#and not the universe going “well you can't function without sight”

[definitely-not-a-wasp]

All of Iggy's power-boosts become much more acceptable if you decide that they're not actually power boosts, but instead Iggy "canonical genius who fucks with dangerous things he definitely shouldn't touch" Griffiths taking a page out of Jeb's book and doing horribly unethical science through the first three books.

He only started acting upset about being blind after leaving their home, because it was at that point that being blind became a liability in his life. This grows through books 1-3, until the entire flock is kidnapped and conveniently brought back to the School, where sure, Iggy's a prisoner, but suddenly he has access to supplies and research. And then, oh so conveniently, he starts being able to sense color and have limited sight on white backgrounds (see: in bright lighting).

I think Iggy was gathering information from the Institute for Higher Living (mostly what he could glean through "innocent questions") and from his own memories of the School, to try to give himself a boost. In fact, I think it started in SoF, and that's why Iggy had a breakdown over being blind— what he was trying wasn't working, because he didn't have a full laboratory full of resources or all of the puzzle pieces he needed. And he's not about to talk to anyone else about it, because not only would they probably freak the fuck out about him using himself as a test subject, but he also knows that... frankly, they probably wouldn't be able to help him. Nudge is great with tech, Fang is an investigator at their core, Max is an excellent tactician, but when it comes to biology, to chemistry, to anything that strays to the School, he's the person who handles those subjects.

What's that? They're breaking back into the School? Iggy is 10/10 on board.

What's that? They're getting kidnapped by the School and Angel betrayed them? Not great, but he's been during disadvantages into advantages for most of his life. He can do it one more time.

They're breaking into ITEX now? Even fucking better.

Sitting in the dining room of the Martinez house, after ITEX is distroyed, after several sleepless nights of injections and eyedrops and saying it's going to work this time, he can see pinpricks of light at the edge of his vision. By the time he boards the Wendy K, he can see light. Sometimes, when he focuses until his head aches, he can pick up movement against bright backgrounds. Not much, but enough that he can move out of the way of an oncoming attack. And that's all he needs.

Then he picks up a plastic cup and tastes something on the back of his tongue that he can only describe as blue, and tastes bad, and wonders what the fuck else he accidentally caused.

#maximum ride #maximum ride on main #iggy (maximum ride) #look that entire plot point becomes better if Iggy's miraculous pseudo-sight is something that HE does #and not the universe going “well you can't function without sight” #and YES the color-sight was entirely accidental #And there were probably other side effects that weren't as pleasant but that's what happens when a feral 14-year-old does mad science #mad scientist Iggy AU

[bitterchocoo]

Hey ! I have seen you write for Twisted Wonderland ?👀

Can I ask for Ignihyde or Diasomnia students with a boy [friend or not, you choose] who is like Sherlock (from BBC if you have watch) ? I just know he will try to understand how overblot work and why there is a lot of overblot-

Ignore it if you don't want to write it ! And have a good day ! Or night ? Idk when you will see it (if you see it)-

The Game is On!

Ignihyde Students | M. Reader as Sherlock Holmes [BBC]

----------

"I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research!"

----------

The day [Name] Holmes has entered Night Raven College was the day Azul had become even richer.

Ever wonder if your crush likes you back? Or maybe you wanted to know yourself better? Or perhaps you wanted to know if your partner's cheating on you? Well look no further than the Mostro Lounge!

Being stranded in a different universe, [Name] merely sees it as an opportunity to gain more information and funding. This whole new world is so much more interesting than his previously awfully predictable world.

Which then led to Ignihyde's Housewarden's first encounter with the high-functioning sociopath. At first Idia found it skeptical that someone could have the ability to see right through everything and anything. Until [Name] had read him like an open book in their first meeting.

To say that Idia was traumatized by the sudden exposure is an understatement. But after calming down, he can't help but think on how similarly [Name] acts with one of the characters in the anime he watched. Cough Moriarty the Patriot cough. But nonetheless, the two of them soon bonded and became close with one another.

Before long, [Name] was introduced to Ortho and his interest was immediately peeked by Idia's "younger brother."

Although school life is as boring as his world's. It's just the same thing but with magic and stuff... but all of a sudden these things called "Overblot" showed up? Oh he got to know what this is about right away!

----------

Idia Shroud

"Um.."

"Shh."

He instantly shut up the moment he was hushed by the other. Just when he decided to leave his room and visit the Ramshackle for a change. Idia was greeted by a sight he never thought he would ever see in his life! [Name] pacing around his room with two hands together placed underneath his chin and the elephant in the room.. His room was filled with papers and stings attracted on the walls!

Idia thought that his room is messy but this is just on another level!

Newspapers, printed out articles, [Name] own illedgiment handwriting, etc. Every single wall is covered in it with some strings connecting some parts.

This thing. This "Overblot."

Why did it happen? Is it because of intense emotions? Negative or positive? Does it really matter? And why do they show up in a blob, ink-like thing? The stain on the gems of their pens? Is this common? Or are they something one has to go through once in their lives? Like puberty? So many questions. So little time.

Idia could only sit and watch as [Name] drove himself insane. He knew that S.T.Y.X. is also trying to figure this whole Overblot out too. But seeing how unhinged [Name]'s acting while also trying to figure out the same thing his family is doing is just concerning. It drove Idia to the edge just how... [Name]'s acting..

There's a thin line between inquiry and insanity. And [Name] is using that line like a freaking jump rope!

----------

Ortho Shroud

[Platonic]

The day the high-functioning sociopath saw Ortho. His interest is peeked. A robot? That acts like a human? Even back in his world this would've taken years maybe even centuries to accomplish with how incompetent the human kind is! Therefore, [Name] would ask Ortho multiple questions within the span of a minute. I live for Sherlock's rapid fire deductions and questioning.

And how [Name] loved it when Ortho answered each and every question without him needing to repeat himself nor explain it. Ortho's happy to help whenever he can! He was so happy that his brother made a friend!

Whenever he saw [Name] pacing around like a mad man. Ortho tries to help by either reducing [Name]'s burden and helping him to make deductions and hypotheses or by simply bringing snacks and reminding him to rest.

While Idia looks at [Name] with a nervous and unsure expression. Ortho steps in by suggesting that maybe he should rest. "[Name] maybe you should take a nap! If you do, your productivity will go up by 10℅ or maybe even more! And since you're energized, you could be more focused and—"

"I'll rest once I've figured this out."

Oh boy. This is going to be a long day for the three of them huh..

#seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #twst #twst x reader #twst x male reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #ortho shroud #twst idia #twst ortho #ignihyde #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock

[jewishsimming]

The week after Benji and Jacob left for the front, Avram was found in his bed, so peaceful and still he almost looked asleep. He had never really recovered from the trauma of Esther's untimely death, and his oldest son going to war had been too much. His heart had given out while he slept, the doctor said.

The house was quiet after that, and it seemed a pall of misery clung to its walls. Golde was back and forth between home and Sarah's house, who was barely functional after Jacob left, and the children had been too much of a handful for her to deal with. Golde went without the usual protests.

In the meantime (when she was not up at dawn doing Ben's chores), Perl wandered the house from top to bottom in boredom and increasing agitation. She had no love for farm work, and Aaron barely spoke to her; he had delved headlong into his university studies by day, and spent nights out in town with his beau.

One day in town, Perl caught sight of a woman dressed in a nurse's uniform crossing the square, and the idea hit her with a jolt of excitement: she would sign up for the Volunteer Aid Detachment.

~

Aaron just rolled his eyes the day Perl came downstairs in her VAD nurse uniform.

"Dad would have hit the roof if he knew you were involving yourself in the war effort," he said.

"I'm not supporting the war," Perl retorted, adjusting her head covering in the mirror. "Well, not really."

"I'm pretty sure helping out in a war hospital is supporting the war effort, sis."

"No it's not." Perl bit her lip. "Well, sort of. I can't help it. When I think of all those men fighting, getting hurt on the front lines—it's awful, the stories I've heard from my friends. You don't have to love the war to feel sorry for the men who get hurt."

"And they want us to sign up for it," Aaron grumbled. He had been given his first white feather that afternoon, and his girlfriend's reassurance had not quite taken the sting out of it.

"I think it's barbaric," Golde interjected from her place on the couch. "And you look like one of those goyische rabbis. What do they call them?"

"Nuns," Perl laughed, "and no-one asked you. Aren't you meant to be at Sarah's?"

Golde groaned. "Shmuel is vexing me, and Rachel attaches herself to my leg the entire time. I wouldn't mind if I only had to play with the baby. Must I go?"

"You could muck out the stalls," Aaron said. "Or milk the cow, or feed the animals, or harvest the potatoes..."

"Ughhh." Golde flicked her book closed and stood up with a sigh. "I'll go."

#decades challenge #rozenfeld legacy #golde rozenfeld #aaron rozenfeld #perl rozenfeld

[enigmatist17]

He doesn't see her at first, eyes closed as he helps guide Talyn along their current path, his palms held up as he feels the bend and pull invisible to the naked eye. He's never understood peace until joining with Talyn, never cared for how beautiful space really was until he was able to experience it in ways his body never could, never understood the sheer joy of traversing something for his own sake that wasn't given in the form of an order.

It was liberating.

It's when there's a quiet sniffle that Bialar opens his eyes, the wonders of the universe fading at the sad sight before him.

"Aeryn, did you rest?"

He shook his head at the quiet stare, pausing for a moment before sighing and beginning to undo his jacket.

"Must I care for you now?" She's cold when he drapes it around her shoulders, and after an awkward pause, Crais kneels down in front of her. "You must sleep."

"I can't."

"You can." The slight edge of his former commanding tone finally gets her to look up, and he takes it as a win. "You cannot function properly without rest, no matter the pain."

"What use is there?" Bialar's jacket easily drapes around her as Aeryn pulls it closer, and finds the wall behind the captain of great interest. Crais was slightly grateful her attention was diverted, because she would pick up how lost he was on how to think of...comforting her.

Confort, it was such a foreign thing in the Peacekeeper world. You were born for a job, you did it, rise through the ranks, then die once your use was over. Yet Crichton had crashed both his and Aeryn's world, dragged them from a darkness they didn't know they had marched in, into a light that was so blinding as it was beautiful. Despite struggling with overcoming their turbulent path, Crais found Crichton and the others he'd been forced to room with these long months hadn't been...the worst company. He never thought there would be a time where he'd look forward to the next day, towards the time with Talyn and the others with knowledge he would be able to go his own path without fear of execution.

Aeryn blinks when Crais shuffles to sit next to her, and for a few microts all they hear are the gentle beeps from Talyn's systems.

"I am...not versed in giving comfort, but I have seen that sitting in close proximity to one can help. Somehow."

"Very reassuring." It's a weak noise, but Aeryn can't help but snort a little. "But...yes, I've heard it does.'

"Good, glad you see as such."

Two former Peacekeepers sit together in the cockpit of a Leviathan/Peacekeeper hybrid, and very slowly Aeryn leans against her former commander.

"I see him when I dream." It's a heartbroken whisper, and very slowly Crais loops an arm around the commandos shoulder. "I can't..."

"I am sorry." Bialar gently pats the side of her arm, and they settle into another bout of silence before an idea runs across his mind.

Well, more of Talyn's idea.

Aeryn jolts when something suddenly is placed on her neck, and it's a moment before Talyn floods through her mind, and she falls into the feeling like a dear embrace.

"Rest, let Talyn lead you across the stars." Crais whispers as she curls against him, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead before settling in for a watch he just assigned himself. "Rest."

Aeyrn listens to him for once, and let's the universe fill her dreams as she drifts into sleep.

#personal #farscape #aeryn sun #bialar crais #Talyn #I am feral for Crais #also I am hella shipping Crais with Aeryn and John

[mellowswriting]

I saw that requests are open! would it be possible for you to write a follow up to Second Chances with javi and reader? Maybe you have another kid and this time javi is able to be there for you throughout the whole pregnancy, and get to experience the first kick, you giving birth, etc (I am a sucker for domestic!javi if you can't tell haha) I think it would be really cute!!

From the Beginning

pairing || Javier Peña x afab!Reader

summary || Javier gets to experience the chaotic excitement of welcoming a new baby to the family.

word count || 6,466 

warnings || kid fic, pregnant reader, non-graphic childbirth, some spiciness but no smut, dad!Javi being adorable 

a/n || I can’t even express how much I love writing about the boys as dads, especially Javier! I really hope you all enjoy this, it was so very much fun to write.

Main Masterlist  |   Join the taglist!

Early spring mornings always had a special quality about them. The air was never too hot, pleasantly warm with a hint of a cool breeze that still lingered from winter’s sharp grip. Plants were beginning to bloom, the trees regaining their bright green foliage that ruffled in a symphony with every pass of the wind. Spring was the bringer of warmth after the ice and snow, the nurturer that coaxed seeds to sprout and flourish, the guide for new life and hope.

