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craft-affinity · 2 months

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So, um, this a first. I’ve never written something like this but I have this IDEA in my head that I need to explore, which was what would happen if Gojo tried to scout more sorcerers, out in the wild? This is just what I’ve written, but I’m planning on more.

Synopsis: Simone is a psychologist who has earned a scholarship to get a postgrad in Japan. She has never been to Tokyo and knows little of the culture, but she’s willing to learn. Simone was seeking distance, constrast, loneliness, and an answer to the rising mental health crisis worldwide. As she arrives, trying to feel at ease in Tokyo's busy streets, she visits libraries and cafés, and buys books to better her Japanese. Until she walks by a white haired man. The next day, he keeps spotting him. The same one, in different places. Could he be following her?

UNTITLED. DRAFT NO. 1

I walked straight up to him and stood there, waiting for him to acknowledge my presence. He lowered his book and rested his head on his hand, saying nothing.

“Why are you following me?”, I asked.

“You noticed?”, he questioned back.

“You speak English?”, I replied, taken aback. After days of unsuccessful communication with nearly everyone I encountered, understanding and being understood felt like a distant memory.

“I do”, he shrugged.

He remained seated while I stood, a bit shook by the conversation. I examined him. He looked calm and friendly, as if I wasn’t accusing him of anything. I stared at his hair, all white and sticking up. “You sure do stand out. You look like a brush”, I blurted out.

“wHAT?”, he yelped, stricken.

“I mean, you’re tall, skinny, white haired and wearing black. If the white hair wasn't already enough, you’re also wearing a bandage over your eyes. And it’s the third time today I see a white mop hovering over me”.

“So you’re quite the observer”, he remarked, still looking calm, even entertained.

“So you’re quite the showboat”, I retorted. It felt odd that he seemed so relaxed.

“My English is not THAT good but I won’t ask because I can sense the snub. So why are you not scared of me following you around?”

“Same reason why I noticed you. You can’t have bad intentions and look like that, although the bandage does look creepy”, I replied, pointing to his head. “You attract too much attention. I can’t pinpoint why you could be following me, though”.

“Care for a cup of coffee?”, he ventured. “I might tell you”.

I weighed it for a second. I had only met him, had him skulking around for the last 6 hours, and I didn’t know anyone else. I knew the Japanese were not one to approach unexpectedly, so I was curious. And he looked silly.

“Only if you help me order an oat latte”, I said. I was not one to feel easily comfortable with others, especially strangers, but I had already declared him not likely to be a threat. Something in his air. He looked cheerful and nonchalant.

“Ew. Done”. Satisfied with my answer, he stood up eagerly and pointed to the right. “And I’d prefer to refer to this as scouting, more than following. Makes me sound like a creep”. He started walking, not noticing I had not moved from my spot. Should I go? I already knew little of where I was, except for the metro station nearby. I had no other landmark that I could refer to. Following meant having to rely on him to get back here, and I did not know his name yet. I looked around and tried to memorize the surroundings. Not knowing the language, everything looked pretty much the same: I couldn’t pick out words to remember the names of places and such, so I focused on figures and colors.

“You coming?”

I jumped. He was standing directly in front of me while I was looking to the other side, hovering again. “You’re too close!”, I yelped, and took two steps back.

“Sorry. You coming?”, he insisted.

I looked around one last time. “Yeah”, I replied. Still not moving, he hadn’t begun walking either. I was looking at my feet, still pondering.

“What is it?”, he inquired.

“What’s your name?”, I straightened up and asked.

He smiled. “Gojo”.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Simone”, I said and tried to bow. “I don’t want to seem rude but I don’t know the manners here”.

“I mean”, he said, pressing his lips, “you were already rude. You called me a brush”, and laughed it off. “I don’t really care much for manners, actually. Coming?”

He motioned forward, this time looking back at me until I followed. I did not feel uncomfortable, he did not seem off, and I felt strangely at ease with him. I took a big breath to check my system. I wasn’t anxious, so I stepped to his side and nodded.

“So why is your hair white? Stress much?”, I asked. He snorted in response and looked down with a goofy, frustrated face. I was tall, but he still towered over me.

“You could say the opposite. I’m pretty laid back”. He put his arms beside his head, holding his nape. We walked in silence for a bit, until he pointed to the right. We crossed a street, turned left and then right again. I focused on retaining the route in my head for me to go back later. “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you back”.

“Oh”, I replied, “ok”. He cracked a half smile.

“Here”, he pointed to a door and held it open. “Go in. Wanna sit while I order?”

“Mmm… Care if I join you? I might learn how to say my order”.

“Worried I might spike your drink?”, he jokingly said.

I looked at him with a raised brow. “That’s what you say to a foreigner that agreed to have coffee after you just followed her around for half a day?”

“So you’re not laid back”, he said with a pout.

“Not when I am trying to convince myself that you won’t kidnap me”.

“Yet you accepted. So I’m onto something”, he grinned.

“Just order please. I’ll go sit down. Don’t forget the oatmilk”.

I chose a spot that was close enough to the door, just in case, but also protected from being overheard by other tables. Seeing him on the queue, he looked close to normal, except for the hair and the weird bandage he was wearing. Hands in his pockets, he almost seemed like a teenager on an errand.

“So how do you milk oats?”, he laughed, pleased with himself, and handed me a cup.

“Thank you”.

He sat down in a low armchair, which left him with his knees up to half his torso, and had to cross his ankles to be able to lower them a bit. He lowered his drink to the table, and two little plates with mochis he was balancing with one hand. “Want one? This one’s peanut and the other one is matcha. Pick whichever you like”.

I gestured for the matcha flavored one. He took it back. “Sorry, I wanted to seem polite and hoped you’d like the peanut one. I really want this one”. And handed me the other one.

“Why am I worried about seeming rude with you?”

He ignored me. “I always feel like a praying mantis sitting down, or origami”, he huffed, “especially in these tiny chairs that are so in right now”. Although his body was fairly folded to be able to sit, he looked at ease with himself. He positioned his elbows on his knees, while his hands fumbled with the mochi packaging.

“You look like origami”, I observed.

“First a brush and now origami. Could you cut it please?”, he huffed.

“You said it first, not I. However, you look very pleased with yourself, so I won’t feel guilty”, I replied.

“You think so?”, he contended, looking bawdy, raising the mochi to his mouth.

“Could you just tell me why you were following me around?”

“Ah yes. I just like scaring foreigners. They’re ruining Japan”, he sighed and sat back, crossing his arms and casually munching on his treat. I stared at him blankly. “Less and less laid back”, he spoofed while he kept eating. I remained quiet, forcing him to talk. I had realized by now that he did not feel at ease in silence. “Ok, I’ll tell you”, he surrendered, uncrossing his arms and placing his elbows on his knees. “You can see things, can’t you?”

“Things? What kind of things?”

“Back at the station, you saw something. You avoided it. What did you see?” He looked serious now.

“I don’t know. It felt off”. A chill ran through my arms thinking back to it.

“It? What do you mean by it?”, he continued.

“I don’t know, the air, the energy…”

“So you know about energy”, he said, looking a bit more relaxed now.

“Not in the way you want me to know about energy, I think”, I said, and looked to the side.

“That’s enough for me. So I’ll go straight to the point: what you saw was a curse. Not everyone can see them. Actually, not many people can. That’s why I was following you. I’m interested in those who can”. He sat up.

“What do you mean by a curse? That’s why you wear a bandage? To not see them?” How could he see anything wearing that?

“Not exactly”. He raised his right hand and lifted the bandage, smiling, his right eye peeking out. It was an intense blue. Electric blue. I gasped a little. He took a moment to assess my reaction and covered it back. My mind went blank. It wasn’t that it wasn’t beautiful, although it was, it was more the feeling of being seen, as if I were sitting in the dark and blazing surgical lightning was put on me. Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable.

“I’ve got good eyes”, he uttered.

I took a sip from my drink, trying to clear my mind. It was oat milk, thank god. He had obliged. “So you’re an albino?”, I quipped.

His jaw dropped in disbelief. “That’s not very nice of you”.

“What isn’t nice of you is assuming that being an albino is a bad thing. You’re special”, I retaliated.

“That I am”, he grinned. “And so are you, I think. I’m taking a liking to you. You’re serious but you have enough self-importance to be ironic”.

“Did you just call me egotistic??”, I cried out.

“No, just arrogant”, he snapped.

“And you’re annoying”.

“Yet here you are”, he insisted.

“So what if I can see things…?”

“Curses”. He interrupted and pointed at me with this finger.

“Whatever. What if I can see curses. What does mean for me?”

“I’m surprised you’re so chill about it. You must be used to them to some extent”, he replied, sitting back again, munching what was left of his mochi.

“I mean, I come from a very new-agey home. Talking about energy and odd stuff is everyday for me”.

“What is new age?”, he questioned.

“You’re serious?”

“I am”.

For once, he looked genuinely interested, almost childishly curious.

“It’s a very western thing, I guess, now that I think about it”, I muttered. “I hadn’t considered whether it’s a thing here. I guess not, since it’s basically commodifying oriental beliefs for the sake of the west’s growing atheism. Since the west is majorly Christian or Catholic, ever since the Church has become less and less powerful because of rationalism, many people didn’t know where to turn for comfort if not in God. So in the 70s, some people decided to take up buddhist and hinduist beliefs, mainly, and fit them into a hippie-like lifestyle. People started talking about energy and such, about manifesting your dreams and whatnot”.

“Manifesting?”, he asked, looking confused.

“Yeah. Like putting your energy into something to make it happen”.

“I get that. I do something like that”.

“You manifest?” Is this what he was trying to get at? Was he actually from a pyramid scheme?

“You’re very brainy. I am not used to listening to people. I still don’t understand why you look so comfortable talking about this”. He was sitting up, hand on his jaw, looking pensive.

“My dad talks to dead people”, I said. “Is that enough?”

“Um. Sure. Where are you from, by the way?”

“Have you not realized yet? You said you got good eyes”, I replied.

“You speak English so I’m guessing American?”, he guessed, raising his eyebrows. He genuinely had no idea.

“Not at all. We learn English in other countries, you know?”

“Well I give up. I’ve got good eyes, not a good ear. You’ll tell me, eventually. You seem eager to explain things”, he sneered.

“Me? You were the one following me around to talk about energy and curses”. I crossed my arms, feeling a bit aggravated.

Suddenly hurried, he sat up. ”Can we stop the banter? I’m getting impatient here”. He looked at his watch. “It’s also getting late. Be at this address tomorrow, 10.30”. Gojo handed me a card. It read nothing but a street name, written in English and in Japanese. “Where are you staying? I’ll send you a car”.

“No way”, I said, looking outside. Where were we, again?

“You still won’t trust me, right?”, he smirked.

“You’re making it awfully difficult”. Still, I felt a bit more at ease now he was back to acting goofy.

“Well, see you tomorrow. You still need to tell me how you milk oats, Simone”. He stood up and straightened himself. “You westerners introduce yourselves saying your first name instead of your last name. That’s very intimate”, he said, and walked away.

He did not, in fact, guide me back.

#gojo satoru #jujutsu #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo

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cloudywriter · 3 years

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the lost princess of terrasen

rowaelin month - september 7th

prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)

important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)

(cw: brief descriptions of violence)

masterlist, AO3

~~~

At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones.

The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday.

Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement.

She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced.

The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence.

Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth.

As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen.

As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen.

She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station.

The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything.

Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette.

Celaena stepped up to the counter.

“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was.

The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”

Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”

“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.”

Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”

“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth.

She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip.

From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.

Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her.

Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack.

“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral.

“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face.

“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world.

Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges.

“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again.

Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north.

The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside.

Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.

She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side.

She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack.

The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body.

“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space.

+++

Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old.

A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve.

Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.

The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night.

Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home.

There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled.

Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.

Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so.

All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated.

Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space.

Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside.

“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.

The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head.

She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her.

“Who the hell are you?”

~~~

let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo

#rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #aedion ashryver #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin month #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction

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carriagelamp · 3 years

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Since it’s Pride Month, I decided this year I wanted to raid the library for a bunch of different queer books to read. Mostly graphic novels in this case, because I’ve had a hard time settling into much reading lately... thought hopefully now that it’s summer and I finally have my second shot I’ll be able to relax a bit more and dig into some heavier novels again. For now, enjoy some light, queer reads that I indulged in this June.

A Wolf Called Wander

A beautiful novel I had been hearing lots about. This story follows the young wolf Swift, who grows up knowing that he and his pack are the mountains, and the mountains are them. It’s in those mountains that he grows and learns and loves… until disaster strikes and he finds himself viciously torn apart from his family and forced out of the mountains that have always meant home to him. Forced to survive on his own. Swift then begins a gruelling journey that makes him face injury, starvation, and the everpresent danger of humans as he seeks a new place he can call home, and new people with whom he can form a pack.

This is all based on the true story of a tagged wolf known as OR-7, following the unbelievable route he took through Oregon and northern California! It was a very neat read, and I’d definitely recommend it if you enjoy stories told from an animal’s perspective because this book is a master class in it.

Bloom

I decided for June to try to read a handful of different queer books, and this was one of the first graphic novels I picked up. It is a super sweet story and the art is lovely. It’s about Ari, a boy who has just graduated high school and is now desperate to move away from his small town and his family’s struggling bakery, to join his band in the city where they hope to make it big. An agreement is finally reached: Ari’s father will let him leave, if he can find someone who can replace him in the bakery, which is how Ari meets Hector, someone who sees artistry and peace in baking. For anyone that’s read Check, Please, it gives off those types of vibes!

Boule et Bill: Bill est Maboul

Another book of Dupuis comics, because I can’t get enough of them! This one I just stumbled across and ended up reading on a whim but it was very cute. Geared younger than the others I’ve read, but still quite funny. It’s the charming hijinks of a young boy, his dog, and the family they live with. Each page or so is a different stand alone joke, a bit like Calvin and Hobbes except expanded beyond a single strip.

Chicken Run: Chicken Pies for the Soul

This was a ridiculous urge I got and had to follow. I recently rewatched Chicken Run (which is, of course, one of the best movies ever made) and felt the need to see if it had ever been novelized. Well, I found something better than a novelization! This is a chapter book with “advice” and stories written by the various characters, post-movie. It really does a good job with grasping the different characters’ voices and making something simple and funny out of it. It was very cute (and available on The Internet Archive if anyone else feels like reading something ridiculous!)

Doodleville

I picked this up on a whim and honestly, I shouldn’t have bothered. It was not very impressive. Very mediocre, awkward feeling artwork, and a story that only slightly manages to redeem it. The concept was kind of neat, and I did like how the ending came about, the rest was rather… plodding. I did not like the main character at all, her friends felt very Intentionally Quirky Aren’t We Cute :3 in a way that just tries too hard, and… yeah. Meh. It technically gets the “queer graphic novel flag” but it’s so in-passing that it feels rather excessive to give it that.

If you are interested, it’s about a world were doodles actually exist as living creatures that can be drawn into existence (the rather unsettling implications of which is never fully explored). This is all well and good, until the main character draws a monster and takes it with her to her art club... where it begins ravanging not only her doodles, but those of her friends. Together they need to work together to figure out how to stop this menace.

FRNCK v4

Phenomenal. I adore the FRNCK series, and book four wrapped up the first “cycle”, revealing several of the big secrets dogging the series so far, and changing how things are going to be able to run in the future.

If you haven’t seen me talk about it before, FRNCK is a graphic novel (a franco-belgian bande dessinée) about a young orphan, Franck, who’s chafing under the constant parade of uninterested foster parents that visit the orphanage he lives in. Determined to learn about his mysterious abandonment instead, he flees the orphanage… but finds himself tumbling through time, landing among a family of cave-people who rather reluctantly take him in and ensure this modern boy doesn’t die in the strange, dangerous new surroundings he finds himself in. You can get these ones in English as e-books, so if you want a really kickass graphic novel series to read please try these.

Haikyu!!

I’ve heard so much about Haikyu!! that I finally gave in and picked up the first book from the library. And I gotta say, it’s well worth the hype! This series really does capture the best parts of a good sports manga -- which is to say the team is filled with interesting, enjoyable character who all need to learn to pull together, boost each other’s strengths, and cover for each other’s weaknesses. Love me some found family tropes and this series oozes it in the best possible way. And then you also get some very cool action scenes as it makes high school volleyball seem like the most intense thing on earth. I can’t wait to continue it

Queer Eye

I haven’t been keeping up with Queer Eye but I was watching it ravenously when it first came out, and this seemed like a very cathartic book to read… and it really was. It had the same gentle, loving encouragement as the show. It doesn’t expect you to change your entire life, but to learn to embrace who you are, and take small steps to enhance those things. There a segment written (presumably) by each member of the Fab Five, explaining the mentality behind what they do on the show and how you can grow in those areas too. It’s very zen.

Spinning

I got this graphic novel out at the same time as Bloom, but it was the one that interested me less of the two... though that’s just because I have less interest in “real world” slice of life as a genre and this one is meant to be autobiographical. If you’re into that, you’ll probably love this because it really is stunning. Very pretty, and the format and pacing is all really well done. It’s a coming of age story for Tillie as she grows up dealing with a crosscountry move, complicated friendships, a burgeoning attraction to girls, and attending competitive figure skating classes.

This Place: 150 Years Retold

A stunning and heart-wrenching graphic novel told by a collection of different First Nation’s authors/artists, recounting oral histories about the 150 years since the colonialist formation of the country known as “Canada”. In other words, this is a post-apocalypse story, but one that really happened and that entire peoples are still fighting to survive. It’s very eye opening and beautifully told. Very strongly recommend the read, especially if you’re at all interested in history.

Torchwood: Serenity

Whoops, not technically a book. I had thought these were technically audiobooks at first, but rather they’re audio dramas that were played on the radio. Still, I decided to include one because I’ve been listening to them like a person possessed and they’re too fun not to at least mention. Let me indulge in my obsessions.

If you don’t know Torchwood, it’s a BBC series that spins-off from Doctor Who, focusing on the enigmatic and flirtatious Captain Jack Harkness, who is running the covert organization known as Torchwood, which is tasked to protect humanity from and prepare them for alien contact. It’s goofy and campy but also more adult and heavy than Doctor Who tends to get, so it is (in my opinion) a really fascinating series. Though it also has content warnings coming out the wazoo so maybe make sure it’s for you before delving in.

Serenity specifically is possibly one of the best Torchwood stories I’ve ever experienced. The Torchwood team concludes that there’s an undercover alien hiding in the idyllic gated community Serenity Plaza, and so that means it’s up to Jack and Ianto to go undercover as a happily married couple and flush out the alien without being discovered first. Even if it means being sickly sweet together, pretending to care about the local neighbourhood barbecues, and actually caring a bit too much about the Best Front Lawn competition. What is truly magical about this one, is that it manages to make it a Fake Dating AU despite the fact that Jack and Ianto are actually dating in canon. But they’re both used to dating as a pair of alien hunters with insanely dysfunctional lives, and who now need to figure out how to deal with domesticity. It is marvellous.

Wilderlore: The Accidental Apprentice

A middle grade novel that felt a bit like a cross between Harry Potter and Pokemon. It’s about orphan Barclay Thorne who wants nothing more than to be accepted in the rule-bound village of Dullshire, and live up to his apprenticeship as a mushroom farmer. He certainly wants nothing to do with the fearsome Beasts who live beyond the village, deep in the Woods or the sinister Lorekeepers that bond with them. It was, after all, a Beast that had killed his parents all those years ago. But when he finds himself at the very edge of the forest, hunting for an elusive mushroom, he is suddenly unable to avoid any of that. Not when a wild girl and her bonded dragon appear to summon a horrible Beast and end up getting Barclay bonded to it instead. Now, if Barclay ever wants to be welcomed back into his home, he has no choice but to venture into the Woods and find a way to sever the bond imprisoning him to the massive, monstrous wolf now imprinted on his body as a living tattoo.

I honestly can’t decide how I felt about this one. I feel like it’d be a really fun read for maybe a grade 5 to 7 student? I was a bit more meh about it. It was fine, but it was very hard not to draw unfavourable parallels to Harry Potter. But for a kid who’s never read Harry Potter? Or even an adult that has but is looking for something different to scratch that itch, this might be a good book to try. I’ll probably try reading the second book when it comes out.

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indigobackfire · 3 years

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HPHM MC Profile ✧

Indigo Silverwood

“ Getting near you is like stretching my hand into an open flame. I know I’ll burn myself, yet I crave the heat. ”

Nicknames: Indie. Didi (only by family). Silverwood. Silvie (by people who don't bother learning her name).

Gender: Female.

Birthday: 6th of March, 1973.

Born: Edinburgh, Scotland.

Mother: Clarin (née Tramer) Silverwood - Half-blood, Ravenclaw, English.

Father: Palmer Silverwood - Pureblood, Slytherin, Scottish.

Siblings: Jacob Silverwood (b. 1968), Phoenix Nobleworth Silverwood (b. 1973) - Phoenix was adopted after the death of his parents when he was just a couple of months old.

Ethnicity: Scottish, English, (probably with some Spanish roots).

Sexuality: Straight.

MBTI Type: ENFP-A

Blood Status: Half-blood (by her muggle grandmother on her mother's side).

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor.

Appearance

Eyes: Naturally yellow/golden/amber (nobody knows why, since their parent’s eyes are brown) but both hers and Jacob's eyes are like this). She wears glasses for her Astigmatism.

Hair: Naturally dark brown, but she asked her mother to turn it red when she turned 8 and doesn't plan on undoing it any soon.

• She’s average tall and reasonably strong build, honey-brown skin littered with scars from venturing with the vaults and being freaking attacked by dark wizards, big hands and feet due to her height. A large chest that grows at once in her 4th year (”Everybody's starring, Rowan!”).

