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oliversrarebooks · 4 months

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The Rare Bookseller Part 36: Alexander's Desire

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June 1905

TW: mind control, captivity, human auction

Lex was bored.

He was surrounded by vampires all dolled up in their best attire, eager to see and be seen at the most high-end auction in the entire region, and he could hardly bring himself to care. All of the chatter was petty politics and gossip and who-is-wearing-what and who-is-buying-what, and it was hard to feign the slightest bit of interest.

Still, he did need a thrall. His long-time thrall Edmund had died of old age and blood loss after a lifetime of service. He'd been a good thrall, quiet and obedient, and his presence had eased some of Lex's loneliness. His loss was felt keenly. He knew that a good portion of the vampires here, even those who loved their human pets and servants, would scoff at the depths of Lex's grief over a mere thrall. Lex had always had too soft a heart, a fact that his sire never hesitated to remind him of.

Even so, the grief stung whenever he allowed himself to feel it -- whenever he had need to venture into the cold, spotless kitchen or start up the fire himself. He no longer had anyone to read particularly interesting passages of books to or play music for. There was no more wry chuckle when Lex made a mistake. No one to accompany him to the opera or ballet.

He'd hastily skipped the cattle pen of mind-wiped humans -- he found the entire idea distasteful, their vacant eyes unsettling -- in favor of perusing those designated as servants. Every one had bowed politely to him, addressed him as Mr. Alexander, and answered his questions briefly and with civility. Each one had been so enthralled as to lose most of whatever personality they might've had, and it might take years to draw any of it out of them, like it had with Edmund. The fashion of the time, unfortunately.

But his need for fresh blood couldn't be denied any longer, and even though these humans were unappealing in demeanor, his mouth still watered at the smell. At this rate, all he could do was pick out the most promising of the lot, take them home, and hope to coax some life out of them.

How tedious.

How very, very lonely.

There was, of course, one wild card, one wrench in the machine: his sire-sister, Lily, who had pulled him aside earlier that night to tell him about a secret project she had, a thrall that Lex would just love. That was mildly terrifying, coming from her -- Lex shuddered to think what she'd done to the poor human. Lily's skills in conditioning were second to none, but her ideas of what made a good thrall often ran counter to the grain.

He took his polite leave from the sixth vampire who'd stopped him in the hall, eager to curry favor with him and thereby curry favor with his sire, and headed into an ornately-decorated side room.

There, in the center of the room, stood a man with short blond hair, a stunning red velvet ball gown, and a cocky grin on his face. The thrall looked Lex up and down, and his grin only grew wider.

Lily was standing to his side, wearing some frilly pink confection of a dress. "This is the vampire I wanted you to meet, Fitz."

"Oh, this is Mr. Alexander?" said Fitz. "You didn't tell me he looked like this, sir. I might need to take back what I said about not wanting to serve a vampire."

"This is my special project, Lex," said Lily, bursting with pride.

"The special-est, sir."

"Lex, meet Fitz."

"Charmed, sir, both literally and figuratively," said Fitz, bowing with a little flourish.

Lex stood there, stunned, not knowing quite how to react. "Are you... have you actually been... what I mean to say is, are you a thrall?"

"I've been hypnotized to hell and back by Miss Lily here, if that's what you mean, sir," he said. "But for better or worse, she's allowed me to retain my sparkling wit."

"Is that so?" Lex glanced over at Lily, who was looking incredibly smug. He had to hand it to her: this thrall at least wasn't boring. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such life in the eyes of a thrall.

"But enough about me, sir," said Fitz, getting into Lex's personal space. He smelled like lavender and rich, delicious blood, and that confident smile paired with sparkling blue-gray eyes was undeniably handsome. "Let's talk about you. Specifically, why you should buy me."

"Isn't that also about you?"

"You got me there, sir." Fitz laughed.

"Why would you even want me to buy you?" said Lex. "You seem to have your mind intact. You know that you'd be my servant, you'd lose your freedom, and I'd drink your blood."

"I don't know if you noticed, sir, but that's going to happen to every human here, or so I'm told. If I'm going to be a servant and delicious meal anyway, I might as well pick my poison, right? And you seem at least to be a very attractive poison."

Lex had seen thralls fawn and beg before, but he hadn't ever seen a thrall openly flirt. It was nakedly manipulative, of course, but the fact that the thrall was even capable of manipulation was intriguing.

"What are your interests, Fitz?" said Lex.

"The stage is my passion, I'm proficient in magic tricks, passable at fortunetelling, excellent at cards, and dabble in all sorts of arts and crafts and handiwork, sir."

"Do you play any instruments?"

"The guitar and the piano, sir, although I wouldn't expect concert-quality performances."

Lex couldn't help but smile. A thrall that played music, and had his mind together enough to indulge in hobbies! He'd longed for a thrall like this ever since he'd buried poor Edmund. Despite himself, he was already losing himself in a daydream of Fitz in his music room, playing a simple tune on his guitar, filling his bleak and lonely mansion with song.

He shook himself out of it. He couldn't give away his interest too obviously.

"Hmm, let's see," he said, hooking a finger under Fitz's chin and directing him to look him in the eye. His blood smelled like a delectable feast, and it was eroding Lex's self-control. He couldn't hold back his vampiric aura, and he saw Fitz's eyes go wide under his influence. Oh, that was gorgeous. "If I were to buy you, would you offer your blood to me?"

"Yes, yes, sir," he said, now looking more like a dazed thrall, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck. Lex had found this fawning behavior uninteresting from the other, more heavily conditioned thralls -- but on Fitz, who just moments before had been bright and alert, it was intoxicating. "Being fed on by a vampire exactly like you is all I can think about lately. Drink, please."

Lex realized that he was far, far too blood-starved to rationally deal with this kind of temptation. He released Fitz from the spell, seconds away from losing himself and biting into merchandise that wasn't his. Yet, came the automatic thought, which he tried to dismiss.

Life returned to Fitz. "You deserve to drink from someone with blood as good as mine, sir."

"Oh?" Lex cocked an eyebrow. "How do you even know that your blood tastes good?"

"Well, a serious looking man in a very dapper suit told me that my blood was top shelf triple-A fancy grade, sir," said Fitz. "He seemed very authoritative, so I'm inclined to believe him utterly."

Lex laughed. It was probably the first time he'd laughed since Edmund died.

Oh, he was in trouble. This wasn't a thrall he would settle for because he needed fresh blood to live. He wanted this thrall. And he didn't like wanting anything -- it was a recipe for disappointment and disaster. And Lily was grinning like a loon. She knew.

"You're going to cost me a lot of money, aren't you?" he said in defeat.

"You're certainly not the first person to say that to me, sir."

Well, it wasn't like money was a serious obstacle to him. While this style of lucid thrall wouldn't appeal to some of the vampires here, the fact that Fitz had the highest graded blood Lex had seen at a local auction would drive his price sky-high regardless of his personality. And unfortunately, Lex already knew that he was willing to pay just about any price for this one. The thought of another vampire buying him, dragging him away by his handcuffs, sinking their fangs into what was rightfully his --

No, this was ridiculous. He had to keep his calm until the auction proper.

"I -- I really should -- I should take my leave and peruse the rest of the merchandise," said Lex as casually as he could muster, as though he hadn't already looked over most of the available thralls and found them lacking.

"Well, you're certainly not going to find anything better than me, but I understand the impulse," said Fitz. "I hope to see you again, sir."

Lex rushed out before he could get drawn back in.

He stalked down the hallway, past chattering vampires, hoping to find a relatively secluded place to clear his head, finally settling on a padded bench in a small windowless nook. His head was spinning with the desire to possess. He'd been starving for both fresh blood and companionship ever since Edmund's death, and still nothing else had sparked the flame of need so deep inside him as this one particular thrall. His mind was filled with fantasy of Fitz playing guitar and singing in the music room, of Lex stroking his fingers through his hair while they lounged by the fire, of how his sparkling eyes would look when Lex enthralled him to feed...

And the way Fitz had entreated him to feed! That was all Lily's deep conditioning, of course, but it seemed so real coming from him, as though his need for a vampire's fangs was genuine. He'd always known Lily was a genius at enthrallment, but Fitz had to be her finest work yet.

Lex tensed at the sound of approaching footsteps, not eager to make pleasantries with yet another respectable vampire, gushing over some empty-eyed, mumbling thrall and asking Lex to convey their respects to his hated sire. He was relieved to look up and find that the sensible black shoes in his line of vision belonged to his old friend Ruth, one of the sharpest minds in the city.

"Good evening, Lex," she said, sitting on the other end of the bench. "I do hope I'm not interrupting some important brooding."

"You're not interrupting anything in particular. The distraction will do me some good."

"So are you not finding anything you like? That's a bit surprising given how long you've gone without a thrall."

"On the contrary, I may have found something I like too much," he admitted, perhaps unwisely. Ruth was also close friends with Lily, and Lily was bound to be entirely too self-satisfied over her little project's success.

"Ah, is it Lily's little pet? He's quite interesting, isn't he? I think I may bid on him. He'd make an excellent clerk."

Lex couldn't keep the half-horrified, half-ferocious look off his face, his baser instincts howling at the idea of having his new toy taken away from him. Ruth cackled. "What's that face? Don't worry, I'm only teasing you. I won't stand in your way -- you're obviously in need of a proper thrall. Or an improper one, as the case may be."

The jealous knot in Lex's chest loosened. He needed to calm himself before the auction proper, lest he make a scene like an unschooled fledgeling. "I appreciate it," he said.

Ruth put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "It's actually quite a relief to see you desire a thrall again. The strict repression your sire tries to enforce isn't good for you. After all, what's the point of dragging these old corpses around if we can't even enjoy ourselves?"

Enjoy himself?

When was the last time he'd truly enjoyed himself? Before Edmund's death, certainly, in the times when his manor had been less lonely, and he'd had quality blood to drink. Even then, it was difficult for him to grasp more than fleeting moments of contentment -- his master's pursuit of perfection over happiness had its roots deep in his mind. Truly, he'd been denying himself for so long, and in so many ways.

He wanted this. He needed this. He was going to own Fitz, and no vampire would stand in his way.

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I'm sure this will all turn out fine.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep

#whump #whump writing #vampire #mind control #captivity #vampire whumper #rare bookseller #alexander #fitz

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electronickingdomfox · 1 year

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Excerpts from “Shatner: where no man...”

I recently read this book (Marshak & Culbreath, 1979) and wanted to share some excerpts (the book can be borrowed for free at archive.org, by the way).

To be honest, there’s a LOT of filler and hero-worship in this book (to very annoying levels), and it’s not a biography in the common sense of the word. But it also includes personal interviews with Shatner, Roddenberry and Nimoy, which I found the most interesting parts (chapters 7 and 8 above all). So here’s some of the stuff, chosen because it relates with Star Trek or it’s just funny/curious. With special attention to the K/S parts. Because I’m making the selection and say so.

From an interview with Shatner and Nimoy (1977)

Nimoy comments on the scenes he thinks define Kirk and Spock’s relationship:

Nimoy is asked about a particular blooper he’s never seen:

Gotta love his last line. In relation to Devil in the Dark:

Nimoy then explains that he wasn’t always conscious of his reactions in front of the camera, some of them may have come naturally to him while playing the scene (like the swallowing here described). On the other hand, Shatner said in other parts of the book that he himself was very aware of his expressions and why he used them. Interesting to know when analyzing certain scenes.

About the problems with Turnabout Intruder (Roddenberry also addresses these issues in another section):

Elsewhere in the book (not part of the same interview), Shatner had also talked about this same episode:

Really, Janice Lester never struck me as the classical femme fatale who seduces men for her advantage, but Kirk... would turn himself into one? Oh, well. I can see that.

From an interview with Roddenberry and Shatner (1977)

Gene comments on Kirk and Spock’s relationship:

For this well-known passage, I’d just like to address some common criticism from those who grasp at straws to discredit what Gene said here. I’ve often seen this interview described as the authors “manoeuvring” Gene into talking about physical love between Kirk and Spock. As if Roddenberry had said that at gun-point, and thus wasn’t valid. Well, NO. The interviewers only bring the subject of Alexander and Hephaistion because Gene had previously talked about the Alexander/Kirk parallel. And they never speak of them as anything more than friends. The whole “physical love” thing was brought entirely by Roddenberry (as a little later after this interview, he’d do with the t’hyla-lover stuff in the TMP novel). The authors DO have an obvious agenda in this book, not gonna lie. But their fantasy revolves around alpha-male Kirk getting into relationships with strong women, not around K/S (at least not in this book). Believe me; I’ve read the whole thing, and it’s pervasive. To the point of trying to push Kirk/Uhura or Spock/Leila as love stories, despite Nimoy being much in disagreement with the latter, and both being forced to it. Not to mention, the authors barely brush on the “physical love” thing, and move back to the Alexander/Kirk parallels.