Ironic, then, that those very qualities you had grown to love were the ones causing you so much inner turmoil that you couldn’t even enjoy the gorgeous morning happening around you. You hadn’t even realized what was happening at first. Mother nature hadn’t exactly gifted you with a cycle that could be easily followed and predicted. Instead you had the supreme pleasure of having to carry around menstrual products everywhere you went and having to replace your underwear far more often than usual. So when you went two months without the waves of cramps and frustration of your period, it wasn’t all that remarkable.

It was when you were doing some last minute grocery shopping the night before that you realized something was off. Well, more off than usual. The sight of the shelves of tampons made your stomach bottom out with realization. You must’ve made quite a sight as you stood in that aisle with a cart half full of food, just staring at tampons with dread. Two boxes of pregnancy tests got tossed in with the various other items in your cart and you hoped that Javier was too tired from work to insist he help you put away the groceries.

For once, the universe appeared to be on your side. Your husband was sitting on the floor with Elianna, a spread of coloring books and crayons scattered on the living room carpet, and he actually listened to you when you waved him off to carry the bags in yourself. The tests were tucked away in the bathroom behind your tampons - ironic, yes, but it was the one place Javier really wouldn’t be poking around.

Honestly, a part of you felt bad for not telling Javier right away. He had more than proven himself as a great father and husband in the nearly two years since he returned to your life. Those irrational little fears of him leaving you and little Ellie had been crushed into nothing in the wake of the role he readily took on with his daughter, but this was different. Maybe it was pretty naive of you to not have that conversation with him, but it was something you thought you still had time for.

The plus sign on the pregnancy tests told you the time for that conversation was now, apparently. You were grateful for the timing of your little realization. Saturday mornings saw the standing trend of your sister whisking Ellie away for some ‘auntie and niece time’, and you really didn’t want her to feel the tension you were carrying. She was such a perceptive little girl that had an eye for everything.

Javier was still asleep. You usually slept in with him on the weekends, but you were restless to find out if your period was just pulling a fast one on you or if you actually were pregnant. Now you had four positive tests sitting in front of you and a sleeping husband who you couldn’t decide whether or not to wake up. Luckily, you ended up not having to make that choice since two sharp raps of his knuckles against the bathroom door snapped you out of your trance.

The door opened a millisecond after you snatched up the tests and hid them behind your back, not so unlike Ellie when she was hiding a treat she wasn’t supposed to have yet. The difference was that you didn’t know if this would be a treat to Javier. He was still half asleep, his thin pajama pants slug low on his hips and his eyes squinted against the bathroom light.

“G’morning,” He grunted as he moved to shuffle past you. “Move over, I gotta piss.”

You were rooted to the spot, though, your brain floundering to gain control of your muscles. “Uhm…”

“What’s wrong?” Javier slowly perked up through his sleepy haze at the realization that you looked downright terrified. He put his hand on your bicep and squeezed slightly. “Is Ellie okay?”

“What? No, yeah, Ellie’s fine. She’s with Amelia.” You spluttered, cringing at your inability to function.

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Javi pressed. There really wasn’t any hiding things from him. Ellie must get that sharp eye of hers from her father. “What are you holding behind your back?”

You tried to swallow down the thickness that enveloped your throat to form some sort of words, literally anything to convey to him what the hell was going on, but your body was seized with fear. So you held out the tests wordlessly. His eyebrows furrowed as he took the bundle of tests from your hand, staring at them with a split second’s confusion before it dawned on him. “This…? You…?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. The worry in your voice must’ve been obvious because Javier was on you in a second flat, his arms crowding you into his chest with a crushing strength.

“You’re pregnant?” Javier croaked into your neck and the dam of emotion in your chest crumbled. His voice was full of excited disbelief, and relief crashed over you.

“Yeah, I am.” You said with a tearful chuckle, winding your arms around him to burrow yourself even further into his chest. “I know we never really talked about having another kid but… is this something you want, Javi?”

“Fuck, this is ironic.” Javier laughed quietly and when you looked up at him, he avoided your eyes with an almost bashful look. “I was gonna ask you today if you ever thought about it. Do you have any idea how many times I went over it in my head?”

You couldn’t help it - you cracked up laughing. The whole thing was almost ridiculous - the both of you worrying despite wanting the exact same thing. Tears of relief and laughter soaked into his t-shirt as you both broke into chaotic laughter, fingers clutching at each other’s shirts as you tried to catch your breath.

“So, uh… are we doing this?” Javier sounded nervous, his hands rubbing up and down your back as if to reassure himself. “You really wanna have a baby with me? Again?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was choked with a tense mix of emotions, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Yeah, I do.”

“I can’t… fuck, I can’t believe you - you’d… thank you.” He babbled, nearly unintelligible in his scramble to convey how fucking grateful he was, but you knew. It wasn’t the first time you had heard the desperate need to spit words he couldn’t really find, the words that matched the swell of emotions in his chest that still wasn’t used to voicing. “Fuck, Ellie’s gonna be such a good big sister.”

That choked you up more than you expected. She really would be, you knew that for a fact, but it was a dream you had boxed up and shoved on a shelf with all your other unrealistic dreams for your future. Never in your life did you let yourself really think you could have the whole package deal - the loving (albeit gruff) husband, the big house, the sound of little feet chasing each other through the halls…

“Wait, how long have you been…? Or do we have to see a doctor first? Oh shit, we have to find a doctor for you, what the fuck are they called..? A fucking... obstetrician!” Javi rambled in a mix of nerves and excitement, breaking from your embrace to pace the length of the bathroom. “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Is there anything I can do to help, because -”

“Javi, breathe!” You calmed him with both hands out to stop his walking and braced your hands on his shoulders to rub at him firmly. “We have plenty of time, okay? Let me go make some coffee for you and we can sit down and make a plan. First, didn’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Oh… yeah.”

----------

Javier couldn’t stop bouncing his knee. It was a subconscious thing, something he stopped the moment he realized but soon found it moving of its own volition all over again. He really was trying not to let his nerves show even though he knew that you could tell. It was all so new to him, which wouldn’t be a problem if the reminder didn’t gut him every goddamn time. He couldn’t imagine how alone you must have felt the first time around when you were pregnant with Elianna, especially in these cold, sterile doctors offices.

His grip tightened on your hand. The feeling of your fingertips pressed against the top of his hand kept him grounded, helped him remind himself that there was no going back and changing everything else that happened. All he could do was be there this time around, be the best version of himself that he could be for you and his kid - well, kids now. Plural. The excitement was almost enough to drown away the guilt. Javi really could barely believe that he was getting the privilege of experiencing this with you.

“I’ve seen files on drug lords shorter than all that.” Javier nodded at the pile of forms and paperwork you held in your lap and you laughed brightly. He preened a little at the sound. It was something he could never get enough of, that laugh of yours. “I love you.”

You looked up at him, the pen in your hand stopping its constant scratching for the first time in forever, and gave him a lopsided smile. “I love you, too.”

There was no way he wasn’t going to kiss you after that adorable little display. Your cheek felt soft against his palm and the little sigh of relief you huffed against him was addictive. Just knowing that he was an anchor for you made Javier feel so incredibly loved and important and all he wanted to do was imbue you with that same sense of security. He held you close, his hand slipping back to the back of your neck to keep you right where he wanted you, and gave you those soft little kisses that never failed to make you melt.

“Mrs. Peña?” A nurse called out and he had no choice but to let you go with one last peck against your lips. He followed you and the nurse into the exam room, nerves and excitement soaring even higher in his chest.

It was kind of fascinating, watching you answer the nurse’s barrage of questions. Questions about your medical history, how many pregnancies you’ve had, all about your menstrual cycle. The two of you went back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, tossing questions and answers back and forth like a tennis match. The nurse left with the promise of the doctor being in momentarily for an ultrasound.

“Come hold my hand?” You asked, and how could he deny such a sweet request?

“Of course,” He pulled a chair from across the room and settled himself next to the exam table, both of his hands wrapping around one of yours as he brought it up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “So what happens now?”

“The doctor will give me an ultrasound. She’ll probably want to run some blood tests, too.” You sighed, obviously uncomfortable at the thought of needles.

“I’ll hold your hand then, too.” Javier promised.

“It’ll be good practice for you, ‘cause once I’m in labor I’ll probably break your hand.” You teased and yeah, broken fingers didn’t sound all that great but fuck, he was more than ready to let you do just that. Javier wanted to be your rock, wanted to support you through it all - especially since he couldn’t the first time.

Two quick knocks sounded against the door made Javier straighten up hastily. The doctor came in with a smile and a large machine wheeling in behind her. “Good morning, mom and dad! How’re we feeling?”

“All good here, Dr. Hall. A little nauseous, but still… good.” You gave Javier’s hand a little squeeze before letting go to unbutton your jeans and fold the waistband down, followed by pulling the hem of your shirt up. It was hard to believe that the beginning of an entire new life was right there between your hips.

“Good to hear!” Dr. Hall fiddled with the ultrasound machine for a moment before turning to you. “So today we’re going to take a look and find out how far along you are, make sure mom and baby both look healthy, okay?”

“Okay,” You and Javier said in unison, and he took your hand again, needing to feel you there with him.

The gel must’ve been cold based on the way you hissed slightly. Javier watched the screen as Dr. Hall trailed the wand over your belly, lips parting at the sight of the black and white image. It was hard to make out what exactly he was seeing at first, but the image shifted slightly and he could make out the tiniest, vague shape of the newest edition to his little family.

“It looks like you’re about ten weeks along.” Dr. Hall murmured without taking her eyes off of the screen. “Baby is about the size of a plum.”

Javier squeezed your hand lightly, the both of you sparing a glance at each other before staring back at the screen in wonder. The doctor pointed out the baby’s head and a little foot as she took her measurements, reassuring you both that everything looked perfect. He gave a rushed “yes, absolutely” when she asked if he wanted the ultrasound photos - there was a spot in his wallet that he had in mind for it already.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in situations that left him shocked before. This was Javier Peña, after all. Life and career experiences had given him plenty of moments where his mind was completely washed blank with surprise, but never had it been such a good thing. There were so many times that the shock was accompanied by grief or anger, but excitement? Gratefulness? That was new to him, left him reeling the entire drive home, all throughout dinner. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him that he couldn’t be like this when Ellie got home the next day. She was smarter than he could’ve imagined any kid being at three years old and even though he agreed with your assertion that no one should know about your pregnancy for a few more weeks at least, Javier was certain his daughter would be able to needle it out of him.

Those expert interrogation skills must be hereditary.

It wasn’t until he was getting ready for bed that it really hit him how real it was, that you really were sitting in the bed you shared with him, pregnant with his baby and making plans for the usual Sunday brunch and park visit you all did every week. As he set his wallet on the nightstand, he couldn’t help but pull out the little ultrasound picture. He had a feeling he would be doing that a lot, especially when the new cadets were driving him crazy at work. It all swelled up in his chest, the appreciation and excitement and disbelief, because holy shit, how did he get so lucky? One finger traced the little image in his hand, and he couldn’t help but blurt out, “Thank you.”

The confused look you gave him made him flounder for the words.

“I just… I know everything was fucked up the first time around but I swear, it’s going to be different this time. I am not going anywhere.” Javier slid closer at the sight of the tears in your eyes, easily welcoming your arms around his neck as you practically drug yourself into his lap. He held you close to his chest, trying to instill the certainty and promise of it all. “God, fuck, and I thought I couldn’t get enough of you before…”

“Javi…” You croaked, laughing wetly into his neck.

“I’m serious! You’re gonna have to tell me to fuck off when you want space because I can’t keep my hands off you.” Javi teased, relief washing over him at your seeming acceptance of his promises. “And now like this, growing my baby… fuck, I am in this with you. Me and you and Ellie… and our little plum.”

That night, Javier fell asleep with his head on your shoulder, his face buried in your neck, and his hand tucked into the waistband of your sweatpants to cradle that precious space that held his newest child.

----------

Ellie couldn’t stop touting her new title to anyone who would listen.

“I’m a big sister!” She told the cashier at the grocery store, the other kids at the park and their moms for good measure, and even the mailman when they came by each morning. The brightness in her eyes when she said it made your heart flip in your chest. You had expected some sort of confusion or even for her to be upset at the idea of a new sibling, but she launched right into a story about how her friend from playgroup has a baby sister, and you knew that she would be just fine.

