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thyme-in-a-bubble · 3 months
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the twinkle lights
lilac, chapter fifteen
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a/n: yes that is lorelai gilmore in that moodboard and yes that scene those are screenshots from is partly the inspo for this chapter.
summary: “Yeah, sorry, it’s just a bit chaotic right now. The last of the guests just arrived and I haven’t even had time to go up and change yet. I’m still in fucking jeans.” 
warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, wedding, alcohol consumption (not by reader though), fluffy phone call
word count: 2049
∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽
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As yet another heavy sigh flowed from your lips, you tried to force your tense shoulders to relax as you felt the steam, from the coffee cup centimetres away from your mouth, kiss your weary features. 
Hidden away in the corner of the inn’s kitchen, you sat slumped on a small stool, the one usually tended for reaching the stuff in the upper cabinets. But just as you took your next sip, keeping it small so as to draw out the eventual emptiness and the fate that came with it, the doors swung open and in burst the rotund visage of Donna, all done up from the bottom of her clacking heals to the peals hanging low from around her neck.  
“What’s up, sluts!” her booming voice caused your father to jump and the piping bag in his grasp to nearly slip, though the entrance didn’t affect the sheriff who leaned against the far counter. His gaze stayed directed out the window where rows of foldout chairs were half set up. The remaining bubbles in Donna’s slender, lipstick-stained glass sloshed around as her eyes beheld the towering cake standing on the central worktable. And like a child, the inebriated woman couldn’t keep her fingers to herself as she reached out and swiped her finger through one of the swirly flowers piped around the tiers, “uh! Yum!”
But before she could bring the treat up to her lips, Harvey’s hand tapped over hers as he snapped, “no! Don’t you even dare!” raising up a finger and waving it in her face as he warned, “I have been working on this all week and I will not let you ruin it the last second!”
“Urgh, Harv, you’re so uptight, darling,” she rolled her eyes then held out her champagne flute, “here, why don’t you have a little glass of bubbly to calm your nerves?”
“Donna, just–,” you could almost make out the steam that spewed out of his ears, “get out of my kitchen! The rest of the night you’re not allowed in here or else–… or else…” he rapidly lost all of his gumption as he struggled and improvised a threat, “I’ll–… I’ll have Otto arrest you!”
Clearly not paying attention at all, Otto finally turned to face the rest as he overheard his name, “huh?” he raised his cosmopolitan up to his lips and took a small sip, “did you just say something about me?”
“Hah,” Donna laughed condescendingly, “sure he is, honey,” muttering as she sashayed around the kitchen table, “that’s funny… Otto, arrest me, his best friend of nearly 40 years, that’s–, oh!” her murmuring came to a screeching halt as she rounded the cake and your obscured figure came into her field of vision, “Y/n! There you are, you naughty, naughty girl! I heard a scrumptious little rumour that you were swapping saliva with a certain lumberjack in the Lilac Inn’s very own lobby just a few days ago… so, tell me, is he as great as I’d imagine?”
Exhaling lowly, you didn’t have the energy to humour her, “I thought you said you’d help with the decorations.” 
“Oh, I persuaded a few of the groomsmen to finish up the final touches for me.”
“You–, okay, alright, sure…” you begrudgingly took the last drink of your coffee and set it down on the table, “I give up.”
Turning to the small-town sheriff and causing her party dress to swoosh in the process, Donna smirked, “hey, did you see the groom’s uncle? The bald one? I heard he’s recently divorced… you wanna go hunt him down?”
With the hand not clutching his pink drink, Otto linked arms with Donna and said, “sure, why not,” before the eccentric duo disappeared out the side door that led into the garden.
With now only yourself and your father remaining in the kitchen, you puffed out a long exhale before pulling yourself up to your feet, the soles aching slightly from how much you’d been running around. 
“You alright, pumpkin?” Harvey lifted his gaze from his crouched position next to the tall dessert, bending over so close that his moustache nearly touched it as he kept a close eye on the whimsical patterns he slowly decorated on the white wedding cake. 
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you sighed, patting his shoulder gently as you passed, “just wish I had time for a longer break… wish me luck.”
“Good luck!” he called after you before you pushed the doors to the dining room open. 
The wall of noise hit you at once as you exited the kitchen, like running straight into a brick building. It was like a storm of music and loud conversations all throughout the packed inn. Willing your fists to unclench, you tried to prolong the purposely deep breaths you’d focused on just minutes before. 
Casting your glance out the tall windows, you spotted a few men, half in their suits, the jackets thrown off and the cuffs rolled up, stringing up twinkle lights from one tree to another. Swiftly, your gaze travelled further down and zeroed in on the set tables before you, across the neatly folded napkins and the various names on the place cards, one of the centrepieces especially caught your tense eye. Because of the immense stress you were already enduring, the slight askew nature of the vase, of both white and pastel purple lilacs you’d cut just this morning, made you feel as if drawing in a proper breath was the most difficult thing in the world.
Rushing to adjust it, even if it was just an inch, it still managed to bring a minuscule bubble of peace to your mind, sadly one that swiftly burst when two kids stormed through the room, one of them waving a sear piece of white cloth of his head. Promptly discerning what precisely it was they were playing with, you caught them right before they managed to rush back out of there. 
“Wow!” you held them by the shoulders and kneeled down to be at their level, “hey, you two,” you tried your hardest to lighten your tone, “you mind giving that veil to me?” 
“No, it’s mine!” the small boy clutched it to his chest. 
“Okay, uhm,” you sighed, trying not to lose your patience in front of these children, come off as some scary fairy-tale witch and make them cry, “how about you give me this so that I can return it to Emma and then I tell you where the secret, magic swing is?” 
“A magic swing?” the slightly taller girl’s eyes grew wide, “where?”
“It’s gonna cost you if you wanna know,” you held out your hand.
“Hmm,” the young boy squinted his eyes a moment before he cracked, “fine,” and gave you the veil, “where is it?”
“Behind the gazebo and in the direction of the pond,” you straightened back up and folded the accessories gently, “right there’s a huge tree with a swing on it.”
As they scurried off as fast as their little feet could take them, you turned and marched out into the lobby with your eye set on the grand staircase, but before your hand even reached the bannister, a frazzled man stopped you. 
“Hey, miss?” however just as he called for you, the sound of your ringtone buzzed in your pocket, “miss?” 
Fishing out your phone and not looking at the ID, you picked it up and briefly spoke into it, “hold on,” before twisting it away from your lips and turning to the mousy-looking man, “yes?”
Holding up a crisp white shirt, he pointed to one of the cuffs, “one of my buttons fell off and I–“
“Okay, hang on one second, I’ll find you a sewing kit. I just need to return this to the bride first,” you held up the veil.
“Alright, thanks,” he nodded and backed off into the sitting room to the side.
Beginning your ascend of the stairs, you turned your haphazard attention back to the phone, “hello?”
“Y/n?” Frank’s deep timbre flowed from the phone and seeped into your very core, “is this a bad time?”
Passing a few rowdy bridesmaids on the steps, they nearly bumped into you and caused you not to comprehend a single one of the words Frank had just said, “what?”
“I asked if this is a bad time,” he repeated as you reached the top of the steps, but as you did, the shrill wail of a baby, cradled in its mother’s arms, pierced your very soul. 
“I–, uhm, what?” you whipped your head around and spotted the hall closet off to the side, “I’m sorry, just one second,” and rushed to duck into it. The thin wall didn’t manage to drown out all of the noise, but it did get quiet enough for you to finally hear yourself think again. Switching on the dull lightbulb, “fuck…” you let yourself slide down the length of the door till you sat on the floor, “there,” you exhaled slowly, “hi, now I can hear you. What’s up?”
“Are you alright over there?”
“Yeah, sorry, it’s just a bit chaotic right now,” resting the veil in your lap, you stretched out your legs, “the last of the guests just arrived and I haven’t even had time to go up and change yet. I’m still in fucking jeans.” 
“Sweetheart, it’s you,” his smile shined clear through in his low voice, “you could easily pull off wearing jeans to a wedding if you’d like.”
Feeling the corners of your lips gently tug upwards at his words, you breathed out, “so, did you just call to talk about the fact that I’m still in jeans and not the jaw-dropping green dress I got, or was there something else you wanted?”
“I just called to check in, see how you were holding up, but also to make sure you’re still up for tonight.”
Letting your spine rest back against the door, you shared, “honestly, the thought of going over to yours as soon as this is all over and they don’t need me anymore is the only thing getting me through the day without having a fucking meltdown…”
Letting a low sigh flow from his lips, you heard him ask, “you sure you don’t need me to get over there?”
“You’re sweet, but no, it’s alright,” you smiled, your fingers gently fiddling with the veil, “actually, it’s probably good that you’re not here. With the way Donna’s already enjoying herself with the champagne, you might end up as her next husband before the couple says I do.”
“Oh,” he swiftly mirrored the laugh that bubbled out of you, “well in that case.”
After the chuckling had died back down, you tried your best to sink into the quiet completely and enjoy the fleeting pause his phone call had granted you. 
After the moment of comfortable silence had come to a close, Frank’s voice flowed from the phone once more, “So, tell me,” the playful nature in his tone was still blatantly clear for you to pick up on, “just how jaw-dropping is that dress of yours?”
“Well,” you bit down on our grin, “I won’t be able to wear a bra with the kind of neckline that it has… and with the way that it falls on me, I might not be able to wear underwear as well,” that wasn’t true in the slightest, but he didn’t have to know if you’d slipped them off before you even put the dress on or mere moments before stepping out of the car to see him. The thought of him imagining you without them the entire night was far too enthralling not to entertain, “would be such a shame if the dress got ruined by distracting lines, wouldn’t it?”
As you heard him puff out a gravelly breath, “fuck me…sweetheart, you’re killing me here…” you simply giggled in return, “uhm, when was it again that you’ll be done?”
“Not completely sure, some time after dinner properly. I’ll send you a text when I head out.”
 “Alright.”
“You want me to try and steal some cake with me? We might need a snack a little later…”
“Oh, yeah?” he chuckled, “you planning on working up an appetite, are you?”
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© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 
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ozwriterchick · 6 months
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A Joe Burrow Story...
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A/Note: My first RPF, well the first I've published. I normally write Marvel (Steve, Bucky, Sam) but decided to try my hand at something a little different.
I hope you like it, if you do, please like, reblog and leave me some feedback (kindly would be appreciated..)
Fic inspired by @burreaux-drys - thank you for your amazing writing, even if it is "all over the place"
I do not own the characters in this story except the OFC/OC characters mentioned.
I do not give permission for my work to be copied, translated or in any other way taken/stolen.
Characters: Joe Burrow; OFC!Reader; OC!Readers Best Friend; Mentions of other Bengal players; OC Bengal team members (kind of)
Warnings: Mentions of stalking; Shy reader; Police; that's about it except Joe Burrow I think deserves his own warning (in a good way); Not Beta'd so any mistakes are my own
W/C: 2748
Reader’s pov
I watched the players on the field, easily singling out the one I’d come to see.  It really wasn’t that difficult, he stood out with his mop of dirty blonde hair and the number 9 on his jersey.
My eyes roved down his body to his slim but manly hips and back up again to his broad shoulders, made even broader by the padding in his practice uniform.
He was looking good, but again, he always did, especially to me.  I’ve been in love with him for a while, always from afar, and he had no idea.  Maybe today would be the day I’d get up enough gumption to actually tell him.
This was a closed practice, but that never stopped me before.  There were plenty of ways to sneak into Paycor stadium, even when it was on lockdown, if you knew what you were doing.  And I did.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I took my attention away from practice to check.
BFF: Where are you? I’m at your place
Me: Oh, I’m out running errands, sorry.
BFF: Tell the truth, you’re at practice ogling J again aren’t you?
Me: Maybe.. Maybe not.. I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation
BFF: Well then, I’ll join you, I need to see me some Sam.
Me: It’s almost over and it’s a closed practice today, so you won’t be able to get in.
BFF: Closed practice?
BFF: They don’t let anyone into closed practices, how did.. You know what, I dno’t want to know.  Let me know when you’re home. Unless you and J are doing something after practice
Me: Will do. Love you xx
BFF: Love you too xx
As you slipped your phone back into your pocket you realised that practice was over for the day.  You slunk back into the shadows as a couple of the players and officials looked up towards where you had been sitting.  Regardless of anything else, you shouldn’t have been there and you didn’t really want to get caught and banned.
Making your way back to your car you see a line of fans waiting for the players to come out of training.  You chuckle to yourself that they clearly don’t know the tricks that you did.
For a moment you contemplate joining them, you have something you want to give to Joe, but decide maybe next time would be a better option and you jump into the car and head home.
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Later that day.. Back at Paycor Stadium - Joe’s pov
I have a stalker.  There’s no getting around it any more.