In fact, the authors ask Gene again about Kirk and Spock’s friendship, and again, it’s him who makes the connection between their relationship and sexual relationships in general:

Confront this with the passage in the TMP novel:

But it still felt painful to be reminded so powerfully and unexpectedly of his friendship and affection for Spock—theirs had been the touching of two minds which the old poets of Spock’s home planet had proclaimed as superior even to the wild physical love which affected Vulcans every seventh year during pon farr.

But enough with the seriousness:

I can’t believe they were discussing Kirk’s ass in front of its owner... There are other raunchy things in this interview (it’s Roddenberry after all), but I won’t put them in here.

From an interview with Theodore Sturgeon

So the legendary “In a pig’s eye!” line was DeForest Kelley’s improvisation? He’s the boss.

#star trek #star trek tos #william shatner #leonard nimoy #gene roddenberry #theodore sturgeon #interview #k/s #sondra marshak #myrna culbreath #kirk x spock #spirk #book excerpts

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buckybarnesss · 6 months

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on fire: a teen wolf novel chapters 4-6 chapters 1-3 here

cox communications doesn't respect 3rd shift workers so last night i had to go into my brick and mortar office. i was able to get a lot of reading done but due to rules and regulations i was unable to write down my thoughts as i went. instead i used those little sticky note tabs to mark passages of interest so that's why this post took a little bit longer as i had to review what i had marked.

anyway.

our national nightmare continues.

ngl this book is weird. it's bizarro season 1.

it's non-canon compliant post-episode 5 the tell. i genuinely do not understand why they just didn't tap nancy holder to write a novelization of season 1.

warning: kate argent's existence and general grossness.

so buckle up buttercups here's a preview of what's to come:

we start this chapter from kate's point of view and it makes me feel dirty already. cast it into the fire, isildur. she’s just vile. just look at these nauseating quotes that she has all within the first page:

“nothing beat the feel of cold, hard steel -- unless it was the rippling muscles of a well-built man.”

this bitch.

”god, all those muscles. the last time she’d seen him, he’d still been in high school. still a kid. a stupid, gullible kid, who should have died in the hale house fire along with the rest of his family.”

tell me again how the intention wasn't for derek to have been a minor when kate was grooming him? tell me fucking again.

“maybe she should’ve taken advantage of derek while he’d been down on the floor, writhing from the nine hundred thousand volts she’d sent skittering though his kick-ass body. for old time’s sake.”

chris and victoria are there too, being way more normal about things. they brought egg salad and cold cuts which feels like it’s hitting the beat where victoria comes in with cookies in the show.

despite having grounded allison for her skipping school with scott on her birthday they are perfectly fine with her having not only a study date with lydia but allowing her to sleep over. it’s apparently to cover the arrival of a shipment of weapons. kate isn’t impressed that they’re still hiding everything from allison and disappointed there isn’t some super-special weapon in the shipment.

this entire time she’s being weird and kind of sexual about an uzi. like, fuck off kate.

now we’re back to scott and allison at the seedy motel plot where they are trying to locate jackson. “scott’s first instinct was to throw his arms around allison and duck, but she yanked the door open and barreled inside the motel like a superhero.” uou are goddamn right, scott. that is ally a.

the motel is basically an off the books brothel. one of the patrons supposedly saw something in one of the windows when he went open it for a smoke but saw something that scared him causing a heart attack. allison and scott ask a few people if they’ve seen jackson then have to book it when sheriff stilinski shows up. these two idiots duck down in her car. i think we see stiles and scott do this a few times in the show.

lydia calls allison freaked out that she hadn’t called her back yet and harkens back to the tell by saying “a....window?” when they tell her about the man having a heart attack and scott describes her as sounding odd. i appreciate that lydia's trauma isn't being ignored because that just happened to her in the tell.

all this use of the generic where’s my phone app and using conference calls to sneak around feels like an adaptation of the plot beat in wolf’s bane.

the sterek agenda continues. derek and stiles spend a significant portion of the coming chapters together much like they do in the back half of season 1. it starts with the possible origin of the derek being in stiles’s room trope. stiles muses over the text he’d received from scott about the incident at the motel and as if being summoned derek is just suddenly there in his room. look at this bullshit:

he texted back, muttering, “so, scott, saw what? saw derek?” “yes?” derek said from behind him. “yeaoww!” stiles shouted. he turned around to find derek leaning against the wall. he did that on an irritatingly frequent basis, both at scott’s house and casa stilinski. he was wearing his black leather jacket and he looked especially pouty and broody. “could you not do that anymore? it is so not cool.”

irritatingly frequent basis? how many times has derek randomly appeared in your room stiles? and i’m sorry “especially pouty and broody”? what a totally super casual observation that is.

it gets even better. derek questions what scott is doing and stiles deadass answers “doin’ stuff.” which naturally irritates derek and derek requests stiles tell scott he wants to meet him. they’re interrupted by the sheriff calling for stiles to which we get:

“gotta go get that.” Stiles pointedly shut down his desktop -- Derek actually growled -- and slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “don’t touch anything.”

derek why are you growling? weirdo.

stiles talks to his dad and probes for information about the motel guy and they discuss his homework. it's actually a pretty great conversation between the two and pretty much the only time it occurs in the book.

there’s a mention of stiles’s mother and the sheriff asks stiles if he’s taken his adderall that day. so again, clearly whatever notes holder received very much indicated stiles's ADHD.

back in stiles’s room we get derek pointedly having ignored stiles’s directive to not touch anything: “he zoomed back into his room to find derek clacking away on his computer keyboard.” and “hey,” he said. “keep your paws off.” derek gave him one of his trademark sour glares.” this just continues to confirm for me that holder received some kind of outline of character and plot beats. casa stilinski? sour glares? derek and stiles doing investigative work and going to a hospital? stiles having a low key bisexual crisis over derek? it’s all there. i mean bro look at this:

“look,” derek leaned toward him and the hairs on the back of stiles’s neck stood straight up.”

and the banter:

“but don’t do anything wolfy in my jeep,” he said, opening his door and peering into the hallway. the coast was clear. “like stick our head out the window to let your tongue hang out --” “shut up,” derek said.

here's another werewolf moment i find rather intriguing. scott and allison have made it to the preserve by this point still hot on the trail of jackson who lydia had told them was somewhere in the preserve. scott has a moment where in his mind he hears the how of a wolf. it says “an echo inside an echo” and “one wolf calling to another. seeking the pack.” that's pretty cool and it's not something shows up in the show.

jackson has finally arrived. i miss this asshole. he's in the woods being pissy about meeting the private investigator that had left him a note and a picture of his supposed biological father.

jackson’s perspective on what happened in magic bullet is just [chef’s kiss]. he refers to derek as scott’s drug dealer.

“mccall’s creepy drug dealer had shown up at school. when jackson had stood up to him, he’d grabbed him by the neck, and, like, gouged him with his fingernails.”

in jackson’s narration something caught my eye. “things had been fine before the start of the school year. Then it was almost as if McCall had concocted some kind of scheme over the summer to ruin his life.” so not only is this book an AU of season 1, the time frame seems off. the show starts the first day after their winter break in january. wolf moon takes place during the episode. the book places this before wolf moon has occurred which comes up later in derek’s narration.

this is such a good line and is a window into jackson’s mentality: “everyone wanted something jackson had. it was usually money or popularity. the secret? they were exactly the same thing.”

allison and scott are still in the woods. they’ve been kissing for a while but then they run into a wolf. they are really so soppy in this book and it's both accurate and annoying. allison is awed and scott is quietly panicking. allison goes on about how she thought it was beautiful and scott’s mind wonders if he’ll ever turn into a wolf like how Laura did. which, lol, no baby because you never make peace fully with being a werewolf.

annnnd we’re back to the stiles and derek plot line. they’re playing dress up. i kid you not. these two are pulling a dean and sam.

“my new best friend and i are at the hospital.” stiles said, twirling the listening end of a stethoscope in a little circle. so far he’d been unable to hypnotize derek with it.

there’s another small dig about derek not being a real person in stiles’s narration. this book hates derek, okay but i have a lo more on that later. for now these two idiots infiltrated the hospital by pulling the old stand by of Looking Important. stiles has a conversation with scott which is invoking wolf’s bane so hard:

“and you’ll never guess what. you can get past hospital security if you steal a white coat out of the storage room and parade around with it and a clipboard.” derek grunted. he was the one holding the clipboard, but he had passed on wearing a lab coat.”

stiles continues his observations of derek like the freak4freak he is:

“stiles covered the phone, “he can’t talk about wolfie matters,” he reported back to derek. “because he’s with her,” derek said, looking even more dour than usual. stiles had never realized there were so many degrees of the brood until derek hale came into their lives.”

there’s a bit of back and forth regarding scott reporting that he and allison saw an actual wolf. derek’s disbelieving and cranky to which stiles ponders this totally normal thought:

“maybe if he gave derek a sugar cube -- or threw him a piece of raw meat -- derek might cheer up. stiles would have to try that someday. but today wasn’t looking good for that.”

derek then snatches stiles’s phone to question scott’s whereabouts. he is still cranky. meanwhile stiles is reading derek’s body language and it’s way too detailed for a normal person. like, stiles no one cares derek’s hand is in his jacket pocket while he grumps at scott and emphasizes “like always”. stiles how hard have you been watching derek? he may have complained about derek showing up in his room unnaounced but he's like

before we get into derek’s narration which ooh boy guys you aren’t ready. stiles and derek have their classic bickering-bantering some more.

derek’s insisting stiles take him to the preserve so he can scent scott out. stiles is appalled and is like “oh my god derek you weirdo there’s an app for that.” and gets a little red riding hood dig in.

derek refuses to admit stiles has a point but orders stiles to give him his phone. stiles all but says Fuck You No and derek brings out his oldie but goodie:

“tell me or i’ll rip your throat out.”

stiles probably thinks “don’t threaten me with a good time” but instead he says that he knows derek’s not telling him everything and insists he’s going with derek to find scott.

it ends on this exchange:

“all right,” he said, “but we’ll take your jeep.” stiles huffed. “why can’t we ever take your car?”

alas the camero. we barely knew her.

now we switch to derek’s point of view to narrate and so begins a piece of characterization that i don’t like, isn’t actually accurate to the character at any point in the series and frankly chaps my ass. i’m just going to give you all the paragraph as a whole.

“hey, you have to take me with you.,” scott’s annoying little sidekick insisted as derek stalked out of the hospital. derek took a tiny bit of satisfaction in the way the human had to trot along to stay abreast. he was sick to death of taking the weakness of humans into account while formulating his plans. de respected power, and few humans had any.”

besties, this book may very well be the origin of Derek Thinks Humans Are Weak trope. now, i’m sure some of you are like heather aren’t you perhaps being a tad dramatic?

no. no i’m not. at first i considered this might be because of derek’s experience with kate. it would make sense that perhaps based off the information holder had that derek might be wary but than this fucker drops this line:

“werewolves didn’t share information with humans, ever.”

but he follows this thought with this:

“except for him, derek hale. he had shared information with a human. he hadn’t meant to. and the results had been disastrous.”

i will definitely get into more detail about this attitude he has because it really comes out in some later chapters because ooooh boy y’all ain’t prepared for the nonsense ahead. in actual canon derek never behaves this way or express this kind of opinion about humans. it stands out starkly in contrast to the episode this moment is paralleling in wolf’s bane. derek thinks stiles is annoying but not because he’s human.

we end this chapter on jackson’s point of view. de had met with the so-called private investigator and they tit-for-tatted and jackson bolted when he sensed danger in the woods. now he’s lost in the woods. he’s scared, doesn’t want to admit it and sends a text to lydia.

it's here in these chapters where i realized that the character of deaton is missing entirely. since all of season 1's plot past the tell is omitted deaton's significance went with it.

also the mystery of the alpha is present but she's unable to really do anything with it so peter's presence is still regulated to comatose burn victim.

#my blog #thoughts on teen wolf #teen wolf #on fire: a teen wolf novel #sterek #or the teen wolf AU #heather reads #kate argent is her own trigger warning

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notyour-valentine · 2 years

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A Thousand Reasons and One ~Tommy Shelby x Reader (Fluff)

Summary: After more than a decade since her parents had decided to leave Birmingham for a better life across the sea, she wasn’t sure just what she would return to

Note: @dandelionprints Thank you so much for requesting.