With your sixteenth week rapidly approaching, you couldn’t be more grateful that Ellie was excited for the new addition to the family. It was one less thing for you to worry about amidst the chaos of bringing a new person into the world. The fatigue was something you definitely didn’t miss about pregnancy - it washed over you without warning, left you nodding off wherever you sat. Thank god Javier was such a hands on father. He had no problem herding Ellie off into the backyard or off for a walk to let you get some much needed rest.

You hadn’t expected him to be such a hands on husband, though. Sure, you knew he was excited and you knew he already loved everything about your body, but he really wasn’t lying when he said pregnancy made him want you even more. Every night, Javi’s hands gravitated to your body to ease the kinks out of your muscles, to rub your feet until the aches went away, to cheekily offer you an orgasm if you were up for one. It made you feel cherished, something you sorely missed the first time you were pregnant.

“Thank you, Javi,” You groaned lowly as those strong hands of his worked at your lower back. He easily hitched your thigh up slightly to ease some of the pressure on the new swell to your belly. There was a slur in your voice when you said, “Feels so good.”

Javier chuckled behind you, moving on to rub your feet. “Be quiet, you don’t want to wake Ellie.”

“Did you ever see this being our life?” You murmured though your voice was muffled by the pillows you buried your head in. “Telling each other not to wake the kids, making bacon smiley faces for a toddler’s breakfast?”

“I didn’t think I’d actually get it, but I wished for it. Dreamt about how pretty you’d look all full of me.” Javi placed a teasing kiss to the inside of your thigh. “The real thing is so much better.”

You could only groan under his praise. His thumbs dug into the arch of your foot and rubbed in methodical circles, drawing another pleased groan from you that you muffled in your pillow. The pain slowly melted from your tired muscles under his thorough ministrations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his wake that made you all pliant and drowsy beneath him.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Javi asked as he rubbed his hands up your calves and you smiled. You knew exactly what he was gunning for.

You eased yourself onto your back and reached out for him with both arms, bringing him forward with grabby hands that he could never refuse. Javier settled between your thighs, a knowing smirk on his face, and leaned down to kiss you deeply. “‘M feeling good, Javi.”

“You know I love making my girl feel good,” Javi murmured as he kissed down your neck, one hand trailing back and forth over your hip and thigh lovingly. “Can I make you feel even better?”

“Please?” You asked breathily and your husband was more than happy to oblige. The loose tank top you wore was the first to go, followed quickly by your shorts and underwear.

Javier set about lavishing your neck and chest with affection, his touch more gentle than usual on your oversensitive breasts, and once again you were struck by the surrealness of it all. The fact that this had begun in Colombia all those years ago as two coworkers using sex for stress relief and had blossomed into this beautiful life you shared together was a thing of dreams. But there you were, with Javier Peña making love to you, quietly as to not wake your daughter and gently as to keep you and your baby safe and happy, and you could barely believe it.

“I love you,” You choked out through the tears that sprung into your eyes and Javi sat up to look at you with a concerned expression.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes roaming all over to find the apparent source of your tears.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You tried to pull him back down to you but he didn’t budge, the concern unwavering.

“Then why are you crying?” Javier brushed a thumb under your eyes to wipe away the evidence of your strong burst of emotion.

“Because I love you,” You chuckled as you held his hand close to your cheek and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm. “And I’m pregnant, so everything is a thousand times more intense and you don’t get to tease me for that.”

“I would never,” Javi muttered but the mischievous grin on his face betrayed him. “Let me make you feel better, baby,”

“I’m already better, Javi - oh,”

----------

Two o’clock in the morning was not an ideal time to wake up, especially since Javier knew that Ellie would be awake and full of energy by seven, but something felt off. Even in his unconscious state, he could feel the absence of you in bed and his mind nagged at him to get up and find you. The hardwood was cold beneath his feet as he wandered from the bedroom, finding the bathroom empty before he made his way down the stairs. You often would rest on the recliner in the living room when your back was bothering you particularly bad, especially since your center of gravity had so drastically changed the further along you got in your pregnancy - but you weren’t there either.

Before Javi could start really worrying, he heard the refrigerator open and found you peering into the illuminated fridge in search of… something. A pint of ice cream was already in your hand, a spoonful of it hanging from your lips as you browsed with a frustrated look on your face, and honestly… Javi loved how you looked. It was so domestic and sweet, the sight of you in your pajamas that barely covered your belly as you raided the kitchen.

Thirty-six weeks and four days. He could barely believe how much time had passed since he saw those positive tests. It felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time, and he was beyond excited to meet his newest little one.

“What are you looking for, sweetheart?” Javi asked after a moment of watching you helplessly search around.

The sheepish smile you gave him made his heart swell in his chest and he automatically opened his arms as you shuffled over to bury your face in his chest. “Your kid is driving me crazy with the cravings.”

Javier hugged you tightly, relishing in the way you relaxed against him. “Well, if they’re anything like me, they probably want those barbecue chips, then.”

It didn’t take long for him to get you herded back up to bed with the chips in hand and the sight of you sleepily munching away while burrowed in the blankets eased an almost innate need Javier had to see you safe and happy, all nice and taken care of in his bed. He climbed into bed once he was sure you didn’t need anything else, settling on his side with his head propped up against his hand to watch you despite his own sleepiness.

“Let your mama sleep, troublemaker.” He murmured to your belly as he rubbed gentle circles over the spots he could feel the nudges of his little one retaliating to their father’s stern words. “Need some lotion?”

“Hmmm, please?” You hummed.

Rubbing lotion into your skin was something Javi had taken a particular liking to. The first time he had seen you doing it yourself, he was quick to take over. That was the first time he felt his little one kick at his hands and he fell even more in love - something he hadn’t thought was possible. It was a good way to feel closer to you both, to his wife and the baby you were bringing into the world, and the way you dozed slightly as he helped you relax made him feel needed, like he was doing right by you. That’s all he ever wanted to do.

A nudge to the edge of his hand made Javier glance back down to where his hands were running all over your belly, but it was the sight of the baby rolling that made him do a double take. “Holy shit,” He whispered, hands frozen as he saw what had to be the imprint of a little foot or hand poke out before disappearing. “There really is a whole person in there.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” You grumbled, grimacing slightly at the feeling. “It’s aerobics hour, apparently.”

“That’s fucking crazy.” Javi tentatively resumed massaging the lotion into your skin. It was hard to fathom, the idea that your body was so capable of creating and nurturing a brand new life, and for the millionth time he found himself thanking the universe for letting him have this second chance.

----------

Gabriel Peña came early, quick, and with a sharp cry you were sure could be heard throughout the entire hospital. His little nose was scrunched up, his face all red from his wailing, hands curled into angry fists over his sudden eviction from the warmth and darkness he was accustomed to. It was a short labor, so very different from your first with Ellie for so many reasons but the biggest being the strong presence of Javier at your side. The moment the contractions began at the crisp hour of six a.m., he was alert and full of nervous excitement.

True to his word, Javier let you clutch onto him through it all - every contraction, every push, every angered grumble you threw his way for getting you pregnant in the first place. That sharp mind of his kept up under the pressure. He spoonfed you ice chips and let you use him for support as you rocked your way through particularly bad contractions.

There were tears in Javier’s eyes as he carefully set his hand on his son’s head, carefully musing the shock of dark, wispy hair on his head. You leaned your head against Javi’s shoulder, exhaustion, relief, and happiness warring with each other after hours of labor. You felt his lips press against your temple before he sniffled and whispered, “Thank you.”

Javier stayed by Gabriel’s side the entire time the doctors checked him over and cleaned him up, per your instructions, and he was the one to return your son to your arms. It was the most careful you had ever seen him, his movements slow and deliberate, eyes on the baby’s adorable, chubby face.

“Seven pounds, nine ounces,” Javi murmured as he drug a chair as close to your bedside as possible and settled in, his hand resting on your thigh. A disgruntled whine came from the baby wriggling in your arms and you smiled, knowing he was hungry and could probably smell the milk your body had been preparing to make for his arrival. You pulled the gown down to expose your breast, propping your arm with a pillow to better support him, and adjusted his latch to settle in.

“Nice latch, mama,” One of the nurses said as she finished settling the blankets around your feet.

“Not my first time at this rodeo.” You chuckled quietly. It had been a while since Ellie weaned but you still remembered the struggle of figuring out how to get a newborn to latch properly when you had no idea what you were doing. You set your hand over Javi’s, smiling at him when he blinked sleepily up at you. Neither of you had gotten much rest before Gabriel decided to make his appearance into the world. “Can you hand me some water, honey?”

“Of course,” Javi perked up with the small task you gave him. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, but you wanted him to feel involved, to feel like he was helping you, and even though his mere presence helped you relax, you knew he was an ‘action’ kind of man. He needed something to do to feel useful. He held the straw steady for you and everything, your sweet husband. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired.” You answered honestly, leaning into his hand when he brushed stray hairs from your face.

“I know this wasn’t easy. I’m proud of you.” It was a simple statement but it hit you right in your chest. As excited as you were to have another baby, it was hard. Exhausting. He could see it all, how tired you were and how hard you were working just to carry on like normal through your pregnancy, and while he did everything he could to ease some of that burden, the plain acknowledgement of how hard you worked felt good.

“I love you so much.” You whispered, pulling his hand close to kiss his palm.

“I love you, too.” Javier leaned over the side of the bed and kissed you softly, careful not to jostle his son where he sleepily nursed against you. “How are our kids so damn cute?”

You huffed a laugh, which made Gabriel shift against you before settling back down, sighing suspiciously similar to his father. “It helps that their dad is incredibly good looking.”

“True,” Javi said, trying for that cocky tone you loved but you didn’t miss the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. Compliments always got him like that, all red-faced and adorable - though he would never admit it.

A short nap later and you had one very excited Ellie fidgeting in the chair next to your bed, impatiently waiting to meet her baby brother. Javier stood behind her, quietly reminding her to be careful as you helped keep the squirming newborn steady in her lap. Your heart damn near exploded when she began cooing at her brother and very gently touching his soft cheeks. She was enamored by him, asking so many questions that you and her father could barely keep up.

“Can we share my bed?” “No, he can’t sleep in your bed, baby. He has to sleep in a special bed in mommy and daddy’s room.”

“Does he get a special seat like me?” “Yep! Daddy’s putting his carseat in next to yours right now. You’ll get to talk to him the whole way home.”

“Is he gonna cry a lot?” “Yeah, he will. That’s how babies let people know they need something since they don’t have words like we do.”

“Can I share my crackers with him?” “Not yet! Right now, he only drinks milk.” “Milk? Like for cereal?” “Kind of, but it comes from your mommy.” “What?!” “You ate the same thing when you were a little baby, too.” “What?!”

The entire drive home was full of little Ellie chatting away at her baby brother, mostly about the stuffed animals she had at home that she promised to show him the moment they got home. There was a small smile on Javier’s face as he drove, his hand curled around yours on the center console. He practically radiated contentment and damn did it look good on him.

----------

For what felt like the millionth time, you woke before the sun had a chance to rise. Though this time, it was to the feeling of a full bladder rather than the sound of a hungry baby, so that could be counted as a small win at the very least. You tried to ignore the ache in your healing body as you stumbled your way to and from the bathroom, near silent in your movements even though you were half asleep. It was a well practiced dance, getting out and back into bed without waking your sleeping children.

But something was off. The sheets were cooler than usual, missing the fire-like heat that Javier radiated constantly. You sat up, blinking against the drowsiness and darkness to see your husband passed out on the rocking chair in the corner of the room with Gabriel curled up on his bare chest. Skin-to-skin contact was something Javier couldn’t get enough of. He told you how close it made him feel to his son and you couldn’t complain. It was a precious sight. Avoiding the creaky floorboards, you carefully covered Gabriel with a soft baby blanket and smoothed it down his back.

“S’wrong?” Javier mumbled, words slurred with sleep, his eyes barely cracking open. On instinct, his hands shifted over the little baby asleep on him to hold him closer, even more secure.

“Shh, nothing’s wrong.” You soothed as you gently tucked his curls back away from his forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay.” And with that his eyes were closed, back to dozing like he was never interrupted in the first place. You were glad. Tomorrow was an early morning, and paired with all of the midnight feedings and diaper changes, you all could use some rest. So you laid back down, sleep dragging you back under swiftly.

Javier was practically bouncing with nerves just hours later, even though he was trying not to show it. It brought you back to that first appointment when you were pregnant, only this time he held a sleeping one-month old who he was trying not to wake up with his nervousness.

“I just want it to go well.” He grumbled when you asked if he was okay.

“It will.” You reassured him, rubbing circles into his knee. “They’re both perfectly healthy, the pediatrician will tell you that, too.”

You were right - then again, when weren’t you? Gabe was a healthy nine and a half pounds, strong heart and lungs, and good reflexes. Javier was hooked on the pediatrician’s every word, nodding along and giving you a relieved smile with each positive statement. And of course, Ellie’s rambunctiousness had the pediatrician and nurses completely captivated as she told them all about her preschool and the antics she got up to while they checked her over.