I’m sitting in Coach’s office with the cops and Zac, admitting for the first time that somebody is stalking me.  I knew it all along really, but just didn’t want to admit the ’s’ word to myself.  I figured it was just an overzealous fan and that it would be ok.
Things were left on my car at training, when I was at the gym, even when I was at the grocery store but today, I couldn’t ignore it any longer.
After practice I signed some autographs and took some pictures with the fans who’d j for me.  I love my fans and I love interacting with them - for the most part.  Every fan group has those ones who are a bit.. umm, crazier than others.  Fans that would do anything to get closer to their idols.  Not that I consider myself an idol, but I know with my position and public persona, that I’m as much a likely target for the crazies as anyone else.
“So, Joe” the Detective said “Tell us exactly what happened today to make you finally call us”
“Well, I left training and headed to the grocery store.  While I was there, I took a couple of pictures with some fans, nothing major.  When I came out to my car, there were flowers on the hood and something under the windscreen wipers.”
“And this is what was under the wipers?” The Detective asked, holding up the piece of paper that had been on my window.
I nodded, and continued.  “I didn’t really think a lot of it, I just grabbed the flowers and the note and tossed them into the front seat.  Once I got home though, I wasn’t quite so sure this was an innocent interaction.”
“And why do you say that?  Joe, if we are going to find this and make sure nothing happens, we need every piece of information you have.”
“Of course detective.  Well, I got home and parked in my garage and as I got out of the car, something just felt off.  The door between the garage and the house was open but I swear I closed it before I left.  I kinda shrugged it off at first, thinking maybe my Mum had been around, or the cleaner had come even though they weren’t due for a couple of days.”
“But that wasn’t the case?”
“Well, no, once I got inside I realised some things had been moved around and then I saw the note on my kitchen bench.”
“And this is the note you found inside your house?”
I couldn’t bring myself to look at it or read it again so I just nodded and looked down at my hands in my lap.
“Joe, we need to get ahead of this” Coach said. “Detective, do you think we should do a press conference and alert the public to keep an eye out?  I’m sure this person has been around training/practice and the stadium, probably coming to game days when we play here.”
“Let’s just wait it out for now, we don’t want to scare the stalker off and not be able to find them, or worse, have them escalate their behaviour into something dangerous.”
I feel like all I can do is nod, once again.  I just never pictured myself in this situation.
There was a knock on Zac’s office door and one of the admin staff came in with a folder and handed it to Zac, whispering something to him.  I saw his eyes go wide and then he looked down at the folder.
“Ummm, detective, we may have some more information that could shed some light on this case.  We video every practice/training session and these are some stills from today’s practice that might be very interesting.”
Zac hands the folder to the detective as I sit up a bit straighter in my chair, curious about what they could have found from today’s video, given it was a closed practice, meaning nobody was able to come in and watch.
The detective opened the folder and examined the pictures closely and then handed them to me.
“What am I looking at?” I asked.
“Apparently someone was in the bleachers today during practice.  Detective, this was a closed practice today which means that this person has snuck in and possibly could be the person you are looking for.”
I peered closer at the photos.  They were grainy, a bit blurry, you couldn’t really see who it was.  It did look like a female but who could really tell.  I’m sure the police had ways of making the image a bit sharper and maybe getting some identifying details.
The police thanked Zac and I and made their way out with suggestions to beef up my security at home and at the stadium and to also be very aware of my surroundings at all times.  They didn’t think, if this person who snuck into practice today was my stalker that they posed too much danger, but you never know.
I sat for a bit longer with Zac, talking out what was happening because the only other people I could talk to at the moment were my family and my teammates and I didn’t really want to worry either group until we knew more.
On the way home, I rang my security company who agreed to schedule more regular patrols around and near my place and also to ramp up the security footage around the outside of my home.
I hated that I have to do this but I guess my safety should be number one to me and I know my Mum would kill me if she knew about this and I didn’t take these extra precautions.  It all just felt so limiting.
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1 week later - Reader’s pov
I haven’t been back to Paycor.  Almost getting caught in the stadium made me back off a little bit, I didn’t want to get into trouble and be banned from practice or games in general.
I’d been following Joe and the Bengals activity on social media but it just felt so impersonal, that I was itching to get back to practice.  Actually Joe didn’t seem very active on socials the past week and most of the Bengals feed had focused on Tee, Sam and a few of the other players.  All great players but Joe was their franchise player, the top QB in the league and they should be showcasing him whenever they can.
It made me wonder what had happened in the last week.  
After I left training I headed to the grocery store to get some supplies, as my best friend was coming over after work that night for a movie night.  As I was leaving I saw Joe entering the store.  I knew he shopped here but I had never actually run into him and I just smiled at him as I walked out of the store to my car.
He has a very distinctive car and it was parked next to mine so I took a moment to admire it before I loaded my bags into the back seat and headed home again.
Later that night when my friend arrived she had some very interesting news.
“Girl, Joe Burrow has a stalker!”
“What?  I mean, how do you know this?”
“I heard some of the detectives at work today talking about it.  Apparently someone left some things on his car at the grocery store this afternoon and after he got home, someone had broken into his house and left him some kind of note - I don’t know what it said but they are beefing up security at his house.  This is huge.”
“Why haven’t they said anything about it though?”
“Well, they probably don’t want the person escalating to even more dangerous behaviour, although they may be too late for that if whoever it is has already been inside his actual house.”
That conversation has stayed with me, to be honest.  I couldn’t imagine how scared Joe must have been to go to the police about it all.
Today I was heading back to practice.  This one was open but I thought I’d stay in the background anyway, amongst the other fans and not up front like I usually try to be.  Fate, as it seemed, had other plans.
As practice was finishing, a surge in the people there pushed me towards the side of the crowd, closer to where the players exited the field.  As Joe walked past he looked at me and smiled and did a double take.  Did he recognise me?  Is he curious of who I am?
I decided to make a quiet retreat and wait outside for him and hopefully get the balls to talk to him, or give him the gift I had for him.
A few of the players dribbled out of the stadium towards their cars, all stopping to sign autographs and take pictures with the fans.  
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Joe’s pov
I walked out of the stadium towards my car and it always fascinates me how many people stay after practice to talk to, take photos with and get autographs from the players.  I still struggle to understand that some of them are here exclusively to see me.  
Given recent events however, it makes me more cautious as well, and I hate that because I love giving back to my fans.
As I went along the line of fans, I saw one at the back who looked kind of familiar.  I waved her over and said “Do I know you, you look very familiar?”
“Oh, umm, you don’t know me” she said quite shyly. “We bumped into each other at the grocery store last week.”
“Oh yeah, well it’s nice to meet you, did you want a picture?”
“Uh, sure” she replied and got her phone out.
We took a couple of selfies and then she quietly said “I have something for you” and as she reached into her bag I got really nervous.  Maybe this was my stalker.  Now that I think of it, she’s at training a lot, and yes I did see her at my grocery store just before that stuff was on my car.
I nervously looked around for security and mumbled some excuse about forgetting something and sprinted back into the stadium and straight to Zac’s office.
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Reader’s pov
I can’t believe it, I finally got the time, opportunity and guts to talk to Joe and he ran off.  I started to put the drawing I’d done of him back in my backpack when I looked up and saw security coming towards me.
I quickly walked towards my car and managed to get in and drive away before they got to me.  I hope they didn’t catch my licence plate and haul me in for questioning.  Just my luck I’d get in trouble because of an innocent meeting at the grocery store.
Maybe this was my sign to just find a new hobby?
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Another week later - Joe’s pov
Once again, I’m sitting in Coach’s office with the detectives who this time have some good news.
“We’ve made an arrest” the detective told us.
I breathed a sigh of relief that this was over “That was quick, how did you get a break so fast?”
“Well, it all came down to the fans.  Those at practice helped us out with some info, and your observations also  gave us some insight.  We tracked the person down and an arrest was made this morning.  We have some pretty tight proof, so you may not even have to testify, but if you do, we can probably put them away for a few years.  At the least, you can get a restraining order that prevents them from coming near your house, or the stadium, or generally within about 500metres of wherever you are.”
“Thanks detective, I'm so relieved” I said.  “Did they happen to say why they did it?”
“Just a big fan, a bit lonely and wanted to be closer to you but just went about it the wrong way.  Kinda feel sorry for them, but you know, we can’t let emotion into it, otherwise we’d never catch anyone.”
“Well, thanks again detective” Zac said “We are more than grateful for your speedy resolution to this issue.”
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1 year later - Reader’s pov
I walked into the lounge room and smiled, I couldn’t believe I was here.  The misunderstanding from 12 months ago led to a beautiful friendship between me and Joe.  I got over all my nerves with him and we were now able to laugh and joke about the situation.
The police did clock my licence plate that day at training, and they did come to my house and question me about the stalking.  I didn’t hold anything against Joe for thinking it could be me, I was awkward and nervous and shy whenever he was around and he obviously just didn’t see my vulnerability.
But at the next training session, he saw me again and came to talk to me.  He asked me if he and I could have a conversation over coffee, so we went and he told me they’d arrested his stalker and he apologised profusely for thinking it could be me.
He said that when I’d told him I had something for him and reached into my bag, he freaked out and just left.
I laughed and told him that I’d drawn him a picture and I’d love for him to have it if he wanted it.
We chatted for a while longer and then went separate ways.  We’d swapped numbers so that I could arrange to give him the picture and we ended up texting back and forth most days.
I’m not sure if anything will come of this but a good friendship but you never know…
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Your tags on the 'whose smarter' poll made me flashback to that episode of DoB. Final ep, I think, Cast Out prt 2? And anyway it literally ends with Snotlout (disobeying Hiccup) and acting recklessly with his plan. Hiccup tells him "You proved sometimes recklessness can be courageous" and I just remember being like "THIS from the kid who took on the Red Death on one dragon with a flammable tail fin. Like the similarity/hypocrisy got me--when Hiccup went after the Red Death he was a hero.
I love this. It's really about framing. The HTTYD series provides us certain narrative perceptions, lenses, by which they have us view the characters. Going outside the lenses to look at characters's actions more objectively, and there's that... bias... haha, yeah!
Hiccup constantly doing reckless things is treated as more permissible by the show's framework. His reckless and/or impulsive decisions are treated as gutsy, genius solutions rather than haybrained schemes. And Hiccup tends to be rewarded for those wild plans narratively by having those succeed.
Even though Hiccup gets semi-called out on unnecessary recklessness in RTTE - like testing a flight suit - it's portrayed narratively to viewers as humorous rather than flaws to learn from (as per Snotlout). And when Hiccup makes mistakes, the narrative treats feedback from "equals" like Astrid or people in greater authority like Stoick as what we viewers should care most about. It's not that Ruffnut, Tuffnut, or Snotlout lack feedback about Hiccup's decisions, but it's not treated as criticially. We're not "meant" to reflect on it, most of the time.
"You just proved sometimes recklessness can be courageous" is so much a part of Hiccup's choices that the phrase could be etched on his tombstone. But it's Snotlout taking a moment of gumption that's called out as so risky it's potentially "dumb." And frankly, across the entirety of DreamWorks Dragons, Snotlout brings up many points of prudent caution.
There's a hierarchy the narrative gives us - Hiccup the leader, Astrid and Fishlegs as "more competent" members of the group, and the twins and Snotlout as "less competent" members of the group (our comedic relief). The narrative wants us to sometimes treat this as a gang of equals, especially by RTTE, but the way conversations and situations get presented, solved, and saved means that this internalized hierarchy never leaves. That means that who the audience members take most seriously gets impacted.
I mean, as you said yourself, it's Snotlout disobeying Hiccup - a word that carries authority, as Hiccup is the leader of the Dragon Club during the early DreamWorks Dragons series. In HTTYD and HTTYD 2, Hiccup disobeying Stoick, while ultimately resulting in good ends, also carries consequences. Hiccup disobeying Stoick resulted in the village nearly getting killed. Hiccup disobeying Stoick brought Drago's attention onto them. But by the TV series, I think Hiccup's disobedience is usually seen as a good (by my shoddy memory), but Snotlout's disobedience is seen as him not being "as good as" Hiccup - but is that actually, objectively the case, outside the show's framing?
I don't have the Freaktastic Knowledge I did in ye olde days of analysis where I could list off three hundred specific examples to prove my points, but this is my memory impressions of the series. Snotlout balks at Hiccup's plans lots of the time - and he doesn't not have a point. In another series, Snotlout would be correctly identifying three hundred things that could go wrong, might have gone wrong, or will actually, in fact, go wrong. But Snotlout as a comedic relief character, and then a defiant character opposing Hiccup the Hero who comes up with the correct plan because he's got protagonist armor... means sometimes Snotlout's legitimate points get lost to viewers.
There's a reason why, even now, ROB's Defiant One's conversation between Hiccup and Snotlout still resonates clearly in my memories.