Here is my [Masterlist].

I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes

Warning: As I am an adult, all my writing I share is unless explicitly stated for adults (18/21+). Expect canon confirming tone, language and depiction of violence. Your media consumption is your own responsibility.

Request: yes, by @dandelionprints I hope you enjoy it!

Wordcount: 3701

She had read a story once, about a girl who had woken up in a dreamworld so lifelike and similar to the one she came from, it took a while before she realised it.

And as she heard the crunching under her tightly laced brown leather boots, she couldn’t help but think this was a dream too.

She could no longer tell how many night she had closed her eyes so that in the darkness, she could walk these streets again, balancing on the edge of the pavement on the outskirts of Small Heath, sneaking through the back streets and alleyways for the quickest way to the canal or even climbing up to the roofs so that she alone would tower over the city. Only she hadn’t been alone.

Back then, she had never been alone.

Even now, after a decade that had shaken the foundation of the world, it still felt familiar, even if the paint on the shop sign was a little more chipped, the facade of the houses a little darker and the smell a little harsher.

But somehow it all was smaller than in the memories of the streets of her childhood. Even the towering stretched necks of the factory chimneys that still loomed over the city no longer seemed the giants they once were.

And yet that calming sense of coming home never came.

Instead, her heart thundered in her chest. If it were anyone else, they could have pretended that it was due to the bad company and the rough streets that were safer to walk as a child than a young woman, but that wasn’t it.

She was too foolish and too brave to be scared in a place like this. In her place, or at least what it had once been.

Despite all the time, her feet knew the way all on their own from where the cabbie had dropped her off with a polite warning.

“It’s not safe, ‘specially for foreigners.”

But she wasn’t a foreigner. She had been born in this place, taking in the smoke with her first breath and feeling the dirt under her feet with her very first steps.

All the other changes had been little, so much so that a slightly less interested glance wouldn’t have noticed them at all, just enough to cause a little unease the same way the perceived stillness on the deck of a boat had made her stomach flutter during the passage over.

She noticed though, but even someone blind, deaf and stupid would notice the glaring difference presenting itself to her now.

She had to blink, pinch herself and look again at this glimmering glittering hideous mess of gold paint that awaited her where the Garrison once stood.

Gone was the old dark brown wood, replaced by gilded paint and white without a single stain upon it. It looked as if it had been plucked from a different place of the earth and set down here by mistake.

Inside, it was hardly better. The last time she had been, there had not yet been electric lights, but these looked to be of the newest generation, just like the telephone behind the bar.

The countertops had no scratchmarks, no bullets stuck in them.

The legs of the chairs had not been cracked and broken and the old wooden benches had been softened by upholstery, which she could see a thousand times over in the reflection of the many mirrors.

The old faces of her childhood were no more, the regular’s table sporting new patrons.

And somehow, even if she had only ever cared about few of them, it filled her with sadness.

Mr Barrow had been a gruff old man who had smelled so sour it sometimes made her eyes water, but he had belonged here, right up at there on the furthest place of the counter.

And Mr. Mintley with his nose the shape of a potato looked so mean it would scare a stranger, but his voice had almost been that of a mouse.

Fannington was another who wasn’t there, with his long beard and bushy moustache.

She remembered blue-nosed Galling who sometimes, when he was particularly drunk, would pay them for matches they never gave them and squinty eyed Mr Pickett who could drink like a cow and yet still walk a straight line.

They were all gone, but she could see some lingering trace of them in the other people- the colour of familiar eyes, the shape of noses she recalled and the sound of laughter that had etched itself in her memory.

“What can I get ya’ love?”, a booming voice roared, sending her head snapping from where sometimes that old greyhound had laid under the table to the man behind the bar.

Old Mr. Fenton had been the one behind it, with the help of his boy Haggard Harry, but even though the lines in the face she saw were frighteningly familiar, they bore no resemblance to either one of the Fentons.

She know those small eyes, knew the line between the brows, the shape of the jaw - even the moustache. It was like looking at a ghost, because he had to be a ghost.

He looked just like he had done when she had last seen him, all those years ago.

“Didn’t mean to startle ya!”, he said in that booming voice she remembered in the depth of her bones as he braced himself on the counter. “Go on!”

“J-just a gin please.”, she croaked out, staring at him with wide eyes.

Surely not.

“Finn, make yourself useful and get the American some good old gin, eh?”, he instructed as he continued to draw a few pints.

“I’m not ‘ere for work!”, a young man who was sitting on the customer’s side argued. He had short blond hair, with the edges cut in the way the soldiers did it, and piercing blue eyes. He too looked frighteningly familiar.

“You do as you’re told!”, the man insisted and rolling his eyes, the youngster put out his cigarette and began to obey.

“Here.”, he finally said, pushing the glass over to her as she paid.

“Heard you talking about Americans.”, a sneer came from the direction of the snug.

“Ah, don’t worry John!”, the man waved off, making her head snap around.

“We don’t mind foreigners when they look like that, eh?”

Yes, it was John - undoubtedly so with his boyish face and bright eyes.

Her own travelled back to the boy who had served her, while John mustered her from top to bottom.

“C’mon Arthur.”, John said, nodding inside.

Arthur, yes of course it was Arthur, but the younger not the older.

Pull yourself together!, she scolded herself, reaching for the biting liquid to steady her shaking heart.

She hadn’t expected any of it to be easy, but she hadn’t expected it to be this confusing…this difficult. And now she couldn’t even think straight.

Everything around her was familiar, but not the same, similar but slightly different, all things she had remembered but all things that had changed.

It made her head spin to the point where she felt ill.

Downing the drink, she grabbed her purse and pushed out of the new shiny glass door into the cold air in an attempt to steady her racing heart and restless thoughts.

On their own accord, and with far more sense of direction than her spinning head and racing heart, her feet took her down to the cut.

The water was even darker and fouler smelling than she had recalled it on the most boiling of summer days.

She wondered how many secrets had disappeared into it’s darkness, which too many times had been witness to hidden truths of her own - words she had only told the sky, the canal and the boy by her side.

In it she could see the reflection of the moon play tricks on the water. Unlike a river, it did not run, but it wasn’t still either. There was always some movement in the cut, even if she didn’t know where it came from.

It contorted her image, so unlike the one it had been the last time she had looked into it’s depth.

But just like back then, all these years ago, a second reflection came up beside her.

She spun and took a few steps back as precaution only to be met by unimpressed eyes with an eyebrow raised.

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him.

He had grown, of course he had grown, and his cheeks and jaw had gotten sharper with age. A few small lines had been added to the corners of his eyes.

And even though his cap threw a shadow deep into his face, they shone so brightly just like they had always down.

A breathless gasp escaped her lips as she stared at him, trying to take in all of him while her mind attempted to sort it all, every similarity, every difference.

Gone were the wide shirts of his brother that were far too broad for him, the trousers that never would have held without the suspenders, and in their place was a well tailored suit. Those long dark lashes still caressed his cheeks and his eyes had lost none of their shine or sharpness, rivalling only the shining gold chain of his pocket watch.

If she had thought her head was spinning earlier in the Garrison, she had another thing coming as her stomach began to rebel like the time she had been ten years old and tried stolen (and probably spoiled) beer for the very first time.

He’d held her braids back then, as she threw up all over the cobblestones.

Now he just watched at her, smoke escaping his lips.

“So,”, he said, not a trace of emotion in his voice or in his eyes, “you talk funny now.”

Every word was accompanied by their own shape of white which disappeared as quickly as it had come.

But she didn’t mind in the slightest. Even though his voice had changed in more ways than she could list, they confirmed what she had known as soon as his reflection had appeared beside hers and within the bat of an eyelash she had her arms wrapped around his neck, forgetting all sense of propriety and of dignity that society and their age demanded.

She hugged him the way she had hugged him when she had been a child, the way she had hugged him for the very last time, fiercely and tightly and wishing she’d never have to let go.

But unlike then he didn’t mirror the desperation of her embrace.

He smelled of smoke, soap and whisky and a little bit of horse, which brought a smile to her face, as that was how he had smelled since she could remember.

“I’m so glad.”, she whispered, her breath hot against his neck as tears began to run down her cheeks. “Oh I’m so glad that you’re alright.”

That you’re alive.

It wasn’t easy to get information about the casualty lists back home. For that, the war was simply too far away, and what little she got was entirely unreliable. The memory of all the hours she had spent reading the lists, all those names.

It had shamed her to feel as glad as she did for every single name her eyes glossed over, because she felt nothing but relief that it wasn’t his.

“I always looked for you, for all your names. I couldn’t be sure, Tom. I couldn’t be sure.”

With that she pulled back to look at him, her own vision blurred by tears. She cupped his face, letting her thumb stroke over his cheek as he just looked at her unflinchingly.

Still, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh thank heaven!”, she whispered.

Slowly, he shook his head.

“No.”, he whispered under his breath. “Just hell.”

His words were like a string closing up her throat, not only their meaning but also the cold way he had said them.

And suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore, about coming here, about embracing him - about anything, really.

The ice in his voice had wiped all the confidence from her, leaving her helpless and confused.

What if he no longer cared for her? What if he hated her? What if he hadn’t forgiven her for being too scared to run away with him?

The only thing worse than his anger would have been his indifference - after she had spent every day and every night for the last decade thinking about him, praying for him, worrying about him.

Wordlessly he reached out, took her hand and began to walk, pulling her after him as his long strides led them down the length of the cut, away from those parts that led into the city.

At first she was confused as to what he was doing, but when the old storage units came into sight, the realisation came.

They had spent countless hours playing hide and seek there, or just hiding, when the rest became to loud or too much to bear.

“You smoke?”, he asked once he had slowed his steps, leaning against some of the stacked boxes.

Shelby, the lable read.

She nodded and so he handed her one of his cigarettes before placing another between his lips.

Beckoning her forward with a gloved hand, he lit hers first, creating a golden gimmer for less than a second.

“How’s America?”, he asked, tilting his head as his eyes looked her up and down.

“Alright, I suppose.”, she said. “We didn’t stay in New York for long. Instead we went further south, all the way to Mississippi. I took a job in a house as a housemaid and later I moved to New Orleans to work in a hotel to make some money.”

To make some money to come back.

To come back to you.

Only then the war had happened and changed everything. But as soon as it had finally ended, she had scratched together all savings she had collected from the money that didn’t go to her family and bought a passage over.

It seemed strange to sum up nearly half of her life in so few words, but when she elaborated, it felt wrong. What did it matter if the people she worked for were kind or that New Orleans was a bright wild city?

Tommy had listened without making a sound apart from the crinkling of his cigarette paper.

She shifted uncomfortably, her feet pushing the dirt back and forth as she didn’t know what to do now.

Even after her own voice had died down, he kept his silence until he was finished with it.

“Mum’s dead.”

He said it so bluntly, it made her mouth drop open.

“Oh Tom!”, she whimpered as her mind was flooded of the dark-haired beauty that was - that had been his mother.

“I am so, so sorry!”

Tommy only shrugged as he tossed the end of his cigarette into the darkness where it’s light died but a moment later.

“It’s been a long while.”

"How?", she finally managed to ask, her tongue feeling thick and useless in her mouth.

“A bit after you left she got pregnant again. It worked this time, right to the end and she had another boy. Finn. A few months after he was born, she died.”

Finn, the boy who had given her the gin. He had seemed familiar, but he was so tall now. Had it really been so much time that a baby could have grown up in her absence?

“Yep.”, Tommy Shelby said, clearing his throat and glancing out into the darkness.

“Mum’s dead. Dad left. Ada’s married and had a kid. John’s got five by now. Just us, us and Aunt Pol.”

He nodded as if to confirm his story to himself and even in the dim silver light of the moon she could see him swallow hard.

“I am so sorry, Tom!”, she whispered, reaching out to touch him again.

Her hand found his arm and gave it a squeeze, as his head snapped around.

“Yeah, so am I.”, he admitted, averting his eyes.

The moon tinted his pale cheeks silver and for a moment it wiped the marks of years from his face.

The hair was different, the man was different, but he was still her Tom.

Lacing her arm with his, she leaned her head against his shoulder and allowed herself to weep in silence, for him and for her, for Mrs. Shelby and the way she had been so good at braiding all the girl’s hair, for all the years that had passed and all the pain they couldn’t share.

She could not tell how long they stayed like that, her leaning into him and him staring off into the distance.

“Are you back or just passing?”, Tommy finally wanted to know.

“I don’t know.”, she admitted, almost ashamed at her lack of planning. “I…I didn’t really think things through.”

“Will you leave again?”, he asked.

“Why?”