The pride on Javier’s face with every positive comment and reassurance that both of his kids were on track developmentally made your heart flip. You felt so beyond lucky to have this little family of yours, with two beautiful children and the man you always loved. It felt too good to be true sometimes, especially when Javi pulled you close for a tight hug and a kiss to the side of your head before he worked to get one wiggly Gabe back into his onesie.

One impromptu trip to the park later and you and Javier had two very tired kids on your hands. Ellie was already passed out by the time Javier pulled into the driveway but Gabe was quickly venturing into ‘overtired’ territory. He was grumpy, wriggling around in your arms like he couldn’t get comfortable, all the while giving little whines and grunts that threatened to turn into full on wailing. He didn’t want milk, he didn’t need a diaper change, he just wanted to sleep but was too frustrated to let a nap take him.

“Give ‘em here.” Javier offered and you freely handed him over. The postpartum fatigue was no joke, and even though it was lessening with each passing day, you were damn tired so you had no issue with letting your husband put the baby down for a nap. You curled up on the couch, not quite going to sleep but still letting your mind and body rest as you listened to Javi try to negotiate with Gabriel as if he were some sicario and not just a particularly stubborn baby.

“C’mon, little man. Just go to sleep. All of your problems if you went to sleep right now? Solved. Completely solved. Instead of crying you could just… go to sleep.” Javier whispered over the cooing and grunting of his son. “Oh, don’t give me that face, mister.”

You snorted a laugh - you knew exactly what face Gabe was pulling. His nose and eyebrows would scrunch up, lips pursed as he huffed angry breaths like a little baby bull. It was an exaggerated copy of the face Javier pulled anytime he was frustrated, which you found ridiculously adorable. Slowly, the grumpy grunts became more and more quiet until they disappeared completely, and a few moments later, Javier flopped down on the couch next to you with a sigh.

“Got him down.” Javi said as he pressed close to you, burying himself between the back of the couch and your body to press his face into your neck. A blanket of drowsiness must have settled over the entire house as both kids napped peacefully in their beds and you cuddled up to your husband in the living room. The both of you would doze until the sound of little feet on the hardwood or the sounds of a hungry baby woke you, and then it would be back on the grind of parenthood, but you knew… with Javier by your side, you could do it.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @i-ship-it-ironically @artsymaddie @mrsparknuts @wyn-dixie @notabotiswear @lunaserenade @jitterbugs927 @theorganasolo @the-witty-pen-name @northernpunk @lemonlime09 @la-lunaluna @andruxx @greeneyedblondie44 @bloodsuckingbastards @coldlilheart @gracie7209 @green-socks @paintballkid711 @lord-of-restingbiface @asta-lily @xgoldenjenny @mummifymecaptain @cjbtw @a-skov @himbotroy @xjsteph @marvelousmermaid @over300books @castleamc @darnitdraco @janebby @cannedsoupsucks @itssmashedavo @mtjoi @triggerhappyflygirl 

#javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña fanfiction #narcos

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

aftermath of manager betraying the boys; p3

by popular request... for "I hope your 2021 is going great and that you are doing well! If you wouldn't mind, would you consider continuing the betrayal manager scenario? 👀" anon, and

"Can we get a Part3 for the manager betrayal that it was her twin or something😭???? I-I can't sleep help (it's fine if you don't want to) anyways stay hydrated 😘. -🐷" anon and

"Part three for the manager betrayal?? Are the trashies going to keep bullying her or ..." anon and

"Hey I know the ask box is closed but when its open again, do you think you could write a third part to the manager betrayal where she gets revenge at the boys and crushes them and makes them scared of her LOL that second part was written very well and im fuming at what they've done to her" anon and @aylablack15 too.

i'm glad people enjoyed the previous parts, especially enjoyed seeing different viewpoints on what this final(?) part should be, and variation in whether people sympathise with the boys or not.

for people who don't know this series, part one is here and part two is here .

and, without further ado...

---------

“Really, I can’t believe you’re graduating soon, Kazuya. I still remember how you cried on your first day of nursery. And now look at you, a young man, all grown up.”

Hara rolls his eyes as his younger brother snickers, and his older brother hides his laugh behind a cough. It’s the bimonthly family dinner today - also known as the only time all brothers are together - and, of course his mother is being sentimental. Whilst all his dad has expressed is surprise that Hara actually made it through all four years of university, his mother has been getting teary-eyed at the idea of it all. (Whether that’s solely due to Hara, or rather her dreams of getting her youngest out of the house soon too, is a separate matter.)

“Me as a functioning member of society,” mutters Hara, shaking his head, “fancy that.”

Dinner continues on that note of Hara vehemently denying that he’ll be a true adult anytime soon, as his older brother agrees that it fucking sucks, and his younger brother snorts obnoxiously at every reference to the younger Kazuya. In particular, he’s been laughing at their mother’s gift for Kazuya’s graduation. An album full of photos from his youth.

Having been looking through the pile of photos again today, she lays one on the table, “that reminds me. Who was this?”

Hara leans across the table to see the photo clearer. It’s a post-match picture, for sure, judging by how everyone in it is smiling and sweaty. 7 people feature: Hara making the rock’n’ roll sign with his left hand, Yamazaki and Matsumoto with their arms around one another, Seto with his eyes half-open, Hanamiya with a basketball balanced on his index finger, Furuhashi at the side standing stiffly, piggybacking the seventh person. Who knows whether the seventh person is smiling or not - their face has been scribbled over in black ballpoint ink.

“You know, I don’t even remember anymore,” replies Hara. In part, he’s being honest - it’s been years since he thought of that figure, and their fingers making bunny ears behind Seto’s head. “I was probably being childish when I doodled on it.”

But, it’s funny. It’s been all these years and yet Hara still feels rage burn within him at the sight of it.

A week later, Hara reunites with Seto, at a cafe a few minutes from his university building. They make an even weirder duo now than they did back in high school. Seto dressed in all black, the only colour a white handkerchief in his top coat pocket; Hara in sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair dyed bright green.

“Man, whose funeral are you attending dressed like that?” Hara grins as Seto sits down at the table opposite him.

“Hopefully yours,” is the reply.

The old team doesn’t meet as much as they used to, yet Hara feels like a kid again when he’s talking to Seto, who’s matured in so many ways but still maintains that slothful mockery. Over cake and coffee, they discuss the good old days and how boring university has been in comparison. Hara complains about not wanting to be a capitalist slave, Seto telling him that even the rockstars he idolises were, in part, such slaves. And, at some point, the conversation turns to the photo. How it made Hara feel seeing that face, or lack of it, again. That curious bitterness.

“It’s the recency effect,” Seto takes a sip of his coffee, "some cognitive bias shit. You remember the most recent situation with that person, despite what came before, and that’s what influences your thoughts on them the most. We didn’t part with her on a good note, after all.”

Hara chuckles, “that depends on whose side you were on.”

He closes his eyes and remembers the last time he saw their beloved manager’s face.

There was nothing stopping them, that was the problem. The team had been disbanded, with no chance for the boys to return to the basketball club if it was ever reopened. Hanamiya had had his relationship with his mother soured, and he’d been kicked out of the disciplinary committee, which meant there was really nothing left to hold him back. Especially not the disciplinary committee, whose fear (respect?) of him grew even stronger after he left. And Hanamiya was usually the one to keep the others in check.

She had thought she was saving them, but they’d lost pretty much everything instead. Now, they only had problems, no restraints, and a toy to take those frustrations out on.

To be fair to her, their manager-chan did try to fight back after some point. She must have realised that any past relations were now rotting six feet under, too far down to be brought back to life, and that her old companions had nothing better to do. Word in the school corridors was that she went from club to club asking if they’d let her join, in attempts of finding an ally. Everyone said no, they didn’t want the trouble. That is, everyone apart from one club - the judo club. With a total of one member. A tall and muscular third year, kind to everyone but with a keen sense of morals. Brunette too, coincidentally.

That alliance worked for about a week. Catching sight of her with the brunette kept Hara and the others away - he wasn’t stupid enough to pick a fight he couldn’t win, it would make him look like a moron. And Judo-Man was everywhere where she was. Probably had a crush on their beloved manager, Hara remembers Matsumoto joking (they got closer, strangely, in the aftermath of the breaking up of the club), probably jerked off to her “thank you so much, senpai, for saving me!!” squealing.

The funny thing is, that tactic of hers might have worked, if Judo-Man hadn’t resembled Kiyoshi Teppei so closely. That was enough to mean Hanamiya would never let this go. One evening, he arranged for the team to meet up. Teach this moral fucker a real lesson about morals when it comes to fighting - that there are none if you want to win. That poor fuck got a lesson on every single move in the Kiridai Basketball Team inventory. Furuhashi even brought a knife.

And what was funnier was that they had no real problem with him, except for how he got involved in their business, and the colour of his hair. They might have even let him go after a few kicks and punches, had it not been for manager-chan in the background, begging for them to let him go. Hurt her instead. Leave him be.

Hara remembers it well - the feeling of his heel meeting Judo-Man’s chest, the sight of blood making his own roar so loud that he couldn’t hear himself think. Seto holding their precious manager back, clamping his hand over her mouth when she tried calling for help. Yamazaki spitting in her direction as they left.

They’d left her poor victim lying on the ground unconscious, and let their manager call an ambulance for him. But only after Hanamiya had given her a final piece of advice.

“We here at Kiridai operate on a two strikes system. You snitch a second time and you’re out.”

Both she and Judo-Man never showed up on the school grounds again. Rumours were rife. Some said that he’d gotten her pregnant and they’d run away from home together. Others said that she’d killed herself.

“But she didn’t”, says Seto now, “I met her, a few months ago. She was working at bookshop I had stopped by at. I didn’t recognise her at first, until she recognised me, and the look on her face made it easy to put a name to the face.”

“And you never did anything really bad to her,” Hara takes one final slurp of his drink, “I wonder what she’d think if she saw me.”

“Don’t go out of your way to find out. We did enough to her.”

“Yeah, yeah, live and let live. It was just a thought, that’s all.”

But it’d be interesting to see her again. Partially to see her expression, but mostly to see how he’d feel. Would it remind him of his violent youth, bring that that brilliant anger that encouraged itself onwards to excessive levels? Or has he matured now? Would he feel guilt? If she’s hot these days (only if she’s hot), maybe he’d even apologise.

“Where did you say you saw her again?”

Seto rolls his eyes. Hara cackles. He’s thinking that Hanamiya would love to get involved with a game like this.

--

part 4

#if you enjoyed this fic at all #please tell me what you thought of it :) #it's fun hearing people's thoughts #hara kazuya #seto kentaro #seto kentarou #furuhashi kojiro #furuhashi koujirou #yamazaki hiroshi #hanamiya makoto #matsumoto itsuki #manager #betrayal #x reader #reader insert #x fem!reader #knb #kuroko no basuke #kuroko no basuket #the basketball which kuroko plays #kiridai #kirisaki daichi scenarios #bullying #judo-man gets beaten up for no good reason #kirisaki daiichi #fanfic #older!au #angst

[prome-th3us]

Runes for beginners: introduction

In this grimoire I'm going to go through runes and their meaning in a way that is accessible to everyone. I'm gonna make a post for every rune so it's gonna be a long serie. I hope you will find this useful and if there's something unclear or wrong, please let me know!

I decided to avoid runes magic because I just want to help to get to know the runes a little better. Before practicing magic, you have to understand what this powerful tool is.

Introduction

Runes are not only a writing system, but they were also used as a magical, divinatory and spiritual growth tool. Rune (norse: rún/rúnar) means "segret, mistery". The characters used to engrave the rune, symbol of a certain energy in this world, were called runstafas (runic sticks).

They are an oracle and we can ask them to guide us: they work better if our question is specific and detailed. The lecture of Runes sometimes is obscure: the petitioner must interpret the details and understand them. Runes give us a way to analize the path we are on and to understand one of his possible outcomes: the future isn't static, we can change it with everything we do.

each rune has a phonetic value and a name that identifies its function and meaning; then it has a very specific history behind it and is associated with a diety.

Historical origins

I'm not gonna say much about the historical origins of the Runes because there are so many different theories about them and we could write an entire book just about this topic.

This is what you have to know:

the ancient futhark comes from the alphabet used by the Celts of Lugano (leoponzi) which has Greek origin. The Greek alphabet would have been absorbed by the Etruscans in the 12th century BC. and then by the Celts of Lugano in the VII. From here, thanks to trade, it would have arrived in the far north, with the necessary changes.