Snotlout: Oh, you are so smug! Hiccup: Me? Snotlout: Hiccup's so smart! Hiccup's so brave! He killed the Red Death! He trained the dragons! He's got the metal leg! Hiccup: Metal leg? That's what's bothering you? That's where you're going? Metal leg? Snotlout: No! It's everything the leg is attached to!
Snotlout made mistakes in Defiant One. Let's not forget that context. But while Snotlout yelling at Hiccup can be read as Snotlout not being "as good as" our hero Hiccup who saves the day... it strikes me because it shows the imbalance of treatment between Snotlout and Hiccup. "Everything the leg is attached to" is the prioritization of Hiccup and - by this point - Hiccup expecting to be prioritized.
Actually listening to Snotlout is a fantastic way to experience the TV series. He's bitter. He's grumpy. He's defiant. He's downer. But that's because he sees holes. He has a **PRACTICAL** side that butts heads with Hiccup. I'm someone whose thinking processes are similar to Snotlout - it's easier to shoot down a solution for its mistakes than come up with a new one - but it's an important role to have. In an actually existing friendship group, you need someone who's down to earth enough to make sure your out-of-the-box thinking friend (Hiccup) doesn't come up with something so wild it's not really going to work. We need an intelligence that sees holes. Otherwise, we start floating off into things that won't work as we expect them to, or adopting ideas that haven't been tested with robustness.
Snotlout's a legitimately smart guy. The fact that Astrid and the others shoot him down is partially because of his character, partially because sometimes he can be a dummy (as can we all), but partially because of their own flaws. Listen more to Snotlout, y'all. Some of Hiccup's plans work because Luck.
Similarly, we can talk about the framing of Fishlegs spewing facts (treated as providing information) versus the Thorstons spewing facts (treated as a novelty quirk rather than intelligence). Just because the Thorstons do it in a dorkier, more trollish matter does not negate the fact that they are BRIMMING, purely BRIMMING, with an ENORMOUS amount of factual knowledge! Does Fishlegs actually have more factual knowledge than them? No, it's just a different area. He's got concentrated knowledge on dragons. They've got in depth, niche knowledge of a large variety of topics. Fishlegs, Ruff, and Tuff are all dang smart.
From a meta standpoint, the twins's intelligence is treated inconsistently. But I prefer me my smart Thorstons who just have spacey heads, trollish senses of humor, and thrillseeking behavior.
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talkingtea · 2 years
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Answering the question the other anon asked the guy interviewing Eric seems to be a great one. I was listening ladies with gumption podcast and he sent feedback where he talked about not liking the episodes without Candice, not liking this arc in general and that he probably wouldn't watch the show without her and that they are being weird this season. I hope this comes through in the interview. LWG girls also vouched for him. It might be promising.
That’s good to know.
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mtreebeardiles · 2 years
Text
Trials & Tribulations, Prologue
Some pre-ME1 Evvy for this fine wednesday. 
Full piece on AO3
----
A sharp salute and gray eyes meeting his own before training on the wall over his shoulder were all David Anderson had to work with for a first impression. 
 He'd read about the kid, of course, reports public and not-so-public, an interest kept on the periphery. Feathers ruffled, deals made, but it was from Kahlee that he'd first heard about Everett Shepard. 
 "Second exposure case, very rare." Quiet hums over glasses of wine, and it didn't matter that dinner was had clusters apart. Stolen moments were what you made of them. "He was supposed to enroll in the joint classes we've developed with the Alliance, for latecomers who've already enlisted."
 "'Supposed to?'"
 "He refused."
 Seeing the young man face to face, noting the stubborn set to his jaw, the distrust in those eyes, he could believe he'd've had the gumption to turn the opportunity down. 
 He just wasn't sure why. 
 "Have a seat, Commander," Anderson said, gesturing to the chair across from his on the other side of the desk. Not his desk, not his office, but serviceable enough. There was a fraction of hesitation, a tension in the young man's shoulders, and Anderson could only guess at the numerous reasons why that may have been. Perching on the edge of the chair, rigid, and Anderson thought it was a mix of things. Nerves, fear. A fair amount of confusion. 
 "I've heard some impressive things about you," the Captain went on, tapping a datapad to life. Shepard's file flicked onto the screen, along with Anderson's own notes. 
 A glance up, wary eyes on his a moment before they slid away. "Thank you, sir." Quiet, but firm. If he had better control over his body language, Anderson thought as he sat back in his seat, even he would have a hard time getting a read on him. 
 "Moved up the ranks at a steady rate since enlisting at eighteen," Anderson said, flicking through the data. "Positive feedback, for the most part. A few altercations…" 
 Shepard's mouth tightened into a thin line, and Anderson caught the bob of his Adam's apple as the young man swallowed. 
 "…but overall, your service so far has been exemplary. I understand you have a hearing in June?"
 A tongue flicked out to lick at bitten lips, but the man's voice was steady as he murmured, "Yes, sir."
 "We could have it sooner, if you like." 
 That got a more substantial reaction, those eyes shifting to lock with his again. 
 "Kid's got eyes like ice." A shake of the head and a derisive snort, but Anderson was patient. "Spooky. Skilled, though, so no real complaints, Captain."
 'Unsettling' was another word he'd heard used to describe the young man before him. Cold. He could see it, but there was more -- a fragility along hardened edges, a desperation carved into chapped lips, a weight too big for those narrow shoulders and he was barely in his twenties. Eyes that had already seen so much, a body that had already been through so much, but this wasn't a cold-blooded soldier sitting across from him. Anderson was sure of it.
 "We couldn't confirm much, but a good portion of his pay goes towards a 'P. Shepard,' back in New York. No relation so far as we can tell, just the last name connection. Seems clean, but the kid can clearly hack and encrypt."
 How old were you, Everett Shepard, Anderson thought as he considered him. When you started supporting another person? What has it cost you?
 What else are you willing to pay?
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kamreadsandrecs · 8 months
Text
By Elisabeth Egan
Consider the books that lived in the classrooms of your youth. Didn’t it seem like those stories materialized as if by magic, complete with illustrations, a title and a sturdy hardcover? There wasn’t a lot of discussion about how a book arrived in the world, or the arduous creative process behind every collection of words on a page — not just the ones lucky enough to snag an ISBN.
Dave Eggers is working to disrupt this dynamic (although he wouldn’t use the word “disrupt” in such a context). In 2017, the author of “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius,” “The Circle” and “Zeitoun” — among many others — was working on a middle grade book, “The Lifters,” when he started talking with his editor Taylor Norman and fellow author Mac Barnett about how to involve kids in the creation of books written for them.
“We had the idea to try to collapse the space between young readers and publishers and authors and give them a peek behind the curtain and let them see manuscripts in progress,” Eggers said in a phone interview. “We started cooking up this idea of showing students or classes written manuscripts and saying, ‘What do you think?’ To show them the process as it went along.”
And so the Young Editors Project was born. It works like this: The program matches an author with a classroom of students who are roughly the target audience for a particular work. The writer might pose specific questions — for instance, Eggers said, “I’d like to know if you think there’s enough foxes in this book” — and the kids provide feedback.
“Most writers that participate get all these very sweet, exclamation-filled notes from classes and students all over the world,” Eggers said. “Every so often they might say something that is very astute and might provoke a rethinking of a page or a sentence.”
Or, as Lemony Snicket put it in his endorsement on the project’s website, “At long last, writers can get free advice from strangers without approaching them in the street.”
The YEP proposes several ways for authors to thank budding reviewers for their input, including acknowledgment by name in the final product (another word Eggers wouldn’t use in relation to literature).
Lo and behold, in his new book, “The Eyes and the Impossible,” which debuted at No. 2 on the middle grade hardcover list, Eggers thanks a slew of early readers hailing from the United States, England, Australia and Canada.
Presumably, this crew learned a valuable lesson while evaluating Eggers’s drafts: Pros need help too. “We’re always telling students that every author goes through 10 or 12 drafts,” Eggers said. “It’s always a process, no matter how many books you’ve written. A lot of writers think if their first draft isn’t perfect, then they’re not a good writer.”
In fact, with enough gumption, they might see their own name on the spine of a book someday.

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kammartinez · 9 months
Text
By Elisabeth Egan
Consider the books that lived in the classrooms of your youth. Didn’t it seem like those stories materialized as if by magic, complete with illustrations, a title and a sturdy hardcover? There wasn’t a lot of discussion about how a book arrived in the world, or the arduous creative process behind every collection of words on a page — not just the ones lucky enough to snag an ISBN.
Dave Eggers is working to disrupt this dynamic (although he wouldn’t use the word “disrupt” in such a context). In 2017, the author of “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius,” “The Circle” and “Zeitoun” — among many others — was working on a middle grade book, “The Lifters,” when he started talking with his editor Taylor Norman and fellow author Mac Barnett about how to involve kids in the creation of books written for them.
“We had the idea to try to collapse the space between young readers and publishers and authors and give them a peek behind the curtain and let them see manuscripts in progress,” Eggers said in a phone interview. “We started cooking up this idea of showing students or classes written manuscripts and saying, ‘What do you think?’ To show them the process as it went along.”
And so the Young Editors Project was born. It works like this: The program matches an author with a classroom of students who are roughly the target audience for a particular work. The writer might pose specific questions — for instance, Eggers said, “I’d like to know if you think there’s enough foxes in this book” — and the kids provide feedback.
“Most writers that participate get all these very sweet, exclamation-filled notes from classes and students all over the world,” Eggers said. “Every so often they might say something that is very astute and might provoke a rethinking of a page or a sentence.”
Or, as Lemony Snicket put it in his endorsement on the project’s website, “At long last, writers can get free advice from strangers without approaching them in the street.”
The YEP proposes several ways for authors to thank budding reviewers for their input, including acknowledgment by name in the final product (another word Eggers wouldn’t use in relation to literature).
Lo and behold, in his new book, “The Eyes and the Impossible,” which debuted at No. 2 on the middle grade hardcover list, Eggers thanks a slew of early readers hailing from the United States, England, Australia and Canada.
Presumably, this crew learned a valuable lesson while evaluating Eggers’s drafts: Pros need help too. “We’re always telling students that every author goes through 10 or 12 drafts,” Eggers said. “It’s always a process, no matter how many books you’ve written. A lot of writers think if their first draft isn’t perfect, then they’re not a good writer.”
In fact, with enough gumption, they might see their own name on the spine of a book someday.
0 notes
atmymercy · 2 years
Note
Hello! Hope you are well 🐞
Can you please describe my future spouse? R ♎️sun
hello r! i am doing well! thank you for the kind thought.
for you, i got the strength, 7 of coins (reversed) & the knight of swords (reversed).
your future spouse is somebody who looks like a grumpy. you know what i mean? like grumpy from snow white. they're going to be a person who is prone to frowning or looking like they're having a bad time, even though they are probably having a perfectly normal day and secretly a sweetheart! lol it's just the face or vibe they give off naturally. and in all reality, they totally have the strength and gumption to get anything done as long as they put their mind to it. watch them move mountains if they so choose! though i have to admit they will have days where they won't have that same drive and their motivation will drop. they always overcome it but sometimes their thoughts are too harsh on themselves and that's really too bad. thankfully they have that strength that always pulls them through! they're a keeper! lol
hope you enjoyed it! please give feedback or buy me a coffee when you can! if you want to explore this further, please consider a private read as well. also thank you for sharing with me!♡
love & light!
-tea
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as always, my rules & info are in my pinned post if you're interested in a reading of your own!
