated Lily and followed her and her friends around to get them in trouble and fancied James, and James was the mature one who stood by that friend no matter what his other friends said until that friend called him a slur because Lily was humiliating them and made James realize (after years of denial) what that friend was becoming. If James rejected her because he didn’t like how they hexed people and acted like they owned the place. If James was the one who ‘hated’ Lily, then Lily changed and stopped hexing people (except for the ex-friend who also hexed her) no one would say Lily changed for James.

No there would be an uproar about how a woman doesn���t have to/shouldn’t change for a guy to like her. And people would say Lily didn’t change for James but grew up for the war and her friend who ran away from a family who believed in pureblood mania. Which is what likely happened in James’ case.

Why it Matters:

It matters because (as far as canon goes) James did not change for Lily. By saying James changed for Lily, you’re implying that he changed specifically for someone to like him. You’re diminishing his character; James fancied Lily (he wasn’t in love with her as far as we know, prior to dating her), and at the age of fifteen/sixteen he was an idiot and a bully. But you know what, a lot of teenagers are (not that that makes it okay), I was a victim of bullying for several years by various people, and I witnessed some of those people grow up and become nicer people than when the younger version of me knew them. You know why? Because people grow up. Are you the same person at the age of seventeen that you were at fifteen, at eleven? Likely not, because we go through experiences that change us and make us grow up. There was a war and people dying, they wouldn’t have stayed the same people. 

Harry at eleven befriends people others wouldn’t (Hermione “know-it-all” Granger, and Ron “Poor Pureblood” Weasley) and makes a rival.

James at eleven befriends people others wouldn’t (Remus “werewolf-but-just-says-his-mum-is-sick” Lupin, Sirius “I-come-from-a-pureblood-family-that-believes-in-pureblood-mania-and-are-always-in-Slytherin” Black–also keep in mind that James hated Slytherin yet continued chatting well with Sirius despite knowing his whole family was from Slytherin, and Peter “I-look-like-a-nobody-and-people-overlook-me” Pettigrew) and makes a rival.

Harry at twelve gets annoyed with a fanboy of his following him. Saves Ginny Weasley.

James at twelve finds out his friend is a werewolf and continues to be his friend and tries to find a way to help him (along with Peter and Sirius).

Harry at thirteen Harry uses his invisibility cloak to throw mud at Malfoy for taunting Ron about being poor and for Hagrid. Spends most of it (along with Ron) mad at Hermione. Time travels to save Sirius and Buckbeak. 

James at thirteen, tries to become an animagus (along with Peter and Sirius).

Harry at fourteen gets jealous and avoids using Cedric’s advice as long as possible because they fancied the same girl–which would have come back to bite Harry in the arse if it hadn’t been for Dobby. Saves Fleur’s little sister along with Ron (and waited until Cedric and Krum had already rescued Cho and Hermione respectively before taking them up) even though it wasn’t his responsibility. 

James at fourteen, tries to become an animagus (along with Peter and Sirius).

Harry at fifteen attempts to use “Crucio” after his godfather dies and is constantly going through teen angst. Tries to save his godfather and stands up to authority no matter what it cost him.

James at fifteen saves a guy that he hates (Snape) and had been following him and his friends around in hopes of getting them expelled from a werewolf (after his other friend told him where to go, but it was partly Snape’s fault for going even when he already suspected Remus of being a werewolf). Became an animagus (along with Sirius and Peter) to help Remus. May have used an illegal hex (along with Sirius) on Bertram Aubrey–I say “may” in terms of James’ age, since we don’t know how old he was when it happened. Fancies Lily Evans. May have made the Marauder’s Map along with Moony, Wormtail, and Padfoot–again, I say “may” in terms of his age.

Harry at sixteen, has to handle his godfather’s death. Used sectumsempra on Draco not knowing what the spell did only that it was “for enemies.” Saves his mate's life. Fancies and later starts dating Ginny Weasley, and then breaks up with her for a noble reason. 