The Greek alphabet influenced the Gothic one and then the Germanic peoples adapted it (we can see how the Gothic alphabet is actually similar to both Greek and Runic, then the Othala rune resembles the Greek Omega).

it originated from the Roman alphabet, given the many relationships that different peoples entertained.

Mythological origin

"I know that I hung

On the wind-blasted tree

All of nights nine,

Pierced by my spear

And given to Odin,

Myself sacrificed to myself

On that pole

Of which none know

Where its roots run.

No aid I received,

Not even a sip from the horn.

Peering down,

I took up the runes –

Screaming I grasped them –

Then I fell back from there."

from the Old Norse poem Hávamál.

In Norse mythology, it's Odin who brought the Runes to the other gods. He wanted to know everything and he was envy of the Norns, who already knew them. He went to the Well of urd, the home of Runes, and since they reveal themselves to any but those who prove themselves worthy of such fearful insights and abilities, Odin hung himself from a branch of Yggdrasil, pierced himself with his spear, and peered downward into the waters below. He forbade any of the other gods to grant him the slightest aid. He survived in this state, teetering on the precipice that separates the living from the dead, for no less than nine days and nights. At the end of the ninth night, he at last perceived shapes in the depths: the runes. He's also lost his eyes for the wisdom.

Other important concepts

First of all, to truly understand how runes were used, you have to know at least a little of Norse mythology (I will tell you some books and links in the last paragraph). Then you have to understand what Orlog and Wyrd mean.

Orlog

This is basically karma but without reincarnation. Every person is born completely responsible for everything they do in their life since the first second: positive actions bring positive results, bad actions bring bad results, even in the afterlife. Who did positive things will go to Valhalla (where the heroes and the people who died in battle go) or to Sessrumnir (the halls of Freya). Who doesn't die in an honorable way or who did bad thing will go to Helheimr (the realm of Hel, this means that even who died in a normal way and who had a normal life will go there) or to Nilfheimr (the world of ice and cold, where the Ice Giants live).

Basically we decide where we are going with every choice we make.

Wyrd

A giant cobweb that extends in space and time: each thread is made up of a different manifestation of energy and all together it constitutes the very fabric of the universe. Since we are born, we are in some part of this web so we are also part of it.

Wyrd and Orlog are intertwined: who does good things and has a good Orlog, he will be on a good thread of the web. Wyrd is the fabric of life as well, so the world will be influenced by the positive energy of the man and will give him back this energy.

If each strand is a different manifestation of energy, each type of energy must have a name: the runes. In runic divination, what we see is a reflection of the energies in and around us (or around the person we are divining for). When we want to modify the Orlog, the process is different: we use the Runes as a channel for the energies that we need. We can say that the practice related to the runes is of two types: passive (divination) and active (healing, protection, etc ...).

Aettir of Runes

In the ancient futhark, there are 24 runes divided in three aettir (sing. aett, sets) of 8 runes each. Every aett is dedicated to a different diety:

Aett of Freya. She is of the Vani lineage and is therefore linked to fertility and harvest. She was welcomed with her twin brother Freyr in Asgard at the end of the war between the Aesir and the Vanir (basically the "wae" between the Norse people and the invaders). She can use the Runes, so she's a goddess of magic but also of love, associated with death (she is the leader of the Valkyries) and sexuality. The runes in this aett are: ᚠ ᚢ ᚦ ᚨ ᚱ ᚲ ᚷ ᚹ.

Aett of Heimdall. Of the Aesir lineage, he is among other things the guardian god of Bifrost and Asgard: he has hearing and sight that reach everywhere. Following a spell of Odin, he was born of nine waves and for this reason he is called "son of the wave". The runes in this aett are: ᚺ ᚾ ᛁ ᛃ ᛇ ᛈ ᛉ ᛊ.

Aett of Tyr. Of the Aesir lineage, he is known as the "Father of Heaven". He sacrificed one of his hands to be able to bind Fenrir and is a god linked to justice, loyalty, heaven, defense, war and law. The runes in this aett are: ᛏ ᛒ ᛖ ᛗ ᛚ ᛜ ᛞ ᛟ.

Last things

Ok so for this first post it's everything! I will continue in the next posts to explore every single rune. I just wanted to suggest some links and books if you want to go deeper into the fascinating history of runes.

Here you can find an interesting article about everything I just said, with so many references and here they also give a list of good books (if you can't afford them you can download their pdf from this site)

Anyway if you want to dig into norse mythology you can read:

Poetic Edda

Prose Edda

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman

Norse Mythology: A Guide to the Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs by John Lindow

(other good books can be found here).

And of course, if you still didn't realize this, I fricking love the website Norse Mythology for Smart People, even tho everything I wrote in this post is from "Le Rune" by Marco Massignan (I couldn't find the English Translation sorry).

#runes #viking runes #ancient runes #witchblr #norse heathen #norse paganism #norse runes #pagan witch

[savnofilter]

It’s Raining Cats and Dogs

Bakugo x 『FEM』Reader

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ(s): teasing, mutual pinning, unexpected kith,

ᴡᴄ: 1.2k [4 mins, 50 seconds].

ᴀ/ɴ: anyways, i tried to keep myself from spilling this, but it mustve been sus anyways. 😂 happy birthday, @midnightmoonkiss��� ! youre one of the most amazing babes i have ever met on here, and i thank you so much for being an amazing, funny, and kind person. whats the best way to celebrate than to do a request youve sent? >:) behehehe i hope this is good for you, thank you fuji!

p.s it takes place at university. 

"Shit." He muttered under his breath, looking out the window at how it looked outside. He hadn't expected that after his final class today that it'd be absolutely pouring outside. 

Bakugo made no move to immediately get up. It was just his luck that the only day he had classes done early that he'd be caught in the rain; by the looks of it, he was the only one stuck without an umbrella. Now, it wasn't like he couldn't handle getting a little bit of wet -- but THIS? 

It took almost everything in him not to make an uncharacteristic whine, not in the mood to walk to the dorms. He glared as the other students at the prestigious university walked as if it wasn't pouring outside. After worrying too much about the rain, Bakugo decided he no longer would dwell on the unfortunate weather. He stood up and aggressively shoved his class's contents into his book bag in a surprisingly neat manner. He slung the heavy bag over his shoulder, shuffling out the class hall and heading down the stairs to gather himself. He was hoping that he had a spare coat in his locker to at least aid his situation.

To his great discovery… he did not have a spare coat. 

Flashbacks of having to dry and untangle his hair from how tangled it got when it gets wet starting to get at him, the odd feeling of having his clothes stuck to his skin because of being drenched just was not a thought that did wonders for him-

“You good?” A voice calls out to him, making him whip around with a glare. 

“The hell does it matter to you?!” Katsuki pouted. You didn’t hide back the teasing smile that comes across your lips, tilting your head as you walk up to him, still space away from that you wouldn’t be in barking range of him.

“You forgot your coat again, didn’t you~?” You asked, already knowing the answer. You blinked a few times, purposefully keeping that annoying smile you do to piss him off. 

Bakugo didn’t hesitate to give you one of the hardest rolls of his eyes he had ever done, snatching the umbrella that you held right in front of your head. “Just shut up so we don't stay here any longer than we have to.” 

You giggled at the small blush that was starting to form on his cheeks, your stomach getting butterflies when he holds out his hand for you to hold, happily taking the opportunity to have any type of skinship with your best friend. You decided to keep quiet to not ruin the chances, managing to keep up the step with his fast pace. It was pretty relaxing. The campus functioned almost like its own little city and the sight of seeing unfortunate people suffer with what Bakugo almost had to deal with made you both giggle cruelly to yourselves.

Your stomach rumbled in hunger as you had realized you hadn’t eaten for the day. You squeezed his hand, peering at him the same way you do to give him the signal. See, you two had mutual gestures for each other that you guys accidentally developed. The small physical habits just become your language that also sometimes translate to your other friendships.

The hand squeeze meant that you were hungry, and admittedly he also was hungry. He huffed as he peeled his eyes away from the almost hard to see rain in front of him. 

“Curry?”

“I could enjoy that right about now.” 

So it was unanimous. Both of your footsteps shifted to the direction of the food courts and restaurants, muscle memory in full play. The time between you two seemed too quiet and you decided you should break the silence by annoying him once again.

“Y’know you never thanked me for saving your life-”

“My LIFE? I could save your life ten times over without even breaking a sweat, brat.” He let go of your hand to push you away. You shrieked as your shoulder caught a plentiful splash that bounced off the surface of your raincoat and managed to splash your face and your hair. He cackled at your shocked face, at least stopping to let you process his act of terrorism.

“The audacity -- while you have my umbrella!” You complained to him as you quickly got back under the umbrella and wiped away the excess water with a glare. “Now you owe me "thanks" and an apology!”

“I don��t owe you shit.” Katsuki grinned at your distress. With how well he could play off being completely in love with you he still couldn’t hold back the strong bump in his chest when he managed to tease you back the same way you did to him. Somehow, he got you to finish the rest of the walk to the restaurant you two had in mind, completely disregarding your fussing at how the water managed to splash under your coat as well. Bakugo had completely ignored you the whole way, the same smug look stayed on his face that he had moved you like this. You shut up once you realized he wasn’t listening, crossing your arms and standing in front of the doorway. He quirked a brow at your defiance, shoving his free hand that he used to hold yours in his pocket. 

“Move.”

“Not until you apologize.” His other brow joined in raising with the other, your stubbornness unmatched to your other stunts. 

“Mm… Nah.” Katsuki responds simply. The look on your face was priceless! Although he knew you were being a nuisance on purpose it was still nice to see you being the shocked one in the situation. You bit your lip, pressing your fingers together as you exasperatedly sighed with feigned sorrow. 

“I’m sure, Izuku, would.” You grinned immediately after you said it, stepping back as you let your words sink into his brain. You were half ready for the poor male to start barking at you in defense like he usually did. But to your surprise, he didn’t.

“I’m sorry, happy now?” He growled and grabbed your hand dragging you inside despite your lack-luster resistance. 

“Very.” 

Bakugo scoffs stepping in and closing the umbrella, avoiding the splash off and closing it. He looks up at you ready to make a proposition before he can't. More specifically he couldn’t because of the pressure against his lips. The feeling of your soft hands on his cheeks is what set reality in -- you were kissing him. Your lips were so right, and the touch of your hands on his cheeks was so… breathtaking. You pulled away before he could kiss back, your cheeks hot with a sheepish smile. 

He blinked a few times before straightening up and clearing his throat. “You have some nerve fuckin’ kissing me after making a joke like that.” He mutters. 

“I know.” Your hands interlocked once again, the grip was a little tighter than the other moments you two shared. You pulled the scarf upon your face, hiding your face as he guided you to a seat to set your things down for your impromptu brunch date. 

Rainy days weren’t always so bad when you were around.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo #bnha bakugo x reader #kacchan x reader #bnha kacchan #bnha kacchan x reader #mha bakugo x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #sav sfw

[eagles-translated]

Answering questions about Eagles 4x05–4x06 (Part 2) 🏒

Here's the second part of my compiled answers of the questions you guys have sent me about the latest two episodes! If you missed the first part, you can find it here. Enjoy!

I think Elias is in a terrible state of mind right now after dealing with the pressure of hockey and struggling with an untreated eating disorder.

While Elias definitely has been acting like an idiot and been incredibly rude to the people around him (who are also just trying to help), I think a lot of us are forgetting what having an eating disorder can actually do to someone. Not getting the nutrition that your body needs to function properly can definitely result in someone acting the way that Elias has been doing.

Elias in his regular state would never act in such a horrible way, so I'm pretty convinced that his behavior stems from an insane amount of pressure that he's put on himself and also his thoughts being all over the place from a mental disorder.

I hope we'll see Elias make it through his struggles and apologize to Amie (and other people around him who have tried to help only to be met with rude remarks), but with only four episodes left I wonder if that will be possible without having things feel rushed.

Merci beaucoup pour votre question !

I agree with you—I'm really missing the Elias and Amie moments a lot, so all these awkward glances between them is killing me. But I've also been preparing myself for them having to go through a rough patch.

A lot of us have a hard time understanding Elias right now. I think it's a combination of the eating disorder and the pressure of elite sports being difficult to understand as most people haven't experienced those things, but also because Elias's storyline hasn't been properly developed by the writers. We know that he's struggling right now, but there also seems to be missing details that were needed to sell the storyline.

I definitely understand what you mean when you say that you can't really understand how Elias is feeling towards Amie. He's pushed her aside and blamed her for "going behind his back" when she was only doing the right thing. I hope Elias will understand that soon.

Your disappointment is totally justified. I knew we would be getting some angst between Elias and Amie since, of course, they couldn't spend the whole season just being a happy couple.