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brandmeat67 · 2 years
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The expertise of Intralesional Fluorouracil Pertaining to Orbital Vascular Defects
The following, we all show metastatic lymph node Sixty four (MLN64, STARD3) as well as oxysterol-binding protein-related proteins 1L (ORP1L) determine 2 subpopulations regarding Ce. MLN64 is found on a that contains your cholesterol transporter ABCA3, whereas ORP1L localizes to a different populace involving Ce made up of Niemann Pick type C1 (NPC1), any cholesterol levels exporter. Endocytosed cargo goes through MLN64/ABCA3-positive chambers before that grows to ORP1L/NPC1-positive The. The MLN64/ABCA3 pockets #Link# period among Ce as well as lcd tissue layer and frequently contact "later" ORP1L/NPC1-containing . We advise a couple of stages associated with cholestrerol levels dealing with at the end of endosomal pockets: 1st, cholesterol makes its way into MLN64/AB-CA3-positive chambers in which it can be recycled on the lcd membrane layer, and then #Link# , cholestrerol levels gets into ORP1L/NPC1 endosomes that will mediate cholesterol levels upload towards the endoplasmic reticulum.The mRNA translational management protein, Musashi, takes on an important function inside mobile or portable destiny dedication by means of sequence-specific interactions together with pick targeted mRNAs. In growing come cells, Musashi exerts repression involving targeted mRNAs in promoting mobile period advancement. During originate mobile differentiation, Musashi focus on mRNAs are usually #Link# de-repressed as well as converted. Just lately, we've got documented an necessary requirement for Musashi for you to one on one translational activation regarding goal mRNAs through Xenopus oocyte meiotic mobile or portable period advancement. Inspite of the significance about Musashi throughout mobile or portable routine regulation, just a few target mRNAs have been fully characterized. Within this research, we all document your identification and also portrayal of your brand new Musashi focus on mRNA within Xenopus oocytes. Many of us demonstrate that progesterone-stimulated translational service with the Xenopus Musashi1 mRNA can be controlled by having a practical Musashi binding component (MBE) within the Musashi1 mRNA 3' untranslated place (3' UTR). Mutational trouble of the MBE stopped translational account activation associated with Musashi1 mRNA and its particular connection using Musashi necessary protein. Additional, avoidance of Musashi purpose via microinjection involving inhibitory antisense oligonucleotides stopped progesterone-induced polyadenylation along with translation with the endogenous Musashi1 mRNA. As a result, Xenopus Musashi healthy proteins manage language translation in the Musashi1 mRNA throughout oocyte growth. Our own benefits indicate that the structure regarding sequential and also reliant mRNA translational handle applications associated with leading progression via meiosis are usually strengthened by simply an intricate compilation of nested, good feedback coils, which includes Musashi mRNA translational autoregulation. These types of autoregulatory good opinions coils will boost a poor initiating signal right into a strong commitment for that oocyte to progress from the cell cycle and become qualified for conception.Mol. Reprod. Dev. 79: 553-563, Next year. (Chemical) Next year Wiley Newspapers, Corporation.Techniques. CONAART (Consorcio Argentino de Artritis Temprana : Argentine Range regarding Early Rheumatoid arthritis) can be an gumption associated with several rheumatology centres around Argentina. People have been included whenever they had a minumum of one or maybe more swollen joint parts and also < 2 years regarding illness length. Interpersonal, market, comfortable, hereditary, medical and laboratory files had been recollected. In the beginning visit every calendar year, X-rays involving extremities were performed and traits as well as pharmaco-economic files had been re-collected. Results. A total of 413 sufferers were provided.
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valeriemperez · 3 years
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Soooo, at what point do we stop giving Funko the benefit of the doubt and consider the possibility that they don't want to make Iris because she's Black?
Which isn't to say that they've never made Black characters. Obviously, they have. But at this point they seem to have a habit of leaving noteworthy characters of color (WOC, in particular) out when they make some of these lines. It's starting to look suspicious as hell to me, tbh.
I’m DEFINITELY side-eyeing the hell out of them. I actually talked to some Funko employees about it a few years back at SDCC, and they promised it wasn’t up to them and they would make Iris specifically if they could because of the high demand for her. They said the reason they couldn’t was Warner Bros. not releasing/signing over the rights to make her yet, which is... Such a stupid choice to me. 
If I take them at their word, then that means WB is still planning something “bigger” - like maybe they were waiting for the movie because they thought two Irises wouldn’t sell, but it’s still based in racist thinking. They continue to underestimate Iris’ popularity and power, even as they change parts of their entire model thanks to her.
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hxmosuperior · 3 years
Note
for the silm ask meme, 14, 17, 19, 21, 22, 23, and 24?
14. Saddest moment in The Silmarillion?
Fingon's death, I think, cause you have the sense that they are trying so damn hard to prevail against Morgoth, his cry when greeting Turgon's troops is "Behold, the day is come!", and then he dies, and it's like, idk not to get fake deep but the hope of the Noldor sort of dies with him, he's the Valiant one, the one who long before Beren and Luthien has already snuck into Morgoth's lair and took back what was dear to him, really the closing out on an age of Kings (Turgon didn't have authority outside Gondolin, and Gil's Kingship didn't come really to full potential till the Second Age), "and death was his reward" for his bravery, his estel, so to speak.
17. Are you glad the Last Battle isn’t in the published Silmarillion?
Yeah, I prefer it without because it feels more "living" without it? Because we already have the Doom of Mandos that shadows over the entire book; the Second Prophecy of the End of Days feels too limiting, as if everyone's actions will have to fall to that inevitable conclusion, but if it were only alluded to and not included in full, it makes it feel as though it gives more interpretations more room to breathe and stuff.
19. You get to save one character from dying. What would they do instead?
I would save Feanor probably, because I feel like he's very much a person who seeks to defy fate, and if he were still alive, I feel as though it would definitely change the sociopolitical landscape of Beleriand drastically. He would be on the front lines (and his sons would likely serve as his lieutenants). His paranoia is likely a big snarl to work through, but I feel like Fingolfin's crossing the Ice would assuage that fear of his somewhat, as it proves that those who crossed have enough gumption or devotion (even if they only wished to rule their own lands or confront him, they still willingly damned themselves by the decree of Mandos for it).
As for the High Kingship, it'll likely be a reversal of the canon Silm, with Feanor as High King but the Nolofinweans and Arafinweans doing their own thing, so long as it doesn't oppose Feanor's own mission. Maedhros is likely the diplomat in this situation, which is definitely going to be an overtime job. I feel like his presence might even be enough to offset the potential Thingol intended with a Quenya ban, as he is notably very much a stubborn linguist, though there's likely less reason this time around for the Arafinweans to keep the Kinslaying a secret from Thingol, and the ban might be enacted even earlier if only because the secret was revealed out of their spite for Feanor.
It might even lead to full-blown conflict between the Sindar and the Noldor, but on a characterization level, I feel as though the Nolofinweans and Arafinweans would have caught more of their deserved culpability this time around. The Arafinweans would have to acknowledge they were willing to follow the person who killed their mother's kin into exile (and use the boats that Feanor procured through Kinslaying). Likewise, it's possible the Nolofinweans would have to confront their own role in escalating the Kinslaying (iirc, the Feanorians were pushed back twice by the Teleri when they tried to steal the ships; not until the Nolofinweans joined the battle did it become a full-on Kinslaying.) It's hard to scapegoat a man who's still alive, and ready and willing to vehemently defend himself after all.
Political issues with the Sindar aside, one thing's for sure though, Feanor would absolutely adore the dwarves, and like Curufin and Caranthir, would definitely learn Khuzdul even if he acts like a nerd without social graces meeting the Dwarven lords. As for humans, they do possess a distinct lack of reverence for the Valar as Feanor himself does, and I think he would feel some degree of connection for them to that extent, especially considering his views of death as something of permanence due to Miriel's death, even if philosophical conversations might end up devolving into sort of a mutual feedback loop affirming the flaws of the Valar.
I think another main difference is probably in what happens during the Siege, as it is mentioned that the Bragollach occurred after the Noldor grew complacent. I feel as though Feanor would have been far more proactive, even the appearance of Glaurung might be pretext for him to push for full-on invading Angband, or at least striking preemptively against Morgoth. Say goodbye to the Long Peace, but at least we have more Feanorian shenanigans. Or, in a more whimsical universe, Feanor (likely with Celegorm's help) manages to capture Glaurung and train/tame him, and turn him against Morgoth.
22. What is your opinion of Fëanor?
He did nothing wrong.
23. Do you have pity for Melkor?
Yes, absolutely. I'm like, really baffled by him as a concept, in general, I suppose, like, if Eru created him as is, if all Melkor did was through Eru, does Eru sanction the horrors Melkor committed on Arda? If Melkor was created thus by Eru, and all Melkor did was through Eru, how much free will was he accorded? Was there a line between his evil as Eru decreed it, and his malice as he chose to be? Did he have a choice? Was he always destined to end up as Morgoth, Black Foe of the World?
24. Your job is to write The Silmarillion: The Musical. What is one of the songs?
This is a hard one,,,, I don't listen to many musicals lol
I think I mentioned on Twitter once that I really liked Marie Josee-Lord's cover of Les Sans-Papiers from Notre Dame de Paris as the vibe of a song about the Bragollach. It feels like there's this sense of foreboding looming underneath, and the lyrics lend themselves well to what it must have felt like for the people of Himlad and Dorthonion and Tol Sirion and Thargelion to see the fire rising on the horizon, and decide either to make their last stands, or flee south into the unknown, hoping desperately that Doriath will show mercy and let them through (they don't).
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panlight · 4 years
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I have a non twilight question that maybe you as a highly educated person could help me with. I've interviewed with our local clinic, several interviews, no jobs yet, our HR isn't allowed to answer questions advice or feedback which is a crushing blow bright and early on a Monday. I just feel so stupid and unqualified and like I'm embarrassing myself, wasting people's times applying for reception positions even though I have experience and meet the basic qualifications. Any advice?
Impostor syndrome is real and it sucks!!
Two years ago I had to, as a formality, apply for the job I was literally already doing, because I had taken it over when the previous librarian retired a few months before. It was made perfectly clear to me that job was only posted so I could apply for it so everything would be in order in terms of paperwork and again, I was already doing it. But I was still like “what if I don’t get this job? What if they think I’m terrible at it and someone else who works here applies for it and they get it instead?” I was a nervous wreck about it! And then I had to ‘interview’ for it, and I was a nervous wreck about THAT even though it was with the director (who had told me to apply) and assistant director and I was all anxious and worried and then I show up and they’re like “oh this isn’t really an interview so much as a job offer, thanks for filling out the full application you could have just done the cover letter.” 
So I get it. I deeply get it! I don’t know what advice to impart other than to take a couple deep breaths and remind yourself you DO have experience and meet the qualifications. You’re not wasting their time. Plenty of people apply for jobs they aren’t remotely qualified for and inflate their resume and I wish I had that kind of confidence and gumption but I don’t. We’re hiring at work and while I’m not on the hiring committee the guy at the desk next to mine is, and he said that like only 1 out of every 10 applications were any good/met the criteria and this is a basic non-librarian job (don’t need the library science degree), so if you’ve been called in for interviews you must be one of their top applicants and if you actually have experience and meet the qualifications they were probably relieved to get your application!   I’ll cross my fingers for you! 
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ozwriterchick · 6 months
Text
Sneak Peek..
A/Note: A sneak peek of a new fic I started working on. All of my writing so far has been Marvel. Recently however, I've been reading some NFL fics and, while I never though I'd write a RPF, this one just popped into my head the other day.
Anyway, mostly inspired by @burreaux-drys, who writes some great stories - feel free to share with others and give me feedback (please be kind, as noted this is my first rpf).
It doesn't have a name yet and it isn't planned out so I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 1
Readers pov
I watched the players on the field, easily singling out the one I’d come to see.  It really wasn’t that difficult, he stood out with his mop of dirty blonde hair and the number 9 on his jersey.
My eyes roved down his body to his slim but manly hips and back up again to his broad shoulders, made even broader by the padding in his practice uniform.
He was looking good, but again, he always did, especially to me.  I’ve been in love with him for a while, always from afar, and he had no idea.  Maybe today would be the day I’d get up enough gumption to actually tell him.
This was a closed practice, but that never stopped me before.  There were plenty of ways to sneak into Paycor stadium, even when it was on lockdown, if you knew what you were doing.  And I did.
My phone buzzed in my pocket and I took my attention away from practice to check.
BFF: Where are you? I’m at your place
Me: Oh, I’m out running errands, sorry.
BFF: Tell the truth, you’re at practice ogling J again aren’t you?
Me: Maybe.. Maybe not.. I can neither confirm nor deny that accusation
BFF: Well then, I’ll join you, I need to see me some Sam.
Me: It’s almost over and it’s a closed practice today, so you won’t be able to get in.
BFF: Closed practice?
BFF: They don’t let anyone into closed practices, how did.. You know what, I don’t want to know.  Let me know when you’re home. Unless you and J are doing something after practice
Me: Will do. Love you xx
BFF: Love you too xx
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More to come....
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blueroseblaze · 4 years
Text
Two’s Better Than One
Word Count: 1213
WARNINGS: none
Tags: @dylan-o-yumm
You were jolted awake by the sound of your front door unlocking. The clicking noise of the lock and the following creek of the worn hinges rose you further out of your slumber. You didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the strain of working around your heavy muscles and abdomen left you utterly exhausted and with little energy left to stay awake. The familiar sound of heavy boots stepping through your threshold and being removed did make you smile despite your tiredness. Nero was home, safe and sound, hopefully in one piece, you didn’t have the gumption to raise yourself from the couch any farther.
In the dark room you could see his figure approach the couch, backlit by the warm light hanging in front of your door. You watched him shed his coat and drape it over the back of the sofa before sitting down next to you. You didn’t say anything as he laid down with you, nesting between you and the back of the couch, he maneuvered you both in such a way that you were now cradled in his arms with your ear pressed right against his heartbeat.