James at sixteen, was a bully (I’m talking about the SWM scene, since it happens when he’s in fifth year, but he’d be sixteen at that point in time). Takes in his best friend who ran away from home. Began to deflate his head. 

Harry at seventeen, used Crucio and Imperio. Lost more of his friends. Sacrificed himself for the wizarding world.

James at seventeen, became Head Boy. Began dating Lily Evans. Had his head deflated. Still hexed Severus Snape (who hexed him as well).

Also note that I wasn’t going to explain everything good and bad James and Harry did at their different ages because respectively we don’t know everything about one of them in canon and it would be too long if I wrote everything good and bad the other did.

At any age we do things we regret and things we don’t. Do you think James or Lily would have used Dark Spells? No. Yet Harry does. Younger Harry wouldn’t have even considered it, but older Harry didn’t feel like he had a choice if he was going to save the world (he uses Crucio on one of the Carrow siblings after they spat in McGonagall’s face and Imperio in Gringotts on one of the goblins when they were close to losing their covers–as Hermione was disguised as Bellatrix). 

Back to James, by saying he changes for Lily you diminish the character he became. Sure it’s a romantic thought (although, I’ve always found it annoying in books), but you’re giving Lily too much credit and power over James. And it sends the wrong message of ”change for someone and they’ll fall in love with you” rather than “be yourself, whoever doesn’t like you is obviously not the right person for you.” You may ask: but he changed (grew up), so did Lily not really love him (or a variant)? Yes and no, yes he changed (grew up), but not for her. I’m not saying he didn’t take Lily’s comment to heart, but changing for someone and changing because you realize you don’t want to be a certain kind of person is different. Lily didn’t like the former James because of his former ill-behaved mannerisms, but he grew up and realized he likely didn’t want to be this person and again there was a war. He stopped being arrogant all the time (but he was likely still a bit arrogant, he’s James Potter) and acted more mature but kept a playful and loving manner–even if he still hexed Severus Snape who hexed him as well. 

James Potter didn’t change for Lily Evans to love him. 

Citations:

Rowling, JK. "Remus Lupin.” Pottermore. N.p., n.d. Web. 9 June 2017. <https://www.pottermore.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/remus-lupin>.

Rowling, JK. “Ministers for Magic.” Pottermore. N.p., n.d. Web. 9 June 2017. <https://www.pottermore.com/writing-by-jk-rowling/ministers-for-magic>.

Rowling, JK. “The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. New York: Scholastic, 2013. 111 . Print.

Rowling, JK. “Career Advice.” Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. New York: Scholastic, 2013. 670-71. Print.

the somewhat comprehensive history of niya reynaud silverbow

          I keep meaning to actually write out Niya’s book-by-book bio, but I haven’t gotten around to it until now. Canon characters are a part of this, but of course, if we write you’re totally not obligated to follow these plots, this is just Niya’s default & might come up in backstory w/ other muses!

pre-tmi --

          Niya Reynaud grew up in the Shadow World as a mundane with the Sight. There was always speculation around who her father was, but if her mother knew, she wasn’t telling. As long as Niya could remember, she’d lived with her mother, Talia, in a tiny apartment above Madame Bones’ House of Voodoo. As soon as she was old enough to walk she was helping out in the shop with customers of both the mundane and Downworlder varieties. High Warlock of New Orleans, Madame Bones (or “Auntie” as those closest prefer to call her), was an ancient warlock so old her name has been lost to history, and some say even herself. The night of a full moon, Talia was making a last minute delivery in the French Quarter, when she was attacked by a werewolf. Madame Bones brought her home and helped her through her first change. After that, nothing in Niya’s life would ever be the same. Though she’d skimmed the surface of the Shadow World her whole life, having a werewolf parent meant she was thrown headfirst into the chaos. Over five years, she found herself befriending members of the New Orleans pack and the New Orleans vampire clan, warlocks young and old, and occasionally she bumped into Shadowhunters from the local Institute, but they tended to keep to themselves.          Several years later, a werewolf, baring a suspicious similarity to the wolf who’d turned Talia, appears in NYC, attacking and killing several mundanes. The Lightwoods track him across the country to New Orleans, where the werewolf is determined to finish what he started: Opening the Gates of Guinee, and releasing the forces of hell on the mundane world. With the help of the Lightwoods, Niya manages to summon a Loa, protector of Guinee, Maman Brigitte, and convince her to lock the gates. Brigitte agrees, but leaves Niya with a cryptic riddle regarding her own heritage, and a warning: “The gates will open, sooner than you may think. They were always meant to. The boy who wields their power will be a greater threat to this world than anything you’ve ever known. You say you want to protect this world? When the time comes, and you will know, you must answer the call.”