But it's a completely different story when Elias is not only pushing Amie away, but also blaming her and thinking she betrayed him when Amie was just (rightfully) concerned about Elias.

It's really hard to understand where Elias is coming from with all this. I know it probably stems from the pressure he's under as well as his eating disorder, but I wish Elias would stop acting like what Amie did is unforgivable.

Same! I've loved all the little bits we've seen of Omar's documentary (as well as seeing him scare people away with his Eagles-branded camera). They should release a full version of his documentary lmao.

I think that Omar and Klara were never really meant to be a full-fledged romantic couple with a developed storyline, but rather just a fun side-plot. Someone speculated that Omar will be the one who takes Klara to the school prom so we might see them have some interaction there. They might even get together, but I don't think we'll see as much of their relationship as we would from Felicia/Ludde or Elias/Amie.

Maybe! I still have a hard time understanding how Second Sight became such a hit in the Eagles universe, but oh well. I guess there has to be something playing on the radio.

I was really proud of Amie for giving all the rights of the song to Ludde. That just goes to show how much she's grown since season 2 when she crossed his name off the contract.

I have mixed feelings about it. In the beginning I thought it was a really interesting storyline to do, and I was curious to finally see a male character have an eating disorder on TV (instead of the more common trope of having a female character struggling with eating).

The storyline was pretty promising but right now, with so few episodes left, I don't really know if we'll get a satisfying conclusion. It's hard to understand how Elias is feeling and this has caused a lot of viewers to be frustrated with his behavior towards the other characters (mostly Amie).

I have a hard time imagining how they will conclude the eating disorder storyline in such a short amount of time and on top of that get Elias and Amie back together (and on their way to the US, if that's even happening).

At first I interpreted the "bittersweet ending" comment to mean that Ludde and Felicia wouldn't end up together, but it could definitely mean that Andreas will die.

If they are indeed doing a timejump in the final episode, then Andreas might've died sometime during that time. They might do something with adult Ludde visiting Andreas' grave or something.

I hope that won't happen because I will ugly cry and that will not be pretty sight.

I'm sure that Elias still (truly, madly) deeply loves Amie. He's definitely mad at Amie after what she did, even if she was 100% in the right for doing so. But the love he has for her won't just fade away overnight.

So, to me, his silence was for dramatic effect. Maybe Elias stayed silent to think over Ludde's point, or he was simply just angry like you said.

Honestly, I don't know exactly how Felicia found out about Elias and Amie! I'm guessing that she simply picked up on the signs like Klara did.

You're 100% correct! I've mentioned it a few times in separate posts, because it's one of the storylines that I find to be the most unrealistic.

I wish I could say that the storyline has improved with the label trying to screw Amie over, but I have to say no. Their reason for doing it is still based on the idea that Amie is supposed to be a hugely successful and talented artist that they absolutely cannot lose (even though they must have other more established artists, surely), and I find that unrealistic.

Amie is a pretty mediocre artist with mediocre songs. None of her songs are as catchy as the characters in-universe are trying to convince us they are. I know this is a low-budget show and cranking out catchy hit songs definitely isn't an easy feat, but that's why they shouldn't have turned Amie into a successful pop star so fast.

#eagles svt #svt eagles #eaglesspoilers

[catrasredemption-moved]

Okay, so, I finally understand your answer but for my defense, I'm sort of stupid.

So, I have kind of two tiny idea. First one (you get it?) : what if somebody who didn't forgive Catra give her an extra hard time because she's pregnant ?

Second idea : what if she's hurt/sick/not feeling well but (habit die hard and) she tries to hide it until she can't?

Hope it give you inspiration, if not I Try!

Thank for the askfic you already write, I love it so much!!

You’re not stupid, and I sort of have an idea for the first one, so Imma go with the second. It got long so it goes under a read more lol.

Morning sickness, Catra scoffed as she slumped against the bathtub, groaning. Who fucking called it that.

To be fair, it was morning. Three-thirty-eight in the morning, to be precise. It hadn’t been morning five hours ago when her stomach had decide to reject everything inside of it, including the water Adora kept trying to give her.

The glass appeared in front of her now. She sighed as she took it, sipping carefully. “Go to bed, Adora. It’s late. Or early. Fuck if I know.”

“I’m not going to bed. You’re sick.”

“No, I’m pregnant. You already did the only thing you can do about that.”

Adora huffed. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. I also know you’re thinking can She-Ra help with morning sickness and we’re not trying it.” Now Adora was pouting. “Come on.” Catra pushed herself up wearily, steering Adora toward the door. “Let’s just get some...”

Nope. She whirled and dove for the toilet, drying heaving. At least the water was staying down this time.

It was another hour before Catra was finally able to get to bed, and even then, it was with a bucket next to her. They slept a little later, and Glimmer was forgiving, especially when she saw Catra.

“Maybe you should go home and relax.”

“I’m fine,” Catra said automatically. Old habits died hard, and she had never quite gotten over pushing herself as far as she could. Glimmer shook her head, but didn’t argue.

Adora somehow found time to deliver small, non-solid snacks and broth throughout the day. Catra appreciated it, but she also felt nauseous at the sight of some of them. They were tossed as soon as Glimmer wasn’t looking.

It was a relief to get back to the office Glimmer and Catra shared (not that there wasn’t plenty of room for Catra to have her own office, but Glimmer was dangerous if left alone with paperwork for more than five minutes).

Catra scrubbed her temples, trying to stave off the oncoming headache and grimacing. She hadn’t eaten in hours, and yet her stomach still seemed ready to flip with even the smallest trigger.

Doesn’t Perfuma have tea that helps with nausea? I should’ve asked. Maybe next time.

“What’d you think of those representatives from Averion?” Glimmer asked while they worked. On the one hand, being queen in a time of peace was awesome. On the other hand, she had to establish a whole universal network of contacts from planets that didn’t even know Etheria existed.

“The winged guys? They were all right. A little too eager to impress you. Someone shoulda told them it’s not hard to do that.” Glimmer balled up a piece of paper and threw it at Catra, who batted it away without looking. “I’m guessing we’re going to find another planet that hates Averion and both of them want to be on She-Ra’s good side.”

“And we’ll remind them we don’t take part in disputes between planets unless there’s a clear reason for stepping in.”

“How much does it hurt you to say we won’t get into a fight without a good reason?”

“So much.”

Catra snickered, daring to take a sip of water. That was okay. Her stomach didn’t seem to mind that.

“Uuuuuugh,” Glimmer groaned, shifting papers on her desk. “I think I left my tracker pad in the meeting room.”

“I’ll grab it. I need a break from all this anyway.”

The room spun as soon as Catra was on her feet. Blood rushed to her head; she sucked in a shallow breath, reaching for something to steady herself. Her desk should’ve been nearby, but her hand found nothing but air.

She thought she heard Glimmer calling her name, but everything around was muffled. Darkness slowly crept in on her vision, and her knees gave out. She was unconscious before she hit the floor. ------------------------------------ Adora didn’t break down the infirmary doors.

That, Glimmer thought, was a good show of self-restraint.

“Is she okay?” the blonde demanded, wild-eyed, looking around for someone to either reassure her or to take out her worries on. Glimmer put a gentle hand on her shoulder, squeezing.

“She’s fine. The healer’s with her now, we should be able to see her in a few.”

Adora turned to her, distraught. “What happened?”

“The healer said she’s probably dehydrated. Please breathe.”

Adora gritted her teeth, but did as she was told, still bouncing anxiously. It would be fine. Catra would be fine. Catra would-

The door to one of the rooms opened. She immediately rounded on the poor healer who had  taken Catra in. “Is she okay?!”

The healer took a step back, frightened. “She’s dehydrated, as I guessed. One of the older healers said magicats tend to be more prone to nausea during pregnancy, I would guess that has something to do with it. Someone in Mystacor might be able to help more, we’re not really equipped for magicats here.”

Glimmer made a note to fix that in the back of her head. “Can we see her?”

“Of course. I would suggest taking her home when the IV is done.”

Adora was already running through the door, so Glimmer nodded, smiling at the healer. “Thank you.”

Catra was stirring when Glimmer walked in, groaning faintly. Adora brushed her hair back, trying to smile for her wife.

“What...” Catra forced her eyes open, then narrowed them against the light of the room, then looked to the needle in the back of her hand. She’d had enough IVs (had worked herself into exhaustion enough) to know what it was. “What happened?”

“You’re an idiot,” Glimmer said simply. “The usual.”

“I’m not-”

“You should’ve stayed home and rested. Believe it or not, we can function without you for a day. And that’s way better than you forcing yourself to work and hurting yourself or the baby or both.”

Catra grimaced, looking at Adora. “She’s got a point.” She really hadn’t wanted to start an argument, and had backed off when Catra insisted she was fine and she could work. She should’ve fought her more about it. “Why don’t we stay here for the night? And we can go to Mystacor tomorrow to get a check-up and make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay, okay,” Catra muttered, dropping her head back on the pillow and closing her eyes. She knew Glimmer was right, even if she hated to admit it. If ever there was a time to unlearn bad Horde habits, this was it. The Horde had ruined enough of her life. 

She wasn’t going to let it take this from her as well.

#chloris orius #Sam Answers

[the-gravestone-saga]

All just depends on how you build up the situation. Painis is generally comic relief, but he is also a cannibal whose loyalties boil down to who gave him food and who hasn't. He can switch from someone who completely mauls someone for just stepping into his line of sight to slamming his face in the wall because moving is difficult for him.

Oh, no, I'm already aware of this. I was just pointing out that the process of writing The Gravestone Saga is pretty weird once you stop and think about the universe I'm writing in/what characters I use compared to the genre I'm writing in.

It's kinda like writing a creepypasta about Sonic or Mario; regardless of how scary it is, it's gonna turn out at least a little bit silly because that just comes with the territory.

I made sparring use of Painis in TDCoGM, but he mostly served as minor comic relief/as a tank when fighting Dr. Grave because he honestly didn't show up that much. Hell, Painis doesn't even show up at all in GftF and is only planned for cameo appearances in later installments.

This is largely the reason why the main cast across the entire Saga is made of up Freaks that, by and large, are capable of rational thought without much in the way of over-the-top ridiculousness.

I mean, look at the casting choices. CBS, CPS, Gentlespy, RED Spy, Spyper, Intelligent Heavy, Polite Spy, Ass Pancakes, Count Jester, and Chaos Kin. These are Freaks that are well known enough to be instantly recognizable to anyone with even a cursory experience with Freak Fortress, and they're "normal" enough to function in a semi-serious horror story without it feeling too out of place. And even then, Jester still sticks out like a sore thumb if you sat them next to the rest of the cast. It's just that their characterization isn't as overblown as similar characters of their archetype, so stressful situations are actually stressful to watch.

They're not like Pinkie Pie; her emotions are so overexaggerated that it's hard to take her seriously even when you should be taking her seriously. Jester, on the other hand, has just enough of a reserved reaction to things that when things do affect them, you actually feel for them.

Put simply: You can imagine Spyper in a life-threatening situation and it be genuinely stressful. Can't really do that with Stu Pidface or similar Freaks. They just don't work in this kind of environment unless the situation is specifically comedic.

This is, incidentally, why I describe The Gravestone Saga as a horror/comedy. That gives me a bit more wiggle room for this kind of thing because I knew going in that I'd have to make exceptions if I wanted to include certain Freaks.

#Freak fortress #team fortress 2

[iamstartraveller776]

Because I can't sleep: 3, 7, 8, 22 (for Roommate, if you're so inclined ;P).

Thank you as always, my dear @averbaldumpingground!

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

Anything that involves non-con or underage sex (even if both parties are underaged). I mean, I have written dub-con, usually by way of aggressive seduction. I have written about teens in romantic relationships, but making out is all you’re going to get from me if they’re not adults.

Other than that, I have tropes I don’t much care for, but if someone challenges me to write it, I may decide to give it a try.

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Oooh… Okay, so that’s actually from my Star Trek: Enterprise Mirror Universe epic (which, again, is not posted because the first installment in the trilogy is undergoing an overhaul). It’s the opening paragraph of a chapter of Dark Echoes, and even though it’s been years since I wrote it, I still love how the description turned out:

The bar was dark, dirty and smelled like the armpit of the galaxy. It wasn’t the worst place that Harris had met an operative—a vile tuq vo’Soj on Qo’noS held that honor—but this little dive, hidden in a corner on Jupiter Station, was hardly better. Starfleet grunts in grimy coveralls filled the dimly lit bar with loud conversation and bursts of laughter. Curvy waitresses, wearing little more than daggers, ferried drinks throughout the establishment, ignoring the catcalls and ass-slaps they received. The Emperor’s Keg was the kind of locale where a spy could conduct his business without watchful eyes.