He only shrugged.

“Remembered you leaving the last time ‘round.”

She couldn’t answer that, but as her mind went to that time, a cold shudder came over her.

“I don’t remember the journey over at all.”, she admitted, “just the days before leaving.”

It was unlikely he would have forgotten either.

It had happened so quickly - her parents had already had everything planned, sold and booked by the time they told their children. She had been frightened and distraught. Tommy had been angry and desperate.

“I remember you and my father fighting. You even punched him.”

Tommy only shrugged as cleary the years hadn’t added a mere iota of regret to him.

“Wouldn’t have had to if he hadn’t said no.”

Even now she could hear the repressed anger in his voice.

“Tom, we were kids back then. He never would have said yes!”

His jaw clenched in anger as if preparing to fight a man who was hundreds of miles away.

He couldn’t possibly still be enraged about that?

“Tommy, you were fifteen. No parent in their right mind would have agreed to let you marry me. We didn’t even knew what marriage was!”

She had barely figured out kissing, but only to the point that it wasn't much fun with anyone, well anyone apart from Tommy and then it had been shy pecks and imitations of what they saw Arthur and the other older kids do, fumbling and foolish ending in red faced laughter and the realisation that it was so completely embarrassing they'd never dare to do it with anyone else.

“Knew it would’ve let you stay.”, he mumbled under his breath, bringing her back to other, far less happy memories.

“Husband comes before the father in the eye of the law. Not even the coppers could ‘ave done something about it.”

She didn’t know where to start on that- Tommy Shelby referencing the law, or relying on the coppers, or perhaps being angry that her father hadn’t allowed his thirteen year old daughter to marry a fifteen year old boy.

Or that he was still angry about it.

Crossing her arms over her chest she looked at him in disbelief.

“Tom-,”, she sighed, “Putting your hurt pride aside, you have to admit you are at least a little bit glad he said no.”

They had known nothing then and if his looks were anything to judge on, he’d have women and girls fawning over him all the way from Bristol to Liverpool.

“No.”, he merely said with a shrug, “I said what I said and I meant what I said. Nothing’s changed.”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“Nothing’s changed? You only expect me to believe that? It’s been over a decade!”

He gave no response apart from digging his eyes into her with such intensity it made her stomach coil.

“Tommy, you don’t even know me anymore. I am a different person now. So are you.”

It wouldn’t do to hold on such old grudges and so she reached out and cupped his cheek.

“So much has changed since then. The world has changed since then.”

Nations had changed, proud kingdoms had fallen and century old empires that had shone like mythical gods had crashed and crumbled into dusts. Emperors had been deposed, shot, or banished, kings had been deposed and their family members chased through the streets and orders which had shaped the world for as long as anyone could remember were reduced to nothing.

“That was all in the past.”, she told her.

He huffed almost in amusement and shifted, burying his hands into his pockets.

“And yet you’re not married.”

It wasn’t a question but rather a statement of fact.

“How’d you know?”

“No half decent man would’ve let his woman walk these streets on her own.”, he said, “and there’s no ring on your finger.”

She glanced down and saw her gloves, but before she could ask, he remembered how he had taken her hand to lead her away, thereby getting his answer without having to ask.

Sneaky bastard.

“New Orleans, eh?”, he continued, looking at her again and trapping her with his gaze. “That’s a long fucking way to come for something that’s in the past.”

His words made her cheeks burn.

“Yeah thought so.”, he said more to himself than to her when he realised she couldn’t find an adequate response.

“Still, Tom.”, she argued, “we were children back then, who knew nothing and understood even less.”

And now we’ve seen too much, you probably more than me.

It would be foolish to pretend otherwise.

“Did you come with a suitcase?”, he asked, catching her off guard once more.

“I…I did, but why?”

“Got any trousers in that suitcase of yours?”

“No, why?”, she asked, a frown ever growing on her forehead.

“‘s alright. We’ll find some of Finn’s.”, he said softly.

“For what?”

There was a glint in his eyes that came from more than just the skies and she even imagined the faintest hint of a smile.

She knew that glint. It had gotten her into a fair share of trouble and not a small amount of beatings when they had been caught doing whatever mischief that mind of his came up with.

Of course, he'd always tried to take the blame, but that rarely swayed the hands of the adults.

“Because we’ll go to Charlie’s yard and get you sorted and then we’ll take the horses and go out into the country like we used to and only come back once we’ve figured everything out.”

Her mouth dropped open at his suggestion.

It was ludicrous. Back then they had been children hiding under trees and among meadows, but two adults?

It would never work, not truly. It would be cold and uncomfortable. They’d have to get food from somewhere and find or build shelter.

There were a thousand reasons to call his idea madness, to throw it into the winds as soon as he had spoken it.

Seeing her hesitation she saw a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

As he closing the distance between them, he pulled off his gloves and shoved them into his coat pocket.

She felt the warmth radiating from his skin as he cupped her face.

“Please come with me this time around, (Y/N/N).”, he whispered. “Come with me so I don’t have to see you leave again.”

End

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Taglist

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @watercolorskyy @books-livre @chlorrox @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato

Taglist Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy

#valentineswritings #A thousand reasons and one #Tommy Shelby #Peaky Blinders #Thomas Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby imagine #Thomas Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Thomas Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby fluff #Thomas Shelby fluff #valentinesrequests

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johaerys-writes · 5 months

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Not counting Patrochilles:

1) Who are your favorite characters from Greek mythology (in general)? 2) Who are your favorite Homer characters specifically?

Omg what a great question. So I have many many favourites when it comes to Greek myths, it's hard to choose. I basically grew up reading simplified versions of these myths, specifically these children's books by Sofia Zarampouka (a greek author and painter, I'm sure any Greeks following me will recognise these lol):

Just look at all those gorgeous covers. I had the whole series at some point and I have no idea where it is now, but I used to read these over and over when I was younger.

I absolutely loved reading about the labours of Heracles, those were really fun even though I didn't love Heracles himself as a character. I also really liked Theseus' story (Ariadne and her yarn! The maze! The Minotaur! Poor Aegeus dying at the end aksjs so sad) even though, again, I never much liked Theseus as a character haha. Atalanta was one of my favourites and her myth is very cool, and I also liked Perseus' story a lot. Antigone is a huge favourite, as well as Iphigeneia. I find their stories very compelling and very tragic and I think about them a lot!!!!

Another one that I absolutely love is Medea and her story with Jason and the Argonauts. The Argonauts on their own have a very interesting myth (heroes that sail to a strange land with strange customs in search of the mythical golden fleece) but the appearance of Medea and her later story with Jason is what makes it a fascinating story for me. She is the embodiment of what most Greeks at the time would find at once incredibly alluring and incredibly threatening: she is foreign (the Other), beautiful, powerful, she has hidden knowledge and magic, she defies her own father and kills her brother to help Jason escape. And when Jason, dickhead that he is, abandons her to marry someone else, she commits the ultimate taboo of killing her own children. She is such a polarising and blood-chilling character and I really love seeing how much she has inspired artists through the centuries.

As for Homeric characters, I do love Hector a lot, and the moments when he appears in the Iliad are among my favourites, alongside all the Patrochilles moments. I find Nestor very entertaining and he's always a delight when he appears, and I also enjoy Diomedes' and Odysseus' bro chemistry a lot lol. Clytemnestra is also one of my favourite characters in Greek myth in general. Technically it's Euripides' version of her that I love, based on his Iphigeneia at Aulis play, she doesn't appear in the Homeric works but she is mentioned so it counts lol. I also really love Briseis-- even though she talks very little in the Iliad, I still love her characterisation and the overall role and significance she has in the story. Another one I really love is Priam, I cannot read the passages where he appears in the Iliad without tearing up, he's just such a kind and noble person and his interactions with other characters in the epic give so much depth and nuance to Trojan society and culture and the tragedy that befell them.

Most of my fave Homeric characters are from the Iliad, but I should give special mention to some Odyssey characters I really love. I always found Circe very intriguing and the descriptions of her island and her magic etc are SO interesting and I wish we had been given more!! (Honestly even though I adore the Iliad I always found the Odyssey much more fun to read lol). Telemachus and Peisistratus are also special blorbos (and here I should give a shoutout to the amazing @figsandphiltatos for writing the fic that made me insane for them alsjs 😭🙏)

Gosh this is already so long and I feel like I could talk about this forever ahaha. I probably left a lot of characters and myths out but didn't want to ramble too much. Thank you once again for this question!

#johaerys answers #greek mythology

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zyrafowe-sny · 8 months

Text

Thanks for the tag, @grey-automa!

EDIT: I think @violet-prism-creatively also tagged me in this a very long time ago (had to do some digging in my Tumblr notifications).

were you named/named yourself after anyone?

My middle name is my maternal grandmother's first name. All of her children (my uncle included) had her first name as their middle name, and a good chunk of her grandkids do too.

when was the last time you cried?

A few months back when I was visiting a place I knew I wouldn't return to again in a while - I was a combination of extremely overheated, hormonal, frustrated with people with me, nostalgic, and overcome by the passage of time. I don't think I cry all that often, but enough happened to stack at once that it came out as tears.

do you have kids?

I have roommates who are significantly shorter and younger than me.

do you use sarcasm a lot?

Never ever

what's the first thing you notice about people?

This feels like a question Spencer Tracy asked Katharine Hepburn in Desk Set.

Uhh... rough relative height/age? whether they are trying to actively engage with me or are just going about their day?

what's your eye colour?

dark brown

any special talents?

I can read non-technical English with solid comprehension faster than most people I've encountered (back in high school, I could read the same short story twice in the time we were given in class to read it once, and I always need to wait for my partner to catch up when we're reading the same thing).

scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, I guess? Not a big fan of scary movies.

where were you born?

about an hour from where my parents lived because they were paranoid and wanted a bigger hospital (my mom was considered old for a first-time mom at *gasp* 30 and they had trouble getting pregnant)

what are your hobbies?

I got back into writing fanfic after a long hiatus (thanks to Thanks to Them). I also sing in a community choir. There was a stretch when I was a little more outdoorsy (though never hardcore), but that's scaled back substantially.

have any pets?

Don't feel up for the responsibility right now. Maybe someday - my living situation is more pet friendly than it used to be - but I'm already drowning in home stuff and don't think a pet would help.

I did have a dog as a kid, but he passed away fairly young when I was in middle school.

what sport do you play/have you played?

I did marching band all through high school, if that counts. I like to ski but it's expensive and a 3-5 hour drive in reasonable weather. I don't ice skate nearly as much as I probably could/should (not sure where my skates are). My partner and I took some sea kayaking lessons once upon a time and I'd like to try that again, but it's not cheap and would be hard to fit in our schedules.

how tall are you?

5'7"

favourite subject at school?

That all depends so much on the teacher and exact class. I really enjoyed my high school physics/AP Physics teacher and even considered a major in physics/astro along with a social science major (am a hopeless generalist), but really didn't like my professors or classmates in college. (I have any regrets that I didn't push through because I like the notion of more women in STEM, but oh well.)

My favorite class as an undergrad was probably anthro of food - it had interesting readings and I got to interview people for a research paper (probably my favorite college assignment).

In grad school, I took a great class on human rights that's colored how I see many policy issues.

dream job?

I wish I knew.

I like: being useful, asking questions, figuring out answers to questions/analyzing things, figuring out how to best communicate answers to things, switching between more quantitative and qualitative work, being able to be just the right amount of stimulated between the work itself and/or any background media, being able to body double (I do well with cubicles/shared offices and less well when I'm in a room by myself), working more on deliverables than project/people management and presenting, and getting several-hour blocks when I'm allowed to just focus and only be interrupted by the most urgent fires.

I might have burned out badly in a past job when also going through some other personal stuff.

I'll be job hunting for the first time in a while probably inside the next year, and am dreading it.

no pressure tagging: @abstract-moth @thegrimshapeofyoursmile @enigma-the-mysterious/@sir-ballister-boldheart @childlikegoblinqueen @sercezgazety

And of course anyone else who wants to.

I turned off reblogs because some of this information approaches personally identifying, but feel free to copy-paste the questions into your own post!

#thanks for the tag!