tmi --

           In the year leading up to the Mortal War, Niya keeps in touch with her new Shadowhunter friends. Her family, particularly Auntie Bones, is against the idea of her fraternizing with nephilim. But luckily, a certain warlock in Brooklyn loves his exotic purchases, and Niya is constantly being portaled to the city in order to deliver them. No one could fault her if she stayed a bit longer than necessary. Niya becomes close with the Lightwoods, Mayrse even goes so far as to say that she’d be a good candidate for Ascension, supposing the Mortal Cup ever resurfaced. Though only a mundane, Niya didn’t have to work hard to fit in, she knew way more than average about the Downworld thanks to Madame Bones’ extensive library on the subject, and she wasn’t half bad in a fight. But, more than that, she was good at parties and ever better at charming overbearing parents. Anything to bring a little fun into the stuffy Shadowhunter world.           That all changed when the Mortal War began and Madame Bones banned Niya from leaving New Orleans. Though far removed from the action, the city still felt the repercussions. Tensions were high as locals worried that they would be next. They were the unofficial capital of the Downworld, what if the Circle’s poison spread? The head of the New Orleans Institute, Mariah Rosewain, did her best to dispel these notions. Her family had always been in support of more integration between the Shadowhunters and the Downworld, but her out spoken opinion only drew more attention to the city, and when Sebastian Morganstern began his own crusade, the New Orleans Institute was among the first to be attacked. Niya spent most of this time relegated to working the back room of the voodoo shop, and for a long time she would resent that her family hadn’t let her do more to help. When the Dark War ended, and the Clave sent word that they were looking for new recruits, Niya realized this was what Maman Brigitte had prepared her for, and she decided to join the new class at the Academy.