“Did you try to stay up again?” he asked, his voice riddled with exhaustion.
“Yeah,” you replied quietly.
“I thought I told you, you needed rest, doctor’s orders,” he said.
You snuggled closer to him, “I know, but you’ve been gone so often, I miss you… we miss you.”
You guided Nero’s hand to your swollen stomach, suddenly all your pain and soreness melted away at his touch. Every stroke of his thumb sent waves of comfort throughout every strained muscle in your body. You sighed contently, letting your eyes drift close again.
“When does the kicking start?” he asked.
“Doctor said around 25 weeks for first time pregnancies,” you replied.
There was a slight pause before he spoke again, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there last time. I don’t know why the jobs aren’t paying as much lately.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you said, “You’re just trying to provide for us, I get it. I’d tell you if there was something important you missed. At least you were here for the big one.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled.
  You sat in the waiting room with Nero at your side. You held his hand tightly even though there was no reason to be nervous. You had both decided that you wanted to find out your baby’s sex as soon as possible so you knew you were hopefully going to learn today. And if not, they can at least tell you how your pregnancy was doing.
You were fiddling with Nero’s fingers for about five minutes when a nurse walked into the waiting room, grabbing your attention.
“(Y/N)? Nero?” she asked.
Without a response you both stood and followed the nurse to the technicians room. She instructed you to sit on the bed and wait for the technician before leaving you and your husband alone in the room. You Looked around the sterile space before settling on Nero, who had taken his place in a chair.
“You sure you don’t want to place any bets?” you asked.
“I don’t want to put anymore stress on you when we find out I’m right,” he snickered, “It’s a girl.”
“What, you’re not going to trust my mother’s intuition on this one?” you asked, feigning offence, “It feels like a boy.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” he chuckled, “How do you know what a boy feels like?”
You cocked an eyebrow at him, giving him a sultry and knowing look. He laughed and then went quiet, no more quips from him.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“I know, it’s just fun to tease you,” you giggled.
It was then the technician came into the room, with her the ultrasound machine that was wheeled in behind her by another nurse. You and Nero both tensed up a bit when the technician situated the machine and turned to you.
“Good morning, (Y/N), how are you feeling today?” she asked.
“Good I think,” you replied, “I’m not used to being pregnant.”
Nero rolled his eyes.
“Oh, you never get used to it,” she continued as she got the machine set up, “I’m on number three and it’s still a trip. Okay if you could just lay back for me and lift your shirt.”
You did as you were told, lying back and lifting your shirt above your swelling belly. Nero approached your side, his fingers interlocking with yours at your side as the technician spread the cold gel on your skin. You squeezed Nero’s hand as the tech moved the senor over your abdomen. You both watched with bated breath as the nebulous grey void on the screen shifted as the senor moved. The tech kept searching until she stopped.
She leaned in closer to the screen as she stared at the image, slightly adjusting the sensor. She looked back at your two with a smile.
“Right here. There they are,” she said in a sing song voice.
There was silence in the room. You and Nero looked at each other and then back at the ultrasound in shock.
“They?” you asked.
“Congratulations,” she said, “You’re having twins.”
Your shock still stayed on your face until it started to melt away into happiness. You brought a hand to cover your open mouth as you felt joyful tears prick at your eyes. Your grip on Nero’s hand tightened as you let out a mix of excited gasps and laughs. You looked to your husband who hadn’t moved an inch, his face sill frozen in utter surprise. You gave his hand another firm squeeze to bring him back to reality. When you looked into his eyes you also saw joy slowly etch across his handsome face. You could see the glaze of tears forming in his eyes too.
Twins.
You were having twins.
“Would you like to know the genders?” asked the technician who couldn’t help her own smile from watching the two of you.
“Yes!” you both almost yelled in unison.
“Well if you’ll look right here,” she said pointing to the screen, “Looks like we have a boy and a girl. Congrats Mr. and Mrs. Sparda.”
At this point you couldn’t contain yourself as the tears flowed down your cheeks.
“We were both right,” you said.
  You stroked the picture of your sonograph with your fingertips, reveling at your babies before placing the picture on the coffee table, right next to the card that your father in law slipped under your front door when you had made your announcement.
“I guess twins run in the family, huh?” you joked
“I can’t wait to meet them,” Nero said quietly as he stroked your stomach.
“Any name ideas?”
“I have a few…”
You hummed as you reached up to stroke his stubbled chin, pulling him down for a kiss.
“I already know exactly what you want to name our son. And I agree wholeheartedly,” you said.
“Oh, do you now?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair and bringing his ear to your lips, “I think Credo is a great name.”
Nero only smiled as he snuggled closer to you, both of you slowly drifting off to sleep.
A/N: Feedback is appreciated :)
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omnifalls-10 · 4 years
Text
Omni Falls Chapter 3: Headhunters
It’s been rather quiet at the Mystery Shack today. That doesn’t seem much of a problem  for Dipper and Mabel, who were in the living room watching a show on television called Duck-tective. While watching the television program, Mabel knits a new sweater and Dipper eats popcorn from a bowl. She reaches for some popcorn, only for him to slap her hand away.
“I'm afraid your services won't be required here, sir.”, the constable taunts, with a condescending smile on his face.  “My men have examined the evidence, and this is obviously an accident.”
“An accident, constable?”, Duck-tective quacks, his webbed feet paddling across the crime scene. “Or is it...Murder?”
“What?!”, the constable yells as the logo of the titular character comes on the screen as the commercials starts. 
“That duck is a genius!”, Mabel gasps as she drops her sweater.
“Eh, it's easier to find clues when you're that close to the ground.”, Dipper shrugs.
Mabel puts her hand on her hip, skeptical. “Dipper, are you saying you could outwit Duck-tective?”
“Mabel, I have very keen powers of observation. ”, Dipper explains, sitting up. “For example, just by smelling your breath, I can tell that you have been eating….” He sniffs the air, looking confused. “..an entire tube of toothpaste?”
“It was so sparkly...”, Mabel pouts, her mouth covered in toothpaste.
Soos arrives, running end with a look of excitement. “Hey, dudes, you'll never guess what I found!”
“Buried treasure!”, the twins say simultaneously before looking at each other, laughing.
“C’mon, follow me.”, Soos tells them, leading them to a mysterious door that’s been cut off. “So, I was cleaning up, when I found this secret door, hidden behind the wallpaper. It's crazy bonkers creepy! ” He unlocks the door and shows them what’s inside. They look around and see a collection of wax figures. But not any wax; these wax statues are historical figures, from Robin Hood to Shakespeare to Coolio.
Dipper shines his flashlight on the statues. “ Whoa. It's a secret wax museum.”
“They're so life-like.”, Mabel notes as she pokes the wax sculpture of Sherlock Holmes.
“Except for that one.”, Dipper critiques with his flashlight shining on a wax figure of Stan. Except it moves.
“Hello!”, Stan greets, making the twins scream and Soos. “It's just me, your Grunkle Stan!” His response doesn’t make it better because they still run out of the storage room, screaming their heads off.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
After regathering the Twins and Soos back into the room, Stan introduces his prize collection of wax figures, “Behold the Gravity Falls Wax Museum! It was one of our most popular attractions... before I forgot all about it”, he admits before showing off the individual statues. “I got 'em all! Genghis Khan, Sherlock Holmes….”, he pauses to see a statue of Larry King. “some kind of, I don't know, goblin man?”
Dipper shudders. “Is anyone else getting the creeps here?”
“And now for my personal favorite: Wax Abraham Lincoln, right over--”, he stops his sentence to see said statue melted in the summer sunlight.“Oh! Oh no! Come on, who left the blinds open? Wax John Wilkes Booth, I'm looking in your direction!” He bends down and puts his finger in wax, huffing in annoyance. "How do you fix a wax figure?”
"Cheer up, Grunkle Stan.", Mabel livens up her grunkle. "Where's that smile?" Stan grunts.
"Beep, bop, boop!", she cheerfully pokes Stan in the face, only to poke him in the eye. "Ow."
"Don't worry, Grunkle Stan.", the young Pine smiles. "I'll make you a new wax figure from all this old wax!"
“You really think you can make one of these puppies?”, Stan rises up. 
“Absolutely, Grunkle Stan! I'm an arts and crafts master. Why do you think I always have this glue gun stuck to my arm?”, she holds up her arm, which has a glue gun glued to it and tries to shake it off. “Eugh, eugh!” 
“Huh, I like your gumption, kid!”, Stan acknowledges with a grin
“I don't know what that word means, but thank you!”, Mabel gives one of her own.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Dipper’s been deeply invested into his journal. He just found a page talking about Methanosians, plant-like species that are able to emit flames. It’s very interesting to think about: how are they able to achieve this? Are they able to move so fast that they ignite the air or is it chemically triggered? Perhaps the chemical is-
“Dipper!”, Mabel drops down in front of his startled brother, who almost drops his journal before putting back in his jacket. 
“What do you think of my wax figure idea?”, she shows Dipper a drawing that she sketched in her sketch-book. “She's part fairy princess, and part horse fairy princess!”
“Maybe you should carve something from real life.”, Dipper suggests, feeling creeped out by her picture.
“How about a waffle with big arms?!”, Mabel turns another page, showing the aforementioned waffle.
“Okay... Or, you know, maybe, something else.”, Dipper clarifies, hoping to get his point across. “Like someone in your family.”
“Kids, have you seen my pants?”, Grunkle Stan asks as he poses on a briefcase, trying to find his piece of clothing. This makes Mabel gasps as a surge of inspiration courses into her mind. She turns around, her eyes becoming big as she looks upwards.
“Oh, muse. You work in mysterious ways.”, she beams with excitement.
“Why's your sister talking to the ceiling?”, Stan asks Dipper, clearly unaware of the young artist’s creative breakthrough. The next couple hours revolve around Mabel crafting the new wax figure. She works thoroughly on making the statue’s structure, working on the small details of her grunkle, and painting the right colors. It is rigorous and time consuming but she manages to get half way done. She moves back to admire her work with Dipper and Soos next to her. “I think... it needs more glitter.”, she muses.
“Agreed.”, Soos nods, handing the young Pine a bucket of glitter. She tosses the entire bucket onto the statue. “Perfect!”, Mabel exclaims in joy.
Stan walks in with his pants on but missing his shoes. “Ok, I found my pants but now I'm missing my--” He stops and notices Wax Stan. “Ahhh!” He falls over and crawls away in shock by witnessing the wax’s lifelike features. 
“What do you think?”, she asks, anxiously.
“I think... the Wax Museum's back in business!”
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
A bustling crowd has gathered at the Mystery Shack, they arrive in droves to see the latest attraction. What the attraction was, they don’t know but it must be worth the price of admission they paid to be here.
“I can't believe this many people showed up.”, Dipper comments as he watches the crowds arriving at the event.
“Yeah, I bet your uncle bribed them”, Wendy replies with a sarcastic grin. 
“He bribed me.”, he smiles, showing the 5 dollar bill that his Grunkle gave him in exchange for working in the ticket stand. She pulled out her own 5 dollar bill that conman bribed her with, making them both snicker. On stage, Stan walks on stage towards the podium. He taps on the microphone, ignoring the ear-piercing feedback it emits from the crowd. 
“You all know me, folks!”, Stan smiles, attempting and failing to charm the crowd. “Town darling, ‘Mr. Mystery.’ Please, ladies, control yourselves!” This garners no response from the women in the crowd. “As you know, I always bring the people of this fair town novelties and befuddlements, the likes of which the world has never known. But enough about me.”, Stan continues, getting to the point of the congregation. “Behold….me!” He removes the tarp, revealing the wax duplicate to the whole crowd. This receives a lukewarm welcome with two people clapping and another coughing. “And now a word from our own Mabelangelo!”, the conman introduces Mabel who takes the microphone from him before walking in front of the crowd.
“Thank you for coming!”, she greets the crowd. “I made this sculpture with my own two hands!” She throws up her arms into the air for a brief moment.  “It's covered in my blood, sweat, tears, and other fluids!” The implication makes the audience cringe in disgust.
“Yeah.”, she laughs it off. “I will now take questions! You there!” She points her hand to Old Man McGucket.
“Old Man McGucket, local kook.”, he introduces himself before asking. “Are the wax figures alive? And follow-up question, can I survive the wax-man uprising?”
“Um...Yes!”, she answers with a confused look on her face before pointing to a staunch man holding a turkey baster in his left hand instead of a microphone. “Next question!”
“Toby Determined, Gravity Falls Gossiper.”, he begins. “Do you really think this constitutes a wonder of the world?”
“Your microphone's a turkey baster, Toby.”, Stan shoots down his question.
“It certainly is…”, he retracts with a look of self-pity.
“Next question!”