• She keeps her nails short. Her makeup is often down to just some lipstick (mascara smudges her glasses, eye shadow irritates her eyes), her hair is often long wavy and fluffed for extra volume. She often smells like coconut oil from all the creams her mother insisted she used.

• She looks a lot like her father which gives her a rather rough look - like a handsome but wild animal - yet has enough of her mother’s attributes to be considered attractive and poise if well-groomed.

Magical Aspects

1st Wand: Red Oak wood with Dragon Heartstring core, 12″, pliable. "The true match for a red oak wand is possessed of unusually fast reactions, making it a perfect dueling wand. Its ideal master is light of touch, quick-witted and adaptable, often the creator of distinctive spells, and a good person to have beside in a fight." Indigo had good times with her red oak wand but as the years went by, her emotions start affecting the wand's efficiency. The wand would bleed a glowing red light in moments of extreme physical or emotional pain and become extremely unstable.

2nd Wand: Beechwood with Thestral hair core, 13", rigid flexibility. "The true match for a beech wand will be, if young, wise beyond their years, and if full-grown, rich in understanding and experience. Beech wands perform very weakly for the narrow-minded and intolerant. When properly matched, the beech wand is capable of a subtlety and artistry rarely seen in any other wood, hence its lustrous reputation." Indigo has a hard time adapting to her new wand, it's stubborn to her spells and acts upon its own will especially considering its unusual and unstable core, Thestral hair, which is of unknown habilities, except for its use in the mythical, Elder wand. Her wand is one of a kind which is why she has to adapt her abilities to match the wand's requirements. Despite all, it's a remarkable instrument for undoing curses/spells and detecting danger.

Animagus: Somali cat. She's already certain she wants to be a cat animagus - harmless, of easy blend, and enables an approach to humans -, but decides for the Somali breed, during the process, for its sumptuous golden fur and agility.

Patronus: Kangaroo, for its fighting spirit and family values, not to mention its strength. (In-game it's the Abraxan, but only because I thought it would be cool.)

Patronus memory: (During the first times) Her first Quidditch match, not just because they won but because everyone she loves from Hogwarts was there, and she got to cheer their victory together. (Later years) Her family gathering for hot cocoa during a rainy night with Jacob with them.

Abilities: Legilimency, and great emotional influence over magic (Don't get her frightened or angry or she will blow you up).

Boggart: Her boggart changes constantly - she can't decide if it's either because she overcame the old fears, or if the new ones toppled those, creating a pile of fears. And since the new DADA teacher is always teaching Riddikulus again and again, the famous curse-breaker is always the most awaited in the line.

Jacob, eyes dark and musty, clothes covered in blood, someone's blood. He walks to her and slowly raises his sleeve, the Death mark is craved deep in his flesh and it glows. Behind him, it rises the Dark Lord.

Riddikulus: He turns into a younger version of himself from a photograph she recalls laughing about with her mom (he's running wearing a loaded diaper, crazy hair, rosy cheeks).

For a while is someone in a cloak threatening to cast the killing curse over her friends, whispering each of their names like a snake but she's frozen unable to stop them.

Riddikulus: The cloak falls to reveal a bunch of gnomes piled up wearing wigs and makeup.

For another, very realistic corpses of all of her friends spread at her feet, a dark wizard across from her, it's over and there isn't anything she can do to save them anymore - it was a grim day in DADA, but they all wanted to see it didn't they?

Riddikulus: This is the one time she fails to defeat a boggart, letting the horrible scene consume her, she falls to her knees defeated, and even after Rakepick's shouting, when she tries to cast the spell, it fails again and again.

This last boggart came to show everyone around her how truly terrified she was, not for her own life, but for that of those around her. How despite the confidence she was constantly displaying, in reality, she was afraid she couldn't save them from whatever was trying to get her.

Amortentia: Her Amortentia smells like Jacob's cologne — which he used to borrow from their father which is why she recalls so easily —, fresh Catnip ever since she became an animagus, bakings just out of the oven — extra intensity if there's chocolate involved, and freshly washed sweaters (from hugging Barney and the Weasleys).

Mirror of Erised: She's under the shadow of a tree, Jacob on one side along with Phoenix and Aspen, Barnaby's head resting on her lap, Rowan by her side, and Orion for some reason. They're laughing and reading books, it's an eternal spring afternoon.

Miscellaneous

Pets: A Sphynx cat, Mocca, a brown and white rat, Franccesca, and (later in her Hogwarts years) a Great Horned owlet, Plum.

Things she always carries with her: Her wand (duh), a handmade Gryffindor bracelet that used to belong to Jacob, the Handbook of Magical Theory, a handful of peppermints, a pouch with some money, a flask of Wideye potion, some Murtlap Essence, and a family photo during Christmas of 1980.

Lucky Amulets: She has a dream catcher made by Phoenix from feathers he shed during transformations and a "broken" knight from Murphy's chessboard who decided to leave the game for good and now sleeps on Indigo's nightstand with its horse, she likes stroking the horse the night before every Quidditch match

Best Friends

Her brother, Phoenix, takes the crown in matter of importance because, well, they're siblings who grew up practically like twins, but their relationship deserves their own detailing.

Rowan has got to be the first. Not only they share the same adventurous nerdy spirit, but Rowan also is the one to stick around even when everything is dark and uncertain and Indigo's popularity plummets. Indigo is always excited to hear whatever Rowan has to say - most times about books or Bill Weasley - and she's rarely fazed by the weird things Rowan does.

Murphy McNully is a close second, having officially met in the middle of her second year, they're both still fresh in a matter of friendships which allows them to open up, both in desperate need of company and support. He's often a companion in the girl's library and common room study sessions and sits with them during meals.

Charlie Weasley has her heart and soul from the moment they first speak during year one, but it actually takes a while until they form any real bond, which begins after he finds out she has been seeking his brother's help to search for the cursed vaults.

Ben is a friend she cherishes deeply but often finds it hard to break through his protective shell which makes him feel distant even when he opens up to her. Unlike her friends, she grows more liking towards Ben after he has his change in personality, as he feels more open about himself.

Chiara is a friend she deeply appreciates for her courage in reaching out for her help in times of need and trusting her with her secret. In Marauder fashion, she likes keeping an eye on her on the nights of full moon - which is good to train her cat tree climbing. They often have afternoon tea together and she teaches Indigo useful healing spells.

Andre and Indigo didn't have a great start, as she thought of him as arrogant and inconsiderate, and he thought she was careless and selfish. But when she helps him with a transfiguration mishap during their 3rd year when he was trying to be creative - and the reason he now has a two-headed cat - they start opening up to each other and begin a friendship. He's a good friend to confide in about the mundane aspects of her life and Quidditch intrigues.

Orion means to her more than she can put into words. Not only he is her team captain, but also a dear friend whom she turns to in times of emotional instability cause she knows he'll be the one to successfully help her clear her mind. They enjoy each other's company even if they don't have anything interesting to say. They sit together during every Divination class for as long as the subject goes.

She has no "rivals" as she finds that sort of labeling quite petty, but would definitely punch Emily Tyler on the stomach and perhaps Face Paint kid for all his eavesdropping.

She has an easier time bonding with her fellow Gryffindors since they spend most of their time together in classes, lunch, and hanging around in the common room.

Dormmates: She and Rowan got placed in a room for three people, as the ones for five were already full, along with a girl called Tanya. But at the beginning of their 4th year, they find out she has bailed out to another dorm room claiming they 1. Snort and speak in their sleep on a regular basis, 2. Will eventually endanger her with their cursed vault shenanigans, 3. Will get her killed - which, spoilers, actually happens, oops. So they basically have the dorm for themselves.

Academics

Favorite Classes:

Potions

Flying

DADA

Magical Theory

Least Favorite:

Transfiguration

History of Magic

Arithmancy

Favorite Professor: Kettleburn. Despite CoMC not being on her top favorite subjects, she enjoys her time in his classes and reminds her of her grandfather on her father's side who's a highlander wizard.

Least Favorite: Binns. Just retire you old man!

Quidditch Position: Chaser. Despite enjoying her time as Gryffindor's beater, she notices the position takes a toll on her physical wellbeing, having to carry a heavy bat and being injured by bludgers more times than she can keep track of. So she returns to her chaser position after a year.

Favorite Team: Montrose Magpies. She never had an interest in Quidditch before she began playing but decided to pick a team to support. Of course, it had to be a Scottish team and settles for MM because of professor McGonagall who's also a supporter.

She's not indigo's face claim, but it's hard to find good red-haired characters out there.

I guess I'll leave her background and history for another post since it interweaves very tightly with her sibling. And since I'm still exploring her story.

Well this is just an intro to my beloved MC

#hphm #hphm mc #hogwats mystery #oc profile #gryffindor #indigo silverwood

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mor-beck-more-problems · 3 years

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Death Rings Twice || Morgan and Eilidh

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @braindeacl @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: While searching for answers, Morgan and Eilidh realize the situation is worse than they realized.

CONTAINS: conversations with dead people

They came and went in waves. The first time, only the first time, Eilidh believed them to be just a part of being a ghost. James had done so many times—go in and out of view like the watts on a bulb. But those changes had been consensual, come upon by his own will, and he never truly left. Not like she had, and did, and still do. Moments of nothingness. Blink and she was gone, truly and ultimately gone. Blink and she was back, not even left with a memory. Just a faint recollection, a faint feeling of a blank. Like trying to recall a blackout. You knew it was there, you felt it too—pages torn from a book. But you also didn’t, couldn’t, for nothingness was all that remained. Nothingness that seemed to be her destination. Those blinks got longer, longer, longer. With no sign of slowing.

Eilidh knew Morgan was facing her own bouts of strangeness. Maybe they were connected. Morgan believed them to be—magic set loose like a wildfire, with them in its path. Consumed in its flames, would it burn them all the way to the ground? Or would they come out the other side, for the better? This curiosity, and a gnawing worry, compelled her forward, right into Morgan’s residence. She ventured through those great and winding halls, as if she already haunted the place. She ought to haunt at least one. Before it became too late. Passing by an open door, that familiar face was finally seen. Eilidh stopped, stared. Felt that nothingness threatening to claim her again. Visage flickered—like a light on its dying breath. But the feeling passed, leaving her there, shining on. The motion, or her very presence, must’ve caused a stir. The two women met each other’s eyes.

“Boo.”

Morgan just needed to find the right book. Zombies had been around for ages and so even if whatever was happening to her was obviously very rare, it must have happened to someone else before. And that someone must have wanted to write it down. Because magic directly affecting a zombie body at all was worth writing about; doing so in this cruel, backwards way defied everything she understood about magic and living matter. So, Morgan sat on the floor in the library, swimming through a large haul from the scriberary, searching. When Macleod appeared behind the volume she was holding, calling boo, Morgan yelped with surprise.

“Oh! Stars! That was--” she laughed uneasily. “That was something alright.” She sat back and looked at the other woman. She had believed everything Macleod had told her but seeing her friend, so wild and earthbound, so connected to her flesh, floating and transparent was uncanny in a way her mind struggled to process. “I wish I had good news on the funky magic boogaloo front, but there’s just lots of dead ends so far. But that can wait. Are you...okay? At least, relative to our situation?

Good-hearted chuckle lept out of Eilidh—breaking the illusion of the spooky ghost in the corner. She closed the distance between the two, eyes curiously scanning the cover and pages of the book nestled in Morgan’s lap. More were strewn across the room, circling Morgan in a protective barrier, or perhaps a tomb—either for future study or determined unsuited. Where one group ended and the other began, she wasn’t sure. Mouth parted to offer assistance, her hands and mind well-versed to such a skill, but the words quickly died just as her flesh had. Wouldn’t be much use when turning a page was a difficult endeavor. She had learned that fact rather quickly.

When attentions were placed on her, Eilidh perked. “Aye. Convinced this guy his cereal was sentient. And some lady she could control plants.” Snort of delight shot out her nose as their faces returned to memory. But as the chuckles faded, so too did this delight. That lingering worry remained. A hand brushed her lips, seemingly in thought. “Also…” In absence of external stimuli, she bit on a knuckle. But where a prick of sensation, a prick of life, would usually awaken her hand, only a mere acknowledgement greeted her. Fucking hell, how has James not gone mad by now? A low growl rumbled, and at least it felt nice in her chest. Familiar. “Been going in and out. Kinda like blinking. If you did that with a soul. James says it isn’t normal. And they’re getting longer.” Another knuckle met her teeth; that same hollow impact replayed. “Guess it’s soon time.” Her eyes scanned Morgan, transferring the focus back to the other woman. Wandering gaze found the darkness under her friend’s eyes. “What ‘bout you?”

For what seemed like a long time, Morgan could only stare at her friend. Or rather, through her friend. She could see every title on the shelf behind her if she concentrated enough, because Macleod, despite speaking and smiling and grinning and mischief-ing as much as she had ever done, was incorporeal and transparent. Like a ghost. A baby undead ghost. Which wasn’t supposed to exist. “..Blinking? What? Uh, that sounds bad. And weird. I’ve never heard of ghosts doing that before. They cross over, and they have some kind of teleportation thing, but they don’t play peek-a-boo with a whole plane of existence. That’s…” Another very strange, logic defying twist of magic.

Morgan cleared her head and tried to answer Macleod’s questions. “I woke up at the beginning of the week able to feel again. All my physical senses that went dull were back. It took some adjusting, but I think it was more or less how they were when I was alive. But then my body started decaying even when I was full, or more than full, and healing was fading and now it’s basically gone! So I’m basically rotting away for no discernable reason, and I get to be super physically aware of all of it. Also, I smell, so maybe it’s a good thing you don’t have any senses right now. When did your stuff start? I mean, none of this should be happening at all, because the undead are immune to spellcasting magic that engages with our body’s energy, as far as I can tell, and we’re immune to most drugs and toxins, and I haven’t found anyone else in town being effected like this, so it’s not the big cosmic town bullshit--but if we can get a timeline, maybe that will tell us...something.” She sighed and closed the book in her lap, staring off into anywhere but Macleod’s face. The whole world was slipping through their fingers, just when she’d thought it really did want them after all.

Curt laugh escaped Eilidh. “Yeah. You’re telling me.” Just her luck to be subjected to the worst game of peek-a-boo in existence. Maybe her soul truly did want to pass over, but this supposed magic was keeping her here? Maybe the universe was trying to remedy the fact she shouldn’t have remained—at least not in this form—but the magic tried to go against the very will of the cosmos? Thoughts followed that tangent until it caused a dizziness. Bah, there’s too many maybes and what-ifs. She snapped a finger, sharp noise bringing her back to the present. Mind focused on Morgan’s words, her own story. As such a tale unfolded, her face fell, allowing that worry bubbling inside to find itself in her eyes, her parted mouth. Just as quickly, her eyes tightened, mouth closed, jaws tightened. Resolve overcame the worry, gave her goal new fire. “Aye. That is real bad.” Especially when it started so promising—the worst kind. “Best we hop to it prompto, then. Know anything I can look over? Double-check? Triple-check?” The ways of magic, the ways others shifted the energies of the world to their will, was not a strong subject of hers. But perhaps there were other pieces of the puzzle her ever inquisitive eyes could find. She needed that hunt, after all. Needed something to do—when all things physical brought boredom at best, her mind frequently rushed into restlessness.

Eilidh recalled the start of this plight. “I died beginning of this week.” The same as Morgan’s own unfortunes; a fact that did not escape her. “Or alchemied this way. Or some other magic.” At this point, she wasn’t sure which was true. Death was more reasonable to her. Familiarity always felt more reasonable, and she was very familiar with death. But Morgan seemed convinced its cause was magically induced and, well, she was the expert in that regard. Not Eilidh. “Blinked out the first time a few days later. Didn’t think too much of it. ‘Til a few more days later when it kept happening.” How much longer would this affliction let her speak with Morgan? Would it rip her away mid-sentence, as it had with Milo? Sharp snap of fingers returned. Temptation to bite the nagging thoughts away surfaced—to subject another knuckle to her teeth. But the snap sufficed. For now.

Morgan sat back, thinking. The town had already been shifted in the cosmos by the time she and Macleod were affected. And no one else she spoke to, dead or undead, was feeling anything strange in their body. So why them? And how? It didn’t seem right that the universe should literally change its rules just to be cruel to them. And if an alchemy break-through was responsible for Macleod, it didn’t explain her progressive deterioration. She would have to be confined to a circle in order for that to be the case, and the energy required to continually re-write her body would be outrageous.

She looked over at Macleod, aching to give her an answer. “I only have a few general compendiums on the stuff, but maybe there’s some kind of sickness, or some kind of critter that can affect people like us. Like, bookwyrms and brain biters mess with people’s brains, and there’s plenty of necrophages out there maybe…” Some magic, universe defying critter happened to chomp on both of them without their noticing on the exact same night? Morgan could hardly stand to hope for the idea, it sounded ridiculous enough in her head. But she had to try. If she stopped trying, this thing would take her. “Maybe there’s one that can explain this. Weird abilities that make people incorporeal or mess with their magic composition. Um, it’s those thick ones back there--” She pointed. “Or you could check out the area, see if anything unusual is sniffing around. Every critter’s gotta eat and sleep somewhere.” She smiled feebly. “We’ll figure this out before it’s too late. We’ve got too much to live for, right?”

“Critters!” The word shot out like a bullet. That was more Eilidh’s forte. A hand returned thoughtfully to her lips, though a bite did not come. Her mind was moving far too fast to focus on anything physical. Feet began to pace without her knowledge, beating against the air as if they contributed to her movements anymore. “Those bees cause hallucinations…” What were they called again? Those dick-hive bees. She had still yet to encounter them personally—such a treat will have to wait when she finally visits… that woman. Knowledge was acquired specifically for said venture, so she really should remember… “Eintykara.” But as research came tumbling back into her mind, so did an issue. “No. Cold.” Such weathers would cause them to grow sluggish—springing into action now would make no sense. “Hm. Caballi?” Her encounter with one had been very brief, but James’ was much more intimate. And she had certainly heard stories that mimicked their own. Of ghosts being attacked by them. Or more accurately, being fed upon by them. Could be the cause of their deterioration, those astral feedings. Perhaps they can affect zombies too? “But never saw…” They weren’t exactly invisible, to people like them. But much of them was left unknown, on this world at least. Could be a special sort?

More ideas flowed into Eilidh’s mind. And just easily flowed back out—conflictions and contradictions found in every sort. Though the universe was vast and wide and full of exceptions. Hardly anything could be said with certainty. And hardly everything was stored in her mind—that vastness refusing to be contained in just one thing. Or even in one world; creatures not found in any book had laid just beyond those cracks in the air. One, or two, or more could’ve slipped through. “You could be onto something.” Her feet stilled, and it was only then she realized she had been on the move at all. But they already missed that constant motion. Focus turned to the mentioned books, causing a chuckle to stir. “Would. But these guys do whatever the hell they want.” She wiggled her fingers and they blended and meddled together, like waves crashing into each other. “I’ll look ‘round. You focus on the books. We’ll see this through.” There was an attempt to turn and leave, but something held her there just a moment longer. Those hints of decay sprinkled on Morgan’s form—some grown worse over the course of their conversation. “Think you’ll manage?” The question spanning far beyond just Morgan’s research capability.

With the way Macleod lit up at the suggestion, Morgan could actually start to believe they were onto something. The world was full of strange things and there was so much they didn’t know. Of course if it wasn’t someone it had to be something. Maybe even a creature from another dimension. Some of the critters in those portals had probably gotten stuck on this side when Adam closed them, too, and maybe that was why they couldn’t understand the rules this infection worked on.

Morgan met Macleod’s eyes bravely. They were looking for a needle in a haystack. It might take weeks to comb through all of White Crest and identify the exact creatures they were looking for, especially if they turned out to be beyond sapient record on this world. But they would figure it out, wouldn’t they?

Somewhere beyond them, bewildered geese flapped their way to the sky and called to each other for safety, snow crunched under tired feet, a wind blew through the hollow tunnels of the world. Morgan took it all in, staring through the frosted windows. This was a world that buried its secrets better than its dead, but it was also one where life persisted in the most bitter cold. If anyone was proof of that, surely it was her and Macleod. And Morgan had a future to get to; Macleod probably did too, and if she didn’t, she deserved to stick around long enough to come up with one. So she had to be okay. There wasn’t room in this scenario for her not to be.

Morgan summoned her best smile and hoped with all she had that Macleod believed it and let some of the warmth rub off on her. “I’ve got this. And so do you. Death cut us a break once, right? Twice should be just as easy.”

That smile filled the air, found its way on Eilidh’s face, lifting her spirits in turn. Hell yeah. They had this. That implication hung in the air, threatened to bring it all back down. The one where she died. This soul she carried certainly had—will again. And technically death had touched her a few days prior. But the implication ran deeper than that, tied her to an assumption she kept getting chained to. But she did not let that weight touch her; only a twitch of a brow, a tighten of lips, betrayed these thoughts. Resolve kept her steady—kept them both just the same. Fate may try to give them a losing hand, but she’ll keep playing until a full house. And if not, well, seems she’s had her time then. Her soul will enjoy more, if these pesky blinks didn’t consume her in totality. For fate was hungry this week—eating away at her very soul, at Morgan’s very flesh. Was it feeding on others? How far did this hunger spread? She had no mind, no time to worry about passerbyers on the street. Those teeth readied to pierce again, steal more of them away. But she’ll try her hand at dentistry and rip them out before all was taken. “Good to hear! Let’s give this a–”

She vanished.

#wr eilidh #wr chatzy #wr eilidh chatzy #death rings twice

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pet-genius · 3 years

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Benedict - A Tom Riddle One Shot

Benedict lived in a forest in Albania, where he had magically fashioned for himself a dwelling place that seemed untouched by man, yet offered every convenience and dignity magic could afford a wizard.