tfsa --

          The Academy was both everything and nothing like Niya expected. The Shadowhunter-born students were just like every other nephilim she’d met: arrogant, annoying, and occasionally ignorant. But what she hadn’t planned for, was how much she actually liked being there. For once she could fight without someone constantly standing over her shoulder, worrying about her, and she was damn good at it. The first year went by in a blur of bland meals and grueling training sessions. But before the semester came to a close, Talia Reynaud sent a cryptic postcard to the New York Institute baring only a photo of New Orleans’ St. Louis Cathedral and the message, “It’s time she knows the truth.” So Niya was greeted with a Lightwood and a warlock in her dorm room, pulling her through a portal to the city, with hardly a word of explanation. The local Shadowhunters kept a cache of weapons in the loft of the cathedral, but they weren’t the only things hiding there. Niya discovered a letter, that when opened blasted her into a memory of the past.           Lady Mirah of the Seelie Court was known for throwing the most extravagant Mardi Gras balls in New Orleans, and Talia Reynaud had gone to her fair share when she was younger. It was at one of these parties she met a handsome stranger, who wore a masquerade mask that covered one of his eyes. It was love at first sight. Only, Talia had a firm rule against falling in love with Shadowhunters, and the faint scars covering his body proved that he was one. Though he tried to explain, he hadn’t been a Shadowhunter in a very long time, Talia refused to listen. She was so upset she didn’t even noticed his mis-matched eyes, one bright blue and one black. It was for the best, Thomas knew he would have to return to the Wild Hunt in the morning. Months later, he returned to New Orleans, hoping to find Talia. And he did, but he also found a baby girl. Knowing it was too dangerous for him to stay, Thomas left New Orleans forever, but he left behind a letter and his favorite adamas carved bow.            When Niya was finally released from the memory and the faerie magic that put her there, she found the signature at the bottom of the letter, “Your father, Thomas Lightwood.” According to the family tree, he was a descendant of Eugenia, and part of a branch that had been lost to history. It wasn’t hard to see why, Shadowhunters had never been very accommodating to their own who chose to intermingle with Downworlders. So Niya returned to the Academy and floated through the rest of the semester, unsure what to do with this information. It made sense now, her aptitude for weapons and her innate ability to fight. But she couldn’t tell anyone, not with the Cold Peace. She’d heard rumors about how that played out for the Blackthorns. So she pretended she was a mundane, that she was normal. Until summer break came, and a group of vampires decided to stage a coup against Carmen’s reign. Niya found herself tangled in the middle, and it didn’t end well for her. Her only options were to use an amisso rune (with the stele she’d stolen from Jon Cartwright), or be turned. She went for the former, resigning herself to a brutal Louisiana summer wearing long sleeves.           Niya was determined to keep her secret. Though of course her mother and Auntie Bones already knew, so did Carmen and Michelle who’d been there when she used her rune, not to mention the Lightwoods of course, and Magnus. The only people Niya found she was any good at lying to, were her friends at the Academy. Then the day came when Helen Blackthorn was put on display, and Niya realized just what the stakes were for her. If the Clave was willing to do this to someone who’d been raised one of their own, what would they do to a half-breed who’d been raised by Downworlders? So she told her closest friends at the Academy, some of which didn’t take the lies very well. A few days later, on a routine mission, Simon fell through a portal into Faerie, and without thinking twice, Niya dived in after him. She was hit with a feeling she hadn’t felt since her father’s magic had trapped her in his memory. The power that could only be felt by being close to someone who shared your blood. A certain Unseelie Prince, younger brother to Thomas’ father. And someone who wasn’t necessarily thrilled to discover he had another Shadowhunter relative. But Kieran helped her find her way back to the mundane world, where she did her best to repair things with the friends she’d alienated with months of lies. Including George, who she’d always hoped would be her parabatai once they Ascended, but of course, for one of them, that day would never come.           Niya drank from the Mortal Cup, playing the part of a mundane Ascending, and when asked if she would choose a new name, she briefly considered her father’s, but that would raise too many questions. So instead she looked to the adamas bow that she’d taken as her own weapon, and decided, “Silverbow.” 

tda --

          After graduation, Niya was assigned to the San Fransisco Institute, where she was given a roommate: the insufferable Annalissa Youngblood, youngest child of the Youngblood family that ran the institute. To say Niya was unamused with being handed a babysitter at least six years her junior would be an understatement. But she suffered through it, and she did her part, even though she felt like she was missing something. She’d forgotten how to fight without someone by her side. Even though she’d never really had a parabatai, she still felt the loss as if she had. She distanced herself from the Youngbloods, venturing further out, taking missions in partner with the Seattle Institute and occasionally the Los Angles Institute. It was on a mission to the latter, she crossed paths with Kieran again. There would be no cheerful family reunion here, instead just another warning: “The Unseelie King knows you exist, and he won’t let half-breeds taint his bloodline.” The King was the reason Thomas had been taken from his Shadowhunter family and given to the Hunt, and Niya was not eager to find out what he did with his female descendants. So she stuck with the Blackthorns, they needed her help more than the Youngbloods did anyway.           That path eventually led her to the Scholomance, where she intended to craft a plot to kill the King before he could kill her. But there, training with Centurions and Kieran, she gained back the confidence she’d once had in her own abilities, and realized that she wanted more than just survival, Niya Silverbow wanted to be a Centurion. Even if it meant telling the Clave she had faerie blood, even if it meant that she might lose everything, she had to try. Talia Reynaud didn’t raise a quitter.