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yuukei-yikes · 1 year

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can we get uhhhhhh some hibiya thoughts

yes. yes. yes. i fucking love hibiya. he's LITERALLY A LITTLE GUY when i got into kagepro he was one of my faves actually cuz he was the closest to my age at the time. i was 13… im 22 now! lol thats not weird at all *eye twitch* sry ive been weird abt the passage of time lately. erm wait this isnt my therapy session <- doesnt go to therapy

HIBIYA. LITTLE GUY. my thoughts on him………honestly, i recently reread all the novels and god his intro chapters were HARD to read. all the creepy stuff abt hiyori yknow. i was cringing so hard. i kinda wanna ignore it bc i'd rather do that with the weird bits kagepro has to offer, but not to get rid of it completely. like id take away hibiyas whole thing abt a collection of hiyori pics but still keep the aspect of him that worships her. and how that dynamic would COMPLETELY go away post str.

post str hibiya is VERY different from how he started out. i mean. 10 year old timeloop…. he hasn't grown at all mentally like he has to process all this with his 12 year old brain, but going through all he did he just kinda looks at things rly differently now. not obsessed with hiyori, for one…. and she's also different to him. their relationship changes drastically bc now they both respect each other LOL listen i know im annoying with my codependent relationship headcanons but… eyes hibiya and hiyori

these bitches are 12. spent 10 years watching each other die over and over and literally die for each other. AND THEN THEY GET EACH OTHER BACK? ERM. yeah theyre NOT letting go of each other. its not so much codependency as much as it is awful awful awful separation anxiety. god are there any fics of hibiya and hiyori going back home and having a breakdown at having to separate and go to their own houses (bc in the city they were living together so it doesnt hit that they need to separate until they go home)???

hiyori would still be kinda bitchy and bossy but definitely not horrible to hibiya. and also her attitude hits different when she's also always holding his hand and refusing to go anywhere without him and throwing tantrums when any of the dan members even imply any activity that would require to separate them. and she wouldnt rly be embarrassed abt it i think hiyori would be super open and vocal abt HIBIYA HAS TO BE WITH ME ALL THE TIME !!!!!! and hibiya isnt even flustered hes just like *NODDING NODDING NODDING* bc he's the same with her. girl… SEPARATION ANXIETY HIBIHIYO<3 mekadan so sick in the head <3 they have 78 undiagnosed mental illnesses <3

not to make it abt my future headcanons of psych major hibiya but. new generations man. hibiya is 10000% the one in the dan going like GUYS WHAT HAPPENED TO US WAS SOOOO MESSED UP and everyone's like lol yeah !!!! and he's like DONT LOL ABOUT THIS IM FUCKING SERIOUS??? especially since he's such a fucking outsider to everything like everyone else's been experiencing all these tragedies since they were born and he just kinda. had a normal life before? and like i said NEW GENERATIONS MAN THEYRE PSYCHOANALYSING THEMSELVES AND EVERYONE AROUND THEM…. the dan is so used to this shit that they kinda lmao rock and roll thru it and hibiyas like NO. NO. NO. EVERYONE. THERAPY. NOW!!!!!! it becomes his special interest he starts getting all into psychology and when he comes back to the city for his visits suddenly he's diagnosing everyone with stuff and the dans like *shaking* MAKE THE KID SHUT UP also realises he has separation anxiety with hiyori and works on it. hiyori is surprisingly the one most terrified of letting go. and like i said…. 10 year long time loop being processed in a 12/13 year old brain.. hibiya is SUPER self aware. he makes sure of it

ok and. heh. haruka. THE WHOLE HIBIYA HIYORI AND HARUKA THING COULD BE ITS OWN POST… SO… IM LEAVING IT HERE CUZ THIS IS ALREADY SUPER LONG but im just gonna say. hibiya's IN DENIAL of konoha being gone. he keeps expecting haruka to go away. hibiya THINKS he's super mature, and he is for his age bc of all this shit and his willingness to understand his problems and everyone else's. and everyone else also think he is mature, but this is just something he can't stop being a 12 year old about. his friend is gone! WHY does it have to be gone!?!? especially in an ending where hiyori is back. if she wasnt, then he'd be more accepting of the losses bc there were 2 both konoha and hiyori and like it becomes another whole thing abt letting go and mourning but if she is back…everything is supposed to be perfect!! everyone made it back!! why couldn't konoha? why does it have to be gone? its not fair! he doesnt care this haruka was the body's true owner!! konoha was his friend! it also deserved to live as much as this haruka guy!!! why is HE more important!!!?!?!?!? and he just. he's just insanely immature abt it. and he knows he is but truth is he's just really fucking sad and regretful about konoha being gone. i could also talk about hiyori and harukas feelings abt it but heheh yeah this is super long. erm. hibiyita el chiquito <3 hibiya throwing a tantrum in front of the whole dan abt how it isnt fair and how he wishes haruka would just die. LMAO. he is 12. if anyone has fic commissions open Eye eye

also erm wholesome one before i end it. he makes little miniature dolls of the whole dan<3 he's BAD at typing on his new smartphone but since he lives away hes always texting in the gc<3 he gets super into mobile games<3 amongus fan hibiya asking all his grownup friends with jobs and no time for amongus if anyone can play with him<3 they do bc theyre busy but there will always be time to amongus with friends<3

#ask tag #headcanons #hibiya amamiya #hiyori asahina

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voiceless-people · 3 days

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Enjoy some self indulgent cookie oc & canon because I can

(NOT shipping, just shenanigans)

Wedding planning was difficult, and while Pecan hadn't really envisioned all that much in his wedding aside from a vauge "antique" theme, Peacock was head over heels planning their special day.

It was nothing she couldn't handle, the great Fourme d'Ambert found working with her soon-to-be brother in-law rather enjoyable. But planning is very different from acting upon. Ambert wasn't one for physical labor, and had told her brother Pecan to finally help his fiance set up some things.

They had the wedding set in the Vanilla kingdom. Peacocks close ties with Golden Cheese had come in handy- dispite Pecans sheepishness to throw an extravagant event. It's not like either of them had many family nor friends to invite.

She's thinking too much. Ambert sighs and puts her clipboard down. Pecan takes it and pats her shoulder.

"I'll take it from here, yeh? Why don't ya explore." He smiles softly. Ambert hates having to look up at cookies- that's why she climbs on their shoulders. "This place is old, and large. I'm sure theres a hidden passage or two for you to uncover."

"Uh-huh." She rolls her eyes and claps her hands to focus. "Have fun with birdie!" She gives her brother a thumbs up, and a wave to Peacock who looks up at her from a distance.

...

There wasn't really much to explore here in the Vanilla courtyards. Ambert had been to the Golden gardens, with considerably less permission, and with much more to enjoy. It's not that the palace wasn't pretty, she just found tropical plants more interesting.

Ambert had also stumbled upon Pure Vanilla and Golden Cheese talking about something too tedious for her to even consider eavesdropping on. And perhaps spying on ancient soul-jam wielding cookies wasn't the best idea.

So, that meant finding an open window to hop into the castle. She was allowed to go inside- but this was just plain fun. Ambert skips through the hallways with mild amusement, making funny faces at portraits and tapping on metal accents with her fingertips.

At some point she's slowed down to a walk and is mumbling mindlessly to herself, something between two characters she'd read of. She stops to look at some swords mounted on the wall- when theres a little tap tap of footsteps behind her.

She whips her head around to see whose there. Pecan was still outside- so he couldn't be teasing her. Ambert thumps her foot on the ground at the empty hall behind her.

She keeps walking, and after a left turn she sticks her tongue out at a painting of a rather bored looking man. He winks at her. Ambert stops again.

"Okay, lovely." Definitely not her brother then. She hears the soft jingle of bells behind her. Ambert grabs the hilt of her sword, but all that unsheathed was a blast of confetti. Her hair stands on end, there's a quiet chuckle reverberating down the hall.

"Hellllooo! I've seen you around the gardens, but I'm not allowed out there." Ambert can practically hear the cookie frown, their eccentric manner of speech stretching and emphasizing their words. "Are you afraaid?"

"..." She looks around again, and sees a section of the tile that melts into a dark marble, stretching off for far longer than possible. She's dealt with the impossible before, what's a black hole compared to a time rift? Good lord she's so dead.

Ambert looks over at the swords she previously gazed at, only to see that the wall there had become a vast expanse as well. Atop the mantle that was seemingly hovering in thin air was a jester like figure.

"You know, I quite enjoy the colour blue myself." It grins. She blanks, almost forgetting about the blue mold baked into her dough, ribboning through her hair and skin. They are coated in blue as well, but a striking bright shade.

"Um.." Ambert can't tell where the cookie starts and ends, it's clothing bleeds into the void behind it, and there's so many eyes. A frilled sleeve sticks out, and a hand follows. It points to a set of mismatched eyes. Now that she sees its face, its form becomes much more clear.

"You sure have wandered far, haven't you? I was just going to stick you here for a moment, see if you even noticed my recreation of little Vanilla's halls, but this seemed like soooo much more fun!" Its grin grows wider. "Would you like to go back?"

"... Yes?"

"Well! How unfortunate! I don't get many people who stray so far into the castle, and while toying with my dear friend 'Nilly is quite fun, I get so bored." It stretches over the mantle dramatically as if on a fainting couch. It sighs and pauses for a moment.

It flicks its other hand around, and a staff warps into place. It whisks the staff and the blank space to Amberts left turns back into a regular hallway. She's still a bit too stunned to speak. Say something, fool!

"You are free to go little one, unless you would rather stay here, unless you would like to stay.." it slides off its perch and walks over to her, that same jingling step follows.

For looking so lean and spindly, this cookie was tall. Not as tall as Caffine, but still intimidating dispite the lanky stature.

"I'm.. Ambert?" Why did she say it like a question? She turns to walk down the normal enough hall.

"Shadow Milk." It clicks on the K. They fold their arms behind their back, still smiling. She walks further away, it waves eerily, laughing to itself. "See you sooonn!"

Ambert makes it further and further away until she sees kingdom citizens in the foyer, who look at her ruffled appearance oddly. She's shaking a bit.

Ambert finds that her sword is still in its sheath, untouched. Theres a little smiley face drawn in chalk on the leather handle.

#fourme d'ambert cookie #i think that shmilk hangs out with pv in my au #hangs out is a strong word uhh. forced to be roomates with #there we go #not many people know shadow milk is there (because they have SOMEWHAT mellowed out and don't terrorize as much)

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danielscarcello · 3 months

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Field of Lucid Dreams

Because I had a hard time getting my novel picked up, I decided to publish my short stories — my collection of coincidences — as a blog, hoping I would gain some traction that way. And before I even wrote a single post, a series of events proved this was the right choice.

At the library where I work, a book came across my desk, called Proof of Heaven, which was about a neurosurgeon who has a near-death experience and describes his vision of the afterlife. It was inside a box full of donated books. I stacked the donations on a cart to shelve them when Sarah, one of my colleagues, stopped me.

“Got one more for you,” she said. She handed me a picture book called Holly, which had a black cat on the cover.

As I filed away the books, I picked up Proof of Heaven and flipped through it. I found a withered prayer card tucked in the book, on page 24; someone must have used as it as a bookmark and forgot about it. I opened the card with one hand, while holding the book open with the other, and one word on the page, from this passage, happened to catch my eye.

Then, out of nowhere, I shouted three words. They were crystal clear, and heard by all the doctors and nurses present, as well as by Holley, who stood a few paces away, just on the other side of the curtain.

“God, help me!”

Holley.

Sarah had just handed me a book called — Holly. I put down Proof of Heaven and picked up Holly, and the first sentence said that last November, we lost our 14-year-old cat named Holly.

That was when Marianne came to mind. Marianne’s birthday was on November 14th. Her father died last year, after a long, grueling illness.

Instead of putting Proof of Heaven on the shelf, I kept it aside for her.

She texted me a few days later: “So I guess I have to read that book now. Last night, this lady at work mentioned that baseball movie, Field of Dreams. Later, I watched this YouTube video, and it mentioned Field of Dreams too. The crazy thing is that the video was about near-death experiences — just like the book.”

“Holy shit!” I wrote.

When I thought about Field of Dreams, I remembered this strange this little episode that took place the night before.

“Here’s another baseball coincidence for you,” I wrote. “Last night I was at Pita Land getting shawarma. I was standing in line, watching TV, and a headline flashed across the screen: ‘Jays sign new infielder Isiah Kiner-Falefa’. But I caught it so quickly that I could have sworn it said infidel, not infielder. I stood by the TV, waiting for the headline to loop back around, so I could see what it actually said. And his name sounded just like what was on the menu — Falafel.”

She sent me a laughing emoji.

“It’s interesting,” she went on. “I never get any signs from my dad, and I want one so badly.”

A few days later, it was New Year’s Eve, and I spent the night at Robb’s place. At one point, he put on the new Dave Chappelle Netflix special: The Dreamer.

Thinking about Field of Dreams, I listened to his monologue, my eyes fixed on the screen.