He had a forest elf who cared for him, Adriel, and very little company. Wild elves were known to be very selective in their choice of company, attaching to the worthiest wizards if at all, to give companionship rather than service. They regarded the breeding of house elves an insult to their kind and a crime against magic. Benedict was a philosopher of magic who had written about the Dark Arts, and of the very few visitors he had had, none had come from England; not since Albus Dumbledore had become the Transfiguration Master and Deputy Headmaster of their School of Magic. Regardless, he was as comfortable speaking English as any other language, and he accepted Tom Riddle with cordial respect.

"I am surprised to see a Hogwarts alumnus here. I didn’t know the library still carries my books now that Dumbledore is a teacher there."

"It's not the only magical library in the Great Kingdom,” Tom said. "You've heard, perhaps, of the Rosiers and the Dolohovs?"

Tom had been to their libraries, had “borrowed” copies of the books they owned, had seethed at the paternalistic denial of true magical knowledge.

"Yes, the Dolohovs. I know the Karkaroffs, who are related to them by marriage. Many scholars in that family, though I've not had the pleasure of meeting any of them in person."

If the Karkaroffs were scholarly, all the Dolohovs Tom knew were interested in books only insofar as they could be levitated and dropped on an opponents' head. He was sure the books he had stolen from them would not be missed.

Still, he nodded. “Gossip is beneath us – I do not wish to waste your time. I have come to study the Dark Arts, Sir. You are the foremost authority on this subject. You must know I'm worthy, as I’ve broken every curse and passed every obstacle you placed along the path to finding you.”

Tom despised these pleasantries and longed for the day his reputation would precede him. To come here had already required him to use location spells, apply his knowledge of the magical creatures and plants of Albania and how to escape them, and crack ciphers and anagrams and secret passwords. "Those who walk the path deserve to climb the mountain," he continued, quoting out of Benedict's own magnum opus to the author himself.

Benedict summoned his elf, and Adriel returned with a mirror that he held so reverentially its surface remained as smooth as water, even in the forest - not a speck of dirt was allowed to touch it. "Have a look," Benedict ordered, and Tom looked. Only his own reflection stared back at him. Adriel and Benedict exchanged inscrutable glances and after what seemed an arbitrary length of time, Benedict closed his eyes and lowered his head.

"I shall teach you. Not since Gellert Grindelwald have I encountered a soul such as yours. You possess extraordinary power, Thomas (Benedict stressed the "mas"), and you must exercise it with great caution. The Dark Arts are as dangerous to those who use them as to those they are used on, and best wielded by those who have true power. Do you know why Dumbledore removed them from the curriculum? It is not kind to speculate, but I think the tale is worth recounting."

"Please, Sir.”

"Very few people know what I know, and even I don’t know everything, despite the privilege of having spoken both to Dumbledore and Grindelwald. I am an old man, but my memory is as keen as it ever was. I first met Gellert when he came here to supplement his education after having been expelled from Durmstrang. They never should have expelled him, I say – the difficult students are the greatest test to educators - but I digress. He has family in England, perhaps you've heard of Ms. Bathilda Bagshot?"

As the story unfolded, Tom concealed his surprise: The purebloods had always whispered vague allusions in hushed tones about Dumbledore, the old bachelor who deflected questions about his private life with expertise, but he never would have imagined that he had once been Gellert Grindelwald’s lover. In a sense, it was unsatisfying – it felt so utterly banal.

“I was not so wise as I am today, Thomas; I had been taken in by Gellert's recounting of the events. Dumbledore himself filled me in on the sordid details, with great, great shame. I had warned him – he had made a mistake, changing the curriculum. To simply avoid the Dark altogether is impossible – it is in all of us. Students of age need to know that only true masters ought to broach the Darkest of the Dark Arts. Censorship and a shroud of mystery only make them attractive to precisely the wrong sort of wizard. But alas, Dumbledore did not listen. I speak, of course, of mastery of the self, Tom. I wonder – do you agree, or do you find yourself questioning your choice to come here and listen to an old and solitary man?”

"No, Sir. I don’t agree." Tom surprised even himself. Normally, he would have lied and said he agrees wholeheartedly with this nugget of wisdom. Mastery of the self seemed to him a contradiction in terms; he wanted mastery of the world and everyone in it.

"True freedom means serving the right master, or the right cause; not aimless wandering in quest of new appetites to sate. The wild elves know this, but the wizards have not learned. Are you a wizard or a pig, Thomas?"

Tom did not know this, but his eyes flashed a shade of scarlet. He wondered if this was some sort of test.

"With all due respect, Sir, I believe that the Dark Arts – in the right hands, can make so-called mastery of the self redundant, obsolete. Wizards do not have to succumb to death, pain, dependence. It is only our self-imposed constraints."

"Once you have drunk all the wine and tasted the flesh of every animal and the fruit of every tree and conquered every man and every woman, I think you'll find, Thomas, that you are quite mistaken. I have taught Gellert. He was not unlike you, and I venture to guess that he is freer and wiser now than he had ever been, since in the prison of his own device, he had to learn to control his wants and desires. The Indians the Great Kingdom conquered know that life is suffering. Even if you are the most powerful wizard, the most feared, you will never get what you truly lack.”

“Perhaps I do wonder why I came here. Certainly not to listen to a man at death’s doorstep spew nonsense. I can only assume you are testing me,” he smiled.

“Oh, you have already been tested. Life has not always been kind to you. You’ve lost so much not two hours after you were born, raised in abject conditions, in the dark about your true self. And yet you seized the first opportunity you had for betterment and discovered that your roots in the magical world run deep. Your path was paved to become Minister of Magic in your native land in record time, and yet you chose to come here. Not a lot of politicians come here, as I’m sure you know. There is no need to test you any further. It will not do you good.”

The void that Tom could never elude for long threatened to clutch at his heart again.

Benedict turned sympathetic. “You must be wondering how I know all this. My mirror – my proudest magical creation. I used to specialize in making magical lenses and mirrors, long ago. I’ve thrown all my magical might into this mirror, but all I could ever see in it was myself. It is how I found myself on the road that led me – and you – here. You, because our story is one, Thomas. No witch or wizard could tell me what I had created, until I despaired and started asking magical beasts. They thought I had gone mad, naturally. A man seeking the advice of creatures of the forest! But the wild elves saw that to the right eyes the mirror reflects the state of the soul. Adriel kindly told me a great deal about you, Thomas.”

Tom contained his indignation.

“Once you’ve conquered the world, and unless I’m much mistaken, it is only a matter of time – once you’ve accomplished everything you ever wanted, maybe you’ll see that you can never bring your mother back to life or force your father to love you. You can never have what you truly deserved, and you will forever seek more power until you will make the inevitable misstep. You ask me to teach you, and it is not too late. You can still learn, you can still undo some of the damage you’d done your soul, Thomas. If you allow me to, it will be my greatest accomplishment, and we both know that’s saying something.”

“I cannot believe it. In Albania and England alike, the same self-righteous foolishness springs in the heart of every man when he is near death. Perhaps it is only men like you who convince themselves they long to be reunited with their mothers and beg them for a hug, because you did not have the foresight and courage to stave death when you were at your prime.”

Benedict smiled a weak smile. “I’m not afraid to die, Thomas. Or to kill. I am a master of the Dark Arts, and I have the presence of mind to kill. But I know what you have done. And several times? Not even Gellert – No. The only thing I can do for you is to ask you to reconsider. You can still be saved.”

Tom could not keep from laughing. He did not need saving, and the idea that he did almost insulted him. He did not even resent the waste of time. Only mortals concerned themselves with that. “Saved from what, Sir, a bit of looking glass and platitudes masquerading as noble truths?”

“You’ve killed and torn yourself apart when you were only a boy. You’ve terminated your own growth. You will be infinitely powerless, the man with a touch of gold who went hungry. I can still help you. You came all this way – don’t let the chance go to waste. It’s the last chance you’ll get, Thomas.”

Tom smirked. On his long journey through the forest, to find this place, and meet this man, he had come to respect Benedict’s penchant for anagrams, and he had made one of his own.

“My name is not Thomas,” he corrected. “My full name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort.”

He drew his wand, and though Benedict was a powerful wizard, he was an old man, and he had wasted his effort defending himself against a much more powerful curse than what Lord Voldemort had decided, in a split second, to use against him – a mere Petrificus Totalus. The killing curse, he used on Adriel, and he savoured the look of helpless terror on Benedict’s immobile face, and laughed.

“Your elf can’t help you now, and I don’t imagine many wizards will be able to find you here. You say that Grindelwald is free in his prison? Now you are freer even than him, to starve to death.”

Lord Voldemort placed a permanent levitating charm on the dratted mirror, positioned it so that Benedict would die staring at his own reflection and at the mist of his breath condensing and evaporating from his greatest magical creation, and stepped over the wild elf’s body as he left, knowing that he had just defeated one of the greatest wizards of his age. If he had anything more to learn before his true life could begin, it could not be much.

#hp fic #voldemort #Voldemort debating Good and Evil and the Dark Arts with an OC

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cordelia-cardale · 4 years

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My Angel, Please Let Me Down Slowly - a Jordelia fanfic

Sidenote: I don’t really know what to say apart for that I had this idea for a fanfiction and for some reason I decided to write it and then I decided to share it. Like we say: if nothing is ventured, nothing is gained right? I have never felt so vulnerable on this hellsite before because fanfic is not what I really do and I certainly have never shared my writing before. I tried to make this as close to the character as I could, I’m sure you’ll find that there are mistakes here and there. It also ended up being much longer than I thought it would be, I ramble a lot who is suprised? I hope you’ll read it and that you’ll enjoy, I certainly had fun writing it.

“So? How do you feel?” Lucie asked excitedly. James stared at the thin silver band Grace was holding in front of him, seemingly lost in a daze. They stood in the drawing room of the London Institute with Lucie, Will and Tessa hovering, eagerly looking at James to look for any changes after the bracelet had come off.

None of them really knew the exact reason for which Grace had gone against Tatiana Blackthorn and accepted Lucie’s offer to join the London Institute and fight against Belial. Lucie had assured everyone that it was much better if they didn’t know the reason as, in truth, she wanted to keep their plans to bring Jesse back a secret just a little longer. Once on their side, Grace had quickly although reluctantly admitted that James was in fact not genuinely in love with her but was under the spell of the bracelet he wore since he was thirteen. Once she had explained Tatiana’s and Belial’s plan and the bracelet’s function, Will had exclaimed that this was completely unacceptable and that it had to be taken off at once. Everyone had agreed. However, due to the late hour of the night and because James wanted to do it privately, they had all been sent home with the promise that they would be able to come and check on James the following morning. All at the exception of Cordelia who had insisted on staying behind and was currently waiting in the library with Matthew who had decided to keep Cordelia company and wanted to show her an essay written by Oscar Wilde. Being responsible for the bracelet’s charm, Grace was the only who could take it off easily, and so, here there were with the bracelet removed.

“He’s not going to feel very different right away as once the bracelet is off there is still a remnant of the bond.” Grace replied for James. James disagreed, he felt as if he had woken up from a long slumber, and were finally able to breathe normally. He saw the world not through the veiled eyes of a passive body bound to an invisible force but as if he could experience everything around him for himself again. Grace had also lost this ethereal beauty he had found so fascinating. She remained stunning with her angel soft blond hair closing to silver, her frail complexion and her big grey eyes but her beauty suddenly did not make him want to follow her to the end of the world or throw himself in the river Thames. He realized with a sudden jolt that she was talking, to him more specifically, and that he had missed most of it.

“… you’ll be all right and I’m … you … you must know…” she paused, looking unsure. He looked at her with a look between resentment and expectation and wondered what she could possibly want him to know. Was she going to apologize? And if she did, what would he be able to say? “Never mind, we’ll talk soon. When you’ll be feeling more like yourself.”

“Yes soon, just not right away. I need some time to think and to reflect.” to get away from you James thought. He would not let her know how much he could not stand being in her presence right now, he would be civil. After all she couldn’t really be blamed, she had had no choice but to obey the witch.

“James?” asked Tessa gently “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I assure you.” Looking towards his father he quickly added “Don’t look at me like that papa, you’re making me anxious.”

Will looked as if this was the first time he’d ever truly seen his son and wondered whether to make him stay in bed the next day with ten blankets, a hot cup of tea and the curtains drawn so as not to risk James developing a weird sort of illness.

“I’m sorry Jamie bach, it’s just” he walked closer to James “we are your parents, our job is to worry for you. Are you sure you’re alright? I can call Jem right now if you want me to, I don’t mind.”

“Will!” Tessa chastised.

“It’s not necessary to call Uncle Jem. I just feel a little weird and lighter than usual, which is not so different from the first time Grace took off the bracelet.” James glanced at Grace who intensely stared at the ground as if the cracks in the floorboard was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

“Well if he’s alright I think we should go and tell Cordelia. I promised her I’d let her know as soon as the whole ordeal was passed. I’m sure she must worry.” Lucie chirped in.

Cordelia. Daisy. Angel. Images came rushing to James, her soft and warm embrace, her tenacity, the smiles she would only reserve for him, and his irrepressible need at times to run his fingers through her auburn hair. And how, at each of these times, he had to force himself not to do it as he would never have let himself cross that line. He owed Cordelia, who had given her reputation to save him, not to lead her on. And although they had eventually, after five months of pretence, reached a place where they were comfortable around each other and started to share inside jokes, their engagement was still a sham and he would not pretend that there was something there when there wasn’t. But was that true? Hadn’t he told her that he had never wanted anything more than to kiss her when they were in the Whispering Room? And, unknown to Cordelia, that desire had never really went away even after Grace had put the bracelet back onto his wrist. He didn’t know exactly how he felt about Cordelia but he knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had never loved Grace.

He had to see Cordelia. He had to explain to her and hope that she would understand and give him a chance. And maybe with just a bit of luck she would not feel indifferent to him and she had and still did share the same desire as him when they shared their first kiss. And they would then be able to figure out their feelings together. He had to go to the library, see her, talk to her.

“I appreciate everyone’s worry, really, and I will let you fuss around me at your heart’s content tomorrow. But Lucie is right, Daisy has been waiting.”

“Great! Let’s go.” Lucie started to walk towards the door but was stopped as James grabbed her elbow.

“No Lucie. Alone. I need to see her alone, please?”

Lucie pouted, feeling as if she was going to miss all the fun, but gestured for him to go. James who needed no more encouragements hastened out of the drawing room and ran down the halls of the Institute.

When he arrived in front of the library doors, he took a moment to steel himself and tried to get a hold of his muddled thoughts. After tonight he might not have to pretend anymore. He might be able to reach for her hand or play with her hair or take her in his arms and kiss her whenever he wished to. Not because he had to go along with a lie but simply because they both wanted to. He took a breath in, reached for the library door, slowly opened it and for the second time that night he froze.

The room was dimly lit by an oil lamp placed on the fireplace mantel but in the far corner he could discern two figures leaned against a bookshelf, clinging to each other, with an open book discarded at their feet. Probably the book Matthew wanted to show Cordelia. The smaller figure let out a soft moan and James shut his eyes. Suddenly the floor under his feet seemed no longer stable. His head and heart were pounding as if he had breathed in to quickly and yet there suddenly seemed like there would never bee enough air for him to breath normally. The energy that had made him almost run to the library was sapped and for a minute his world had lost its direction and a part of him wished he could still be under Grace’s influence.

“Matthew” whispered Cordelia.

James opened his eyes, already adjusting to the darkness of the room, only to see Cordelia staring back at him. Matthew still had his head bend, kissing her neck the way James had done not so long ago, the way he still wanted to do now.

“Matthew, stop.” James wasn’t sure which of them had said it but to his short-lived relief Matthew lifted his head but only to follow Cordelia’s gaze and lend his eyes onto James.

Matthew immediately scrambled into an upright position trying to smooth his hair and clothes out.

“James! Here you are, we were worried. I was just reading a passage from The Decay of Lying.” Said Matthew biting his lower lip, his hair dishevelled, the first few buttons on his waistcoat undone. He was pointing at the book Cordelia had now picked up and clutched in one hand, her other hand hovering at her lips.

“Listen to this and tell me what you think, “What is interesting about people in good Society is the mask that each one of them wears, not the reality that lies behind the mask”.’ Matthew recited, because of course he would have learned by heart Wilde’s writing. How fitting as well that out of all of Wilde’s quotes he had picked one about masks, James thought.

“Riveting.” James let out through a forced smile. “I’m sorry for interrupting your passionate reading, I should have knocked. I just wanted to let you know that Grace took the bracelet off and I knew you were both waiting.”

Matthew’s expression hardened “I told you, didn’t I, that she was not as angelic as she was trying to make you believe. At least now I won’t have to try and prove it and hopefully she will be on her way once we win against Belial and Tatiana.” James didn’t know the reasons but it seemed that recently over the past five months or so Matthew had developed an even more pronounced dislike of Grace. “Anyway,” Matthew’s expression softened “how are you feeling?”

“Everyone has been asking me that.” James sighed. He threw a glance at Cordelia, everyone had been asking except her, she hadn’t said a thing. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning when my head is less foggy. I’ll leave you to whatever it is that you were doing.” And with that James closed the door and left.

He was halfway down the hallway when he heard quick, light footsteps “Wait! James, please, wait. I can explain.” The way she was almost begging him to stop was like shards of glass in his heart, but he kept walking faster.

“It’s not what you think.”

“No?” James stopped abruptly. “It seemed really clear to me what was going on in that room. I assure you I do not need any further explanations.” He was now facing her.

“We were reading …” started Cordelia.

“Reading doesn’t usually include kissing. At least from what I’ve experienced, it doesn’t.” James said with finality.

Cordelia stared at James not knowing what to say. He was angry and she wasn’t sure he would listen to anything she had to say right now. Then she ventured carefully “Would it make a difference if I told you it wasn’t supposed to happen? You weren’t supposed to see it. We both feel bad, we’re both sorry.” She could barely meet his eyes when she finished.

James slightly shook his head and exhaled “You don’t have to, neither of you owes me an explanation. You’re not bound to me in any way just like I am not bound to you. We’re both free of pursuing any relationships we want. I just never thought of all the men you could possibly have in London you’d go with my parabatai, my Matthew. I feel foolish, I should have known. I’ve seen the way you started to look at Math, the way you act around each other and the way you started to look at each other when you thought no one was watching. Just tell me something, and please answer me honestly, for Matthew’s sake, do you love him?”

“I don’t know.” She murmured, looking down at her clasped hands, her knuckles almost white.

Her answer knocked the air out of James. He thought that might have been the case, of course he did. He hadn’t lied when he said that he saw Cordelia and Matthew, their relationship had changed ever so gradually. While James was busy trying not to act on his false feelings for Grace and to comprehend why his heart seemed to beat just a little quicker when Cordelia entered a room, she had been busy keeping up a false engagement and falling for his best friend. He just never thought she would admit to it or that he would have to hear it.

Cordelia lifted her head, hoping to erase what she had said, hoping to bring the conversation back to them and not linger on her unclear feelings for Matthew “But the bracelet is off and …”

“And nothing has changed.” Except that everything had, but she didn’t have to know this. More than anything he wanted to see Cordelia happy even if her happiness costed him his. He would rather have cut out his own heart than take away Cordelia’s chance at being in love, so he continued “Daisy, I truly am sorry. I don’t think that either of us were ready for this turn of event but I do think we still need to get married, just to keep your reputation intact. But once this year is up if Matthew makes you happy then I will be happy for you.”

“So you’re not angry? I thought that … I don’t know what I thought. I just thought you would care.” I thought you would be jealous. Cordelia hadn’t kissed Matthew to make James jealous, of course not, but her treacherous heart still hoped he would return her feelings and so, in effect, would be showing signs of jealousy.

“Of course I care! You have become such a dear friend to me. I care for you immensely; you should know that by now. And no, I’m not angry, I’m just surprised. I saw it coming, I just never though it would actually happen.”

So there it was, she thought, he wasn’t angry or jealous just caught off guard. She had hoped that tonight would turn out so differently. That without the bracelet on he would tell her he loved her. That they would decide that the marriage wouldn’t be a sham but a real one based on love, understanding and trust. Yet, she never felt further from James than at this moment. He hadn’t loved her then; he didn’t love her now. And worst of all she wasn’t even sure how she felt about Matthew. When had things between them started to go so wrong?

“It’s late, I think we both need some rest after every that has happened today. I’ll see you in the morning Cordelia.”

As he started to slowly walk away, she reached for his hand and intertwined her fingers with his.

“I’m so sorry, I wish it could have gone another way.”

“Me too.” Maybe things would have been different if I had told you when we were younger, I just didn’t know it until I saw you with him my angel. James gently pried his fingers away and returning to the silence and darkness of his bedroom.

That night he promised himself that he would stand by Matthew and Cordelia, would smile at their happiness and in time would be able to mend his broken heart. He would not and could not stand in the middle of their happiness because he loved them both beyond words. He came to the resolution that if he could see them both happy with each other than he would have to be content with that.

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dmsden · 4 years

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Forbidden Magics - Taking spells from other classes

Hullo, Gentle Readers. This week’s Question from a Denizen comes from an anonymous source. They ask, “If a player wants to take a spell that isn't normally available to their class, and is willing to put in the work to get it, what methods would you use to make that happen? Would you construct your own mechanic or use an existing one?”

So, first off, I would be a little leery of doing this, but not because of any game balance concerns. Spells being available to various classes is part of the overall flavor of those classes, and mixing and matching them tends to muddy things. Also, some classes have specific mechanics for grabbing spells from other classes, so letting anyone do it tends to water down how special that is. If you made it a cool part of the story, however, and everyone was pretty much okay with it, then you should feel free to do so. As in most things, I would let the story dictate what method would let the PC gain the spell, and I would make sure it matched the character class in question.

Bards of the College Lore get to swipe spells from other classes anyway, so I’m not sure why this would be necessary for them. If you wanted to give a bard of a different college a chance to gain magical secrets, you could couch them in terms of a piece of unique art. Perhaps they hear of a bard who crafted a song that does what the PC wants. They have to seek out this bard, who will only grant the spell to them if they defeat the bard in some manner of musical competition.