Easy Hacks to Turn Home Improvement Castoffs Into Awesome New Projects

Jovy86/iStock

Whether you are doing a complete renovation or have taken on a small home improvement project, chances are you might have a few items left over once the work is complete. Rather than chucking those castoffs, leftovers, and scraps, what if you could repurpose them into something really cool?

We have you covered! Here are a few clever ideas to get you started on upcycling your home improvement extras so you can enjoy the ripple effect of one improvement begetting another.

For extra crown molding

If you have extra crown molding lying around after you’ve fully decked out your house, take a tip from Eugenia Lung of Geniabeme and repurpose them as the ultimate shoe rack. Saw off the pieces of molding to fit on the inside of your closet door or other wall, paint them an eye-catching color, then glue them in place (see pic below). Any shoe with a heel will hang perfectly on the molding (and just think of how much near your once-shoe-strewed floor will look now).

A whole new way to use crown moulding.

geniabeme.com

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For extra PVC pipe

If you’ve recently completed a plumbing project and found yourself with extra PVC pipe, use it to make this inexpensive bed canopy.

Blogger Nancy Rector at Our Peaceful Planet came up with this clever alternative use for piping when she wanted to make over her bedroom on the cheap. The result: a cheap yet elegant oasis.

Sleep like royalty draped in luxury and a little piping.

ourpeacefulplanet.com

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For old sheets of plywood

If your doors are flat and lacking in personality, maybe you’ve considered switching to a paneled model. Well, guess what? You can actually create a paneled door out of old sheets of plywood.

Jenna Diermann of Jenna Sue Designs shared this project on Remodelaholic and noted that it cost her less than $15 and an afternoon’s worth of work to give this door a significant face-lift.

Make your doors like rich and sophisticated for just $12.

remodelaholic.com

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For old sawhorses

If you’re massively into DIY projects, chances are you have a couple of sawhorses standing around taking up space. Why not put them to good use by transforming them into a funky and functional $50 desk?

Whitney Gainer of Shanty2Chic did just that. After finding the perfect desk for $600, she just knew she could make one for a fraction of the price. Stain the wood to match your decor, and you’ve got one workhorse of a workspace.

From sawhorse to workhorse in a few easy steps!

shanty-2-chic

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For old pallets and chairs

Mary Moore of Raising Dick & Jane had a few extra pallets in her garage, so she decided to repurpose them and create a country-chic bench.

If you have extra wood and chairs that could use a new lease on life, this is an easy project that leaves you with extra seating and less debris in your garage or basement.

As Moore says, “Just because something is old, it does not mean it is useless.”

Resurrect those old chairs with the help of wood from a leftover pallet.

raisingdickandjane.com

For countertop scraps

Want a classy cutting board that doesn’t cost a fortune? Amy Sarah of Cheap and Wise wanted a pastry board but didn’t want to pay a lot for it. Her solution? She visited a local shop that makes custom marble and granite countertops and was able to get a small piece of marble that was cut from a larger slab to create a sink hole.

Attach adhesive rubber feet to the bottom to protect your table.

cheapwise.blogspot.com

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For old pipes

Can’t decide if you prefer an industrial or rustic look? Thanks to these pipe shelves you no longer have to choose.

Pam Dana of the decor and lifestyle blog Over the Big Moon put old pieces of pipe to work as the brackets for rustic-looking shelving—and couldn’t be happier with the results. Get caps for the pipes to finish them off, and spray-paint them to complement your decor.

Old wood and pipes get a new lease on life as rustic shelving.

overthebigmoon.com

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Watch: Do You Need to Remodel Before You Sell?

The post Easy Hacks to Turn Home Improvement Castoffs Into Awesome New Projects appeared first on Real Estate News & Advice | realtor.com®.

Accepted - Rita Skeeter

problematiquefics

submitted:

OOC Information:

Name/Age/Timezone- Pan/22/PST

Activity Level- 7, I’ve got work and stuff but should easily be able to handle the activity requirements.