Buuuut, if you want something from a story that’s actually available to read, it’d have to be the entirety of my Danger Ahead one shot. But here is a particularly favorite snippet from (because of description and lyrical words):

With a languid flick of his wrist, flames begin to lap at the corners of the shelves, leaching across the stacks until she stands in the center of a firestorm, roaring, crackling. She’s not afraid; this is an illusion despite the heat that makes her skin glisten with sweat. (Oh god, it’s so hot.) His mirages are not wispy two-dimensional images but visions that consume all of her senses. Touch, taste, scent, and sound as well as sight. She doesn’t want to know whether the trick is external or if he’s inside her mind, manipulating the currents between her neurons.

The library gives way to a broken landscape of obsidian. Steam blows upward in vaporous charcoal and tangerine puffs from chasms in the ground. No, not steam. Things. Beings. Indistinct and corporeal at once. They gather in a dance, frenetic in one blink, passive the next. Music comes from everywhere—the hiss of boiling air, the snap of fiery embers, the moan of shifting earth.

8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

This was both easy and hard to answer. Easy because some of the best dialogue I’ve ever written has been for Pertinacious Wills. The entire story is 90% a battle of wits between Lord Jareth Kingston and Miss Sarah Williams as they continue to be thrown together at social functions. The hard part is choosing which of their verbal fencing matches to share.

“But then if we were to forsake those traditions—those rules—society would fall into bedlam, wouldn’t it, Miss Williams?”

All heads snapped up at the derisive baritone of Lord Jareth. He stood in the shadowed corner, leaning against the wall with arms folded. He tilted his head as he stared at Sarah with piercing eyes, waiting for her response.

Chagrin settled over her as she returned his sharp gaze. Must he always bait her? “It would, perhaps, muddle the class system too greatly.”

“Which is why I say we do it at once,” said Edmund with a gleeful wringing of his hands. “Miss Ingleby, shall you and I be the first to break tradition?”

Elizabeth flushed a luminous red. “But we’d have to be in love first,” she said in a near whisper.

Edmund waved his hand, dismissing her remark. “Let’s not quibble over details.”

Luella laughed before turning her attention to Jareth. “How long have you been eavesdropping, dear brother?”

“From the moment you laid out the bleak tale of Miss Williams’s parentage.” He stepped forward out of the shadows. “It was really quite riveting. A sensible allegory on the folly of love.”

Sarah clenched her hands in indignation until her nails pressed painfully into her palms. “You speak as though it were a simple fable for children, comprised of imagined characters. These are my grandparents you mock—people who existed in this world, with heartache and joy the same as you and I.”

Jareth examined his glove as though her argument was hardly worth his notice. “Baldric was like an uncle to me. I knew him well, but a cautionary tale is a cautionary tale.”

Sarah rose from her seat, incensed by his callousness. “Are you never given to kindness, sir? Even for the dead?”

Jareth raised his eyes to hers, cold fire burning in their depths. “I am never given to dishonesty, Miss Williams—even for the dead. Do you deny but moments ago you admitted to only seeing tragedy in my sister’s narrative?”

“I do not deny it.”

“And are we to refrain from using the experiences of others to gain wisdom if they are not ‘imagined characters’?”

“No, of course not. But neither must we be so unfeeling when gaining that wisdom. You lack compassion even for a man you would name uncle, no matter what you may think of his choices. And that, milord, is what I cannot abide.” Sarah’s heart beat wildly in her chest as she issued her recrimination, but her chin was set despite her mounting fear that she had gone too far.

“I do so wish to applaud you, Miss Williams!” Edmund’s exclamation cut through the tension. “May I, without rankling your sensibilities?”

Jareth smirked, though fury still danced in his eyes. “By all means, Locksley, have at it.” He bowed at the waist toward Sarah during Edmund’s ovation, looking not at all pleased. “Miss Williams, I concede this round to you.”

(Whew-y. Is it just me, or is this turning into a loooong answer?)

22. Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

For Roommate? Hmmm. I have more than one writing style, specific to the type of story I’m writing, and I don’t know if my comedy style has changed much in the last several years. This one stumped me for an embarrassingly long time, but this is what I came up with. I chose the opening scene, since Blind Date (now the first chapter of the story) was previously a one shot, and it was the first real comedy I had written. I think the original is just fine, and I’m pretty sure this isn’t any better at all. But here we go anyway:

Sarah Williams slammed the door in the face of her blind date. It really was the only choice she had. The guy hadn’t even opened his mouth to offer a greeting, and thank god for that. Because she did not need to hear that familiar raspy, British-esque baritone to go along with the wild, wispy blond hair and those unmistakable mis-matched eyes.

This couldn’t be real. Her best friend couldn’t have actually set her up with the magical king who had made her suffer through a harrowing ten hours to win her brother from his dastardly clutches. How would Tracy even know him? This had to be a dream. It had to be.

Except the welt blossoming on her forearm where she’d pinched herself hard said otherwise.

No. No. This was all wrong. He couldn’t be here!

Heart thumping, Sarah dashed for her phone and dialed her traitorous friend. She was owed an explanation, dammit. “Come on. Come on,” she repeated through clenched teeth as the line seemed to ring forever. She ignored the tentative knock at the door.

“Hello!” Tracy’s chipper answered. Finally.

“Where did you find him!?” Sarah practically shouted. “How—”

“—the Pritchard residence. We can’t come to the phone right now…”

It was the answering machine. Sarah let out a string of curses. She nearly threw the receiver across the room.

“…message at the tone. Oh, and if this is Sarah, just go on the date already.”

Sarah yelled incoherently into the receiver and hung up. The knocked came again, and she was tempted to whip open the door and shriek, “You have no power over me!” Lest he forgot.

She was halfway there when the sheer ridiculousness of the situation struck her. Think, Sarah. If he had decided to come after you, would he really pose as your blind date? Had the Goblin King even been real? Or just a figment of her angsty teenage imagination? She sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly, then took another. She was a rational adult. She would open that door, and apologize for her bad manners, citing nervous anxiety or post-traumatic stress. And she was going to pretend her pulse wasn’t racing and her had wasn’t quaking as she reached for the handle.

She pasted on a smile and opened the door. “Hi!”

Thanks again! XD

Send me a number from this list, and I’ll happily answer!

#star replies #40 Questions #averbaldumpingground

[a-symphonic]

My Heart...

My heart beats for, beats for only you.

Is the heart in my chest the same one that was beating.. 15 years ago? Can I still claim to be the same person? Well if it is and I can, let me be the first to say I miss you. I miss you a lot. Who do I miss? I miss me.

I miss being free. I didn't know what being free was. I thought being free meant going to the cinema without having to ask anyone, or meet a friend without telling anyone where you're going. I thought it meant having money and being able to buy whatever you wanted. I thought it was about taking decisions for yourself and being in charge of your own life... except that isn't really what freedom is.

Freedom was being able to talk to anyone I wanted, without having to ask for permission. Being able to say what I wanted, to who I wanted. Being able to escape my life and enter another one, for however short a while, however many times I wanted, however many lives I could manage. Freedom was going to school and shutting out my entire life as I shut the car door. It was walking through the gates into what might as well be a new dimension. Freedom was being able to hide in plain sight. Being invisible to anyone I didn't want to be seen by. Freedom was sitting in the middle of the school ground, 100% oblivious of anything going on around me.

Freedom was coming home from university, going into my room and shutting my life outside the door. It was the feeling of being forgotten, needed by no one unless I needed them first. Freedom was being able to talk to someone completely unrelated to my life so I didn't have to complain, explain or refrain. Freedom was ESCAPE.

And now as I sit here, tied by the strings of my beautiful new life - the children, the house, the husband, the in-laws, the ideas of what I think a mother, an adult, or a person should function by - I feel like I can't move an inch. I have nowhere to go. I have no one I want to speak to about my life, because I want to say it and forget it. I don't want to draw, or write, or listen to music, or go for a walk, or meet a friend, or do whatever else I'm 'allowed' to do. I want to do what I'm not allowed to do - I want to escape and I want to disappear. I want to not be wanted, not be seen and not be asked for.

I want to be on a mountain top with you. I want to be behind the school with you. I want to be in my basement with you. I want to be in my sewing room. I want to be in my car on the motorway. I want to be sitting in an empty hallway waiting for no one. I want to be behind the soccer fields. I want to be on the terrace. I want to be in Central London, I want to be anywhere where I can be anywhere.

[cultindex]

Psychedelic Aliens - Meeting The Machine Elves

Our conscious personality is the iceberg tip of a multidimensional internal universe. The tip can't know much about what's happening in the exponentially larger netherspace - except sometimes as vague intuitions and the rise and fall of emotion.

Psychedelic excitation - like a D.M.T. trip - brings tip and base into contact temporarily. It's a profound connection and almost everyone has a similar experience. The trip brings us into contact with transcendent beings. We meet what seem to be intelligent aliens. According to our feeling of what's right and what's just an altered state, these beings are independent, conscious and 100% real.

But it's all an illusion, isn't it?

These aliens aren't real creatures from the stars, are they?

It can't be possible to psychedelic trip all the way to the multiverse Gaia, surely?

Well...

It's not an illusion.

The trip-induced communion with alien intelligence is authentic, in a way. The familiarity most feel, when it happens, is not misplaced. Psilocybin, however it's sourced, creates similar psychotropic conditions for anyone taking it and folk stories about the third eye - the psychic transcendent eye - strike at a biochemical truth.

The third eye is a remnant of our lizard brain, manifest in modern humans as the pineal gland. The pineal is the regulator of dreams and recent research links it to the production of natural dimethyltryptamine. Psilocybin is another.

Opening the third or pineal eye may not be creating a portal to another galaxy - or any phenomenon that defies the laws of physics - but it is opening portals into regions of the mind impossible to reach otherwise. It's this revelation giving a route to the encounter with aliens.

The psychedelic communion with alien intelligence is authentic.

Transcendent visuals are symbolic - usually metaphorical - but this isn't the same as illusions. Fundamental truth is generally under many layers of easy to parse into limbic experience but the mind has imagination for its toolkit and a palette as diverse as all memory.

Nowadays this means the communion is presented as aliens in the universe. Religious minded meditators often see God and angels in heaven. Yoga practitioners perceive Atman and Buddhist mandala. African animists meet ancestral spirits. Amazonian ayahuaska shaman might speak to ghosts and dryads.

The sights and sounds vary but the meta of the encounter is common to all.

None of these concept embodiments are quite on point.

It would be more apt to call the strange entities MACHINE ELVES.

In reality, the machine elves are autonomous shards of intelligence - fractals of sentient autonomy - whose existence is entirely inside your brain's enclosed altconscious. Let's be clear: inside your brain, nowhere else.

The machine elves are of your brain, by your brain. But they are not you. They are distinct networks of synopses and neurons and axioms, tangled into complex consciousness patterns. In essence the machine elves are made of the same cellstuff as you.

The machine elves are sentient though these neurological entities are variously developed, from personality abortions to living homunculi all the way to the scintillating machine elves themselves. In many cases the altconscious entities will inhabit your brain as long as you do, though without voice or agency. Indeed, their hold on existence is entirely dependant on you and how well you keep body and mind together.

The machine elves share your brain but their life (such as it is) is ringfenced inside a separated space, disarmed, shackled; exiled behind neurological walls. The absolute separation between "you" and the machine elves is the denouement of a ubiquitous Darwinian battle, a survival of the fittest we've all fought and won; though like all the other early life struggles, it doesn't carry over into memory.

CIVIL WAR IN PINEALSPACE

The conscious "you" - the person reading or listening to these words - was the sole survivor of a defining civil war for brain-domination, fought out in the crucible of natural selection before your earliest memory. The battle was winner takes all, contested entirely in your unfinished brain and the victorious alpha-identity (you) gained control of nascent executive function. This means command of mind and body, entrusted with the task of survival; going forth and multiplying.

The machine elves were not so lucky. All the proto-sentient fractals, from stone baby to autonomous rival, were ultimately casualties of neurological war. Some - early fatalities and less developed homunculi - were recycled early by your brain. Others, more evolved, more capable, were mulched into your rapidly expanding subconscious.

Many, however, didn't succumb to termination. Their self-awareness had evolved to be ingrained with self-preservation and, though beaten, could only be subdued, separated from your dominant identity for life. No appeal. No hope of parole.

These fully-formed loci of sentient identity are the machine elves and though they have been silenced and (except in certain mental illness) locked out of interfering with your dominant autonomy, the homunculus tangle of neurons must "live" - a lifespan in decades - in a disconnected headspace. This might explain why the "aliens" are so universally welcoming and attentive, when psilocybin allows you to visit.