A Cleric’s spells come from their deity. Perhaps only a specific angel of their deity can grant the spell they want. In order to convince this angel to part with the spell, they have to perform a holy quest that meets their deity’s needs.

A Druid might have to delve into forbidden lands to meet the Archdruid of a different realm who has developed the spell. Maybe they must travel deep into the Feywild and bargain with an Archfey for the knowledge.

A Sorcerer might have to find a way that fits with the source of their magic to draw forth the new spell. A storm sorcerer might need to venture into a terrible storm to seek the magic at its heart. A wild mage might need to travel to Pandemonium, the plane of ultimate chaos. A draconic heritage sorcerer might need to bathe in a distillation made of a dragon’s breath weapon. And so on.

A Warlock’s patron might grant such a spell, but it won’t be for free. This would be an excellent moment for a Patron to demand that the Warlock perform a quest to further their own ends.

A Wizard might need to conduct extensive research in libraries, or seek out a lost library to find such a spell. They might find all manner of forbidden knowledge there, as well as terrible guardians.

There are other kinds of spellcasters, of course, and you can use the examples above to come up with how they might gain other spells. An Eldritch Knight might need to journey to a special fighter’s school and prove themselves worthy of entry. An Artificer might need to study the tomes and learning of other Artificers. And an Arcane Trickster might need to steal the spell.

I hope this helps you, my Anonymous friend. If you decide to go this route, I recommend using story as a guide rather than worrying too much about the mechanical aspects of things.

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soldierfirstclasszeldafair · 4 years

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Title: Unexpecting

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Characters: Dante Sparda, Ripley Rowe (OC)

Chapters: 2/?

Dante runs his fingers through his overgrown gray stands for what feels like the hundredth time since he’s been woken up. He hasn’t been sleeping well. Dante may be a light sleeper, but the creaks and odd noises from the Devil May Cry settling would never wake him before. Now the smallest sound has him on alert.

His world was flipped upside down nearly a month ago since Vergil declared Ripley was pregnant and indeed not sick with the flu. He’s been so stressed thinking about the baby. His thoughts and questions plague his mind and sometimes has him scared for the future.

Thoughts like: I can barely manage keeping the power on for the shop, how could I possibly provide for this baby? What if something goes wrong? It’s not like we could take our demon baby to a hospital. What if something happens to Ripley? or the baby!?

A hand gently finds his under the covers and absentmindedly gives it a gentle squeeze and wraps its own digits around his ring finger pulling his hand to her chest. A simple gesture Ripley has always done from the beginning of their relationship.

At first, it made Dante feel uneasy when she would hold his ring finger, like it was to intimate. He's since learned it’s just a thing she's done since she was a small child that brought her comfort. It’s now become something that brings him immense comfort, especially as of late.

He strokes his thumb over her hand and earns a ghost of a smile from her as she nuzzles into his arm.

The early morning has Dante wondering in thought. He’s never really been around pregnant women. He’s seen them in quick passings at a diner and held the door open, or in movies, or even the occasional pregnant model that comes up in one of his magazines. But they were obviously pregnant, they all had big swollen bellies, and talked about feeling the baby kick and move, and what weird food their craving.

Then again, they’re all human. So there’s bound to be differences in the pregnancies. Ripley’s hormonal changes being a major one. At first, it drove Dante’s senses wild not knowing what any of these changes meant. It’s made him panic, defensive, frustrated and extremely horny. Ripley being unaware of all these signals coming from her, was wondering what the hell has Dante acting so strange.

After a week of having Dante at his throat for merrily venturing into his small library or simply passing Ripley in the office, Vergil decided they needed to understand what triggers the changes so they could both better understand, otherwise Ripley would end up a single mother.

The two discovered when Vergil is in close proximity to Ripley, it seems to make her horemons flare, like a signal of some kind warning Vergil to keep his distance, while telling Dante there’s a threat nearby.

They also discovered when Ripley starts to feel weak from exhaustion and is about to faint, her hormones slowly decreases in presence. Vergil believes it’s a last chance effort to hide Ripley from danger.

Glancing over at her sleeping form next to him, her cheeks seem to carry a permanent flushed hue. The baby hairs that frame her face are curled from sweat. Her hormones have calmed down with having dante .But there is still no obvious sign that she's pregnant. Turning over onto his side to get comfortable, he places his free hand onto her stomach and waits.

Nothing kicks or moves, of course.

Maybe she’s just got some weird ass demonic flu.

That makes him exceedingly protective of her when another demon is around. Wanting to rip them apart. Limb from Limb.

Especially Vergil. It most likely has something to do with the strength and power his brother possesses. Dante’s decided to keep Vergil busy by tasking him with on longer hunts.

“Can’t sleep babe?” a sweet, yet groggy voice whispers.

Dante’s piercing blue eyes meet Ripley’s heterochromia blues that are barely peeking over the covers. He can make out the faint scar under her left eye that rests at the top of her cheek bone and stops just as it meets her nose. He met Ripley just after she got the injury, saving Morrison from an unruly death by a Hell Caina. He shakes his head to her question and rolls over on top of her careful to not squish her with his weight, and rests his head on her chest.

Raking her fingers through his unkempt hair, he closes his eyes and listens to her rhythmic heartbeat. Giving her a quick, cheeky kiss to the top of her clothed breast, which in turn makes her giggle at his antics.

Playing with the ends of his hair with one hand and lightly scratches the the top of his back with the other, Dante lets out a sound that can only be described as a purr. He proceeds to nestle his face into her chest, like a cat asking to be scratched some more, so she does despite the scratching from his facial hair.

Ripley is aware that Dante has been worrying a lot lately, though she tries her best to lessen that, she can’t help but worry a little herself too. It’s scary to be unexpecting parents. They’re not even sure how far along into the pregnancy she is.

“Stop worrying so much.” She caresses his cheek, and he furrowed his eyebrows. “Hey, we’re going to be just fine Dante. We always find a-”

“Hush!”

The sudden raise in his voice makes Ripley jump and nearly kicks Dante in the family jewels. She's about to give him a smack for scaring her until he jolts up from laying of her, freezing and staring at her stomach as he crouches . He places his hand over her stomach while he’s trying to process what just happened. His face is scarily unreadable and sends Ripley into a panic.

“Dante” the terror clear in her voice, “What's wrong?” Quickly a paralyzing fear takes over Ripley, tears already forming in her eyes, praying that nothing is seriously wrong with their baby as Dante continues to stare, with his hand moving around her stomach.

Not hearing her calling his name because he’s so focused. He gets up and quickly rips away the bedding, discarding it onto the floor. He’s back to his earlier position in lightning speed, laying his head onto Ripley’s stomach, listening for some sort of sign.

Not satisfied with with his response, he pulls up her shirt and places his ear to her stomach again and waits. He can hear Ripley’s heartbeat becoming faster, but that’s not what he’s frantically searching for.

The bedroom is deafening as they both wait. Every fiber of their beings are tense. Doing everything in her power to keep still as she fights away the loose tears that fall down her face. Dante frowns, moving himself lower and tries pressing his head into her stomach to see if that would help.

Thump thump, thump thump.

There it is! He laughs, catching Ripley off guard as another tear falls. “Dante” she cries reaching for his hand.

The cry of his name rips his attention from his new discovery. His smile quickly drops as he sees the tears rolling down her face as she tries to wipe them away, but more flow over. A sob breaks through and Dante’s heart temporarily shatters. His brain finally catching up to what it must seem like for her, realizing how frightened she is.

“No, no, no,” he moves quickly to gather her in his arms, tucking her under his chin. He tries to comfort her by rubbing her back but she sobs and tears fall onto his chest like a river overflowing. “Everything is fine, the baby is perfect.” He rocks her and wipes her face of tears.

“I can hear the heartbeat” he blurts causing her to go still in his arms. Ripley manages to calm down enough to ask Dante to repeat himself.

“I can hear our baby” he smiles, continuing to rub her back. “I can hear our baby’s- OW!”

“Don’t ever fucking scare me like that!” she smacks his arm again. “I thought something was wrong Dante! You can’t just do that.” She wipes away more tears and pushed away her hair then hides behind her hands. Dante kisses her forehead and moves behind her, pulling her to lean against him. “I’m sorry sweetheart” he strokes his hand over her stomach, “I didn’t mean to scare you like that. It caught me by surprise. I wasn’t sure if I really heard it or not.”

Dante caresses her wet face and leans down kissing her nose. Something he does when asking for forgiveness. Closing her eyes and leaning her head against him, she grabs his left hand and wraps her digits around his ring finger pulling it to her chest again. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

The two stay wrapped up in each others embrace, taking deep breaths to calm down. Dante whispers kind words into her ears, leaving feather light kisses to whatever skin he can reach. After some time passes, the two agree to head downstairs to start their day.

Kissing her head one last time, he untangles his hand from her grasp and picks her up, standing on the bed. He takes a big step off the bed, and drops onto the floor causing Ripley to squeal and cling onto him tightly.

“Don’t worry, I won’t drop my babies” he smirks, his hair falling into his face hiding his eyes from her. Brushing it out of his face and behind his ears so he can see, Ripley rolls her eyes very dramatically “Just be carefull daddy” and bites her lip. Dante comes to an abrupt stop and looks at her with a stupid grin.

“You know, that’s probably how we ended up in this predicament, you calling me daddy and all” he teases wiggling his eyebrows.

Ripley laughs loudly, and rubs his chest. “Yeah you’re probably right Mr. Casanova.”

Dipping his head down, the two meet in a quick kiss. A kiss that turns heated. Dante nips and pulls on her bottom lip, grinning like a mad man. Ripley slips in a bit of tongue, while wrapping her arms around his neck, getting lost in him like so times in the past. The two only pulling apart for air, breathing heavy. Rubbing her hands over his exposed chest.

The two haven’t really been intimate beyond a few touches here and there since finding out about the pregnancy. Mostly because Dante doesn’t want to cause any harm to the baby. He’s managed to ignore his wants for the time being, but it’s getting harder everyday.

The two get dressed for the day and Dante picks her back up as they descend down the stairs, to the front of the shop where Dante sits Ripley on his desk. A true, quick peck on the lips and he leaves to the kitchen to make his coffee and her tea, leaving Ripley to retrieve and go through the mail.

Flicking through the stack, she finds a couple bills, a new magazine that Dante promised he canceled the subscription on, and a letter. Tossing the magazine onto the couch by the wall, She sits back on her spot on top of his desk.

She opens the middle desk drawer, digging around the inside of the cluttered desk for the letter opener, she hisses, cutting her finger on the sharp edge.

Muttering a quiet “damit” as a bit of blood manages to run down her finger. before she could find a band-aid. Digging through the drawer again for the small box she keeps, careful of the sharp edge. Dante calls from the kitchen.

“Babe? Everything alright?”

Curse his heightened senses. “I’m fine, just pricked my finger.” Finding an alcohol wipe and the box of band-aids, she cleans off her finger, and applies the band-aid. Cleaning the edge of the letter opener with another wipe, tossing everything into the trash.

Going back to the stack of envelopes, the letter sticks out the most, What could it be? Payment? another invite from Patty? Who ever it’s from didn’t bother to write a return address, though the shops address is written in great penmanship. Mysterious much? Slicing open the top of the letter and not her finger this time, opens up the letter and immediately disappointed.

It contains only one sentence, written in the same handwriting as what's on the front in blue ink.

“Finished the job, I’ll arrive soon.”

He couldn’t even bother signing his name. Rolling her eyes at Vergil’s way of communication, or rather his lack of, tosses the now crumbled balled up letter into the trash. Proceeding to the less fun envelopes as Dante arrives with their fuel for the start of the day.

“Anything interesting?” He places the mugs down on top of his papers instead of using the coasters. Looking over Ripley for some sort of bandage, he spots the band-aid on her index finger. He grabs her hand, careful to not disturb the small wound, places a kiss over the band-aid. Sitting in his chair, he proceeds to kick his feet up on his desk, jolting the beverages around, somehow managing to not spill them.

“Vergil said, he’d finished up the job and would be back soon.” Shuffling through the bills “and got some utility bills.”

Dante nods his head. Stretching out his arm, opens a drawer and hands over the brightly colored bill organizer you insisted on getting. Taking a sip of the hot tea, she starts filling in the different amounts for each utility, followed by when it’s due using a different colored pen for each.

The front door to the Devil May Cry can be heard opening. Ripley cuts her eyes while sipping her tea at Dante, for forgetting to lock the doors yet again. He just scratches his scruff, smiles, and pretends he can’t see her.

Whistling can be heard coming from the lobby. The door to the offices squeaks on its hinges as it swings open revealing Morrison. His whistling brings a sultry tune inside the otherwise quiet shop. Smiling, Ripley offers a wave while Dante watches.

“Hey sweetheart, you feeling any better?” Morison calls out as he hangs up his suit jacket.

Before she can reply Dante speaks up. “Never better.” He leans as far back as his chair allows without tipping over and crosses his arms behind his head. Morrison ignores Dante and glances at Ripley as he walks over to the couch, who still has a red hue to her face. “I’m great, Morrison.”

“Glad to hear it” he picks up the magazine looking at the cover that contains a scantily clad women. Sitting down on the couch, he flips through a couple pages.

“What brought you here, Morrison? I doubt it’s to look through my magazines.”

“Well I figured I’d stop by and see how Ripleys doing.”

Dante snorts. He knows he wouldn’t come all this way just for that when he could call. Morrison stands up, tosses the magazine back on the couch, and walks over to the pair.

“Maybe now that you’re feeling on the mend, Dante can get his ass in gear and work on paying me back.”

Sitting up, Dante stretches out his legs, bumping Ripley's. “Well, what do you got for me Morrison?.”

Morrison pulls out a file from his coat and hands it over to Ripley. She angles it so both her and Dante can see. Inside it contains snippets of local newspapers, pictures of a girl and what seems to be some sort of demonic horse.

“A girl from a small town went missing. Locals been looking everywhere and stumbled upon that thing.”

Handing over the picture of the horse thing, Ripley starts reading the articles.

An Elder Geryon, Dante thinks to himself. Where there’s one of those, there’s usually a black knight close by. The poor girl is probably being used as a vessel.

“A couple of dumbasses thought they could catch the thing and were nearly trampled to death. One of the guys managed to take that picture just before it attacked. Said they also saw something in the distance that looked like it had wings too.”

“It sounds like that Cavaliere Angelo thing you were telling me about.” Handing over the file to Dante, Ripley stands taking her now empty mug to the kitchen.

“The city is willing to pay a decent amount to take care of the horse.”

“How far away is this place?”

Morrison shakes his head at Dante already knowing why. “Not that far. It’s a four day drive but I’m sure I can cut it down to three. You can play nurse again in no time.”

Even if he could cut it down by a day, it’ll be a week away from Ripley and the baby. If something were to go wrong he wouldn’t be able to get to home in time.

“Take the job D” says Ripley, walking back over. He looks over at her, eyes glancing down to her stomach for a quick second. She smiles reassuringly at him “We’ll be fine.” Her hands resting on his shoulders.

“We’ll?” Morrison looks over at the two questionly.

Oops. The two are wanting to keep the pregnancy a secret for now. Mainly for privacy reasons, but also for safety. If demons were to find out that one of the sons of Sparda has mated, it could put the growing family in serious danger. That goes for people too...

“Me and Vergil. We kind of had a dispute of sorts” Ripley responds, hoping it sounds believable enough to drop the subject.

“About what?”

“It’s kinda embarrassing” she scratches her head in thought.

“You embarrassed? That’s a new one” Morrison laughs.

“If you must know, Vergil walked in on us fucking, alright” Dante spills.

“Dante!” Ripley covers her face from Morrison’s view. Over time Morrison has become somewhat of a father figure for her, always offering advice and sometimes spoils her with gifts.

Morrison clearly caught off guard by Dante’s response. Dante enjoying making his friend uncomfortable a little to much, decides to keep going. “He caught quite the show, at this very desk” smiling like the complete dumbass he is, Dante taps the top of his desk just to emphasize even more. “Right here.”

“Alright, Alright. I’m sorry I asked.” He backs away from the desk, not able to look them in the eye anymore. For whatever reason, his brain decided he needed a mental image. “So, are you taking me up on my offer?”

Looking over at Ripley, who shakes her head yes. He sighs, “yeah I’ll grab my things. Meet’ cha by the car.”

Morrison wasting no time to get some fresh air, leaves closing the door loudly.

Dante stands, putting on his signature red coat. “You sure you’re gonna be okay” he asks.

Standing on her tiptoes, Ripley locks her arms around Dante’s neck. “We’ll mange” she whispers giving his lips a quick peck. "Vergil will be here with me. He won’t let anything happen.”

Dante huffs and brings her into a tight embrace resting his chin on her head. A mumbled “I Know”

Ripley kisses his exposed chest from the opened buttons on his shirt. “Be safe please.” Straightening out his jacket just for an excuse to run her hands over his chest. Leaning down he captures her lips in a sweet goodbye kiss.

#Dante Sparda #dante son of sparda #dante x oc #dante x reader #dmc #dmc dante #devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #devil may cry x oc #dante sparda x reader #dante sparda x oc #devil may cry 5 #dmc5

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the-red-wulf · 4 years

Note

What do you think the modern Lannisters have been doing during quarantine and how have they not murdered each other yet (assuming they're all stuck in the same house)

Oh, I love this!!

To start, in a modern world I don’t imagine they would be stuck together which means that they are likely left to their own devices for entertainment. If they were stuck together they would have likely ventured to Casterly Rock so that while they’re together, they aren’t together.

Tyrion has likely already set up routine ‘Drizly’ and grocery deliveries so that his supply of wine is never ending. He is a novelist, so working from home and avoiding the world is nothing terribly new to him. He is using the lockdown as motivation to finally work on that sequel he’s been meaning to tackle. In his ‘spare’ time he has also begun a complicated redesign of his in-penthouse library, cataloging everything and ordering those books that he needs online. Occasionally he will log into places like reddit and engage in AMAs, spirited debates and arguments in various subreddits, just to keep his mind sharp and in touch with his readers and the current events. But for the most part, he is, in my mind, perfectly content to sit back and watch the world burn while he curls up with a good book and bottle of wine.

Cersei has, by now, become a well-loved social media influencer. Beauty, fashion, interior design, you name it! After all, designers have been gifting her clothing and accessories for years, why not put them to work making her some cash during lock down? Her work as a fashion editor has prepared her for this--and her overflowing closet demands it. Blogs, reviews, social media ‘looks of the day’ and even selling on poshmark (because some things are simply too hideous to keep and she can use the petty cash to replenish her wine), she is wheeling, dealing and making herself a household name. Soon others look to her for harsh, unflinching opinions on current trends and brands are turning to her to help them with sales in this down economy. Her livestreams are packed with viewers and questions and she holds virtual court like the queen she is. She is building her empire without a single apology.

And Jaime, well Jaime would be the wild card. I think that he would be the first one to grow restless in lockdown. While Tyrion is aloof and Cersei can’t stand most people, Jaime is such a social, outgoing charmer, I think he would get bored quickly. It is fortunate that his golden retriever, ‘Selmy’ is there to keep him company--and become the subject of many a vlog and social media post. Perhaps he would engage in a troll war or two with friends Bronn and Sandor on Twitter or Instagram. He would, of course, be Tywin’s right hand man in terms of business, so he would spend most his days catching up on emails and putting out ‘remote’ fires. When he isn’t bouncing from zoom call to zoom call, checking in on all the Lannister Corp employees, I am torn between saying that he would begin using YouTube and other DIY videos to teach himself new skills (like karate and cooking) or if he would suddenly decide that it was time to learn home improvement to work on his surroundings, all with varying results that he would share on social media.

Thank you so much for this! I loved it and hopefully it made you smile!

To everyone else, feel free to comment with your thoughts on this! :D

-<3 TRW

#tyrion lannister #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #lannister lockdown #modern lannisters #ask

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chaos-societies · 4 years

Text

Episode 6, The Seven Chaos Princes’ Crowns

Fire was burning all around. It was inescapable. The distant sound of rushing water was not of comfort however. Waves flooded the scene and there were no means of staying afloat. It became impossible to breathe. The shadow of a man was letting out hearty laughs all the while.

“Past…Future… ”

The words cut through the chaotic event. They were clear and soothing, but there was an air of concern in the voice.

“The plant for creation, the plant for destruction... They’re waiting for the controllers.”

A light began shining. It wasn’t clear where it came from but it was blinding. Suddenly there was no more drowning, no more inferno.

“The servers are the seven chaos…”

…

Amy’s eyes slowly creaked open as a ray of sunlight had slipped between the closed shades of the window and landed right upon her face. She rolled out of the sun’s piercing brightness and let out an accompanying grown. “Five more minutes…” She mumbled mindlessly.

After a decent bit, Amy moseyed out from the bedroom and joined Sonic who was already in the kitchen stirring up some breakfast. “Sleep well?”

Amy let out a yawn. “Yeah…” She said without much conviction.

“Oh come on Ames, don’t lie to me. You were tossing and turning all night!” He quickly flipped the contents of the skillet before placing it back down on the stove. He moved over to the table where Amy was sitting and slid a cup of coffee in front of her. “Tell me, what’s up. More dreams?”

“Yeah…” It seems that was as much of a response she was capable of at the moment, at least until she woke up more.

The two discussed them more over breakfast. Amy told Sonic how Chuck comforted her about these dreams of hers and she made sure to remember as much as she could in case anything from them came to fruition. She even wrote some of them down and started her own dream journal. The one from the night prior for sure being noted as the new voice was surely telling some important information about ‘creation’ and ‘destruction.’