Ships/Anti-Ships- Rita/Chemistry

Did you read the rules? Yes

IC Information:

Character Name- Rita Skeeter

Age/Birthdate- May 12th, 1954 (age 24)

Faceclaim- Eliza Taylor, Lucy Fry, Lucy Boynton

Occupation- gossip correspondent for the Daily Prophet

Blood Status- half-blood

Traits- (+) clever, hardworking, ambitious / (-) amoral, manipulative, dishonest

Patronus- beetle

Boggart- herself without a face which represents her fear of obscurity

Key Points-

Rita descends from a long line of writers and journalists. Both of her parents were investigative reporters, her mother for the Daily Prophet and her father for an American magical paper. The two met on assignment, covering reports of magical human experimentation in some far flung country. Her grandmother on her mother’s side was a novelist; it’s still common to find shelves full of Eugenia Rhode’s books in magical bookstores across the UK.

She wasn’t one to go against tradition but, in a way, she did. Her parents fostered a love of writing, reading, and exploration in her from an early age. They’d take her on their less dangerous assignments, showing her the world and answering every question her young mind could come up with – or teaching her how to find the answers if they didn’t know. When she couldn’t go with them, they left her in the hands of her aforementioned grandmother. Eugenia would create stories with her, putting them to paper so Rita could enjoy them even back home. Rita never had a reason not to write but her motivations changed once she entered Hogwarts.

Rita found popularity among her Ravenclaw peers when she’d write stories for them. They were simple, adventurous tales – the type to entertain a gaggle of eleven and twelve year olds. Even then, she realized the more wild her stories were, the more interested her peers were. Some of her most salacious tales even attracted the attention of her older peers. But the stories eventually grew tired, too juvenile as she aged. One of her upperclassman recruited her to Hogwart’s unofficial student paper where Rita wrote stories more like her parents’. Yet the stories that gained her the most popularity at the point weren’t the ones that investigated whether Zonko’s was selling harmful toys or Madame Pudifoot’s was overcharging on tea – they were the ones that talked about affairs better teachers or mysterious newcomers. People loved gossip and it felt good to supply it.

The person who’d originally recruited her to the student paper had long since graduated by Rita’s seventh year; they had gotten a job at the Daily Prophet and reached out to her when their gossip columnist went missing with an offer. Rita, with recommendation and the legacy of her parents’ names, had a job straight out of Hogwarts at the most popular paper in all of Britain. She was following in her family’s footsteps and yet they weren’t necessarily proud. She wrote gossip – part slander, part none-of-her-business. She didn’t care what her parents thought though. Not when she arrived at her desk every morning to fan mail. Not when she had an audience ravenous for her stories. Who cares about credibility when you have fame?

Changes/Extra Info- n/a

Para Sample-

The Daily Prophet’s office loomed over her. It’s shadow stretched out along the cobblestone streets, it’s old architecture a marvel to behold. It looked like the office of one of the oldest and most respected papers in all of the wizarding UK. The only one, actually – or at least as far as Rita was concerned. The Daily Prophet was where she was always meant to be.

She brushed non-existent dirt off her skirt and squared her shoulders. Yes, this would be her new home. This was where she would spread her words and have them reach further than Hogwarts’ stone walls. But if she was a little nervous, if there were a few butterflies fluttering inside her stomach, who could blame her? She was straight out of school, untested outside of Hogwarts’ limited demographic. This was her first actual job; she was practically as green as a lime. She’d prove herself to them. She’d prove herself to the whole world.

Her heels clacked against stone as she approached the front doors. The iron handle was cold in her grasp but a refreshing breeze greeted her as she pulled the door open. The office buzzed, a cacophony of chatter and paper.

“May I help you, ma’am?”

Rita’s wide eyes were drawn towards a desk near the side. A nameplate sat on the desk and a smiling witch sat behind it.