“Shandra Jimenez, a real reporter.”, the female reporter says, holding a real microphone and a camera crew. “Your flyers promised free pizza with admission to this event. Is this true?” She holds up the said flyer in front him. This, in tow, makes the crowd erupt in indignation over the fact that there wasn’t any pizza around. Stan looks at the crowd with a nervous frown as they demand for pizza and glare at the conman.
“That was a typo.”, he gives a short answer, not really explaining anything. “Good night, everyone!” He drops a smoke bomb running off the stage before taking the admission cash box before anyone would notice. To say the crowd is upset would be an understatement, they are furious that they were swindled by the “Man of Mystery” as they all leave the Shack. No significant damage is caused save for the decorative pole that’s punched by Manly Dan.
Mabel leans on the admission table that Dipper and Wendy are sitting with a smile on her face. “I think that went well.”
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
“Hot pumpkin pie! Look at all this cash!” Stan smiles in pride as he counts the money in the evening. “And I owe it all to one person, this guy!” He points to his wax replica of himself to which Mabel punches her grunkle in the arm playfully.
“Yeah, you too, ya little gremlin.”, he laughs, giving her niece a noogie. “Now you kids wash up. We got another long day of racking cash tomorrow.” He starts pushing the twins out the living room. They head upstairs, smiling, as they run upstairs to brush their teeth and go to bed. Once they had gone upstairs, Stan decides to hang with his wax counterpart to watch Ducktective.
“Well, duck-tective, it seems you've really quacked the case.”, the constable jokes.
“Don't patronize me.”, Duck-tective quacks, clearly annoyed by the tasteless joke.
“Stupid duck!”, Stan can't help but laugh as the show goes to commercial. “Well, I'm gonna use the john. You need anything?” His wax counterpart’s grin doesn’t waver, but that doesn’t stop him from laughing. “I love this guy! Don't you go nowhere.”
He leaves to go to the bathroom for a few minutes. That’s all the time that’s needed for something sinister to occur. Like a thief in the night, the figure appears out of nowhere but their intention remains obvious and so, the terrible act is committed in such swift fashion that it’s almost like it never happened. The figure disappears as they hear the footsteps of Stan coming back into the den, leaving no trace.
When he comes back into the living room, Stan's face turns into horror as he screams as his eyes lay upon a devastating sight. “No!... No!... Noooooo!” His yells cause the twins to run downstairs to their grunkle on his knees with his hands holding his horrified face.
“Wax Stan! He's been...murdered!”, Stan points to the headless body of his wax counterpart on the floor. This shocking revelation makes Mabel faint with a gasp with Dipper catching her. While he isn't as emotionally torn about it like his sister and grunkle are about this, it’s still a scary sight to behold. 
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
An hour passed by, the cops arrived when Stan called. The living room is turned into a crime scene with Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland questioning Stan about what transpired. “So, I got up to use the john, right?”, he explains, even though he’s still shaken by seeing his wax counterpart beheaded. “And when I come back, blammo! He's headless!”
“My expert handcrafting... besmirched.”, Mabel cries dejectedly as she looks at her masterpiece beheaded.“Besmirched!” Dipper puts a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder as he looks at the wax figure. The way the head is cleaved indicates that it wasn’t an accident. But one question remains in his mind. Who would do something like this?
“Look, we'd love to help you folks, but let's face the facts.”, Sheriff Blubs confesses after Durland finished taking notes on the murder. “This case is unsolvable.” Everyone, besides the cops, gasp incredulously. This makes Grunkle Stan very furious
“You take that back, Sheriff Blubs!”, Stan growls. 
“You're kidding, right? There must be evidence, motives. Anything.”, Dipper insists, there must be something that the police officers are missing to figure out the murder.“You know, I could help if you want.”
 “He's really good. He figured out who was eating our tin cans!”, Mabel vouches for her brother.
“All signs pointed to the goat.”, Dipper proudly declares.
“Yeah, yeah! Let the boy help.”, Stan adds on. “He's got a little brain up in his head.”
“Oooh! Would you look at what we got here!”, Sheriff Blubs taunts the young Pines, making him annoyed by the patronizing of the officers. “City boy thinks he's gonna solve a mystery with his fancy computer phone!”
“City boooy! City booooy!”, Durland eggs on with his partner. Blubbs just laughs on before smiling at the young  Pine, condescendingly. “You are adorable.”
“Adorable?”, Dipper pouts, aggravated by the patronizing cops, who just keep on laughing at him.
“Look, P.J.'s.”, Blubs begins, grinning at the aggravated Pine. “How about you leave the investigation to the grown-ups, okay?” Just as he said that, his walkie-talkie sounding off. Attention, all units. Steve is about to fit an entire cantaloupe in his mouth. Repeat, an entire cantaloupe!
“It's a 23-16!”, Durland squeals in excitement. 
“Let's move!” Blubs proclaims as both officers run off, laughing as they get to their car in quick fashion.
“That's it!”, Dipper declares, determined to prove those officers wrong. “Mabel, you and I are going to find the jerk who did this, and get back that head. Then we'll see who's adorable.”
“Aww, you sneeze like a kitten!”, Mabel gushes with a beaming grin, to which he glares at her for making him sound cute. It’s going to be a long process for him to get through in order for him to be taken seriously.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The morning arrives and the Pine Twins begin their investigation. Dipper suggests finding clues in the last spot where the crime occured, which is the living room, where the wax statue still lays on the floor since last night. Mabel wraps the police tape, which is basically toilet paper with “Do Not Pass” in marker, as Dipper shoots a picture at the “corpse”.
“Wax Stan has lost his head”, Dipper explains in a tone reminiscent of a detective. “And it's up to us to find it.” He looks at the bulletin board with pictures of suspects. “There were a lot of unhappy customers at the unveiling and the murderer could be anyone of them.”
“Yeah! Even us!”, Mabel adds on.
“In this town, anything is possible.”, Dipper continues as he looks at the journal for some clues. “Ghosts, zombies, it could be months before we find our first clue”.
“Hey, look! A clue.” Dipper stops what he’s doing and looks at where Mabel’s pointing at. He walks to where she is and finds the first clue: shoeprints in the shag carpet. 
Mabel looks at the clue closely and notices something about them. “That's weird. They've got a hole in them.”  
“And they're leading to…”, Dipper stars before he and Mabel follow the trail to see their second clue: an ax behind the reclining chair. The twins look shocked at what they find. “The murder weapon!” He picks up the heavy axe and examines it.
“Who would know about this?”, Dipper thinks aloud.
“Maybe...”, Mabel thinks for a moment before getting a lightbulb. “Maybe we should ask Soos about this.”
Dippers hums before nodding his head.
They head to the gift shop to see Soos doing his usual tasks around the shack. After a few minutes of greeting the handyman, the Pine Twins explain what they’ve been doing and give him the murder weapon to inspect it.
“So, what do you think?”, Dipper asks, hoping Soos can give some additional clues. He keeps staring at the ax with the same analytical expression he had beforehand. 
“In my opinion, this is an ax.” Soos concludes, stating the obvious. 
“And is there anything else?”, Dipper asks, hoping to get an answer from the handyman. “Something weird? Something that can help us?”
“Uh...”, Soos thinks for a moment. “It’s sharp?” Dipper only sighs in minor annoyance. 
“Wait a minute.”, Mabel snaps her fingers. “The lumberjack!”
Dipper realizes for a second. “Yeah, that’s right. He was furious when he didn't get that free pizza.”
“Furious enough, for murder!”, Mabel adds on dramatically.
 “Oh, you mean Manly Dan?”, Soos clarifies the lumberjack’s identity. “Yeah, he hangs out at this crazy intense biker joint downtown.”
 “Then that's where we're going.”, Mabel declares with a fist pump.
“Dude, this is awesome.”, Soos chuckles, sharing some of Mabel’s excitement. “You two are like: The Mystery Twins!”
Dipper frowns at the name the handyman offered. “Don't call us that.”
After getting the information they needed, the Pine Twins walk outside about to the downtown area to where the biker joint. Before they reach it, Dipper and Mabel see their grunkle pulling a coffin out the trunk of his car. “Hey, give me a hand with this coffin, will ya?”, Stan asks. “I'm doin' a memorial service for wax Stan. Something small, but classy.”
“Sorry, Grunkle Stan.”, Dipper apologizes. “But we have got a big break in the case!”
“Break in the case!”, Mabel echoes. 
“We're heading to the town right now to interrogate the murderer.”
“And we have an axe!”, Mabel shows off the axe, waving it a bit with a gaudy smile.
“Hm, seems like the kind of thing that responsible parents wouldn't want you to do…”, Stan thinks for a moment. “Good thing I'm an uncle. Avenge me kids! AVENGE ME!!”
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Skull Fracture is the only biker bar of Gravity Falls, fitting for the most masculine of individuals to hangout. The outer appearance is enough for the normal person to steer clear from, especially with the large bouncer at the front. It’s why Dipper and Mabel are peering around the corner of the tavern, measuring the difficulty of their current situation. 
“This is the place.” Dipper examines, still feeling a bit nervous on getting caught. He turns his head to Mabel. “Got the fake IDs?” She gives him an ID card for him, but he’s not sure that this would work because the card looks hooky at best. It’s made by unlamented cardstock along with crayons and glitter.
“Is this the best you can make, Mabel?”, he asks, still looking at the ID with uncertainty. 
“C’mon, Dipper.”, Mabel pouts. “It’s gonna work.”
“Here goes nothing.”, the young Pine sighs, bracing himself for the worst as they both head to the front of the tavern's entrance, where the bouncer is standing.
“We're here to interrogate Manly Dan, the lumber jack for the murder of wax Stan.”, Mabel speaks with a level of professionalism that it’s a bit jarring.  “I believe our ID’s can provide proof for you, good sir.” They present their ID’s to the bouncer who stares at them, before shrugging.
“Works for me.”, he responds stoically as he opens the door, though Dipper is a little surprised that it worked. As they head inside, they understand why this tavern is called Skull Fracture. Men are either throwing fists at each other, arguing with each other, smoking, or sitting at the bar drinking some beer. Dipper and Mabel walk inside, looking around before motioning for his sister to follow him.
Mabel almost trips over an unconscious body and steps over it. She stops at a moment to stare at the body. “He's resting.”, she reassures to herself before catching up with her brother, who looks around and finds Manly Dan at the arm wrestling machine.
“Alright, let's just try to blend in, ok?”, Dipper asks as he heads towards the lumberjack. “I’m going to interrogate the suspect.”
Mabel gives him a thumbs-up before climbing onto a chair and talks to one of the patrons. “Hey there, fellow restaurant patron!”, she greets the gritty man with a cheery tone before patting him on the arm, ignoring his growl of aggravation. Dipper, meanwhile, passes through the patrons before reaching Manly Dan.
“Manly Dan, just the guy I wanted to see.”, Dipper speaks with nonchalance. “Where were you last night?”
“Punchin' the clock.”, Manly Dan grunts, holding on to the mechanical arm with veins popping. 
“Oh, so you were at work?”
“No, I was punchin' that clock!”, Manly Dan growls as he points to a broken clock outside, which appears broken and at an odd angle.
“10 o'clock, the time of the murder.”, Dipper hums, looking at the time on the broken clock, which is at 10, in consternation.“So, I guess you've never seen this before?” He pulls out the axe from his bag and shows it to the lumberjack.
 “Listen, little girl!” Manly Dan starts.
“Hey, actually I'm a--”
“I wouldn't pick my teeth with that ax. It's left handed! I only use my right hand, the MANLY HAND!!”, Manly Dan rips the machine's arm off and beats the machine with it.
Dipper looks at the axe. “Left handed.” He decides to go and catch his sister before they both head outside to assess what he learned.
“It's a left handed ax.” Dipper confirms as he shows Mabel a list of possible suspects from Stan’s unveiling. “These are all our suspects. Manly Dan is right handed, that means all we have to do is find our left handed suspect and we've got our killer.”
 “Oh man, we are on fire today!” Mabel exclaims with a lot of zeal.
“That we are.”, he responds, feeling some of her excited energy. “Now let's find that murderer.” He shares Mabel’s look of confidence as they share a fist bump. They start out looking around town to find their ideal suspects: they first start at the junkyard, where they see Old Man McGucket wrestling with a baby alligator. Mabel waves and the old kook waves  back with his right hand with the baby gator biting on it. Afterwards, Dipper, wearing a fake mustache,  delivers a package to Pizza Guy's house. Pizza Man signs Dipper's form and gets excited, only for Dipper to take the package and leave. On the other side of the road, Mabel notices the angry lady  and whistles to get her attention before throwing a baseball at her. She catches it with her right hand and crushes it. Later on, the twins find another suspect who was at the unveiling. They knock on his door, only for him to  come out with both hands in casts. So far most the people on the list were all right-handed. It seems like they aren’t close at all.
Except for one suspect.
Dipper gasps as looks for the final suspect on the list. “Mabel, there's only one person left on this list.”