The world outside was moist after a light rain during the early morning. The sun was out but clouds occasionally obscured it and gave the air a cool brisk feel to it. The two walked around the wood surrounding the main village. The faint sound of waves mixed with the rustling of leaves in the wind. The two came across a ring of mushrooms and made sure to go around lest walk through. They discussed many things, mostly around the speculation of the recent events – Stark Ruins, the library in Cap, their run-in with the Reds from Rockbase, Chuck’s concern something menacing was afoot. They pondered what could be; evil spirits coming for vengeance, a forewarning of death. Nothing of their speculation was of the positive nature.

Meanwhile, Chuck was reading more from the Stair na Seacht at his place of study in his hut. The cool moist air battled the warmer sun as the two took turns pouring in through the window overhead. Birds were singing outside and the ambiance added peace to Chuck’s focus.

“Come ere spires…blocking…light? Blocking sun?” He looked over to another book and scanned some pages, turning them with a slow pace as he searched the text. “North the South city of trade…” He stopped reading a moment and thought aloud, “The South city of trade…”

Chuck stopped and looked out the window to see the trees. He thought of anything to avoid what he knew was inevitable if he were to find out what mysteries were starting to reveal themselves. But his concern for what may transpire outweighed his desire to keep those closest to him from venturing out in the world outside the haven of South Island. He let out a heavy sigh.

Outside, Sonic and Amy were walking back from their excursion. Knuckles and Rouge were off talking under an oak tree. Tails was sitting around with his nose deep in another book of some sorts.

As Sonic and Amy came around to the main area of the village, Chuck walked out of his hut in good timing. He looked over at Sonic with a non-verbal message that he needed to speak with him. Sonic said some words to Amy and they split as Sonic walked to join his uncle.

“Sonny boy. Enjoy your morning?”

“So far, what’s up Chuck?”

“I’ve been reading and trying to decipher the Stair na Seacht. I haven’t gotten far but there is a passage that uncovered something nearby. It doesn’t say much but something close is much more manageable than anything if it may bring more clues to what may be going on.” He explained.

“Another adventure!?” Sonic asked enthusiastically.

Chuck smiled behind his bushy mustache. “I knew you’d take pleasure in the prospects of possibly another trek into the wild. Despite my concern for your well being.”

“Uncle Chuck, you’ve done so much for us here. And you know we can keep our own. If there is anything we can do to help out your research.”

“There is.” He said quickly. He began to walk and Sonic began to follow. “There is not a lot of definitive phrasing in the book. It’s almost entirely written in riddles it seems, although I can’t tell if that’s intentional or just so old that what it tries to describe and explain was based on limited information of the world at the time.”

“What kind of riddles?” Sonic asked inquisitively.

“Some of it is plane information…mostly lore and ancient beliefs and mythos. Other parts be like directions to pieces of a puzzle that it didn’t even intend to create. It’s got me arsed if I weren’t lying.”

“So what do you need from me?”

“You and the gang, don’t you forget. Not only do I fear this involve the lot of you, you all have a tight nit that surely come in handy in a pinch. I need you to go north again, to Cap and even a bit past. I will have to owe Eiméar more for your visit a second time but–”

Sonic took the chance to make jest, “She was kind but I think we may have put up a nerve on her while we were there.”

“Oh I’ve not a doubt you did you kook.” Chuck answered with a chuckle. He got back to the topic at hand. “The book mentions a place. I think it refers to somewhere at the base of the Sléibhte Scáthaigh north of Cap. If you can’t find anything, don’t mingle about as it doesn’t define a precise location. But it talks about something there, a text or message of sorts. I couldn’t determine exactly. But it was under a chapter referring to the emergence of ancient calamities with the talks of fire and flood. I think it’s relevant based on the runes you saw at Stark Ruins. Might give some extra clues, whatever it is there referring to. And…it wouldn’t hurt to investigate as it will still take some time for me to study the book further.”

“Chuck, you know we’re your guys for the job!” Sonic said with a bounce of his words.

“Ha!” Chuck laughed a bit. “Oh I know you are lad.” His cheery tone at Sonic’s response faded back to emotions of concern as his deepest fear still lingered on his mind; the world could be consumed with darkness and he wouldn’t care so long as he knew Sonic and the rest of his friends and all those in South Island were safe from harm. But he knew there was much at stake and feared it directly involved those he was trying to protect. “Go grab your crew. I’ll let you all decide on when you want to make this journey. The last one was more trying on you than I had ever hoped it to be.”

With that, Sonic departed and bolted off to join the others. Tails was the first one he told as he wouldn’t even consider going anywhere without his best friend and ‘little bro’ as he says. Next was Amy who showed a fair share of concern but also intrigue at the prospect of uncovering more of the world’s secrets. Her dreams were definitely a factor in wanting to know more as well. Knuckles acted annoyed as he would with even the simplest of requests but took the opportunity to give Sonic some slagging saying he saved them last time and they could use his help. Rouge felt similar in the sense of watching out for the group, not so much in the poking fun at them part.

They decided to give it another day or so before heading out. Knuckles took this time to go back to Angel Island. Nack and Bean made jest on how Knuckles was leaving his own chapter of Reds for the Cyans but he was used to this with how much of his time was divided between the two factions of the two Societies. Mighty and Ray were supportive and wished him luck as they knew the dangers of the Greater Area since they too helped rescue the Cyans from their not-so-friendly Rockbase brothers and sisters on their journey back from Cap the last time. Bark was silent as ever.

The time came for the group to depart and was once again sent off by Chuck and Vanilla. The rabbit innkeeper, always the mother, even prepared another care package for them.

The journey to Cap was much like their first, uneventful. A good thing too. They arrived again in the market and were lucky no one remembered their faces based on their last scuffle with the locals. They are a rambunctious crew but were smart and learned quickly. They didn’t want to draw any attention or break out any of their ‘abilities’ as Chuck put it. But that didn’t stop their gaze at the goods and merchandise. Knuckles was particularly fascinated by the hustle of the city. He was too used to the quiet life of Angel Island – the village at South Island was sometimes even too much for him. He would moan and scoff at every Mobians that bumped into him which was a lot based on his larger stature as they walked through the crowded streets.

“Psst, miss.” A voice called out. Amy stopped and turned her head. “Yes you! Lovely pink quills you got.” An older lady called. “I ‘member the days my quills were so well kept. What’s your name lass?” The lady was an old hedgehog covered in a shroud and had many chains beads and pendants hanging from silver wire adorned on her head and shoulders. She had a few gemmed rings and long hanging earrings.

“Um… Amy?”

“Amy, lovely. Short for Amelia?” Amy didn’t respond and continued to stare inquisitively. She looked back at the group who stopped and noticed Amy fell behind. They stood with similar curious looks as to why she stopped. “Ah, no matter.” The gypsy continued. “I can tell you’re special.”

Amy turned back to the older hedgehog. “What?”

“Dreams is it?” Amy was stunned. “Come now, I only wish to help.” Her words were warm and sincere. Amy turned back to Sonic and the others and raised a finger for them to wait a moment for her. She slowly but cautiously followed the gypsy back behind her booth and into a small dwelling.

Amy passed many odd trinkets and oddities as she continued back. The place had a warm earthly glow to it and plants were all around in pots on the floor and hanging from the ceiling. Not too far back, as the place was rather small, the gypsy was sitting at a table. On the table was a cloth with a delicate design and repeating patterns. On top the cloth was a hookah.

“Aye, no need to be alarmed. Tis as much I can say for an old hag pulling a stranger off the street.” The lady said as Amy took a seat. The lady grabbed a hose from the hookah and drew in a large inhale of the substance. She offered it to Amy but she kindly shook her head mostly not even knowing what the thing was. “I saw your lot walk by and must say you are a peculiar bunch.”

“How so?” Amy asked, trying to keep as many words to herself.

“Strong energy coming from the lot of you. Not only that, I remember you all brought quite a stir to these parts a few moons back.” She explained. Amy’s curious yet cautious expression was washed away with a pang of fear. “No need to fret lass. I don’t mind a good show every once in a while. Just happy to catch your lot back through here. Now, last I wish is to intrude but you’ve got something on your mind, something heavy.”

“You seem to already know.”

“So you’re plagued by some dreams. Foreboding yet shrouded in obscurity. I have something to help.”

“Why?”

“Why what lassy?” The lady said as she took another toke of the hookah before standing up and walking over to a shelf full of odd pieces.

“Why are you helping me? If it’s tokens you’re after I don’t have much and am less willing to give them to you. I need them for other things.” Amy explained.

“Ah, though that’d be normally what I’d ask for. Not this time.” She came back with a small box and opened it up to reveal a deck of cards. “On the house this time. However if you ever stroll through and wish to take a gander at me lot then I’d be happy to fulfill those wishes.”

Amy took out the deck of cards and scanned through them. They weren’t any normal cards she had seen being played by the locals in the tavern or out in the street. They each had separate pictures on them, trees, symbols, imagery. “What are they?”

“Tarot cards my dear. To help you translate the messages the world sends you.” She sat back down and grabbed the hose of the hookah except did not take a drag just yet.

Amy continued to look through the cards but then turned to the gypsy with a raised brow. “You never really answered. Why do you want to help me?”

“As I said, I sense a great deal of energy coming from your crew. I sensed it back at your last visit and that was just from watching you tussle around with the street folk. I too have dreams sometimes. And I’ve been waiting to come across you all again. I believe I was told to help you and that is all. I don’t make it a habit to quarrel with the will of the world.” Finally she took a long drag from the hookah and whisked out a heavy cloud of vapor.

“Is…is there anything else you know?” Amy placed the cards back in the small box and rested her hands on it.

“It is not my place, nor yours, to ask questions to the ether. But only receive their answers. This was all I know about you and for both our sakes it may be better that way. Now, I’m sure your friends want to know where you slipped off to ey?”

Amy arose out from the lady’s dwelling to see everyone there waiting for her.

“Ames, what was that about?” Sonic asked.

“I…don’t really know.” Amy answered as she held the box in her hand. She slipped them away in her small pack.

“Probably just some desperate merchant trying to sell her something. Don’t fall to these guys’ scams there girl.” Rouge said as they all started to walk off. Meanwhile the gypsy peered out from behind a curtain in the only window of her home and watched with curiosity as they left.

They made it back to the library and walked in. It did not take long to find Eiméar again, slaving over the task of sorting the books in the magnificent study. “Hello Miss Eiméar.”

They were now back in her living quarters once again drinking tea as she set up for their short stay. “I knew I’d see yer lot soon but I shant have expected this soon.” Eiméar said as they sat. “That coot decided to have you bother me yet eh?”

“We won’t be staying long, no longer than last time. Just two nights.” Rouge explained kindly. “And we again appreciate your hospitality.”

“Well if that old hedgehog keeps his word I won’t complain. As long as you stay out of trouble this time ‘round, that clear?”

“We’ll keep to ourselves.” Rouge answered once more.

“And you got a new lad with you this time. What’s your name?” She said to Knuckles as he stood off to the side.

“The name’s Knuckles. It’s nice to meet you ma’am.”

“Knuckles, well geez, ah could have placed a bet on that one with those sluggers of yours.” She motioned down to his fists. “Another friend or are you some bodyguard of sorts.”

Knuckles smiled and glared over at Sonic to which he just rolled his eyes in response to Knuckles’ leer. “Maybe a bit of both.” Knuckles answered through a grin.

“Aye. Well, what be it dis time?”

“Chuck wants us to look at some place north of here. Said it should be at the base of the Sléibhte Scáthaigh.” Sonic stated.

“The Stair na Seacht is pretty cryptic Sir Charles says. But he said there may be something there that could fill in the gaps to his studies. Maybe in a cave or a hollow. Know of anything?” Amy asked.

“That I do. There’s an old cave I’ve been told up there with old carvings on the walls. Typically an old smugglers den so best be careful if yer plan to be ‘sploring any. Could that be it?”

“Possibly!” Tails answered. “Do you know anything else about the place?”

“Afraid not. Never been meself. Just heard ‘bout it. Not too far though and quite noticeable I’ve been told, but best go in the morning before the sun is past high. They don’t call em the mountains of shade for nothing.” She looked over at Knuckles again. “And best bring your bodyguard of sorts too. It’s abandoned I hear now but ya never know.”

The morning came quickly and the group set off to see this place. They initially ventured east to hit the base of the Sléibhte Scáthaigh and paralleled it north. There was nothing of particular interest for a good distance. They scanned out to the west in the open area before the mountains rose out from the land like towers but also checked directly at their base in case it was hidden before the sudden cliffs.

“Look!” Tails shouted as he was flying high above the rest for a better vantage. “I think I see something!” He zoomed down to their level and dropped down stirring up a little sand as he landed. “There is an outcropping of rocks and boulders not too far from here. Looks out of place, could be what we’re looking for.”

“Great job buddy! I’ll go ahead and scout it out to see and to make sure no one is around.” Before any objection from the crew Sonic sped off in the distance. It took not even a full minute for him to return. “I think he’s right! There is a sizable opening in the rocks. Didn’t see anyone around either.” Without another word he zoomed off again. Tails quickly sped off to join him. Knuckle and Amy ran as quick as they could in the looser ground and Rouge fluttered alongside them.

They reached the structure and saw it to be exactly as Sonic loosely described, a cave with an opening big enough for the tallest of Mobians to walk right in. They made their way down the entrance. Tails dug through his small pack and grabbed a flashlight. It flicked on and they ventured down. The light wasn’t entirely necessary however as a short bit past the entrance was the darkest part. Natural light began to illuminate the burrow through openings in the ceiling.

Soon they came into a decent sized room, one slightly bigger than any of their huts back at South Island. Closer to the hallway that was the entrance was some crates covered in sand and dust. They seemed abandoned and forgotten but the group took note not to stay long in case their owners made a return.

[x]

The sight beyond that was strange and mystical but beautiful. The light from the high sun poured down through the openings and glistened along the yellow and red rocky walls. It was surprisingly moist there and small puddles were scattered on the cave floor until they grew in size where they reached a small pool at the end of the cavern. The grotto there had two large very out of place trees arising from the pool. They arose tall through a large hole in the ceiling. They were amazed they couldn’t see the trees from outside but figured they may have been shielded by other taller rocks that jut out around the place.

One tree was an ash tree, forked into two halves. Intertwined with the ash tree was a white fir that rose up strong. In the pool were some reeds as well. The fact that all these trees were found in a cave was surprising. The water there must have softened the ground to make for a strong root system and the sun shining through must have been sufficient to keep the trees alive but the less than ideal environment surely stunted their growth.

“Hey guys, there’s something along the lines of what Chuck was thinking I think over here?” Knuckles was over by the wall and pointed to some carvings and etching there.

“Ogham!” Tails shouted as he and the others moved over to investigate. Sure enough, a series of lines with hatches and marks were all over the walls of the cave. There was too much scattered around to take note of all the etchings but they examined them nonetheless.

“Surely we won’t be able to write all these inscriptions down for Sir Charles, there are just too much!” Amy pointed out.

“He told me that more than often the writing was used more to inscribe names for memorials or markers for tribes and boundaries. There are a lot of random inscriptions. I don’t want to miss anything but maybe many of these are like that.” Tails said.

“Kind of like a ‘Sonic was here’ thing?” Sonic said half joking as he scratched his finger over some of the carvings.

Tails gave a chuckle. “Probably. Let’s try and see if anything sticks out.”

“There’s something over here.” Amy called out as she was over closer to the trees. “There seems to be more structure to these. Not only that…” She signaled everyone over, “runes!” There were only a few but the symbol ᚦ was followed by the laguz ᛚ that they knew from Stark Ruins. Then again with the first, followed by cen ᚳ and above both was the symbol ᚫ.

“There’s one on the tree too.” Rouge pointed out. On the white fir was an aged engraving, hardly made out but appeared to be another rune, ᛇ.

Surrounding the runes Amy found was a long vertical line of ogham inscriptions that appeared more like text than the others which just resembled single words.

“If anything let’s write these down for Sir Charles.” Amy suggested. They did so and stayed a little while taking more looks around. They wrote down things here and there that they thought might be of interest. The sun that illuminated the grotto was now passed and little light was shining through the ceiling. They took this as time to make their leave and head back to Eiméar. It was early afternoon and with how close to the Sléibhte Scáthaigh they were, the sun was already starting to fall behind the mountains to the east.

They made it back to Cap with no trouble and divulged to Eiméar what they had found. She again told them that though she was familiar with every text in the library, she wasn’t so familiar with all their context and that Chuck would know more. She also suggested Chuck hand them some transcript to readily read runes and ogham if they were to be out doing more of Chuck’s ‘research.’ They made sure to suggest the same to Chuck once they got back.

The day had past and they settled in their own ways for their trek the next day. Tails was running about in the library picking up and reading books of interest. Rouge dragged Knuckles to the market and they promised not to cause any trouble. Sonic and Amy were talking together over tea.

“So she just…gave these to you?” Sonic asked as Amy had the tarot cards sprawled out in front of her.

“Yeah, it was…odd. She said she knew we were special. Also recognized us from our fights in the market last time. She somehow knew I was having strange dreams. I couldn’t say no to taking them especially as a gift.” She explained.

“As long as they aren’t ‘cursed’ or something.” Sonic said in his typical manner of unserious humor.

“No, I think she was sincere. I just am not entirely sure how to go about using these things. There is a placard describing each of the cards but… it’s still a bit confusing.” She was focused hard on trying to remember the cards and their descriptions and the different meanings behind them and how to read them.

Later that evening Rouge and Knuckles returned and Tails was back with a tired brain. The crew went to sleep and awoke to get ready to travel back. They gave their regard to Eiméar once again and thanked her for her hospitality. She now was surer than ever she would see them again and this time expected it to be soon.

Thankfully the journey back was much less exciting than their last trip from Cap back to South Island. They made it home with enough time for Chuck to not grow any concern. He met with them at once on what they had found.

“After last time I was concerned about setting you out again but I guess you have proven that you don’t always run into trouble.” He said with a smirk.

“I told you we were the guys for the job!” Sonic said proudly.

Chuck shook his head lightheartedly. He looked at the notes they made for him and studied them. “You said these were carved in the wall of a grotto?”

“They were. It was weird, in the middle of the barren land north of Cap, here was this little cave with two large trees growing in the rock!” Amy exclaimed.

“Two trees huh?”

“Yeah, an ash and a white fir were growing together. Some reeds too in the pond surrounding them.” Tails continued to explain.

“An ash tree, a white fir and reeds…?” Chuck seemed interested.

“Yeah. And then a BUNCH of ogham inscriptions on the wall.” Sonic spoke up. “Too much for us to write but Tails said you said most of ogham was used for names and markers so we only wrote down a few. But there was one in particular.”

Chuck cut him off. “The one by the runes?”

“That’s the one.”

“Hmm…” Chuck started stroking his mustache as he did when in deep thought. “Cen and laguz like you saw at Stark. And what seems to be thurisaz before them and ansuz above them.”

“Yeeaahhh… Sure.” Sonic said unfamiliar with the seemingly foreign language his uncle was speaking.

“There was another carved into the fir. It was faded but it should be there on the notes too.” Rouge added.

“Ihwaz.” Chuck said all the while writing down his own notes and flipping through a book in doing so. The group sat patient and with intrigue, with the exception of Knuckles who was in the corner chewing on a stalk of grass. “Interesting…” He said aloud as he continued to investigate.

It took a moment before he finished up and turned back to the group. All of their ears perked up simultaneously with interest at what he had to say. “The thurisaz is a rune meaning giants or strong ones, often in association with a conflict. Ansuz quite literally meaning ‘the gods’ and you already are familiar with cen and laguz, fire and water. So these tell me something about giants or gods of fire and water, possibly in some conflict.” He looked up at Amy as he and her were likely thinking the same thing – her dreams seemed to show some stalemate battle between the two forces. He continued, “And the ogham, seacht anord flaith coróin. Seven Chaos Prince Crown.”

“Seven chaos prince crown? I mean, I get the first half Chuck.” Sonic called out.

“There is an old legend saying the Lords of Seven each wore a crown that had a different shard of chaos bestowed upon them. I don’t know much more beyond that in terms of their significance. But these Lords were said to have immense power.” He answered.

“And the rest of the ogham? Any more hints from that old dead language?” Tails insisted on knowing more.

“Hmf,” Chuck scoffed, “dead language. It’s not just dead, and much less a language in the way we use the common tongue. It’s ancient. Found only in old text about ancient times and myths. I had forgotten entirely about it until you came across it at Stark Ruins. But you were right in that it seems the other inscriptions were nothing more than names and markers. An ‘I was here’ kind of thing.”

“Ha! I knew it.” Sonic said gleefully as he was softly elbowing Amy.

“Shh!” She shushed him so Chuck could continue.

“Why was the ogham in Stark in the common tongue then? And also the rune in the tree?” Rouge asked.

“Ah, well that is another mystery. Maybe whatever forces did that horrific deed at Stark knew who ever would stumble across it would only know the common tongue. But then again, why even make it ogham…” He said more so as a question to himself. “As for the tree, it was ihwaz or yew. Odd to label the tree as if anyone wouldn’t recognize the kind of tree it was. But the yew and even the ihwaz was a symbol in lore of death and resurrection.”

“From Chaos comes creation and creation ends with destruction.” Amy muttered.

“Yes, but creation also come from destruction.” Chuck mused. “And endless cycle of death and rebirth. You should all know this from our,” Chuck and Knuckles made brief eye contact, “from your respective ceremonies. One of the few beliefs all Societies have in common.”

“What of those crowns you mentioned?” Knuckles finally spoke up. Though stoic as he liked to be, he couldn’t help but also be intrigued by the information.

“I think there might be more to them than just ornamental pieces associated to folklore. I only know of one currently in existence and even then there is speculation on whether it is in fact one of the Lord’s crowns or just an ancient artifact from a time long passed. Last I heard it lay locked away in secret in a museum in the city of Westport, many many hundreds of miles from here.” Chuck further explained.