In your life, at any given moment, the strongest dream in that moment wins that moment. I am a very powerful dreamer. I dreamed tonight as a fourteen-year-old boy, and I’m living it as a fifty-year-old man…

This gave me such a renewed sense of determination to publish my collection of coincidences online. Even if no publisher in the world wanted my book, I would still chase my dream.

And so, the next day, I set out to write my first blog post. I closed my eyes and waited for an idea to come to me. My thoughts went back to Pita Land, and I remembered how on that morning, at work, a bunch of us were talking about obscure horror movies; someone had brought up a documentary about the Donner Party, the group of American pioneers who were trapped in the Sierra Nevada mountains and resorted to cannibalism to survive. Now, just before I saw the headline about Kiner-Falefa, I noticed — for the first time in all the years I’d been eating shawarma — one particular item on the menu: Beef Doner.

With a shudder, I started jotting all this down, wondering how I would string this together into a something worth reading. At first, I couldn’t figure it out, and so I took a break. With obscure horror movies on my mind, I started scrolling through YouTube, looking for something to watch. Then I found a channel called Renegade Films.

At random, I clicked a video called “Who Let Him Make This Movie?”. The movie, which I knew nothing about, was Babylon. As it turned out, much to my delight, Babylon was directed by Damien Chazelle — whose name echoed Dave Chappelle.

When it was over, another video on the channel, right next to the one about Babylon, caught my attention: “The Perfectly Logical Reason This Director Ate His Shoe (inspiring)”.

The director was Werner Herzog. It was about the time Herzog promised Errol Morris he would eat his shoe if he finished a movie about pet cemeteries he was working on. And, as I later read on Wikipedia, “In 1978, when the film Gates of Heaven premiered, Herzog cooked and publicly ate his shoe.”

Pet Cemeteries. Holly. The lost cat. Proof of Heaven. Gates of Heaven.

In other words, the perfectly logical reason this director ate his shoe was so that it would serve as a call to fearlessly chase your dreams. He said:

If I abandon this project, I would be a man without dreams, and I don’t want to live like that. I live my life, or I end my life with this project. All these dreams are yours as well… we have to articulate ourselves otherwise we would be cows in the field.

Field of Dreams.

My head was spinning. Finally, I read the Wikipedia page on Field of Dreams. And the first paragraph absolutely blew me away. Field of Dreams was based on a novel by W.P Kinsella called — Shoeless Joe.

The Perfectly Logical Reason This Director Ate His Shoe.

Frantically, I kept clicking all the links on Wikipedia, writing down all the connections I found — including the fact W.P Kinsella wrote a book called Butterfly Winter, Proof of Heaven had a blue butterfly on its cover, and Werner Herzog directed a movie called Fitzcarraldo, about a man determined to transport a steamship over a hill in the Amazon basin in order to build an opera house.

Field of Dreams gave us the phrase, “If you build it, they will come.”

If you build your website…

– they will come.

Finally, I jumped back to the Wikipedia page for Field of Dreams. In the movie, Ray, who was unable to reconcile with his father before he died, hears the ghost of “Shoeless” Joe Jackson tell him to build a baseball diamond in a cornfield. If you build it, they will come. Throughout the film, Ray sees the ghost of “Shoeless Joe” and other dead baseball players. Then, during a game, when the catcher removes his mask, Ray recognizes him as his father as a young man.

I stopped reading at that point, and I thought about something Dave Chappelle said:

You have to be wise enough to know when you’re living in your dream, and you have to be humble enough to accept when you’re in someone else’s…

All this time, I thought the coincidences were all about my writing, my blog — my dreams. But then I remembered what Marianne said about her father. And I knew I had to be humble enough to accept this wasn’t for me. It was for her.

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rlaehrwk-37 · 11 months

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translation by @lee-hakhyun <33

• This starting scene had me quaking in my boots even the first time i read it.

So, Han Sooyoung is now talking to the readers across the universe who read her story (ugh why not me?)

“her unlucky tone” ORV has a lot of ‘unlucky’ things if I put my mind to it. specially a certain reader’s unlucky smile. even thinking about it makes me want to punch a wall, so let’s forget about it.

So apparently Sooyoung sent a short story to the cloud. I wonder which side story it is? Bc this side story is totally not gonna be short, unless she’s comparing it with ORV or TWSA. Hm I wonder which one…? (It would be insane if it was the Mia side story)

So a “foreign war” (is it a war between universes eh????) is about to begin. We’ve no fucking clue what that means. But ty for this bomb Sooyoung, im totally not worried for Lee Hakhyun now…

• A-Are you telling me Gilyoung has the capacity to eat locusts?? (Not that I doubt it, ofc)

And ofc Joonghyuk got his boots from Doc Marten’s (I’ve never shopped for boots so idfk what I’m talking about)

Protagonist swag 😔👊

Reading this passage makes me feel some type of way I can’t explain. So I can’t write for it. eugejdhwjekdjuduw.

• One reader asks Han Sooyoung about Kim Dokja, the question that we’ve been dying to know the answer to. But in typical cliche fashion, the screen blanks before she can answer.

Hm it’s interesting how LHH compares his feelings to HSY’s. He claims that if she was real, she’d be feeling the same thing as him even though her mental health is probably far worse than ours atp. It’s gonna get worse bc HSY belittles any “self-proclaimed writer” she meets and calls them a faker bc they do not have the avatar skill. But LHH equates his emotions to her level. My boy…

• Anyway, the hosts have prepared a quiz for the readers. Just like how Kim Dokja received a “gift” from tls123? So fucking sus istg.

The readers answer some weird questions like “How many times did ◼️ appear in the story?” and “what’s the significance of the number 1863?”

Of course, both Lee Hakhyun, and me had no fucking clue what that meant but the readers did.

“1863 is the year the world’s first subway opened, and it symbolises Yoo Joonghyuk’s repeated return to the moving subway.” <- is the response by a reader.

Honestly I was dumbfounded when I googled it up and saw this :

WHAT THE FUCK SINGNSONG???? I thought the answers didn’t matter and they just wanted to kidnap the readers but holy shit???? It’s actually real?!?

I love how SNS are actually dropping in little trivia abt the story and their thoughts thru this side story. I love all this new information. It’s so… mind blowing. They thought it out so well!!

• Hmm Representative Kim Dokja’s analysis… this guy really did all that and is also a part of an organisation that kidnapped readers from a different worldline.

Also Lee Hakhyun immediately acting like he knew tf that was LMAOO 🤣 he’s such a prideful liar i love him,, what a little shit.

• LHH : “Can I say I love this story more than they do?”

Me, absolutely not crying : ugh shut the fuck up shutupshutupshutup

This story is making me more emotional than it should. I’m so sensitive…

• Eventually Ji Eunyu, the editor, answers a question bc she doesn’t wanna be left behind (honestly so relatable…)

Readers crying :’))) bc the story has now ended. They can face reality now. At least they’ll get their prize..?

I’ll never get tired of thinking of LHH thinking deeply about KDJ… something about his attachment to KDJ, him thinking “what would Kim Dokja do?” to face a problem in the scenarios… looking around to find Dokja, bc he’s their shining star in the face of calamity, their saving grace.

And oof, the question asked to him, “Who is the heroine of ORV?”

Can I say Kim Dokja? XDD

Well seriously speaking, i could consider Han Sooyoung… but it is a trick question.

• But LHH answers this. I’m a little conflicted? We know ORV is not supposed to be a romance novel. (which I love about it!!!! abolish romance!!! XD)

But ORV is a love letter from KimCom (and Han Sooyoung primarily) to all of Kim Dokja across the Universe.

“Compared to other main characters, the proportion of appearances was not high”. Uhh is he thinking about Sangah here? I’m honestly lost lmao but to me personally, I can’t see KDJ with any woman other than HSY. Alongside YJH, she’s the one who understands and forgives him. (Not to undermine the significance of his relations with the rest of KimCom bc that’s not the thing I’d do, but HSY plays a pivotal role even later in the side story!)

LHH apparently created this character for KDJ, and there’s… so much to unpack from this statement alone 🤐🤐

• UGHHH STOP.

(she or he or they idc I wanna know who’s his fav character)

Honestly I was clutching my phone so tightly at this point…

• those seats are not going to be empty for too long…

I cant believe ORV has managed to even traumatise me with THEATRE SEATS.

readers collecting snow… bc it snows on Kim Dokja’s bday 🤧🥺🥺 ugh this part is so…

[The Fourth Wall] glimmering on the screen. The readers walked through this Fourth Wall from the Theatre to get into ORV and back to the Theatre they’ll return, although what Theatre it’ll be… we’ll see :)

• Lee Hakhyun’s nickname on the tag is [■■■] :)))

Lee Hakhyun wanting to write a story even for one person who’s left behind ToT I’ll need to make a separate post for this uwaaaa

• and so, Lee Hakhyun is isekai’d into ORV, and this shitshow begins once more, folks.

#orv #orv side story #lee hakhyun #orv spoilers #omniscient reader’s viewpoint #kim dokja

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sisterdivinium · 9 months

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I know I've already spoken a lot after @fulcrum-art-fox 's post (and by going on a tangent, too, I'm still sorry for that), but my mind remains stuck on Jillian (oops!) so here goes a bit more chaotic blabbering to go with what came earlier.

See, yes, there's a parallel between Jillian and the Holy Mother (and I had already touched upon it here and here as well), but what made me stop and think a little more was a passage I read recently in the Jansons' The picture history of painting:

"The Byzantine artist did not think of the Madonna as being at all like an ordinary, human mother. To him she was the Queen of Heaven, far removed from everyday life and beautiful beyond any man's imagination. And he has painted her the way he felt about her: not as a woman of flesh and blood but an ideal figure bathed in the golden light of heaven."

What stands out to me here is less the actual piece being examined (this, if you're curious) but the idea of being removed from everyday life, of being distant from the common people, being an ideal figure who isn't made of flesh and blood.

That's exactly what Jillian more or less sets out to do in s1 through the image she presents to the world.

But, contrary to the Madonna being painted by an artist following what the latter might feel about her, Jillian, the budding demiurge, creates this image for herself. The whites, the blue, the theatre of it all wouldn't be lost on a woman as intelligent as she is; her pregnancy was "a medical marvel", now she opens up the "world's first quantum portal"... Ava says doctor Salvius creates superpowers on the daily, but these feats could be seen as miracles... No wonder cardinal Duretti is invited to witness Jillian's triumph.

As this miracle-maker, this special specimen above the rest of humanity, there must be a (fabricated) distance in her dealings with people. She singles herself out when presenting her creation or revealing the footage of Beatrice destroying her security, she stands out from the crowd more as a pale, fearsome marble statue than as a normal human woman.

And, so distanced from others, she barely ever touches anyone else (barring Michael, of course) apart from a very light, almost reluctant tap to a subordinate's shoulder or a grip on Ava that is less about Ava herself and more about what advantages connecting her to the ark might ultimately present. Her touching Lilith for her temperature is likewise less about Lilith's well-being and more about Jillian's own plans for her, a touch with underlying, secret intent.

It's almost as if touch is repulsive to her regarding these other persons, a risk to her carefully curated image, whereas her contact with Michael is affectionate and genuine, unrestrained by the "sainthood" of the genius given how it happens far from the public eye, from anyone she might want/need to impress, amaze or enthrall.

I had talked about the femininity of s1 Jillian as it helps her pull on a show, but there's something about her specific brand of it that is icy, that pushes people away. All that white, that immaculate appearance as if to dare others to try soiling it; where the Virgin Mary is a loving mother to be adored, Jillian Salvius concocts the persona of a terrifying creature not to be provoked, bathed not "in the golden light of heaven" but in the blue light of relentless scientific ambition.

We already know this facade comes crumbling down by s2, but what's interesting is that, as @fulcrum-art-fox's post points out, the consequences of this comparison to the Holy Mother persist. Jillian is no longer bedecked in blue and white, but she pays the price paid by Mary, unable to take action in order to protect her son from what befalls him.

Suddenly, this woman who constructed her own intangibility, her own sort of "divinity" by not being available to be touched by others, finds herself in isolation in a way she had not predicted -- set apart even when she might not want to be, kept away from her own son and from those others which at first she had so carefully kept at bay.

Which again might inspire us to wonder whether any of this is punishment for her presumption. Did she want to create miracles, stand above the lot of common mortals? Well, here are the consequences: you do not play at being the holy mother without the suffering that comes with it.

Maybe it's the blasphemy of it -- or maybe it's just the result of a very human arrogance which she has every opportunity to regret.