“Oh, yes…” She approached the desk. “Could you direct me to the office of Barnabas Cuffe? He’s expecting me at nine.”

The witch nodded and recited the direction to editor’s office without missing a beat. Rita thanked her before setting off. She may have felt off balance but her steps were measured, the click-clack of her heels a rhythm. She quickly reached the end of the welcome witch’s direction, at a door embossed with Cuffe’s name. She knocked, holding her head high as she waited for it to open.

A middle-aged man with thinning hair opened the door. “Miss Skeeter?” he asked. She nodded. “Yes, yes – take a seat.” He ushered her to a leather chair then sat across from her, behind his desk. There was a grin on his face, a twinkle in his eyes.

“Welcome to the Daily Prophet.”

Five Interesting Non-Fiction Books about Russia

1. Dead Mountain: The Untold True Story of the Dyatlov Pass Incident

“In February 1959, a group of nine experienced hikers in the Russian Ural Mountains died mysteriously on an elevation known as Dead Mountain. Eerie aspects of the incident—unexplained violent injuries, signs that they cut open and fled the tent without proper clothing or shoes, a strange final photograph taken by one of the hikers, and elevated levels of radiation found on some of their clothes—have led to decades of speculation over what really happened. This gripping work of literary nonfiction delves into the mystery through unprecedented access to the hikers' own journals and photographs, rarely seen government records, dozens of interviews, and the author's retracing of the hikers' fateful journey in the Russian winter. A fascinating portrait of the young hikers in the Soviet era, and a skillful interweaving of the hikers narrative, the investigators' efforts, and the author's investigations, here for the first time is the real story of what happened that night on Dead Mountain” (goodreads.com)

2. The Gates of November

“Author of the award-winning novels The Chosen and My Name is Asher Lev, Chaim Potok unravels the history of the Jewish People in Russia. The focus of his story is the Sepak Family, the father a fervent Bolshevik while the son and his wife became the center of the movement to help Jews emigrate to Israel. A fascinating read.” (landcruisingadventure.com)

3. Lenin’s Tomb: The Last Days of the Soviet Empire

“ Lenin’s Tomb combines the global vision of the best historical scholarship with the immediacy of eyewitness journalism. Remnick takes us through the tumultuous 75-year period of Communist rule leading up to the collapse and gives us the voices of those who lived through it, from democratic activists to Party members, from anti-Semites to Holocaust survivors, from Gorbachev to Yeltsin to Sakharov.” (Amazon.com)

4. Journey into the whirlwind

“By the late 1930s, Eugenia Semyonovna Ginzburg had been a loyal and very active member of the Communist Party for many years. Yet like millions of others who suffered during Stalin's reign of terror, she was arrested—on trumped-up charges of being a Trotskyist terrorist and counter-revolutionary—and sentenced to prison. With an amazing eye for detail, profound strength, and an indefatigable spirit, Ginzburg recounts the years, days, and minutes she endured in prisons and labor camps, including two years of solitary confinement. A classic account of survival, Journey into the Whirlwind is considered one of the most important documents of Stalin's regime.” (Amazon.com)

5. Bears in the streets: Three Journeys across a Changing Russia

“Lisa Dickey traveled across the whole of Russia three times—in 1995, 2005 and 2015—making friends in eleven different cities, then coming back again and again to see how their lives had changed. Like the acclaimed British documentary series Seven Up!, she traces the ups and downs of ordinary people’s lives, in the process painting a deeply nuanced portrait of modern Russia.

From the caretakers of a lighthouse in Vladivostok, to the Jewish community of Birobidzhan, to a farmer in Buryatia, to a group of gay friends in Novosibirsk, to a wealthy family in Chelyabinsk, to a rap star in Moscow, Dickey profiles a wide cross-section of people in one of the most fascinating, dynamic and important countries on Earth. Along the way, she explores dramatic changes in everything from technology to social norms, drinks copious amounts of vodka, and learns firsthand how the Russians really feel about Vladimir Putin.” (Amazon.com)