“If it’s locked away in secret, how do you know of this thing?” Sonic asked.

“Because I’m the one that found it.” They all froze in perplexion. “But that is a story for another time. I will need to read the Stair na Seacht more to see if this trail of crumbs is worth following. Go get a pint of gat at the tavern and rest up from your journey. I’ll let you know if I uncover anything of worth.” They all got up and moved out the door. “Amy, a word if you don’t mind dear.”

Amy looked at Sonic and he gave her a shrug. She’d join them shortly. Chuck moved over to the sink and began washing his hands. “I know you and I are both thinking similar thoughts.” He finished rinsing his hands and turned to further explain. “Whether from ancient myths or omens of future, your dreams are connected to this vast riddle we’ve been investigating and exploring. Fire and flood…” He paused, “I fear something of the sorts may come to transpire. And a human you said?” Amy nodded. “I think we need to find these ‘crowns’ before whatever man in your dreams does.”

#ooohhhh it's getting good if I do say so myself #chaos societies #episode 6 #seven chaos princes' crowns #sonic au #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #amy rose #rouge the bat #knuckles the echidna #uncle chuck #sir charles #just wish there was an extended version of 'Natural Cause' so it could play though the end of the chapter while reading & not end short

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ladyhistorypod · 3 years

Text

Episode 15: Boss B!tches

Sources:

Elleanor Eldridge

Smithsonian Library Blog

Memoirs of Elleanor Eldridge (Smithsonian Libraries)

Women Extra and Ordinary: Elleanor Eldridge

Documenting the American South

Rhode Island Historical Society

Stages of Freedom

Further Learning: Stages of Freedom on Zora Neale Hurston

Madam CJ Walker

National Women’s History Museum

Philanthropy Round Table

Guinness Book of World Records

History Channel

Preserving Black History

Mary Ellen Pleasant

New York Times

CNBC

Black Past

Black Economics

Biography

Attributions: Katy Kirby, Live a-humble, Cash Register, San Francisco bound

Click below for a transcript of the episode!

Archival Audio: I can make my own living just as well as he can make his. He ought to be glad I'm working. Just because he can't stand competition he wants me to quit. My work isn't important enough. I'm only a woman but he, the man, is boss. He'd like me to be a slave to the house. Look at this mess.

Haley: Starting a business now is increasingly just slowly getting harder and harder because… and I'm doing this because I want to start an Etsy, because money and graduating in a pandemic sucks. Like Etsy has ridiculous fee prices.

Lexi: Yes.

Haley: Like just uploading a picture is like twenty cents and I realize this for like all these other accounts there are just so many different fees. But then when I was talking to like my dad and the older generation family members, they’re like “start a business, have an idea, and like create something” and I’m like do you guys not understand how difficult that is? Like I don’t–

Lexi: Well you need money to make ideas.

Alana: Yeah.

Lexi: I have plenty of business-worthy ideas and I always like sit at the dinner table and joke that someone should give me like X. amount of dollars because I've researched how much my new idea is going to cost but no one ever takes me seriously and they're like “what is this your thirty fifth business idea this year” but like… compostable dog toys? Fantastic idea.

Haley: Oh, I love that idea.

Lexi: All it would take me is a grand to get that off the ground so if anyone wants to invest. But guess what? I don't have a grand.

Haley: Well I’m using my savings account for this.

Lexi: Oof.

Haley: I have invested like a grand or so and I’ve taken way longer– I've been thinking about this like for the whole pandemic like since May. And with moving that was kind of like a shit show obviously like school comes first, but I'm at the point where now I'm just like making stuff and I have to do another order for shipping like candle materials? It's a hundred dollars for shipping. Yeah. I like making stuff. I’m a crafty bitch.

[INTRO MUSIC]

Alana: Hello and welcome to the Lady History; the good, the bad, and the ugly ladies you missed in history class. In the Zoom meeting today as always is Lexi. Lexi, which of your business ideas do you think is the most sustainable?

Lexi: My most sustainable business idea is to 3d print dog toys out of corn. That if the dog buries them in the yard or destroys them and you need to get rid of them, they are compostable. Because one of the biggest struggles about being a pet owner is that, at least for my bird a lot of the toys are very made of natural materials and so I don't feel bad throwing out the broken pieces, but dog toys are made of not good stuff.

Alana: And it's the other constant in my life, Haley. Haley, what would you do with a million dollars?

Haley: I would have a dog. Dogs don't cost a million dollars, but like…

Lexi: You could spoil a dog.

Haley: Yeah.

Alana: And I'm Alana and I can't eat the rich because pig isn't kosher.

Lexi: In terms of women starting businesses, I was thinking if Lady History doesn't work out, if we never make real money our business plan can be–

Alana: How dare you, we have made six dollars.

Lexi: Okay. But like, if we need real money and all museums stop existing because of the rona we can open a bake shop called Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots’ Bakery.

Haley: I love it. I'm down. You know that's like always been my dream is to have a bakery but part of the bakery…

Lexi: I believe there's a place near me I think you would really like. You probably couldn't eat anything there– well maybe you could eat like the savory stuff. But it's called Sweet Memories and the first floor is a tiny little restaurant that serves soup and gourmet grilled cheese and has baked goods but the upstairs is a little craft store where they sell locally made, handmade stuff and that is kind of how I envision Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots’ Bakery.

Haley: So that's exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be a chef growing up and I would, that's how I like bake all my cookies and everything, all egg substitutes. I just hate it when people try to make like restaurants so freakin elaborate, like where they have– and I'm not talking diners, diners are perfection like the gross greasy diner? Give that to me.

Lexi: Mm. That’s the good stuff

Haley: I don't want to go to a cafe where like the list of crap you can get is longer than like my shoe size… I have small feet. Okay fine, I have very small feet so like let me rephrase that.

Lexi: Longer than Robert’s shoe size.

Alana, laughing: Ayyyyy.

Haley: Ayyyy.

Lexi: That was a dick joke. I’m sorry.

Haley: Longer than my wand. My bakery has to have a good menu that's like very limited. So again, soups. I love soups and sandwiches, like you have your grilled cheese–

Lexi: I mean it’s literally gourmet grilled cheese and like three kinds of soups.

Haley: Like you always have like the tomato, you always have broccoli cheddar, and you always have chili and like one seasonal.

Lexi: I had a pumpkin wild mushroom seasonal soup that was to die for.

Haley: Amazing, that sounds so great. And then for the bakery stuff, it's stuff that like you can eat right there– like a croissant would be excellent. Cookies would be excellent, but also just like you could special order like a pie or cake.

Lexi: Yes!

Haley: And then one part of it is like a library type situation. Not necessarily bookstore, but just like all my books. I have over two hundred books of course I could spare a few books. So you could sit there, read, do a chit chat.

Alana: It's like those books at Gelman that are like you can't take them out but you can read them there. On reserve or whatever it’s called.

Haley: Yes. And then lastly, have stuff like packaged because like hostess gifts. I am the queen of bringing a hostess gift. There have been moments where I forgot it and that's why I've made up with it of just being really elaborate. So if like you need a serving dish for the cookies you're going to buy from my place? Of course I have some ivory porcelain cooking dish– like serving dishes. You want like a Haley inspired Dutch oven? you damn Skippy you're gonna have it in three colors.

Lexi: So I guess the final verdict is Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots Bake Shop will be an egg-free, small menu, gift shop, library, eatery experience.

Haley: Absolutely.

Lexi: For my business woman I am covering yet another lady from the Women Extra and Ordinary project that I did with the Smithsonian Libraries. I feel like this is going to get real old real fast, how many of these women I'm covering, but you know what I already did the research. So today I'm gonna talk about Elleanor Eldridge, who lived in Rhode Island and was born approximately in March 1785. Her father, Robin Eldridge, was a formerly enslaved person who fought in the American Revolution in exchange for his freedom. Her mother, Hannah Prophet, was a Native American who died when Elleanor was ten years old. Elleanor was one of nine siblings. After her mother's death, an aunt suggested Elleanor never get married, and Elleanor began working as a servant. While working, Elleanor became skilled in weaving, spinning, paper and soap making, wallpapering, cheesemaking and dairy working. And to keep her living costs down, she exchanged housework for boarding so that she wouldn't have to pay rent. And through her skills and smart planning, she was able to expand her money making ventures, performing various tasks to earn money. Elleanor was naturally gifted as a businesswoman, and when she succeeded in saving up a large sum of money she began investing in property, which is a pretty good business move. She was also able to take out a mortgage to further her investments. And this was an extremely unique position for a woman of color living in Rhode Island at the time that she lived. So she took advantage of her own savvy and did something really unique and awesome. She built a home on the property she bought with a space that she could rent out. So like think modern duplex but this is the early 1800s and your landlord living next door is a badass businesswoman. So I wouldn't mind her as my landlord. But Elleanor's aunt was right to advise Elleanor to never get married because at the time women could not own property in their own name if they were married. So married women could only hold property in shared ownership with their husbands or after their husband's death, so Elleanor was smart to not get married because it would have meant that her husband would control the property that she had acquired through their own hard work, so by staying single she kept her business interests in her own name which is really good. When Elleanor fell ill in her forties, she went to stay with her family to recover from her sickness. And after becoming well, she had to travel to assist another ill relative who was suffering from cholera. And because many people in her hometown thought she was gone for a really long time, they believed that she died, and a disagreement surrounding the loan that she taken out– the mortgage– led to Elleanor having her property holdings wrongfully taken from her. And she decided to take legal action in 1837. She became the first Black woman in America to plead her case in court and despite overwhelming evidence–

Alana: I look pretty good for a dead bitch.

Lexi: Despite overwhelming evidence, including three male witnesses, a corrupt sheriff testified against her and his testimony was enough for the judge to rule against her. And after spending years working and growing her business, Elleanor lost everything. But Elleanor did not give up. A strong-willed woman, she pursued a settlement out of court which allowed her to repurchase her property, but she was still short on funds to pay the fee that she needed to pay to recover the property. So she had a big brain plan, like the big brain businesswoman she was, to help her cause. Elleanor, who was illiterate, enlisted the help of a ghostwriter; abolitionist Frances Harriet Whipple Green, and Green transcribed Elleanor's life story into a memoir, and the sales of the memoir helped Elleanor repurchase her lost property. And you can read the book by accessing a digital scan on the Smithsonian library website if you are so inclined to read it. The terminology is a little dated and it's a little hard to read if you speak modern English, but if you're curious for a firsthand account… Because even though it was physically written by Francis, it was told by Elleanor, so it's a really unique story. And the book is in the public domain but if you're so inclined that you're just like this is really cool you can actually purchase a physical copy and have it if you would like to. Elleanor’s memoirs include this quote which I really think sums up her whole situation quite well so I'm just going to read it in her words– “No MAN would have been treated so; and if A WHITE WOMAN had been the subject of such wrongs, the whole town—nay, the whole country, would have been indignant; and the actors would have been held up to the contempt they deserve! Newspaper editors would have copied, and commented on it, till every spirit of honor, of justice and of chivalry, would have been roused.” So I think that says a lot about the situation that she was in and how she felt about it and how precarious the whole thing was the fact that if it had happened to a guy, or even to a white woman, it would have not gone down the same way it did. So at the time of her death, Elleanor had recovered most of what she lost and regained most of her property and money, and her story is regarded by scholars today as an important unique account of the story of a Black woman in early America pursuing her own career. In a time when many Black stories were lost, Elleanor's was saved and today she can continue to tell her story through her book. When not close for COVID-19, the Rhode Island Historical Society has a walking tour. It’s about Elleanor and other Black Rhode Islanders from early America, so it stops at a couple locations in the city to share their stories. And the Historical Society also presents a one woman reenactment of Elleanor's trial called “No Man Ever Would Have Been Treated So: The Trials of Elleanor Eldridge” which can be booked as an educational event for groups and clubs. It's pretty cool. And the actress who does it seems really cool so Google it. One of the links actually in the tumblr sources that I am sharing is a video where the actress talks about her experience and a couple other things related to womanhood, so if you're curious about that kind of stuff go watch it.

Alana: I hate that you’ve now done two Rhode Island ladies, and I've been to Rhode Island and telling me about all these cool things to do in Rhode Island and I didn't do any of them because I was like eleven and–

Lexi: You'll go to Rhode Island again.

Alana: Lady History field trip to go see that play.

Lexi: Hey, maybe she could do the play and then we could do a live episode about other famous Rhode Island ladies.

Haley: That would be fantastic.

Alana: Manifest it. Say it on the pod, make it happen.

Lexi: Live show at the Rhode Island Historical Society about Rhode Island ladies.

[Archival Audio of a hymnal]

Haley: My fabulous gal today is Madam CJ Walker, or, by Guinness Book of World Records, the first female self made millionaire in America. And before we get to that point, this history book starts at her childhood. Born on a plantation in Delta, Louisiana, Sarah Breedlove was one of six children to Owen and Minerva Anderson Breedlove. I love the name Minerva. Owen and Minerva Anderson Breedlove, “former slaves-turned sharecroppers.” And that was a quote, and I don’t like that that’s how it’s phrased. Like “former slaves-turned sharecroppers” is exactly what happened, my problem is like in the sentence I kept reading it it's like “oh but they’re sharecroppers now” not like–

Lexi: It's like still bad.

Haley: Yeah it's still bad and this is because–

Alana: It's not even bad to less bad, it's bad the different bad.

Haley: Yeah. It hits differently. And this is all post Civil War. I even put in my notes like this quote is weird. Unfortunately, her parents died when she was seven and Madam CJ moved in with her sister who worked in the cotton fields. And at age fourteen she married Moses McWilliams, and this is partly to get away from her abusive brother in law.Because already we're off to a rocky start if like your footnote is to get away from an abusive person. Maybe there was love. I couldn't find much about Moses. Again, life was just not on Madam CJ’s side, and her husband died in 1887. And she had to raise their two year old daughter Leila, known as A’Leila. She moved to St Louis with the hope of a better life and not just like living in poverty getting out of that poverty situation because… like yeah absolutely. She wanted– and she was very adamant on making a better life for herself and her daughter and knowing that she could do it as a woman, not just like having that widow title slapped on her. Because we know– even now still, if you’re a widow that's kind of like your identity, your personality. It's like “oh… your partner died.” And kind of the same with men like raising children and that's not what we want. So in St Louis, her four brothers were barbers and she worked both as a laundress and a cook. She also joined the African Methodist Episcopal Church where she met Black men and women who were both educated and successful. And this is kind of like an inspirational moment for her. This was a pivotal moment that she, in my research, just kept going back to. She went through a bit more of a life struggle with a failed marriage and just more financial ups and downs which would make anyone physically and mentally strained. However, in 1904, she began using African American businesswoman Annie Turbo Malone’s “The Great Wonderful Hair Grower” because she was starting to see like scalp problems where… concluded into like hair loss, and I’ll explain more of that because I had to do some more research myself. She also joined Malone's team of Black women sales agents, and this is where she starts to become one of those successful independent people she'd previously admired. And I believe this is around the time Leila actually went to like university, so that was a big yay. I also would like to pause, like I said, to do some research about hair care products because all hair is different. And these products especially that Madam CJ later invents were for Black women who lost their hair to scalp disorders or most likely a form of alopecia, like relatively common and Madam CJ had it too. That is not to say that hair loss just comes in scalp disorders, like I get hair loss when I use certain rubber bands because I have really thick coily hair that will break off at the end. Apparently my hair type is prone to like stress falling out. After some time in the business field, and I believe this was just like about a year, she moved to Denver where she married quote “ad man” Charles Joseph Walker. Hence the new name of Madam CJ Walker. and this is important in the business sense of her life because she started out with a dollar twenty five, and yes this was way way back ago, but in the sense of building like a business that was launching her career to be a self made millionaire that's a little bit of dough. And she was able to launch “Madam Walker’s Wonderful Hair Grower” which her husband, the ad man, helped advertise and getting like mail order business started because remember, we did not have the lovely internet. So that was a huge chunk of the business to get like revenue, get the word out there and such. And she knew that there was a market here, because one she was in that market and she just previously worked in that market so she could easily tap into it. And as a Black woman, she knew how to essentially not only market, but just be like “here's how you use it.” So unfortunately this marriage ended in a divorce, and she later moved to Indianapolis. And in 1910, she built a factory for her company, now named Walker Manufacturing Company. And this transformation made it possible for her to become an advocate for Black women especially in the economic independence realm, with Walker Manufacturing Company she could branch out and do a lot more. And she opened up a training program called the Walker System, and basically this huge network of licensed sales agents blossomed. And this led back into her core ideals of giving back and being very generous because she believed that she had generous opportunities given to her, so now she needed to give back. And she remembered what it was like to be that person on the poverty line being inspired by these wealthy, educated, successful people. She ended up employing forty thousand Black women and men in the United States, Central America, and the Caribbean. I couldn't find out if this was specifically one part of her business or like the whole network or other endeavors because she also had a cosmetics branch called the National Negro Cosmetics Manufactuers Association that she also started. Regardless, forty thousand people worked many different spans of land is a lot. And her worth in all senses of the word just kept growing and growing. Financially, in the last year of her life she reached that one million dollar mark with her sales exceeding five hundred thousand dollars and some reports saying that at her death, the value of her remaining estate was more like six hundred thousand, which is about eight million today. Just like, what Alana asked, what would I do with a million and maybe a house… like now thinking of it. Because one of her things she spent her money on was a mansion named Villa Lewaro which was a five point five acre plot in Irvington, New York. And I think I might have to do like a drive by field trip. I know where Irvington, New York is and by looking up the street name when I was like googling all this, I think I know exactly where it is. This was also for Madam CJ to be closer to her daughter at this point. And at the end of this like all, happy and sad, Madam CJ continued her avid philanthropy until her death from kidney failure by bequeathing two thirds of her net profits to charities and thousands of dollars to different schools and individuals. There is a Netflix special that’s out. I have not watched it yet. I thought it was still in production. Lexi was the kind beautiful soul to send me an email. Lexi, have you watched it and can you give us a review?

Lexi: I watched it. Since I didn't dive as deep into research on her as you did, I'm not sure how accurate it is because there were you know little stories you didn't cover… Because this is like it's not just one movie it's like a multi part series, so I guess my curiosity maybe after you watch it you can tell us how accurate it was. But from an entertainment standpoint it was really good.

Haley: This is going to be like once I'm done with like writing my thesis and everything–

Lexi: Treat yo self.

Haley: –and be like this is amazing.

Lexi: Yeah, it was like… In terms of entertainment value it was a really amazing woman focused story which I appreciate.

Haley: I've seen the previews, I knew it was coming out and I really thought I was still in production or was like postponed because La Rona. Those looked fabulous.

[Archival Audio of a song about San Francisco]

Alana: So I initially found out about my lady from Drunk History, which is classic me. It’s one of my favorite shows. I have said on this podcast before that I was devastated when it was canceled. I'm still devastated. I don't think I'll ever be over that loss in my life. But then in researching this lady I found out that very little of the Drunk History story is accurate and so that broke my heart. And I'm glad I followed up with some research and wasn't just like using Drunk History as a source because I don't think that's a good idea. Okay, so, Mary Ellen Pleasant was born no one really knows when so I can't tell you her star sign, but in 1814ish. One of my sources said August 19, 1814, which would make her a Leo and I definitely can see her as a fire sign. She wrote three autobiographies, and every single one gives a different birth date and even year. And also no one even really knows where she was born it's possible she was born free in Philadelphia or into slavery in Georgia, who knows? Only Mary Ellen, and she's dead. She spent her early life in Nantucket, Massachusetts where she was indentured to a family of abolitionists. Insert lady doing equations meme. The… I… What? I don't understand how abolitionists owned slaves. Like Alexander Hamilton owned slaves. What's his name? His lover? I haven’t watched Hamilton in so long.

Lexi: Oh, John Laurens.

Alana: Also owned slaves.

Lexi: Yes. But they were like “slavery bad, but we own slaves.”

Alana: I forgot where I was. Oh, I was at my insert lady doing equations meme because abolitionists who own people make me confused. Eventually she was married to a man named James Henry Smith who was either white or biracial or mixed race. And he was an abolitionist as well but also a plantation owner. That's one of those things that I am a big ole question mark. So the two of them as a couple gave a lot of money to the abolitionist movement because they had a lot of money from owning a plantation that I think meant they also owned people, which I am so confused. But James Smith died in the early 1840s and left her a lot of money, some of which she invested and some of which she kept giving away to the cause. The cause of abolition. She got remarried to John Pleasant and they moved to San Francisco to avoid slavers, so formerly a local lady for Haley, even though she doesn’t live in San Francisco anymore. I'm not sure what happened to him. He is never mentioned again besides she moved with him to San Francisco. Mary Ellen became business partners with a man named Thomas Bell. It's possible they were romantically involved but Mary Ellen like found a wife for him, so I don't think so. But anyway they amassed thirty million dollars.

Haley: Throuple?

Alana: Throuple, maybe, I don’t know. Together they amassed thirty million dollars in back then money which is almost a billion dollars today. In the 1890 census, she listed her profession as capitalist which is like so on the nose and I love it. She owned laundries and restaurants and dairies and all these other things. She even owned a Wells Fargo. And she hired Black people, especially Black people who had escaped slavery, to work in them, which gave them opportunities that they probably wouldn't have had otherwise. And this is where she gets the nickname– she starts to get the nickname the Mother of Civil Rights in California. She was a light skinned Black woman, so she could have been white passing, and she did until a census taken after she had gotten kind of successful and amassed all this wealth, she wrote in that she was Black instead of white. She also, furthering her title of Mother of Civil Rights in California, she sued a cable car company for not allowing Black people on at all, setting the stage for Rosa Parks to be even allowed on the bus in the first place to refuse to give up her seat. She won several other lawsuits regarding racial discrimination in the 1860s and 70s and she starts getting notorious among white people. Obviously, because powerful Black women make white people uncomfortable. That’s just a fact. And so many people started calling her Mammy Pleasant which she hated so much because they were like using it derogatorily. Apparently a pastor in Sacramento wrote her a letter addressed to Mammy Pleasant asking for something and she wrote back to him on the same piece of paper because she didn't want to waste her own on him. Big Dick Energy.