I had mentioned before how all of these ties between Jillian and the Virgin actually enforce themes of Michael standing for a redeemer -- the story of Mary is pretty much the story of Jesus. However, the story of Jillian can hardly be expected to be the story of Michael alone in a show that is so thoughtful regarding its female characters, so the future of WN must have something intriguing in store for her. If her role as Michael's mother has ended, her newfound connection to the OCS surely points at a new path for doctor Salvius.

Her relationship to touch alone is already different; if season one saw her wary of it, even protected from it, season two has her actually be touched by someone else, breaking through her "godly" defences. Lilith threatens her, Kristian appeals to her in what is a repulsive action, asking her to overlook what was done to herself and to her son in favour of Adriel's so-called revelations. Whatever walls she had built around herself are revealed as the illusions they truly are as they no longer shield her from others.

But there are two other instances of touch we can't ignore, moments that draw her into something different; not aggression, not cynical beseeching, but something else: we are given a desperation on Jillian's part and a rare, perhaps much-needed support on Mother Superion's. These are new, authentic moments of connection that also shatter the barriers her previous persona had erected and they hint at the possibility of novel dynamics. Jillian is no longer isolated as per her own design, but approaching someone else, being welcomed in turn, yanked painfully down from her self-created pedestal to walk the Earth as a mortal woman and no longer as a white, unblemished icon.

With Michael gone (if so he remains), Jillian might be freed of the ties to the Virgin -- built through her own efforts -- to be her own woman, surrounded by these others who propose another mode of existing, almost like Ava understood the notion of helping others through the OCS as well. Her role in the story isn't over, cannot be over: who is she when she is not just a mother or just the embodiment of her company? Who is she when participating in community instead of elevated to an artificial position above the rest that endangered her own sense of humanity? Who is she without the myth of her own design?

We eagerly await for how these new developments concerning her unfold...

#jillian salvius #warrior nun #analysis and similar #exercises in observation #between you and me i am a sucker for how the blue lights work so well with thekla's blue eyes but that's just me bring thirsty i guess #i'm actually obsessed with how these characters in general Touch #the choices made by the performers in what relates to it drive me crazy #but of course thekla and sylvia stand out to me lol i apologise for nothing #maybe one day i'll write something up on mother superion and touch too. idk. no promises. i should be writing fic.#also i promise i did not intend to make a doctor superion manifesto out of this #it's not my fault those significant touches are exchanged with suzanne!!! take it up with mr barry if you have a problem!!!

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realchemistry · 1 year

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Wednesday

Here are some thoughts on Wednesday.

Though I should say first that I remember watching some family Addams show, but I vaguely recall it, like I don’t really know which one it was. It was in Spanish too, so I didn’t really know her name was Wednesday till I’m not sure when.

Ok, here it all goes. Spoilers follow:

Episode 1

Jenna Ortega has been a fave since You (plus the whole rollercoaster video with Jen Garner). Then come the credits and there are Catherine, Christina and Gwendolyn. I love these women, I’m in for a treat.

I literally thought the opening was a dream sequence. Not the whole thing, just the piranhas part. But it isn’t. Cool, cool, cool, cool. Also, Wed said the school was underfunded and then they had that HUGE indoor pool... I was really confused at that.

I don’t remember Wednesday having any powers, so I’m guessing that’s new. Or maybe I really don’t remember anything at all.

I love that Christina’s such a ray of sunlight here, and that she got Wed’s plant right.

I think one of the ~boys is the homicidal monster, I’m pretty sure I read something about it in passing here, but I don’t recall which one of them it is, I’m thinking it’s probably the sheriff’s son, since it’d be the most extra. So that’s kinda spoiled for me, which is a bummer.

I love the callbacks to the family’s time in the school, and I’m also pretty sure Gomez isn’t a murderer, so that’s something for Wed to figure out.

I love seeing her smile at the end, so cute!

Episode 2

I was wondering what Weems’s thing was. I’m guessing, since she can shapeshift, that she might be responsible for the accusations against Gomez. I wonder why she’s hiding what happened to Rowan, what’s her connection to the monster/murders. Or is it just to keep the school safe?

I kinda like that Christina is a normie. She said the conservatory is always open... I’m sure that’ll come into play.

So Xavier’s powers are to turn drawn things into alive things?

I love that Enid and Wed won against Bianca. Definitely got Wed into the school spirit.

I also wonder about what happened to the sheriff’s wife.

I love that Poe’s an alumni and that the double snap opens the secret passage door.

I’ve realized that I’m pretty sure Christina played Wednesday in some Addams movie, but I never watched that.

Episode 3

Gotta love it when colonizers burn.

So much going on! I can’t believe Ajax is dead! I’m guessing that’s what he is, yes? I didn’t get what his power or outcast-quality was till that moment.

Marilyn’s got secrets, I like it!

Weems obviously hates Morticia, that much was obvious in the first episode. I wonder what her deal with the mayor is.

I love that Wed got herself a little brother at school. I don’t get how Eugene’s retainers could still be useful after Wed opened the door with them.

Love the visions into the past. That had to be where the answers were, so I’m excited to see more.

Xavier’s dad’s like Morticia and Wed... interesting. Those marks at the end...

At least the sheriff’s got proof that there’s a monster roaming around.

Tyler looked rather conflicted... so sussss.

Episode 4

A school dance, yay! Wed and Enid looked so pretty.

And also, apparently, Ajax is alive and didn’t turn into stone, he just froze for a little bit... I’m glad about that. Specially cause Enid deserved a good smooch.

BUT EUGENE!!!!!! I can’t believe he still went alone, so stupid!!!!

Xavier’s breaking my heart, IDEK. And Bianca too.

So Tyler went to a ~rehab camp, or whatever it was he called it, after he was the biggest asshole to Xavier, and I’m guessing that’s why he has to attend therapy sessions or is it his mom stuff?

Weems was in love with Gomez, maybe I was right and she accused him of killing a normie way back cause he turned her down for Morticia?

Episode 5

Finally a bit of answers! Gomez truly never looked like he had murder in him, and the twist wasn’t particularly twisty at that point, but I’m glad it was dealt with.

Eugene!!! I’m sure he’ll get better cause he has to, it’s law! The moment with his mothers and Wed got me emotional.

I knew the coroner was gonna die cause all that mention of retirement plans had only one way to go. I wonder who did it, why now. I’m thinking its’ something to do with Gates’s sister, that whole recap of the family’s tragic story read like Henry’s in Stranger Things to me.

Feeling even worse about Bianca’s situation after meeting her mother. I hope she won’t have to use her powers to scam people.

Enid took a stance, yay for her!

I wonder when we’ll meet Xavier’s dad, since we have to at some point.

I’m glad Wed figured out that it was Weems pretending to be Rowan. And she said it was for the school, so maybe that’s all there is to it.

The Addams eating potpourri was hilarious, as was the fishing technique.

Episode 6

The actor who plays Lucas radiates charm, it’s insane.

So Wed turned 16... how old is Tyler supposed to be? I was thinking about this when she met him while he was at work, but to find out she’s only 15 then seems to make it even worse. I’m guessing him and his friends might be going to a normal school in Jericho but it still doesn’t look good to me.

Thornhill was being suspicious... She showed up right after the Mayor was hit. Is she somehow related to the Gates? I don’t know, her whole being a normie thing, maybe it wasn’t true. She also gives Wed a Frankenstein copy, and then we see all the body parts... Sounds like whoever’s behind the murders wants to build their own version of it.

I’m so sad for Enid, she really does try so very much to be Wed’s friend.

Oh, look, Tyler was never around while the monster showed up... sussss.

Wed channeling Encanto with the whole prophecy that might look to be something but it’s actually the opposite. It’s honestly what first came to mind when she first saw the drawing but now she basically spelled it out in those terms so it was funny to me.

Episode 7

Okay, so even before she was killed, I figured therapist was innocent and Thornhill’s actually Laurel and her normie act was just that, an act.

The traumatic event that brought out the Hyde in Tyler was probably his mom’s death, however it happened... or maybe he killed her?

And I thought it was interesting that Fester mentioned that Hydes are artistic or something like that, when we saw Tyler doing the whole birthday message on the coffee.

I’m so glad Thing’s okay and Enid’s back!

It’s hilarious that Fester’s the black sheep in the opposite way those usually work... tho he did rob a bank and a vehicle.

Episode 8

Okay, so it all developed pretty much as I thought it would. I was so glad Enid wolfed out, old Crackstone was defeated... but the best part was the hug for sure! Wed and Enid are friends who hug, lovely!

I’m sad for Weems but it also made sense seeing as it’s Gwen playing her.

I’m happy that Xavier and Wed said goodbye on friendly terms, tho it’s funny that she got a stalker as soon as she joined the 21st century.

Yay for Eugene recovering and using his power as well as for Bianca helping out!

I wonder if we’ll see more of Laurel. I’m guessing that depends on Christina but I’m sure we’ll see more of Tyler... I honestly never trusted his face, but I kinda wish I hadn’t been spoiled. I read something in passing like “x turned out to be y”. It didn’t register much then, but I put the pieces together once I started watching the episodes. Would I have picked up on all the hints the way I did or been totally clueless without it? We’ll never know, which I hate (spoilers are seriously the worst thing ever), so now I gotta read opinions and watch reactions to experience it through unspoiled eyes now.

All in all

I thoroughly enjoyed the show. It was funny, it had mystery, it had lovely people and relationships and it entertained me fully.

It had high school drama mixed in with Harry Potter style crimes and competitions, with a bit of Veronica Mars (sans technology) teenage investigation and supernatural stuff of all kinds.

I can see why it’s a hit and I’m glad I finally caught up to it. I just hope TPTB know what they’re doing and have a great season 2 in store.

ETA: I just read the show was filmed in Romania and I’m so happy about it. I blame Seb.

#Wednesday #Manu watches #Wednesday Addams #Enid Sinclair #Xavier Thorpe #Bianca Barclay #Morticia Addams #Gomez Addams #Eugene Ottinger #tbtl

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kingsbridgelibraryteens · 9 months

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Books Into Movies: The Sea Wolf (1941)

First things first ... let me start by saying that this has been one of the hardest posts I've created so far in terms of narrowing down which pictures / videos to use for a Tumblr post. This is a movie that was adapted from a book. One of the main characters is a writer. One of the characters reads a lot of books and finds inspiration in books. Characters discuss books, and there are still shots and loooooong panning shots of books.

In conclusion, there are lots of colorful characters, and lots and LOTS of books.

So, that's why I'm going to be outsourcing a little more than usual, because there was SO MUCH about this movie that I wanted to share, and not enough space to share it!

Okay, so I'll start with a quick overview: This movie was one of many adaptations of this classic story by Jack London, but it's also considered one of the best. It stars Edward G. Robinson as "Wolf" Larsen, the captain of the Ghost, a ship with a very bad reputation. His memorable entrance reveals just how cruel of a man he can be.

Joining Captain Larsen on the ship (some more willingly than others), are Ida Lupino as Ruth Brewster, John Garfield as George Leach, and Alexander Knox as Humphrey Van Weyden. Oh, and I'll give special mention to Barry Fitzgerald as Cooky, the character I most wanted to suffer a terrible demise as quickly as possible.

Humphrey and Ruth wind up on the ship after their boat has an accident and the Ghost's crew rescues them. George joins the crew of the Ghost because he has no other options. Ruth and George are both running from the law, which makes them especially vulnerable.

Everyone has their own reasons for despair, but one thing is for sure: Being on the Ghost is bad luck for everyone.

When Humphrey goes into the captain's quarters, he discovers to his surprise that this cruel brute of a man has quite a library in his cabin. This is important because it creates an uneasy relationship between the captain who loves books, and Humphrey the author who has started writing about his own experiences on the Ghost.

One of the captain's books is a fancy edition of Milton's Paradise Lost, illustrated by Gustav Dore (if you're interested in buying one of these today, you'll discover that they cost A LOT!!!):

And this book has some passages underlined that seem to mean a lot to the captain (these lines will later be yelled back and forth between Humphrey and the captain during their arguments):

Meanwhile, Ruth and George are forming a bond of their own. They both have a criminal history, they're both desperate to escape the Ghost, and most importantly, since a transfusion of his blood saved her life ... could you get any closer than that?

Oh, and because I'm entertained by old Hollywood optics, I would like to point out that while both of them are SUPER-DUPER ATTRACTIVE, George is sweaty but Ruth is not. Because, you know ... ladies don't sweat???

And now, here comes another of my favorite sloooooow panning shots! The crew had enough of the captain ruling over them with an iron fist, so they had a mutiny, which FAILED. This shot shows everyone on board waiting to see what the consequences will be:

Time passes, and things get worse. There are only a few people left on the now-sinking ship. The captain is still consumed with Humphrey's book, and how he will be portrayed in it:

In the end, we're left with our two young lovers on a lifeboat, who just discovered that there was an island on the other side of that fog bank. Thank goodness they're saved!