 “Of course, it all adds up!”, Mabel realizes as well.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It's nightfall as the cops and the Pine Twins head to the front door of Gravity Falls Gossiper. It took some convincing but Dipper were able to convince them that their number one suspect was responsible for the murder.
"You kids better be right about this or you'll never get the end of it.", Blubs warns them, hoping to be right so he could tease the city boy.
“The evidence is irrefutable, officers.”, Dipper responds.
“It's so irrefutable.” Mabel adds, waving her hand.
“I'm gonna get to use my match stick!”, Durland giggles in excitement as he waves his batton around.
“You ready? You ready little fella?”, Blubs askes, sharing his partner’s zealous energy as they hit each other playfully with batons, barely able to contain themselves.
“On 3!”, Dipper starts, before counting. “1, 2…” 
Before he can finish, the officers break down the door, barging in with a unified shout with the Pine Twins behind them. “Nobody move!”, Blubs shouts with authority. “This is a raid!”
As his office gets invaded, Toby slips and falls down, yelling in surprise. “What is this? Some kind of raid?”, he asks needlessly.
“Toby Determined, you're under arrest for murder of the wax body of Grunkle Stan.”, Dipper declares confidently.
“You have the right to remain impressed with our awesome detective work.”, Mabel adds on, smugly grinning as she high fives Dipper.
“Gobbling goose feathers! I don't understand!”, Toby exclaims, flustered by what’s going on.
“Then allow me to explain.”, Dipper starts with a confident smile on his face as Mabel holds a newspaper with a picture of Wax Stan's head. “You were hoping that Grunkle Stan's new attraction would be the story that saved your failing newspaper. But when the show was a flop, you decided to go out and make your own headline. But you were sloppy, and all the clues pointed to a shabby shoed reporter who was caught left handed.”
“Toby Determined, you're yesterday's news.”, Mabel concludes as she crumples up the newspaper.
Toby Boy, your little knees must be sore…”, the journalist starts, frowning. “From jumping to conclusions.” He finishes his proud remark before doing a little dance at the kids detective work. “I had nothing to do with that murder.”
“HA! I knew it-wait, come again?”, Dipper exclaims before realizing what he just said. “Nothing? D-did you just  say nothing?” He’s genuinely confused about what Toby just said. How could he not be the suspect when all of the evidence points to him?
“Huh? What? Could you repeat that?”, Mabel asks, sharing her brother’s confusion.
“Then where were you at the night of the break-in?”, Blubs asks, wanting to know the truth as well as Deputy Durland.
 “Ehh…”, Toby tugs on his shirt collar nervously before inserting a tape into a TV. It opens with him looking around, hoping no would notice what he’s doing before taking a cardboard cutout of Shandra Jimenez out of his closet. “Finally, we can be alone, cardboard cutout of TV news reporter Shandra Jimenez!”, he swoons affectionately before he kisses it, making everyone cringe in disgust from what they’re witnessing.
“Welp, timestamp confirms it.”, Blubs concludes. “Toby, you're off the hook. You freak of nature.”
“Hooray!”, Toby cheers, even though the tape is still playing.
“But, but it has to be him!”, Dipper argues, hoping that his hard work doesn’t end in failure.“Check the ax for fingerprints!”
The cops do so, dusting the weapon for any fingerprints, except there isn’t any on it. “Sorry, kid”, Sheriff Blubs shook his head. “No prints at all.”
“No prints?”, Dipper is confused by what he’s heard. There’s no prints on the ax?
Durland “Hey I got a headline for you: city kids waste everyone's time.”, taunts making the adults laugh, making Dipper and Mabel feel more embarrassed than they already are. They put so much effort into finding the culprit and from what they gathered, it seemed like the evidence was pointing to Toby Determined. But, they were wrong.  It feels like the case itself is unsolvable.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Later on today, Grunkle Stan arranges a funeral for his wax counterpart in the parlor. He is standing on a stage with a bunch of chairs set up with Dipper, Mabel, Soos, and the wax figures as the audience.
“Kids, Soos, lifeless wax figures, thank you all for coming.”, Stan thanks, solemnly before continuing. “Some people might say it's wrong for a man to love a wax replica of himself.”
“They're wrong!”, Soos exclaims as he stands up.
“Easy Soos.”, Stan responds, he understands the handyman’s sentiments. He looks at his headless wax replica, feeling a sob coming up as he continues. “Wax Stan, I hope you're picking pockets in wax heaven.” The conman sniffles, wiping his eye. “I'm sorry, I got glitter in my eye!” He runs out, not able to finish the eulogy without feeling grief.
“Ohhhhh duuuude…”, Soos cries out as he runs after his, trying to console him. There’s nothing but silence as it’s just the Pine Twins and the wax figures left in attendance. Dipper and Mabel look solemnly at the casket the headless Wax Stan is in, reminding them of their failure at finding the murderer. This realization makes Dipper slump into his seat, sighing.
“Those cops are right about me. About us.”, Dipper mutters in disappointment and defeat.
“But Dipper, we've come so far, we can't give up now.”, Mabel encourages as she gives her brother a smile.
 “Mabel, we’ve considered everything: the weapon, the motive, the clues.”, he insists as he stands up and walks to the coffin. “We looked at every perspective and there was nothing but dead ends.” When the case first started, Dipper thought he and Mabel could solve this easily. They had the clues, the potential candidates for the murderer, and the solid idea for a motive of the murder. But now, he’s not so sure anymore and can’t reach any conclusion. There are too many loose ends to this mystery.
That is until he notices something, something he didn’t see during their investigation. “That’s weird”, Dipper notes, as he stares at the wax rendition’s shoes. “Wax Stan's shoe has a hole in it.”
“Well, yeah. All the wax guys have that.”, Mabel answers, following her brother to the casket with the ax in her hand. “It's where the pole thingy attaches to their stand dealy.”
“Wait a minute, what has a hole on its shoe and no fingerprints?”, Dipper mutters to himself. He slowly realizes something. Despite the fact that his previous suspect had a hole in his shoe along with being left handed. But there’s an additional piece of evidence that’s to be considered: There’s no fingerprints. And there's someone or, something, that has none.
“Uh...Dipper”, Mabel asks, confused by her brother’s silence.
“Mabel.”, Dipper starts as he looks at his sister. “The murderers are--”
“Standing right behind you?”
The Pine Twins gasp in surprise as they turn around and see something that defies logic: all the wax figures rise up, either scowling with hatred or smiling in malicious intent as they creeped closer towards the stunned children until they’re blocked off from any escape. The lineup of wax figures include Shakespeare, Edgar Allen Poe, Genghis Khan, Larry King, Coolio (?), and Sherlock Holmes, who is holding up the decapitated head of Wax Stan. A wax replica of Lizzie Borden takes the ax from a terrified mabel before Wax Sherlock begins.
“Congratulations, my two amuetur slueths”, he patronizes as he tosses Wax Stan’s head up and down like a ball. “You've discovered our little secret.” He turns towards his wax comrades, who sneer at the Pine Twins. “Applaud, everyone. Applaud sarcastically.”
The wax figures collectively do so, mocking the children with sneers etched onto their faces, but Sherlock admonishes him. “Uh, no, that sounds too sincere. Slow clap, please.” The figures slow down their clapping so it may appear prominently more sarcastic. “There we go. Nice and condescending.”
“H-how is this possible?”, Dipper asks, baffled by what’s going on. “You're made of wax.”
“Are you magic”, Mabel gasp, curiously.
“Are we magic?” Wax Sherlock laughs with a sneer. “She wants to know if we're magic!” He keeps chuckling before slamming his fist down on the casket, jolting Dipper and Mabel. “We're CURSED!”
“CURSED!”, the wax figures repeat.
“Cursed to come to life whenever the moon is waxing.”, Wax Sherlock explains, walking near the fireplace.“Your uncle bought us many years ago at a garage sale.” 
“A haunted garage sale, son!”, Wax Coolio adds.
“Quite.”, Wax Sherlock agrees before continuing. “And so, the Mystery Shack Wax Collection was born. By day, we would be the playthings of man.”
“But when your uncle went to sleep, we would rule the night.”, Wax Coolio interjects again.
“It was a charmed life for us cursed beings…”, Wax Sherlock speaks, with a tone of reminiscent before turning cold.  “That is, until your uncle closed up shop. We've been waiting ten years to get our revenge on Stan for locking us away. But we got the wrong guy.”
“So you were going to kill Grunkle Stan for real”, Dipper asks, completely shocked by what he’s heard.
“You were right, Dipper.”, Mabel says. “Wax figures are creepy.”
“Enough!”, Wax Sherlock silences them. “Now that you know our secret, you must die.” Wax Sherlock, along with the rest of the wax figures, rolls his eyes to the back of his head. The wax figures growl intimidatingly as they get closer to the Pine Twins.
Mabel looks at her brother, who activates the Omnitrix. Dipper tries to select the right alien as the wax figures get close while Mabel attempts to distract them by throwing items from the small refreshment table. It does little to no effect before she throws a pot of coffee at the face of Wax Genghis Khan, who screams in pain.
“That’s it. We can melt them with hot, melty things”, Mabel realizes.
“Hot, melty things”, Dipper repeats before an idea pops up into his head. “That’s it!” He turns the dial to get his designated alien. In a flash of emerald light, stunning Mabel and the wax statues, Dipper’s body begins to morph: He feels his body developing chlorophyll as his feet become roots, his oxygen molecules shift to methane, easy for ignition. His shoulders develop red flowers.
Dipper becomes a Methonisian: a humanoid, plant-like alien that has an overall green and black colored body, mostly with a red flame-patterned head and root-like feet, seemingly holding black rocks. His eyes are oval-shaped with points at each end with pupils copying the shape but are smaller. Also, his shoulders and head have red petals and his elbows and legs have green frills sticking out. This alien is taller than an average human and has a distinct rotten stench that worsens with heat.
“Swampfire!”, the altered Pine shouts. Mabel looks at her brother in awe, he finds a new transformation that looks very cool but she notices something when she smells him.
“Ugh. Dipper you stink.”, Mabel holds her nose in disgust.
“That’s because my body is emitting methane fumes.”, Swapfire answers.
“Just take a shower when this is over.”, she begs as she grabs two decorative candles.
“The stink would probably go away when I transform back but okay.”, he answers, igniting his fists which causes the wax figures to step back even further. “Any one of you moves and we'll melt you!”
“With some fire and decorative candles!”, Mabel declares.
“Do you really think you could beat us with candles and by becoming a giant flaming weed?”, Wax Sherlock asks, his tone incredulous at the idea of these kids defeating despite them having the advantage.
“I mean….I can make flames outta my hands and she's got candles. So...”, Swampfire shrugs. 
“Yeah, it’s kind off a no-brainer.”, Mabel points out.
“So be it.”, Wax Sherlock answers before shouting. “ATTACK!” The wax figures and the Pine Twins charge, ready for battle.
Wax Lizzie Borden swings her ax at Mabel, but accidentally decapitates Wax Robin Hood. Mabel walks around her, but Wax Shakespeare sneaks up behind her. Mabel cuts off his hands with both candles, and he runs away in cowardice. Wax Shakespeare's hands, however,  move and begin strangling Mabel. She grabs a door and repeatedly smashes it on its fingers.
A couple of wax figures tackle Swampfire to the ground before dogpiling him, but since he has the strength advantage, he’s able to get them off of him through powering out, making the wax figures fly across the room in different directions. After doing that, he avoids being grabbed from behind by Wax Larry King before delivering a fiery chop that decapitates his head. “Interview this, Larry King!”
“My neck! My beautiful neck!”, Wax Larry King cries out, running away.
Wax Groucho growls as he charges towards Swampfire, but the altered Pine is ready as he blasts the wax figure in his stomach with a massive fireball causing both halves to slowly slip off.
“Jokes on you, Groucho!”, Swampfire quips.
“I heard of an empty stomach but this is ridiculous.”, Wax twiddling his fingers a bit as the top half of his body slid off of the lower half. “Hey, why is there nothing in my hand?”
Swampfire turns around to see Wax Genghis Khan charging at him and simply sidesteps him, making the wax figure run into the fireplace.
“Ha, Genghis Khan! You fell harder than the... uh... ”, Swampfire declares before getting confused. “I don't know, uh, Jin Dynasty? Heh. Yeah. Alright. ”
Mabel swings around Wax Coolio's head while getting overwhelmed by wax figures.
“Dipper! Watch out!”, Mabel calls out to her transformed brother. He blasts Wax Richard Nixon out the room before turning around to Wax Sherlock Holmes behind him.