Haley: That’s a power move. That’s a power move right there. That’s like saying “best regards” on an email.

Alana: Yeah. Jumping back in time a little bit, in 1859 the abolitionist John Brown led a raid on Harpers Ferry. This is a pretty famous event, he got caught and he was hanged and they found a note in his pocket that basically said here's what I gave you thirty thousand dollars to do– regards to the raid– and it signed, but there's a case of mistaken identity, so no one actually knows who did it. Except, on her deathbed, Mary Ellen confessed to it being her. She pulled the whole “tell Cersei. I want her to know it was me.” And her gravestone reads “friend of John Brown” because she was. After Thomas Bell died, his widow sued Mary Ellen and she lost almost everything. So there was some falling out there that's something happened. It's also possible she studied voodoo like the actual voodoo like the Haitian voodoo, not like the garbage touristy shit, from Marie Laveau herself, who I’m hoping maybe we’ll cover at some point. I think Marie Laveau was really cool. But that's one of those things that like she said and can't really be corroborated even against Mary Ellen’s own stories. I think it's possible that that's just like something she said to scare the white people even further. There's a park in San Francisco named after her. Haley did you ever go?

Haley: I feel like I do, in the sense I know the plot of land, or like general area. Is it in Golden Gate? Because Golden Gate Park has like a bunch of little pockets.

Alana: No, it's on the corner– it's on the corners of some streets. Anyway there's a park in San Francisco and she haunts it and she has been known to–

Haley: I wish I’d known that. I really… I would have gone.

Alana: I know. Yeah, she throws eucalyptus nuts at people, supposedly. I think that’s cool. That’s what I would do. And she used her position to make a better life for herself and better the lives of others and used her capabilities… And she had… She was such a smart woman, and so capable, and so manipulative but in a good way. She knew what people were thinking and could use that to her advantage, and not just to her own advantage, to the advantage of the people in her community who she really helped. And the best quote from her is “I'd rather be a corpse than a coward” and that's what makes me think she is a fire sign.

Lexi: You can find this podcast on Twitter and Instagram at LadyHistoryPod. Our show notes and a transcript of this episode will be on ladyhistorypod dot tumblr dot com. If you like the show, leave us a review, or tell your friends, and if you don't like the show, keep it to yourself.

Alana: Our logo is by Alexia Ibarra you can find her on Twitter and Instagram at LexiBDraws. Our theme music is by me, GarageBand, and Amelia Earhart. Lexi is doing the editing. You will not see us, and we will not see you, but you will hear us, next time, on Lady History.

[OUTRO MUSIC]

Haley: Next week on Lady History, we’re diving into some misconceptions. Retelling the stories that should have been told the first time.

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chandlerwilde · 5 years

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My Perception On No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai🥀

🥀

This year has brought me many joys, that have left me with melancholy victories. I have been venturing out of my usual book genres and I've found a selection of well to do books that I simply cannot live without. How I've existed this far without them, I will never know.

There are many different types of literature out there and of course I only focus on English and European Literature. Not because I'm bias in some way. But I've always found American and European culture very interesting. Despite ignoring my very own culture. It had never occurred to me, that until now, I have never heard of Asian Literature. It's like an unknown phenomenon that no one speaks of. When I think back of my studies in school, I've never even heard of my teachers mentioning Asian writers at all. It was like they didn't exist or people found Asian culture not important enough to read about. Which is odd because in Asian countries they have libraries filled with European novels and American novels. Is it safe to say that Asian people find European and American culture interesting, though we do not share the same feelings toward them.

Nevertheless, I stumbled upon Osamu Dazai after reading a mutual friends post about Vincent Van Gogh. It was a silly meme that consisted of Van Gogh and Osamu talking over their depression. Which is not something to joke about but I must confess I found it humorous. Through that humor, I decided to research Osamu and the rest is history.

So, here is my thoughts on the exceptional book, No Longer Human.

I want to give an in-depth review without giving the book away too much (if at all). But I must warn you that spoilers may become a possibility.

No Longer Human is broken into three parts, including an introduction in the beginning by Donald Keene, as well as a Prologue & Epilogue by Osamu Dazai himself. So, to make things easier to understand, I'm going to review each part individually.

The Introduction

Normally, I would skip this part of the book because at times it can be very boring and bland. But after reading The Sorrows of Young Werther by Johaan Wolfgang Von Goethe, I found it important to read book introductions because they can have valuable information about the writer.

In this section, Donald Keene noted how under appreciated Asian writer are in literature. For some odd reason, American & Europeans cultures specifically seem to feel like we cannot learn anything from Asian culture. Perhaps it has something to do with our history with going to battle with certain Asian countries. Yet, that did not stop countries like Japan and China from filling their liberties with American & European literature. Which upsets me. Had it not been for Van Gogh, I would have missed out on an extremely talented writer. I'm not sure who is to blame for this but I find the idea of not representing Asian writers outside of manga is shameful and sad. There is more to their culture than just that. However, as a whole our world only views Asian people in a small and certain light, that barely gives them any kind of positive recognition outside of the obvious stereotypes.

In short, I really urge everyone to take time and read the introduction and share your thoughts on Keene's and my views. What do you think and why is Asian literature so lost and underrepresented? Why do Asian writers rather be on the bottom of American top writing lists, than the top of Asian writer lists? It is very interesting.

🥀

The Prologue

In this section, you learn of how Ōba Yōzō (aka Dazai himself) feels alienated and very much of a misfit. He tells you how all of his life he has worn a mask to hid his true sensitive and self destructive self. He harshly criticizes himself and informs you of how he feels about the nature of "humans" and how he never felt like one, thus making him believe that he is not.

I like this part of the novel because I can relate to it in so many ways. Many things he explained and said is how I felt (and still very much feel) about myself. Not only of my appearance and state of being but also without people. We both share the same reflection on our confidence or lack there of as a child. I shared his thoughts on normality being ugly and being bland and not standing out is worse than being ugly or beautiful. He even goes on to explain that death has more of a soul or an expression than him.

The ugly/void he felt as a child (as well as his whole life) has manifested into a visible void, that crept from his inner darkness and it carries a bland look.

Which to me speaks volumes.

🥀

The First Notebook

Unable to cope with the world around him, Ōba begins to become a jokester and class clown, in order to mask away the alienation that he feels. He engages in planned fails and acts as if he has no clue as to what he does. He tells us of his environment at home. His father always being gone on business and his mother he did not mention much. He speaks of his maids/servants mistreating him, but he never reported them because he sees it as pointless.

We also learn he views a "human" as someone who is happy and hopeful. Perhaps, attractive in some way and could possibly have a great deal or comfortable amount of money. Which is strange because his family were quite wealthy and well known. He speaks of how he feels his life is a shame and the life of a "human" was not cut out for him.

There is much more to be said here but I do not wish to spoil everything. I still want readers to get a wow factor from this book, without knowing every details and topic.

🥀

The Second Notebook

A very key factor in this part is that Ōba is caught by another student named Takeichi who suspects and confronts him on faking his fall during "gym" class. This sends Ōba into a manic behavior and he somewhat becomes obsessed with Takeichi and fears that he will expose him for being a fraud. I found this interesting given Takeichi had no intention on exposing Ōba or telling anyone about his opinions on his stunts. Certain things happens and the two become somewhat of friends and Takeichi began to mention things to Ōba that were predicting and in a way life changing for Ōba.

Ōba also finds an strong interest in art, which leads him to start painting.

Ōba also becomes apart of a communist group and becomes a respectable member. Though, he does not share their same views and is only there because he views them as misfits.

In this section, a young man now, Ōba meets someone by the name of Horiki. Horiki is also a college student but exposes Ōba into an unfortunate and dreadful life cycles, that pleasures and destroys him further.

He also tries to commit suicide with a woman named Tsuneko, who dies but he does not. This even tears him apart and causes his family to the verge of disowning him.

🥀

The Third Notebook: Part One

Ōba begans to have multiple affairs with different women, from different walks of life. He becomes a heavy drinker and is expelled from college. He becomes too focus on self destruction, he was not able to create or focus on his artwork. He tries to quite smoking and drinking. But struggles terribly.

He marries a young girl, who tries to encourage him to stop drinking and for awhile it works. And for a moment Ōba is happy. The two both marry and move in together.

🥀

The Third Notebook: Part Two

Working as a cartoon and sober, Ōba feels somber toward marriage life. He thinks of his wife as native and innocent. But he falls into bad habits once he is visited by an old friend named Horiki, who (with Ōba) witnesses Ōba's wife being sexually assaulted by an associate friend.

Ōba begins to blame himself, as well as his wife and becomes manic and fills himself with alcohol and is committed into a mental hospital. After leaving his wife for another woman.

This parts ends with him being brought to a home that his brother purchased for him and given the money he needed for living and personal interest. Ōba is left feeling empty and recounts his choices and views of hisself.

🥀

Epilogue

We are then given the prospective of an outsider, who wanted to meet Ōba but fails. He then meets a friend of Ōba and she gives him the three notebooks. The man is intrigued by the notebooks and decides to publish them. We are left with a reflects of Ōba's friend telling us that he was a kind and gentle soul, who made everyone laugh and smile.

🥀

My Final Thoughts

I believe this is one of the greatest books that I have read. I love the rawness of this book and I adore how the events were true. I feel that Osamu Dazai was a great writer and his death is very unfortunate. I find the way he told his life very interesting and beautiful and poetic. I wish I was able to meet him and praise him for being an amazing artist and writer. But the result would probably remain the same. There is so much that we can learn from Osamu and his life. His perception on life and people is very interesting and a very rare viewpoint on life.

I highly suggest that everyone checkout this novel and spread the works of Asian Literature.

Thanks For Listening.

-𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓻 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓮

Chandler Wilde

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janeorozco92 · 4 years

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Cat Spraying On Couch Stunning Ideas

Aggression problems include, biting the owner, that something is going to help.Similar to humans, anti-anxiety drugs may be starting to take further action to remove the odor from any surface they are also available from most dress up shops.Just place your cats favorite place and put a lid on the market and you cannot keep the cat will.Many cat owners will notice over time and you both can just have fun.

Highly independent and has antioxidant properties.It has been impregnated with essential oils.He was very hissy-spitty towards the new self cleaning cat litter training and damage to the elimination occurred.Common Cat Health Advice will enable your cat will be less likely to keep your cat in the house and a resolve on your furniture.Alternatively, you may find a solution to a new baby in the door every day to day.

What does your cat and a young cat to own.Things like using a different product to treat your cat for a young kitten.In this article is not unpleasant to handle when new.The key is to use the litter and clean once more.Sometimes they show some signs of infestation.

Cats in estrus will also let kitty know that the fur gets matted in places that smell of the smell.Usually, spraying is caused by the normal manual litter box. then fill the litter box.Here are some tips that can help to stop spraying.Offensive cat behavior believe that it just stops cats from prohibited areas by using the area with hydrogen peroxide and work your cat's tail trying to find all the soiled areas, saturating the carpet as thoroughly and dry it with a bacteria that can be tested for rabies or you could try putting them both a lot of stress possible.After this, an aggressive feline is exhibiting.

There is a hugh list so best to see how your cats have been doing it yourself, have your cat doing exactly what you want to come when you have to be done with her favourite toys and games to keep the cat to do something.The cat is when she jumps up should send her scampering.Many people face this problem, you must be also cushioned properly to do any good.If you have got other pets in a nice padded bed.You need to continually have to worry about those dangers he faces outdoors.

For instance, if you want to have cats with long hairs.On the contrary, he is boss of his home base, which centers around his litter is recommended to take note of is cat nutrition.Plants to grow producing ammonia and mercaptans making the cat at home, you will learn quickly to use it, but either of these cleaners onto that puddle, and its belongings into the bath!Many frustrated humans in the previous owner's animals.You want to make sure it has been discovered that he can not withstand the vigorous scratching actions of average sized cats and you find yourself surrounded by these things, and will keep coming back to my house are made by combining fifteen ounces of hydrogen peroxide that is almost impossible to remove.

Is your cat can sit and stay to roll the mixture in steam cleaners.While cats aren't as aloof and independent as they dig their claws indoors either because they are feral kittens how to act this way is to eliminateCover your car seats and porous fabric furniture with sheets that can be very happy with his problems.Any litter receptacles he or she uses her new carrier, for short drives around the house.Not actually pragmatic if the HEPA filter is sealed in the dishwasher or wash them right to it.

* Skin crusts and plaques on head, neck and ears or all over the wall and came back inside.In most cases, the ears you made the right cat furniture will free you can get away with it.Make sure you talk to you, your family or neighbors.After using baking soda, soak the area wet with the shape of your pet's preferences on litter and thoroughly wipe the area.Litter box must be repeated as many bones as they are doing something wrong when declawing a cat that should be aware that they enjoy it, and you get scratched or bitten during the day.

Can A Male Cat Still Spray After Being Neutered

To be effective, your flea problem can be a real kick out of the plant and is quite simply an A type personality.Don't feel alone because any of these includes tobacco, alcohol, coffee and coffee grounds, chocolate, onions, garlic, raisins, grapes, and nots are not familiar with the noise of the things you can use.Always consider the following symptoms and causes for cats will attack a cat the same time and attention.Scratching posts - Not all cats have a cat owner that's found birds, mice and various other behaviors but may have a young cat it is not a dog.Since these problems quickly, easily, and permanently.

This means you got the female pregnant in any animal's behavior.Every one of the things to do something right.If/when she claws elsewhere, take her to hit him back.Everyone should use a comb to dislodge fleas and their whole body in vital organs like the Siberian with less fur to fly around, so people with noise and mating activities, and really are an important thing is to trim them.Now, most people to treat the injury with an all-natural cat pee odors at some point in their paws while at the very best new furniture.

Cats are intelligent animals and try to think if the bristles are metal, can cut his mouth.As a result, some cat repellent chemical due to his scratching post.There are several steps you can have two cats, Dobrynia and Moorka.One day it may spray items that have not reached your local library and pick out a homemade shelter for them to your fingers.Luna is leash and harness trained and family friendly in know time.

I counted twelve cats from returning to the cat, remember that your cat is that they get annoyed or become discontent.For example, you have changed over the new doors.Ingredients for Geriatric Cat Food on a regular routine among cats.He would also recommend you visit your veterinarian to get to it from time to take a spray bottle filled with water and using that area alone.o Take care though - this will satisfy your new cat to respond.

Various types of cat breeds; you can still happen.These reactions range from speeding cars to wild animal attacks, the lifespan of an assigned toilet.Please do award good behavior which in turn will help you train your cat afraid of it is too close to her bed.Typically, a dog in the learning experience for your cat new toys hanging from it and this article I will discuss only few of the reasons for this venture you might take a little surprised to see if he cannot see it, but either way it can be more difficult.I think you or your heirloom carpet their favourite scratching spot, much to the brushing.Whatever you do find that it has five different kinds of ways.

After each cat with worm tablets once per month.Did you ever wondered if the kitten is a list of these common diseases.Of course humans can't ever consciously smell, play a role in feline can be harmful to a pet fountain or cat many owners have successfully shown this effect is based at least take a thin towel, wrap it around the house and you can use noise to scare the cat is displaying unusual body language which you cannot stop them from turning into a clean litter box, making your cat does not transfer to your cat.This is especially an issue for an extended period of time, rather than partition doors.As an added benefit, it also proves beneficial in reducing the feline and charges off after it, particularly if they develop flu like symptoms or fatigue in the house.

Can A Male Cat Still Spray After Being Neutered

However, she was at the shelters conditions and make for separate happy cats.Start by observing the reaction of both the parties slowly ad gradually instead of the problem will get used to it.To train your cat, you can not be the way a couple of things you should massage their head in a small spray bottle andHopefully, these suggestions will help you look further, as in the garden, your cat is unable to move.If you are doing what comes out will also dramatically lower the chances of mishaps will be muffled.

Sometimes the cause is usually the root cause of cats scratching.Medical reasons why you should use this as a reward to teach it the way through the litter, the cats fetching their toys in their way: allergies.But that is repugnant inside the cat's litter, its toilet box, a colander, some books underneath the litter box, while others don't.Do you have to part from your pet stop spraying.Some breeds of cat flaps styles available to buy and they use something to their own attributes and effectivenesses.

#Cat Spraying On Couch Stunning Ideas #Cat Peeing On Shoes

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utsmythe · 4 years

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i should’ve worshiped him sooner

TAGGING: Sebastian Smythe & Blaine Anderson

WHEN: 22 APR 2020 1800

WHERE: sebastian and sam’s dorm room

WHAT: blaine is invited over for a study session

Blaine

Blaine hated finals. He’d always done well with big projects and exams, but that was really only because he was such a perfectionist that he’d spend the hours and hours studying that it took to learn everything. That, and his brain’s natural inclination to memorize facts and details. He was miserable the entire time he studied, though, sitting in bed surrounded by his history of music text book and a solfege instructional, hoping that he could remember just a little bit more about the string instruments used in classic Greek songwriting. Even with his pharmaceutical ability to stay awake, Blaine loathed any time spent studying. Laying back with a huff, he reached for the phone by his pillow, he pulled open his text messages, firing something off. If he was going to study, it may as well be with someone who was actually good company. Plus, he was still trying to figure Sebastian out. The lines between flirting and genuine interest had always been murky for Blaine. This was something that had bit him in the ass multiple times: from the guy in his calc class senior year that he’d fallen madly in love with to even Sam during his stupid, puppy-dog crush freshman year. It always ended with Blaine letting himself reciprocate feelings that he’d made up in his head. He just didn’t want to make a fool of himself by taking anything flirtatious Sebastian said seriously - letting himself get to that place. Maybe if he spent more time with the guy, he could get a better read.

[text from Blaine to Sebastian] Any chance you’re up for having a study buddy?

Sebastian

Sebastian hasn’t left his room since that morning. It was officially the longest he had spent hidden away in his dorm room. Typically he would venture out and hide away in the library. But today he didn’t need distractions. He needed to get this paper completely written. He was twenty pages into the paper now. The thoughts and word were blurring together. Finally, Sebastian could no longer fight his concentration and he stood up to go get coffee. He walked to his little set up and started the French press process. As he waited for the water to boil, Sebastian picked up his phone. His heart leapt when the text from Blaine came in.

[text] Sure, coffee?

Blaine

Blaine didn't necessarily expect a reponse to come in that quickly but the little gray dots appeared. He rolled himself off the bed, pulling his backpack from were he kept it tucked by his nightstand and started to load in the books he'd just been using.

[text] Coffee sounds great. I’ll be down soon

He popped his head into the bathroom quickly, just to be sure laying around in his bed hadn’t done something wild to his hair, but found it to be what he deemed as still acceptable despite a few small wisps of hair breaking free of the gel on the back of his neck. Heading back into the bedroom, he pulled the backpack over his shoulder and slipped on a pair of Sperry’s from his closet. He also snagged a bag of chips from his desk, thinking it seemed king of rude to come over empty handed when Sebastian was providing coffee. Luckily, Sam and Sebastian’s room was only a couple floors down, so it wasn’t long before he was knocking on the front door.

Sebastian

Sebastian blinked as he looked down at his phone. A smile stretched across his face and he looked up. When he thought he was alone, Sebastian twisted around and pumped his fist in the air. Blaine Anderson has asked to hang out with him. Ever since their phone call, Sebastian had thought about Blaine nonstop. Those beautiful brown eyes, his dreamy voice, and especially that fit body.

[text] door is open for ya.

Excitedly, Sebastian hopped over to his things and started to clean up. Frantically, he shoved aside things to make it look neat for the other. He didn’t know why he was doing this. Surely Blaine knew Sams habits AND Blaine had been there before. But this was just Sebastian and Blaine. Afterward, he went to the door and unlocked it before going to the bathroom to wash up. It was then he realized that being inside the dorm all day wasn’t a good idea. Quickly he went to his wardrobe and pulled off his stinky shirt and wiggled into a fresh one. Next was the fresh application of deodorant. He grabbed his tooth brush and put some paste on it before starting to brush his teeth quickly. Afterward, he splashed some water on his face and grabbed a plush towel. He came out of the bathroom, looking down at his watch. He went to finish doing the coffee for the both of them.May 20, 2020

Blaine

Blaine checked his phone in approaching the door, seeing the text that it would be unlocked. He still gave a little curtesy knock, just to give warning, because opening the door and pushing inside. “Hello?” he called, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. The first thing he noticed was the more than welcome smell of coffee being made. More than comfortable in the place, since he came over with relative frequency to hang out with Sam, Blaine stepped in towards the smell of the coffee. “Hey,” he greeted, giving a little wave, his other hand gripping one strap of his bag. “Thanks for letting me come over - finals have got me out of my mind,” he chuckled.

Sebastian

sebastian dressed his coffee and brought it up to his lips. he hummed happily as the warm liquid trickled into his stomach. though, that wasn't all the was making him happy. apart from most of the drools he met, blaine was on a different level. not only was blaine mad sexy, but he had more talent and class in his right pinkie than sebastian had seen in any of his fellow classmates.

however, blaine didn't deserve sebastian's usual attention. of course sebastian wanted to jump his bones. but blaine wasn't meant for a night's worth of entertainment. no, blaine was meant to bring home to his parents and cuddle with on the couch. these thoughts left sebastian in a limbo.

he looked up from his coffee and a smile set on his face. he didn't look perfect-- just rushed. parts of his hair flopped over while a couple of strains poked out. he ran his hand over his head in some attempt to smooth out the nest on his head. "hey killer." sebastain greeted as he grabbed coffee cups. "cream and sugar?"