The persona fractals - and you - are born from the same zygote fertility. Homunculus to self-aware machine elves, whatever the endpoint of their particular development, these sentient prototypes are more than brothers and sisters. Though casualties on the Darwinian battlefield they are all iterations of personality that may, under different conditions, have become you.

Had a few variables of innumerable possible factors been slightly different it might have been you enclosed in the altconscious voidspace - alive but formless, adrift in an existence impossible to know.

For all we know the psilocybin not only lets the dominant personality travel into the void but brings the first limbic light and sound to the isolated machine elves. This would certainly be a catalyst for the flood of emotions the psychedelic encounter sets loose.

PRISONERS OF THE ALTCONSCIOUS AZKHABAN

Welcome, then, to the prisoners of your mind. Not trapped in a physical body but in a timeless, non-spatial void created and buried by your brain.

Homunculus personae locked away in a deep altconscious lanaikea, sentient ouroborous playing out a concurrent existence, bound by the arrow of time but suspended non-physical, bizarre instances of fecund neurogenesis - like the living ocean-planet of Stanislav Lem's Solaris - perpetually separated by your mind's virtually infinite paraspace.

These heterogeneous altconscious homunculi are the losers in the Darwinian psyche, earlier attempts at intelligence, weaker personality experiments superseded by superior neurological offspring.

#altconscious #pinealspace

[duanecbrooks]

The Return Of Girls Gone Write     Further unmistakable evidence that women, by and large, are the superior writers: the former George W. Bush press secretary and current Fox News host Dana Perino's my-life-with-my-dog-Jasper memoir Let Me Tell You About Jasper...: How My Best Friend Became America's Dog and the large-screen sprite Anna Kendrick's personal/professional memoir Scrappy Little Nobody. These two books are, frankly, flat-out joys to read, the former being a frequently warmhearted, often humorous, always heartfelt telling of her life and experiences with her pet dog Jasper, who, as she convincingly claims, has become the real and true star of the Perino family; the latter being an engaging, sprightly, consistently witty literary self-examination of one of the modern-day American cinema's most succulent and most appealing chicks. To partake of these tomes consecutively, both from beginning to end, is to spend quality time with a pair of delightfully quirky, keenly aware, firmly articulate she-babes who, each in her own way, have a marvelous sense of proportion, a marvelous refusal to see themselves as having any kind of Greatness.             Before getting into just exactly why these superb books are superb, allow me to go into how I first became aware of Kendrick (If you'll remember, Perino first came into my life via her first-rate within-the-George W. Bush-administration memoir And The Good News Is...: Lessons and Advice from the Bright Side). Kendrick caught my attention, as do many other other folks and things these days, via YouTube. Specifically, first, during a compilation of Kathie Lee/Hoda's "best" Today "celebrity moments," wherein, when Kendrick was asked whether or not she'd like to play a game, she facetiously mimicked Nader and replied mock-earnestly: "No! I hate games! I hate fun, I hate laughing!" (Later, she was shown doing some mock-dirty dancing with said girls); second, during a trailer for one of Kendrick's more recent theatrical films, namely Get A Job, the aforementioned trailer's two highlights, for me, being 1) this scene where Kendrick's filmic character, Jillian by name, is sitting on the floor lamenting the fact that she spent almost all of the money she had on a BITCHIIN' pair of shoes, while clad in a pair of equally bangin' black toreador pants that, given her sitting position, magnificently show off her magnificently long, lean legs and her magnificently-proportioned bare feet; and 2) a long shot of Kendrick adorned in a man's white shirt and tie and black high heels and again displaying those stylishly long, lean legs. Thus I was already primed, due to being previously turned on by Kendrick, to favor her tome.             It's here where I'll deal with the highlights of both books, the places where our memoirists especially grab ahold of and, simultaneously, charm and delight us.               .Perino, on the vast network of fans/friends that has developed due to her having Jasper: "It is a bit wonderful that through television and social media, Jasper and I became friends with so many people across the country. I enjoy interacting with my followers and fans, and I really feel that we have modern-day friendships--people I've never met, but that I've come to know over time through short digital interactions. It has widened my circle of people I talk to, and it's deepened my appreciation for people from all walks of life. I now get a chance to communicate with people I wouldn't have ever known; the Internet has given us a way to connect and network that didn't exist before. We're all neighbors now (with the proper amount of fencing to keep things friendly).               "Often this new group of people has cheered me up or warmed my heart just when I needed it. Working in politics and live cable television can be stressful, and switching off at the end of the day isn't always easy. Jasper's following has actually given me a way to set aside the work portion of my day and exchange some messages with my electronic friends, which helps me keep grounded and cheerful."                 .Kendrick, on her brother Mike: "My brother is my hero. I've idolized him since the day I was born and I still do. He's responsible for at least sixty percent of my personality, for better or worse. I'm told that if you're an only child, you grow up thinking you're the center of the universe, and if you have tons of siblings you grow up with a healthy perspective on how small you are in the grand scheme of things. I'd like to think that my brother told me I was a worthless brat often enough that I got the same effect...     "Mike's main interests [when we were kids] were watching Star Wars, playing Magic: The Gathering, and avoiding his annoying little sister. The only time he happily included me was when he wanted to play 'Pro Wrestling Champions,' as I was an ideal partner on which to inflict moderate injury."           .Perino, on Jasper's television debut: "Jasper made his debut on The Five [Perino's Fox News political talk show] as a sleepy puppy at just two months old, and a star was born. I brought him on set and when we were back from commercial break, I showed him off for the camera. He looked right into the lens with his deep blue eyes (a Vizsla [Jasper's breed] is born with blue eyes that eventually turn amber). He snuggled into me. Hearts melted.             "Jasper has tons of personality and is as photogenic as any dog I've known. On Jasper's birthday, my [The Five] producer lets him come on the show and he sits on a chair, for the most part, wearing a bow tie collar, and you would think he knows exactly what he's doing when he looks into the teleprompter. He's certainly better behaved than [Five co-host Greg] Gutfield."             .Kendrick, on her early period as an actor: "Starting in theater gave me a basic work ethic that I may not have gotten if I started in film and television. I worked six days a week, eight shows a week (two shows on Wednesdays and Saturdays, Mondays off). It wasn't so much the schedule--I worked in accordance with child labor laws--it was that I was held accountable for my work.             "Once, during rehearsals, our director was playing with the shape of a musical number that involved most of the cast--which jokes should stay, where they should go, etc. He decided to try reinstituting a small joke I'd had in a previous draft, and we started the number again from the top. I lost where we were in the music and I opened my mouth to say the line, a measure too late. He was already shaking his head and signaling the pianist to stop.             "'Anna just lost a line. Let's go back to how it was before and start again.'"         .Perino, on her period as W.'s press secretary: "[B]ecoming the White House press secretary was the best thing that ever happened to my career. I learned so much--about policy, world affairs, management, and politics.             "But the most important lesson I learned working for President Bush was about character and how to conduct myself under stress and attack. I found out how to be productive despite obstacles, and appreciated how a communicator can help calm a situation, advance a negotiation, or lead to a solution.               "The press secretary is the pinnacle for a public relations professional--it was the opportunity of a lifetime.                 "But having worked in politics for so many years, I'd built up a fairly tough exterior. The daily battles can wear a person out, and in some ways, I became edgier and harder than I'd ever been.         "It was also a lofty position, and the surest way you can lose your way in Washington, D.C., is to let any of that power or prestige go to your head.             "Throughout those years [first dog] Henry kept me from losing sight of what was important in life: appreciation and gratitude for my health and blessings, and the love I shared with [hubby] Peter and our dog."     .Kendrick, on her early life as a struggling actor: "The next pilot season [for television series] was starting up, which meant I was usually sent on one to four auditions a day. I discovered MapQuest and wrote down directions by hand since I didn't have a printer. Between that and my growing knowledge of the city, I was only getting lost, like, six times a day. Pilot season is grim because you're sent in for everything, no matter how wrong you are for it. I kept a mountain of clothes and accessories in my trunk so I could go from the fourteen-year-old goth daughter on a TNT drama to the spoiled twenty-two-year-old receptionist on a workplace comedy. It's obvious now that splitting my focus made it responsible for me to do well on any of them, but I was in no position to turn down auditions.               "How do I describe my personal life during this time? I met funny, interesting people. I went to art galleries downtown, I performed a one-woman show for free on the street corner. Except none of that's true. I spent most of my time trying to find ways to occupy myself without spending money or ingesting calories."                     .Perino, on what she terms Jasper's "protest pee": "When I wrote And the Good News Is... I received a lot of gifts for Jasper, including an embroidered quilt with the Great Seal of the United States. It is beautiful and functional. [Peter and I] take it with us to our friends' homes if we are invited to stay the night, because, well, you try telling Jasper he can't sleep on the bed. With the quilt, we're covered. Literally and figuratively.                   "When we're at our place in South Carolina, leaving him in the house is even more stressful. For a while, whenever we'd go out, we'd come home and find that he'd peed on the floor. As soon as we'd walk in, we'd know something happened, because Jasper would grab a toy as he always does, but instead of frantic joy and butt wagging, his tail would be down and he'd look guilty. It was hard to discipline him because you're supposed to catch them in the act. [Hubby] Peter would get pretty made at Jasper, and I'd feel terrible.                 "'He's so scared to be left alone,' I'd say.           "'No, he's being a brat,' Peter responded."                   .Kendrick, on behavior at showbiz events: "There's a campaign called #AskHerMore, which was started by some thoughtful, intelligent females (Lena Dunham, Reese Witherspoon, Shondra Rimes, etc.). It aims to ensure that when women attend events, they are asked about more than their dresses. Men don't answer questions about their clothes; why should we [women]? A simple and understandable request.                 "However, if people could ask me less, that would be great. I would love it if we could limit my red carpet topics to my favorite colors, what sound a duck makes, and my thoughts on McDonald's All-Day Breakfast--blessing or curse?"                 Also: Nearly the final half of Perino's book consists of various @FiveFanPhotoshops pictures that very humorously show Jasper in a collection of quite colorful poses--Jasper painting a portrait of Perino's former boss, W.; Jasper as a race-car driver; Jasper and Perino involved in the Kentucky Derby with the latter on top of the former, et al. And Kendrick's tome closes with a "Bonus Reading Group Guide," wherein there are "a few questions to help you get the most out of your reading experience."(As an addend, Kendrick wittily 1] apologizes for the "fact" that her "Guide" offers no red meat for those of us who "happen to run a trashy celebrity news blog that requires you to peruse the content of privileged cretins like me"; and 2] gives us permission to "use these questions [in the "Guide"] as a template for creating misleading but juicy headlines." She winds up by, also wittily, summing up what she, so she claims, is conveying: "[F]amous white girls are really fun to be mad at") Among the queries asked in the "Guide":                                        .."Though every page of Scrappy Little Nobody is perfect in every                           way, which part is your favorite? Make a list (it can be a Post-it that                           says, 'Every part is my favorite') and tape it to your chest for the rest                                 of the day."                                        .."When Anna compares Zac Efron to Charles Manson, is she making                                 a joke or trying to warn us about a potential murderous mastermind?"                                .."In the sections about Alexa Chung and Olivia Palermo, the author                           viciously maligns two innocent and very fashionable girls. Is Anna a                           shady, basic bitch, or the shadiest, basic-est bitch?"                                       .."Anna makes a lot of bad decisions. Can you think of a time when                                 you've made a bad decision? Oh wow, really? We're gonna pretend                                   you can't think of a single example? YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER                             THAN ME?!"             And thus there are the books of Dana Perino and Anna Kendrick, the former being a greatly stylish, consistently witty, always loving paean to a dog who is not only a beloved pet but, as Perino very convincingly limns, one of the most well-known and well-regarded personalities in America (easily, happily, well above and beyond any yammering about "animal rights"); the latter being an engagingly lively, undeniably honest, unrelievedly funny self-portrait of a celebrity gal who is obviously on the sides of life and living, whose unflinchingly upbeat, never-say-die attitude comes through in literally every paragraph.                 In the much-lauded theatrical film The Magic of Belle Isle, the single Mom Charlotte O'Neill (Virginia Madsen), during an evening dinner with her daughters and that evening's guest, the renowned Western novelist Monte Wildhorn (Morgan Freeman), asserted: "I've always felt that a book does something no friend could: Stay quiet when you want to think." To partake of the Perino and Kendrick tomes as they "[s]tay quiet" is to have you "wanting to think" about them--always favorably and, very often, with unsheathed laughter.

#women #superior writers #Dana Perino #Let Me Tell You About Jasper... #anna kendrick #scrappy little nobody #pet dog #jasper #and the good news is... #youtube #get a job #the five #AskHerMore #@FiveFanPhotoshops #the magic of belle isle #Virginia Madsen #Morgan Freeman #unsheathed laughter