And thank goodness for foundation, or powder, or whatever Ruth is using to keep looking so lovely:

If you would like to watch the 1941 film version of The Sea Wolf, you can check out the DVD from the New York Public Library, you can rent or buy it online, or you can watch it the next time it airs on TCM!

If you'd like to take a deeper dive into The Sea Wolf, you can also read the original Jack London story and learn about the differences between the book and movie versions!

ETA: Of course, I should probably mention that the trailer for this movie BEGINS AT THE LIBRARY!!!

#Books Into Movies #The Sea Wolf #Jack London #1940s #1941 #books on film #Paradise Lost #Kingsbridge Library #NYPL

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ilikereadingactually · 9 months

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The Patron Thief of Bread

The Patron Thief of Bread by Lindsay Eagar

this was a charming read, even though the aspect i picked it up for, the gargoyle, was the least charming part to me. the main story, about orphan Duck who grew up in a ragtag gang of child thieves, is a delight! she finds her voice, she finds herself, she makes a family, she makes mistakes and then does her best to make them right again. she's a fantastic pov, i love her! and i love stories about food, and this story is so much about bread and baking and sustaining the people you love without expecting anything in return!

what didn't really work for me was the frame story of the grumpy gargoyle at the top of an unfinished cathedral. it was fun at first to have the gargoyle's perspective, a bird's-eye-view so to speak, of the passage of time, or the city where the story takes place, of the people in the city. and the basic premise of a depressed and grouchy gargoyle whose cathedral was abandoned, and whose purpose--to protect--has never been fulfilled, was an interesting way to start, and had a nice moment again at the end. but the gargoyle keeps coming back, interrupting the flow of the story without adding anything to it, repeating the protection theme again and again but never seeming to take any notice or give any new perspective on what's happening down below, in the main plot. this is a middle grade book (meaning for the 8-12 range generally, but i think this one skews young), so i understand some of the messages being quite on the nose. that's the purpose of a middle grade book! to introduce kids to themes and concepts they may not have read about before. but the repetitiveness of the gargoyle's narrative felt pretty unnecessary to me, even with the understanding that children's books sometimes feel a little repetitive to adult readers.

all that said though, it was worth the read to me because of Duck, and also because of the Master Baker, Griselde! absolute butch queen, wears trousers and shirts slit up the side because she works in the heat of the ovens all day, takes Duck to back alley jousts, remembers people's kids' birthdays and makes them special illegal cakes with icing decorations, by her own admission built like an enormous barrel, steadily going blind from having her face in the ovens since childhood but her disability is handled beautifully, with so much skill and care. she moms Duck so hard in the most respectful way, she's friends with everyone, she misses her beloved dead husband and talks about him like he hung the moon and i love her so much!!!

the deets

how i read it: an ebook from the library, via Libby. someday i will pick up an actual physical book again, but between Libby and NetGalley and my day job being nuts right now, i haven't had the chance!

try this if you: have romantic feelings about a good hot loaf of bread, dig a medieval setting, love a story where things work out in the end, read about street urchins and think is anybody going to adopt that?, or know a kid having a medieval or historical fiction phase

a line i really liked:

Griselde hollered, making her blue handkerchief dance. Duck glanced around the stadium. There were only a few others holding up blue banners, and so Duck, feeling bold, tapped the baker on the shoulder. "Why blue?" she asked. The blue knight, by Duck's assessment, was the shortest, the stockiest, and the slowest--the least likely to win by far. Griselde let out another tremendous yawp, then answered, "It's the last color I have left." Duck frowned. "Every other color faded to a tea-stained brown long ago," Griselde explained. "But blue stays." She tugged on the hem of her blue tunic and winked at Duck, who looked back out at the knights in the square, trying to imagine such a murky world.

#books and reading #book recs #book reviews #bookblr #the patron thief of bread #lindsay eagar #children's literature

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drustvar · 2 years

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The Lion’s Path: 4.4 Secrecy

A retelling of the Arcana Prologue featuring Rosie Springwald, a vindictive hedgewitch searching for herself. Thank you as always to @honeyfixations for beta reading! Portia time

WC:

Chapter 4 of Book 4. Portia and Rosie have late night adventure.

Rosie hurried through the halls, keen to avoid another encounter with the specter from last night. Portia stepped out from a hallway and waved to her, catching up.

“Hey, Rosie! Lemme show you a shortcut back to your room. Just in case Mercedes and Melchior are skulking around again.” She said cheerfully as she took Rosie’s hand in hers.

They turned down a narrow, dusty passage; Portia’s fingers found the edge of a moth-eaten tapestry. With a dramatic flourish, she revealed a secret passage on the other side.

“Ta-dah!” Portia said with a wink.

“Oooh! How did you find out about this?” Rosie asked as she ducked inside.

“It’s my job to know everything around here. Including little tricks like this,” Portia’s eyes glittered with mischief.

“Are there more?” Rosie asked as they traveled through the walls. It was dim, and the floor was uneven beneath their feet.

“Lots! In fact I’m sure there’s tons I haven’t found yet.” Rosie followed closely at Portia’s heels, still holding her hand. “You know, Rosie,” Portia paused, turning around to face her. the light from the candle she held flickered between them. “Things have gotten a lot more interesting around here since you showed up.”

“They have?”

“And all the rumors floating around, my goodness! You’d think we had nothing to do but chat!”

“You hear a lot of rumors?” “Why? Something you wanna tell me, Rosie?”

“Um, actually, I..” Rosie paused. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course!” “Look I...I dunnae plan to help the Countess, not with catching Devorak, anyway. I heard some real nasty things about what Vesuvia was like when Old Lucio was in charge so...any enemy o’ his is a friend of mine as far as I’m concerned. But don’t tell nobody, ‘specially not the Countess, okay?” To her surprise, Portia grinned widely.

“Don’t worry, Rosie. My lips are sealed!”

“Good. Knew I could trust you.” After a few more twists and turns, they stepped out of the passage and into the guest wing. Servants had freshened her room while she was gone. Fresh, pressed sheets and a new pitcher of water sat on the desk. Incense burned on the windowsill, filling the room with hazy swirls of wood and spice. Rosie slung her bag from her shoulder to the foot of the bed. At the impact, the scroll taken from Julian’s study bounced out. Portia eyed it, clearly dying to ask questions, but didn't. She instead remained silent, leaning against the door frame.

“Uh, whoops!” Rosie scooped the papers up, meeting Portia’s eyes. “You look worried”

“Worried? Me? Maybe. It’s just...the doctor...he can’t be the only suspect, right? Just between you and me, I think Count Lucio had a lot of enemies.” Portia said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“I think so too.”

“I mean, I wasn’t working here when it happened. I’ve only heard rumors of what went on that night. Just...keep your eyes peeled for anything strange, alright?”

“Of course. The Countess says I’m meeting the court tomorrow, I’m plannin’ to see if anythin’s off with them.” Portia smiled, the worry leaving her face. She leaned in close, her voice still barely above a whisper.

“Y’know...if you’re not too tired yet, I could show you around the Palace. There’s a lot of interesting things on the grounds. Maybe I could show you some more secrets... if you think you can handle them.” She said with a wink, nodding at the hall behind them.

“Of course I can!” Rosie said, her eyes shining with excitement. “Show me the secrets, all the secrets!”

“I knew I’d like you Rosie! We’re gonna be great friends!” Portia laughed. “Come on, let’s go!” she said as she took Rosie’s hand. “I’ll show you the really good stuff!” She led her off down the hall, a bounce in her step. Portia pushed open a pair of large swinging doors, leading Rosie into a vast kitchen. Someone in a flour-dusted apron lifted their head and smiled at them as they entered.

“Portia! Still on duty for the night?” They asked with a wave.

“Nooooot exactly. I’m just showing Rosie around the palace!”

“Hello!” Rosie said as she waved back.

“Here, new recipe I’m trying out,” The chef tossed Portia a roll from across the counter, which she caught without looking.

“If you ever find yourself hungry at midnight, the door’s always open. Just make sure you don’t ruin Hestion’s breakfast prep. I’m not responsible for any harm that might befall you then,” She said as she covertly slid a roll into Rosie’s hand. They slipped out of the kitchen before Hestion could notice any missing baked goods.

“We’ll use a secret passage to get to the veranda. Saves a lotta time when you’re in a hurry! Just a warning, it’s kind of creepy,” Portia said as she led them to the end of a small hallway, stopping in front of a painting of Mercedes and Melichior. A pile of pomegranates were spilled out at their feet, their paws stained red from the juice. Portia gripped the edge of the painting and it swung open, revealing a secret archway behind it.

“Think you could help us out with a little light?” She said, playfully nudging Rosie with her elbow.

“You got it,” An orb of light sprung from her fingers and floated around them in slow circles.

“Woooow! Would you look at that!”

“It’s not that special,” Rosie said, her cheeks turning pink. “I could teach you sometime, if you want.”

“That’d be so cool!”

They passed through the arch and into a larger, dusty passage. The walls were lined with paintings of animals, all of them pure white with red eyes that gleamed in the dim light.

“Portia...what is this place?”

“This was the Count’s ‘Menagerie Gallery’. No one goes here anymore though...They say there’s a ghost wandering these halls.”

Rosie froze her hand flying to her amulet as she remembered the specter that cornered her the night before.

“Ghost?”

“And if you follow its voice...you’ll never be seen again!” Portia said as she wiggled her fingers for spooky emphasis.

“H-has that ever happened? Somebody disappearin’ ?”

“Oh sure. Servants are always popping up after shirking their duties, saying the gallery ghost got them. And it usually turns out they fell asleep in the larder and wanted to blame a ghost. No doubt there’s some weird stuff going on around here, though.”

Rosie shuddered. “But I wouldn’t worry about it. Just don’t go wandering off into any dark, creepy hallways alone.

“I saw the ghost…” Rosie breathed, her pupils blown.

“What?! Really?”

“Aye, I...oh! Is that the door out?” Rosie said, jogging ahead to stand by a small door. The door swung open and they stepped out onto the veranda.

The veranda was busy, full of servants in varying states of activity. Cheerful voices greeted them, calling and waving to Portia as they walked by.

“Taking the long way home tonight, Portia?” One asked as they looked up from their sweeping. A groundskeeper answered for her.

“Ahh, she’s probably showing our new magician around the palace.”

“I’m really just a simple hedge witch, no fancy titles please!” Rosie said, her cheeks pink as the groundskeeper bursts into laughter. Portia grinned, hugging Rosie to her side.

“Jealous, Babouche? You’ll have to wait your turn if you wanna spend time with Rosie!”

Rosie grinned broadly, put at ease by how relaxed everyone was. As she and Portia headed down the stairs, a tall and lanky servant gave them a lazy smile.

“Have a good night, Portia!”

“You too, Vincenze. Try not to fall off the veranda!” Portia called over her shoulder. She led Rosie out onto the grounds towards the maze. “It’s getting pretty late...but I’ve got one last stop before the end of the tour. I think you’re really gonna like it!” She said with a wink, leading her through the winding hedges. They reached a crumbling old arch covered in stone roses. The top of the arch had collapsed in, leaving only its supports. There was nothing but a dead end beyond it, but…

“There’s magic here,” Rosie murmured.

‘Yeah, check this out,” Portia grinned as she pulled Rosie through the arch. The scenery changed, and they stepped out into a hallway in the Palace, one that was brightly lit but tucked out of the way.

“Oh wow!” Rosie stared in amazement at the faint residual shimmer the portal had left on them.

“Isn’t it amazing? I bet there’s portal’s like this all over the palace, leading to lots of different places! Maybe you can help me find more.”

“I’d love to,” Rosie said, the faint flush returning to her cheeks.

Portia grinned, excited at the possibility. “I bet a great magician like you would have no problem finding them all! But I’ve kept you long enough...We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, you’d better get some sleep.”

Portia paused, just inside the doorway to Rosie’s quarters.

“I’m gonna go with you tomorrow for the announcement. I hope that’s alright.”

“Oh! Yes, milady told me you’d be joining us. So...I’ll see you in the morning, Rosie. Thanks for coming with me tonight.”

“I had fun! Thanks for showing me around.” Portia squeezed her shoulder before bustling out of the room, the door drifting shut behind her.

#PORTIA TIME!!!#aka rosie is TERRIBLE at hiding her crush #Rosie #Rosie Springwald #Portia #Portia Devorak #the Arcana #Arcana Prologue #mine #2022

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