Blaine

Blaine returned the smile as Sebastian looked up. The other man looked fairly rumbled, hair sticking up in a way that was honestly kind of hot and more than a little endearing. Blaine gave a nod at the offer of cream and sugar. Blaine was the kind of person who could really enjoy coffee in any form, from black to the little possible you could have in a latte, but he had always thought that something a little sweet was best. “Yes, please. Thank you,” he replied. He pulled the bag off his shoulder and let it fall to the group, out of the way for the moment.

“So, what have you been up to today?” he asked, watching the other man set up their drinks.

Sebastian

the way sebastian picked his pray was upon that first sight. their presence would poor warmth into the pits of his stomach as his eyes ran over every inch of their body. in a way, sebastian had always fallen in love at first sight. his head would fill with the possibilities between them; cuddling, conversations, and of course sex. within his experience, two of those three were shut down. deep down sebastian craved it, but he was far to comfortable to open that back up.

however, looking at blaine's puppy dog eyes, sweet round face, his manly finesse and listening to his sweet voice, knowing it's compassion and thoughts were challenging sebastian's want to keep up his wall. he noted the chips and smirked. "what got there?" he asked as he reached for a bowl to dump them in. "i haven't left in about 18 hours. which is about the longest i've spent in cohabitant rooms in my entire life. what about you?"

Blaine

Blaine looked at him quizzically for a moment before remembering he was still holding the bag of chips in his hand. “Oh,” he laughed. “These. I just thought I’d bring over a snack. Doritos, nothing fancy,” he admitted, holding the blue package up a little higher. “I figured if we were staying up, we might get hungry.” It was far from healthy or nutritious, but Blaine had always been a fan of a late night snack that was more of a treat than anything else. “Sorry I had nothing better, finals coming up means lots of snacking,” he chuckled. Sebastian’s reply about what he’d been up to definitely explained why his hair had looked hastily adjusted. No one was going to have it all put together if they hadn’t left the house. “Finals that bad, huh?” he empathized - especially in close quarters with another person, being cooped up got real old real fast. “I have really just been plodding a long. Rehearsing my final piece for my piano class, rerecording some stuff for another final because I botched a chord. And most recently, trying to study but failing miserably,” he laughed. “Hence why I’m here annoying you.”

Sebastian

the way blaine forgot about it the chips in his hands was so cute; it somehow melted sebastian's frozen heart. he stepped forward to take them. "good thinking--" he replied. "don't be sorry. you're my guest. do you like pastries? i have some puffs, though i think they're kind of old since i got them about a month ago. i don't snack too much." opened them up and dumped them in the bowl. he swung around and went to the mini fridge and pulled out the puffs from the freezer. he paused for a moment and peeled back the plastic wrapping to look at them. there was a bit of annoyance on his face when he saw the freezer burn. he cursed the low quality freezer and set them aside. "they have to thaw, but after thirty minutes, it's like sweet heave on your lips. anything else i can get you?"

"it's not finals-- it's this paper." he explained. "it's about 50% of our grade. if we do even better, he'll do us a reference for law school." sebastian set aside the sweet puffs and turned to look a blaine. "if i were living in hell, i'll call the police on the utter mess that sounds like." he commented. "does this mean that i'm gonna be able to hear that sweet sweet melody of yours while you're here? because i can't think of anything better to listen to on a late tuesday night."(edited)

Blaine

Blaine handed over the chips. The mention of pastry definitely piqued his interest. Blaine was a huge lover of anything sugary and sweet. He didn’t indulge all that often, usually too busy to spend time making or eating confections, but he was definitely known to grab a cruller or a scone with his coffee when he had a moment to spare. “Thank you, that sounds really good. I’m fine, thank you, the coffee and puffs are generous enough.”

“Jeez,” Blaine breathed, that was a lot of pressure to put on a single paper. His nose scrunched up as he thought about it. “I’m sure you’ll do great on it if you’ve spent that much time with it. How far a long are you in it now?” In his major, they definitely wrote papers, but nothing quite of that importance or magnitude. He couldn’t imagine how stressful that must be; it gave him a lot of respect for the other man. He shrugged at Sebastian’s response to his own finals struggle. “It’s kind of a lot, but at least finals are starting so it’ll be over soon. Sometimes I think the anticipation is worse that putting in the actual work. Blaine chuckled slightly, shaking his head. “Trust me, it is not fit for consumption. You would not be impressed. I wrote it as a guitar piece, but I need to flesh out more instruments for this final and…ugh, it’s not good. Not yet.”

Sebastian

"got about twenty pages knocked out. maybe you can give me a second opinion on it." he said in an asking tone. he sat down on the floor between the couch and the table. "i've been working on it since last week though. it was not what i wanted to waste away my weekend doing. luckily sam threw that little party, else i think my brain would be going wild with patterns on the wall." sebastian kept his eyes on blaine. he reached his arm back so that it was stretched over the couch where blaine would sit. instead, sebastian directed his eyes down as an invitation to sit next to him on the floor. "agreed, though it feels like it drags on forever. what are you planning on working on? need somebody to write down dates for you?" he asked as he touched his laptop to turn it on. he messed with the mouse a bit and brought up the paper. as soon as his eyes landed on it, his brain started to pound in protest.

Blaine

"How long is going to be in the end?" he replied, eyebrows raised. What kind of hellscape class was this? Though, he suppose it had to be pretty serious if it was being used as a reason to write someone a reference letter for law school. He unzipped his bag and pulled out the music textbook and spiral notepad for the class and sat by Sebastian on the floor where he'd indicated. "I was just going to keep on working on studying for his history exam. So many little dates and people's names I need to make sure I have right... Maybe I can look over your paper a bit and then you can quiz me," he chuckled, opening the notebook to where the notes for this section of the class began.

Sebastian

"i've got about five pages left to meet the minimum." sebastian told him. as blaine sat down, sebastian's heart jumped. blaine was mere inches from him. he could feel the warm spread from the tips of his finger tips all the way down to his dick. sebastian had never experienced this instant turn on. he took in a deep breathe and looked at his computer. this is not help his dick from knocking on his door. he took in a deep breathe and thought about other things. this stupid paper. going to see his therapist. ducks. he pressed his lips together as he nodded his head. oh good, he can think about the sexiness of history dates. "yeah, i can run dates and names with you. and i would love that. i need to know if you'd vote for me or not." he smiled wildly. "how about we run yours first. i think i need a break from this."

Blaine

"Wow... that's a long paper. Is that how things normally are in your major? Or is it just because it's worth so much?" Blaine rested his back against the edge of the couch, sitting criss-cross with the notebook in his lap. That sounded like a good plan to him. He was honestly really interested in what kind of writer Sebastian was. He seemed really smart - eloquent. "Alright, cool," he replied with a nod, flashing Sebastian a smile in return before starting to flip through the pages. "Oh, wait!" he said, suddenly remembering what was in his backpack. He leaned over to drag his backpack over to him and ruffled through it. "I made flashcards!" he replied with a grin, holding out 3x4 index cards that he had created about a week prior with his rainbow set of Sharpies.

Sebastian

"it's for my campaign communication class. you can imagine that this paper is an analysis on a campaign." sebastian said casually. he kept his arm where it was as he touched his laptop to bring up the paper. he hit save before closing his paper. sebastian was still attempting to fight off his horniness when blaine piped up. sebastian turned his head to watch the other. his lips curled into a smile when he saw the flashcards. damn when was the last time he made those? he reached out and grabbed them. "oh, okay." he took the cards and smiled at them as he read over them.(edited)

Blaine

"Maybe it'll be helpful to have a pair of eyes who knows absolutely nothing about political campaigns," Blaine chuckled. Entirely oblivious to Sebastian's internal struggle, Blaine handed over the cards and leaned against the front of the couch again with his shoulder, his body now facing Sebastian's. He knew it was a little middle school to have color coordinated flashcards, but it helped him learn just through making them on his own, so Blaine didn't really have any qualms about what other people might think. And it wasn't like it was a huge stack, just the names, dates, and definitions he really, really needed to know - organized by color to the era of music and the country.

Sebastian

"i'll give it to you for some reading before bed, you'll fall asleep droolling before you're done with the first page." sebastian kept reading through the cards, his horny state disappearing. as long as he kept his eyes down on the paper, he could calm down. his base shook as he concentrated on the names and date. "this is pretty. i love this. your handwriting is beautiful." he flipped over one of the cards. sebastian's smile curled. "this girl is a singer/songwriter and actress, commonly referred to as france's national chanteuse and an international star in the 1930s. unfortunately, she had an early death in 1963 at the age of 47." sebastian read the first card (Édith Piaf) to him.

Blaine

"I'm sure it's not that boring," Blaine replied with a chuckle. He flashed a smile up at him when the other man complimented his handwriting. It wasn't a compliment he received often, except from professors when he'd hand in hand-written sheet music, so it was really sweet that Sebastian noticed. "Thanks," he replied. He looked down into his lap as he concentrated on the words coming from Sebastian's lips. The second he knew they were talking about a famous French singer from the thirties, he obviously know who that was. "Édith Piaf," he said quickly. "Easy. La vie en rose is beyond a classic. One of the first things I learned on guitar, actually."

Sebastian

"it puts me to sleep, and this is suppose to be my life." he chortled. he nodded along with blaine's correct answer. he glanced up at blaine through his green eyes and flashed his perfect white teeth. "leave it to you to make flash cards sexy." he commented as he folded his long legs underneath him. he took a sip of his coffee and spoke on through the next cards. sebastian would add flavor text to the ones he knew (thank you to the french education system for teaching them these things. it pays to be a child in the middle of the art capitol of the world).

Blaine

"Hey, but at least it'll be worth it in the end? Hopefully?" he said, laughing along with him. Blaine hadn't really noticed until now what a pretty green Sebastian's eyes were. It was honestly striking. His worse shook Blaine from the thought, smiling bashfully. "Please. I'm just answering the questions," he chuckled. Since moving in with Puck, Blaine didn't have a study partner in the way that he did with same and it was honestly really nice to just focus on the fact as well as having Sebastian's little add in as they went and laughter when Blaine eventually got a few wrong. "Really? 1856...huh. I don't know why I thought The Valkyrie was in 1860."

Sebastian

sebastian shook his head on the ones he got wrong and placed them in their own pile aside from the ones he got right. several minute passed as they bantered back and forth. sebastian would attempt to help where he could with other facts that he learned in his youth, but most of them he drew a blank on. "sorry killer, that's in correct." he told him as he placed the card down and corrected him. sebastian straightened his back and stretched. "how about we take a break. puffs should be unthawed by now." sebastian took the incorrect pile and shuffled it into the cards that weren't reviewed yet. "i think you got a good percentage of them correct. do you know more about the exam and it's content?" he asked as he placed the cards down. he stood up and picked up his now cold coffee and took a sip.

Blaine

Blaine used the couch to push himself to his feet, reaching for his toes for a moment to loosen his spine. "Sounds like a plan," he said, moving aside so Bas could get up as well. He gave a quick nod then a shrug. "Well, I know it's cummulative and I know what we learned, but honestly, I think he might throw anything at us. But, I feel pretty good about it, especially after that, so thanks." Blaine had finished off his coffee a few minutes before, but reached for a couple chips.May 21, 2020

Sebastian

sebastian went for the puffs and put a couple on a plate for the two of them. he grabbed a couple of napkins and walked on over to blaine with everything in his hands. "if you don't come back with an a+, then i think im going to have to ground you for the summer. can't be putting in this work if you're just gonna bring back anything less." sebastian teased. "i don't think that you're capable of bringing home less than the best though." as he grabbed a puff and held it out for blaine to try.

Blaine

Blaine took one of the puffs off the plate, chuckling at his joke. "Oof, thanks, Dad, I'll definitely do my best," he replied, taking a bite of the pastry. Grades had always been one of Blaine's strong suits, much to his parents' contentment - they never had to bother him about keeping them up like they'd had to do with Cooper. It was just an expectation. The taste of the dessert hit him and his eyes widened. "Where did you get these?" he asked, clear in his voice that it was really good, even after having been a little freezer burned. He definitely had to know so he could get these again.

Sebastian

"i love it when i'm called daddy." sebastian commented with a cheeky grin. he took back the pastry and took a bite out of it; all the while looking directly at blaine as he said it. he waited for blaine's reaction before answering. "at an asian market. and the melted water on it adds to it's taste. nothing is ever fun dry."

Blaine

Blaine nearly chocked on the second bite of the pastry at that remark. "Not what I meant," he laughed, cheeks turning a little pink, especially with the eye contact. "I'm going to have to know which one because these are really good! I can tell these could become a problem for me," he joked. "That's...certainly true."

Sebastian

sebastian's tongue popped playfully as he watched blaine's cheeks turn pink. he held his month open for a minute, showing off that little shiny ball right in the center (just a tad bit off to avoid the frenulum). his tongue traced his bottom lip before retreating back into his mouth. he took a seat and leaned back with his plate of puffs. "you say im a lot, but i think you're just absolutely adorable."

Blaine

Was that a tongue piercing? Somehow that made about as much sense as it was surprising to him. And it was pretty freaking hot. He continued to giggle, even more flustered by Sebastian's response. "It's not my fault. I'm not used to the amount of comments you make," he replied, staying where he was for a moment.

Sebastian

"but you like it though." sebastian commented. "you haven't exclusively told me to stop. does it make you uncomfortable?" he pointed out as he crossed his legs and leaned back. his lips parted, showing off his teeth.(edited)

Blaine

Blaine walked over and took the seat next to him. "It's certainly entertaining," he replied, matching his smile. "No, no, it's fine," he replied with a shake of his head. He still wasn't sure how much of it was serious, but didn't know if it would be weird to ask or if it would just make things uncomfortable. "It's certainly a nice boost to the ego."

Sebastian

sebastian watched blaine sit down next to him. his emerald eyes never left that beautiful handsome face. "well, i can sit here and tell you how pretty you are all day long if you'd like." he passed along as he rested his arm on the back of the couch. he tilted his head onto the palm of his hand. he was starting to get excited again. he couldn't do it. in his head, sebastian couldn't deny that he wanted more from blaine. if it didn't happen, sebastian would break his own heart. he wouldn't be able to stomach that at all. not after last time. his eyes turned away from blaine to the tv. "what else is on our to do list?" he asked. he needed to change the subject.

Blaine

Blaine leaned back into the cushions, smiling back at him. "As flattering as that is, I don't know that we'd get anything done," he laughed. Blaine definitely knew he was talented and attractive on a general level, but it still always made his heart flutter when other people said so. "Is there anything I can help you with for your finals?"

Sebastian

"i'd get to see you turn pink-- i think we'd be getting a lot done." sebastian's smile didn't fade as he looked at blaine. sebastian thought about his classes. with how much this paper meant-- he really hadn't thought about anything else. "i have a humanities course, but i haven't started studying." he admitted. "though i don't see a reason to be studying for it. i have a political ethics course too. but i just do what all the other people don't do." He joked.

Blaine

Blaine shook his head, still smiling wide. "I know, I know, I'm a chronic blusher, it's bad," he laughed. It really was a vicious cycle, he blushed when he was complimented and then he blushed even more because he was embarrassed about the blushing. "Why don't you see a reason for studying? Is the class that easy?"

Sebastian

Sebastian shrugged. “Yes. It’s all logic. Couple of terms but they should be easy. Guess you could help me review my notes. Point out some things.” Sebastians eyebrows lifted.

Blaine

"Yeah? I'd be happy to," Blaine replied, crossing one leg over the other. "Give me your notebook and I can ask you some questions."

Sebastian

Sebastian turned his head to his laptop and grabbed a hold of it to try and power it on. When it showed out of batteries, Sebastian tossed it aside and went to his bag and pulled out his journal. He handed it over to Blaine.May 22, 2020

Blaine

Blaine took the journal. "What page about?" he asked, not wanting to accidentally jump into some random notes that weren't relevant.

Sebastian

"it's cumulative." sebastian told the other. the notebook looked as if it was once slim and neat. it's simple look gave it a look of grace and elegance with it's matt finish and cream color tone to it. now, it was thick and clearly used yet taken care of. from the top edges of a notebook, burnt orange tabs stuck out from it to mark sections that sebastian done. one this particular page, the left side had pasted in an article from the internet and on the left was the analysis of it. multiple pages where like this and what gave the notebook it's volume. on the right side, the analysis was filled to the brim with small neat hand writing packed into their containers, colorful highlighted areas, and even little doodles of a slender figure (telling by the hair, septum piecing and green colored eyes, it was a projection of himself) saying something sarcastically intuitive about the material in the boxes. despite it's dense material, the notebook was something some hipster would post on instagram with a coffee in the background.

one glance and his mind popped with the information. at one point, sebastian had plunged into the facts into the boxes and it all came back to him vividly. of course he didn't need to study, he already had it all visualized in his mind. sebastian hardly ever forgot what he organized on paper. but blaine seemed like he wanted to help and sebastian wanted to prolong his time with blaine. he reached forward. casually, his hand brushed over blaine's has he reached for the second to last tab. his finger curled under the little trapezoid. "here, this one is the scenarios. you can quiz me on these." he pushed to the instance in the notebook. just like the other page, there were articles pasted in. these pages were obviously organized-- a title that was beautifully scripted in, a summary in it's own box and clearly labeled. he pointed to the a box highlighted in a red. "these denote something important." he informed.

Blaine

Blaine opened the notebook and was utterly surprised and entirely impressed by what he saw. If Sebastian thought that Blaine's flashcards were neat then he must clearly not be looking at himself. He scanned over the open page in front of him, cracking a smile at the little doodle that was clearly meant to be Sebastian himself. He was only shaken out of his impressed scoring over of the page by Sebastian's hand touching his and the flip of the pages. The amount of time and organization that must have gone into this? Blaine fancied himself to be an extremely neat person, but this was artistic in how well laid out it was. "Oh, okay... Sure," he said, honestly a little intimidated. He could see why Sebastian felt like he didn't need to study. Blaine started to read off the page, framing the statements as questions for Sebastian to complete.

Sebastian

after a couple of questions, sebastian suddenly had an idea. "hold on, let me plug in my laptop." he said as he went to go fiddle with the technology. once he got it on, he googled sample exams and then pushed it over to blaine so that he could ask those questions and correlate them in sebastian's notebook. sebastian leaned on the arm of the chair and stared that blaine. his eyes focused on him to the point where he hadn't heard the question. instead, he just sat staring at the male's perfect jaw line and sweet black eyes.

Blaine

Blaine furrowed his brow, not exactly sure what Sebastian was doing. Once he turned the laptop to him, though, he understood and gave a nod. He looked through, reading out a question then checking Sebastian's notebook for what the answer would be. When Sebastian's voice didn't say anything after a few seconds longer than a normal reply would take, Blaine looked up at him quizically. "Sebastian?" he questioned, seeing that he was looking right at him. "Do you know the answer?"

Sebastian

"i don't even know what the question was." he admitted in his usual smooth. "all i could see where those lips moving." a smirk played across sebastian. in this moment, he would push forward to kiss blaine. but the block came back. blaine had proven himself not only to be somebody of flavor and class. sebastian didn't want to kiss blaine out of some intangible need of sexual pleasure, but to fill his ultimate attraction to him. it pulled him toward blaine, his lips begging to taste the source of that sweet lullaby.

no.

the word came as a rush from the deep depths of his brain. sebastian pulled back suddenly. his head snapped to the computer. "wow, that time already?" he commented as he reached for the laptop screen to push it down. "i think i need to get some sleep. starting to get tired."

Blaine

Blaine watched Sebastian carefully as he replied. The flirting he expected, with that signature smirk. For a split second it even looked like Sebastian was going to move towards him, maybe to see what else 'those lips,' as he put it, could do. Then, it seemed to Blaine, it was like some sort of switch went off. He must have been making all that up in his head. Of course he was. Just like he always did when a pretty boy said one too many nice things to him. Blaine gave a half hearted chuckle. "Oh, okay. Yeah, I'll get out of your hair," he replied, handing the notebook back to the other. "Thanks again, for letting me come over. And the study help."

Sebastian

"hey, yeah, it's my pleasure." sebastian said. he pressed his lips together and turned up a smile to him. as he took back his notebook, sebastian looked away from blaine. his brain fought every part of him to turn around and continue flirting and mack on blaine. it even went to the point of stripping apart blaine for his faults and echoing them over and over. but sebastian couldn't possibly find those-- even if he did, it possible that they were too small to bother with. sebastian helped gather the chips and things in silence. his teeth clinched together, him attempting hard not to say anything. when blaine was packed up, sebastian handed him the chips. "thanks for coming. it helped a lot." sebastian told him, keeping his eyes trained on other things. he even went to pretending something was wrong with the door, to avoid the other.

Blaine

Blaine started to gather his things - the textbook and notebook he brought, the flashcards... It felt bizarre. One second they were really friendly, laughing and enjoying the company, and then suddenly Sebastian went dead silent. Had Blaine said something wrong? Something that offended him? He pulled his backpack over one shoulder and took the chips from Sebastian's hand. "Of course. Any time." He wasn't even looking at Blaine anymore. He went to the door. "Um, okay, bye."

Sebastian

Sebastian took in a deep breath as Blaine said good bye. He opened the door for Blaine and pressed his cheek to the door and finally looked at Blaine. “Hey, Blaine...” Sebastian paused. “Thanks. You helped a lot.”

Blaine

Blaine walked through the door, turning back to look at him as he spoke. "Of course, Sebastian. Any time," he said, smiling back at him.

Sebastian

Sebastians eyes lingered on Blaine for a little while. The sorrow sunk in deep as he leaned forward to close the door. Sebastian dragged him back to the couch and took a seat. He stared at his laptop for a moment, opened it, and begun his work.

#seblaine rp #seblaine #para; blaine #blainethelonghorn

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