“Alright. Let’s get this taken care of.”, Wax Sherlock says, putting Wax Stan's head on the horn of a rhino on the wall, and grabs a sword hanging on it. He then swings the blade and it slices Swampfire’s off. The wax figure seems pleased before his eyes narrow in annoyance and confusion as the altered Pine grows another arm. Swampfire ignites his fists and starts swinging at Wax Sherlock, who in turn uses the sword defensively while delivering more hits to the alien. This continues until they reach the attic.
"Once your family is out of the way, we’ll rule the night once more!", Wax Sherlock declares, raising his sword planning to slice Swampfire’s head clean off.
I can't deliver a massive fire attack in this area, Swampfire thinks. The best course is….He quickly turns to see the window. There!
"Don’t count on it!", Swampfire retorts, kicking Wax Sherlock down the stairs before opening the window to get outside. He climbs up to the top sign of the Mystery Shack and waits near the edge to hear Wax Sherlock Holmes coming up to finish him off.
"You think you can outwit me, freak?!", Wax Sherlock asks in aggravation as the figure climbs up. "I’m Sherlock Bloody Holmes!" He looks ready to slice up the alien boy until he reaches the top sign. But he realizes his mistake as Swampfire holds both hands out to deliver an attack.
“Burn.”, Swampfire declares before blasting a stream of flames that seems to have melted the wax figure. He moves forward to the spot where Wax Sherlock was standing. He looks from his left and his right, hoping to find any evidence that he melted the wax figure. Honestly, where did he-
Out of nowhere, Wax Sherlock appears between the top and bottom sign to deliver a hard elbow strike to Swampfire’s face. This causes him to tumble on the other side of the roof, rolling on the surface and grabbing onto the edge of it to prevent himself from falling down. He looks down at the ground below before gulping, he knows that these aliens are tough but he still doesn't feel comfortable at the aspect of falling. 
The sudden sound of scraping alerts the altered Pine to see Wax Sherlock Holmes, despite having one arm that’s mostly melted off, brandishing the sword with a hateful scowl on his face. He stops on top of the chimney and for additional cruelty, steps on Swampfire’s hands, eliciting a grunt of pain from him.
“Any last requests”, Wax Sherlock asks as he holds the sword, ready to finish the job of killing this freak.
Swampfire turns his head slightly to see the sky brightening up a bit, making him have a small grin of victory. “You got any sunscreen?”
“Sunscree-?”, Wax Sherlock looks confused before he realizes his hand is melting. “What?!” He gasps in horror at the sight of the warm, summer sun rising up.
“No.”, Wax Sherlock says placidly, despite his wax body melting in the heat.
“Yeah, it really wasn’t very sharp of you to let me lead you out here.”, Swampfire replies, confidently.
“Outsmarted by a child in short pants! No!”, Wax Sherlock exclaims in frustration and agony as the sun reaches even higher. “Fiddlesticks! Humbugs! Tiiter, total kerfuffle. Butter hallabaloo.” He continues cursing until he becomes a puddle with only his head holding some shape. Swampfire climbs up on the roof before sighing in relief. A certain ring from the Omnitrix emblem on his indicates that he’s going to turn back and in a flash of red light, Dipper becomes normal again.
“Case closed.”, Dipper declares in satisfaction, wiping the dust from his hands before he sneezes.
“You sneeze like a kitten!”, Wax Sherlock laughs, mockingly as his remains slip off the roof. “Those policemen were right, you're adorable! Adorable!” He declares his final word before falling down at the ground below in a splat.
“Ew.”, Dipper mutters in disgust.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Just as the battle on the roof is finished, so is Mabel’s in the parlor as she scoops all the remaining pieces of the wax figures with one more, Wax William Shakespeare’s living head.
“Though our group be left in twain, the men of wax shall rise again!”, Wax William declares though it reaches deaf ears as Mabel picks him up.
“Y’know any limericks?”, she asks curiously.
“Uh... there once was a dude from Kentucky…”, the wax figure attempts, weakly.
“Nope!”, Mabel concludes throwing his head into the fire before noticing her brother entering the parlor. “Dipper! You're okay! You solved the mystery after all.”
“I couldn't have done it without my sidekick.”, he says as he pulls up a chair and takes Wax Stan's head off the wall. 
“No offense Dipper, but you're the sidekick.” Mabel informs him. 
“What? Says who? Have people been saying that? Have you heard that?”, Dipper asks nervously before coming down.
“Eesh, which one of you broke wind-”, Stan comes into the parlor before screaming incredulously. “Hot Belgian Waffles!! What happened to my parlor?!” He sees the room cluttered with various wax parts on the floor.
“Your wax figures turned out to be evil, so we fought them to the death!”, Mabel answers, jovially.
“I decapitated Larry King.”, Dipper adds.
Stan stares at them for a minute before laughing at their ridiculous claim. “Ha ha! You kids and your imaginations!”
“On the bright side, though, look what we found.”, Dipper shows his grunkle’s wax replica’s head.
“My head! Ha ha! I missed this guy!”, Grunkle Stan beams happily. “You done good, kids! Alright, line up for some affectionate noogie-ing.” Dipper and Mabel try to protest but he just noogies them, all of them sharing a big laugh before a police car drives near the broken parlor window, Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland on the inside relaxing.
“Solved the case yet, boy?”, Sheriff Blubs asks, condescendingly. “ I'm so confident you're gonna say no, that I'm gonna take a long, slow sip from my cup of coffee.” He holds up his coffee and starts drinking really slowly to mock the Omnitrix-user.
“Actually, the answer is yes.”, Dipper answers, casually as he holds Wax Stan’s head. This causes Sheriff Blubs to choke on his coffee before spitting it in Durlands face, which leads to him screaming in pain and spitting the coffee back at Blubs’ face, making him scream in pain . This continues on until the drive away in pain from the scalding coffee before ending up crashing.
The Pines laugh at the spectacle, enjoying the catharsis of solving the case. “They got scalded.”, Stan quibs, chuckling.
“So, did you get rid of all the wax figures?” Dipper asks.
“I am ninety-nine percent sure that I did!”, Mabel answers with a confident grin.
“Good enough for me!”, Dipper concludes.
Little does she know, Mabel missed one. A headless Wax Larry King chuckles before chasing off after a rat that steals his ear.
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aion-rsa · 4 years
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Harlots: A Witty Blend of History and Fiction
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Like all the best TV opening titles, Harlots’ comical, brazen credits sequence announces its personality in miniature. A collage-style animation set to modern music, it shows cut-out characters from William Hogarth’s 18th-century painting series A Harlot’s Progress clustered around a giant, luridly colored female nude. They tuck into her crevices, canoodle on her mountainous behind, nestle between her buttocks, and peep out over the top of two plump hillock breasts. In the shadow between her thighs, female prisoners toil (just another day at the mine), and finally, she’s on her back, legs spread wide as the show’s title appears dead centre: Harlots. Come on in.
It’s a bold start that announces Harlots’ defiantly effervescent approach to a period and industry – sex work in the 18th century – that could in other hands be wall-to-wall syphilis and woe. It uses Hogarth’s instructive moralism (the six paintings of A Harlot’s Progress depict an innocent girl falling under the wicked spell of a city bawd, becoming a courtesan and a streetwalker, going to prison, and dying of the pox) for its own ends, wittily repurposing a historical cartoon as the entryway to a rich human drama. 
‘The whore’s eye view’
“Everything from the whore’s eye view,” is the rule on Harlots, says producer Alison Owen. Nudity and sex acts are obviously central to the show’s premise, but it presents them from a new angle. Literally.
Having noted how often sex scenes on TV are filmed with the camera looking down on a supine woman, Harlots wanted to show things differently, co-creator Moira Buffini told The Frame. Key to that approach was the use of female directors, led by head director Coky Giedroyc.
“We knew right from the word go that this would really work seen from a female gaze,” says Buffini. Unlike elsewhere on TV, Harlots’ brothel scenes wouldn’t offer titillation; they would show a workplace at work. 
After the first and second seasons went out, co-creator Alison Newman was delighted with positive feedback received from viewers in the sex industry who said they recognized their own working lives and experiences on screen. Harlots is set two and a half centuries ago, but its themes are timeless.
Buffini has described the role of sex in Harlots as the same role played by violence in The Sopranos – it’s the characters’ job, which is what makes them unusual, but not what makes them interesting. Just as The Wire’s focus on the drug trade widened to explore its impact on politics, education, and the press, Harlots’ focus on the sex trade widens to explore justice, religion, the aristocracy, and, at the root of it all, money.
‘The only safety is in money’
That’s the mantra of Margaret Wells, former harlot, now a bawd who runs her own “Disorderly House.” Played by Samantha Morton, she’s mother to celebrated courtesan Charlotte (Jessica Findlay Brown) and her beloved new-to-the-game Lucy (Eloise Smyth). Despite a backstory as terrible as they come, Margaret has emerged a fighter with a keen sense of how to survive in a world where even aristocratic women have little economic power. 
Economics is Harlots’ real subject, says Buffini. The sale and purchase of sex, its fluctuating value (virginity, real or fabricated could be auctioned off to aristocrats for £50 – closer to £1000 in today’s money – while others made shillings standing up in alleyways) and the short lifespan of those who sold it isn’t just a backdrop to these characters’ lives, it’s the fabric of them.  
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Keenly aware of what her girls are up against in 18th century London, Margaret teaches that “money is a woman’s only power in this world,” and only lasting wealth can make them free. It’s a shrewd perspective from a strategic thinker. Margaret Wells is certainly no hero, but her resolve and gumption make her fascinating to watch.
Equally fascinating is Lydia Quigley, played by Lesley Manville. The owner of an exclusive and fashionable brothel, Quigley is a monster shaped by her own abusive start in life. A sadist and kidnapper who profits from feeding corrupt appetites, she’s a villain. And yet … Manville makes her human, and between them, she and Morton make the Quigley/Wells rivalry darkly layered and involving.
Elsewhere, Holli Dempsey is vibrant and thrillingly unpredictable as the headstrong Emily Lacey. Findlay-Brown is captivating as Charlotte. Dorothy Atkinson, Dougie McMeekin, Bronwyn James, Hugh Skinner… It’s a strong cast, packed with entertaining characters each on journeys of their own.
The Covent Garden Ladies
Harlots doesn’t feature real historical characters, but its ensemble is drawn from a variety of real-world sources. When Buffini and Newman began to research the period, a starting point was historian Hallie Rubenhold’s 2005 book, The Covent Garden Ladies: The Extraordinary Story of Harris’s List. The list in question was an annual directory/review compendium of London’s brothel workers that’s been described as the equivalent of an 18th-century Yelp for the sex trade. Among its entries is courtesan Charlotte Hayes, who, along with the infamous Kitty Fisher, provided inspiration for the character of Charlotte Wells.
The Old Bailey trial records provided another source of real-life cases tried against bawds and sex workers – like Ann Duck, the inspiration for Violet Cross (Rosalind Eleazar). Merely touching on real-world inspirations leaves Harlots free to rewrite history to suit the needs of the story, and not to slavishly follow a prepared path for any of its characters. 
Buffini and co. found a paucity of surviving 18th-century writing by women in the industry, so were forced to make several leaps of the imagination while planning the series. The autobiography of sex shop owner Teresia Philips offered some help. Lydia Quigley’s real-world counterpart – Elizabeth Needham – who was notorious enough to feature as a caricature in the Hogarth paintings used in Harlots’ opening credits (she’s the woman luring the freshly arrived innocent to her sordid doom) offered a little more. The inspirations that fed into the characters of Nancy Birch, Harriet Lennox, and Mary Cooper are all discussed in this excellent and detailed article by historian and Whores of Yore curator Dr. Kate Lister. 
‘The flip-side of the Jane Austen novel’
It wasn’t only real life that provided inspiration for Harlots, but also the literature of the age. In this interview, Buffini explains that the character of Anne Pettifer, a young woman in Quigley’s employ, was inspired by one of Jane Austen’s creations. “Our idea for Anne Pettifer was that she’s Lydia Bennet,” explained Buffini. 
In Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, the Bennet family experiences a scandal that, if not resolved, would stop all four of Lydia’s sisters from marrying well. 15-year-old Lydia runs away to London with an older man who has no intention of marrying her until he’s paid to do so by a wealthy benefactor.
“What would have happened to Lydia Bennet without a shadow of a doubt (if she hadn’t been rescued) is that she would have ended up in a house like Mrs. Quigley’s,” Buffini said. “Our drama is about the Lydia Bennets of this world, who don’t get rescued by men, and the girls who have even fewer economic choices than Lydia Bennet.”
‘Dancing on the edge of an abyss’
If that makes Harlots sound bleak, it isn’t. Yes, its historical period was a desperate time for many. Its characters face unmentionable hardships and almost perpetual existential threats – from the law, from poverty and disease, from their “culls,” and from each other – but this isn’t a drama mired in woe or pity. It’s about survival. Its world, just like ours (because in many ways, it still is ours), is awful and funny, terrible and warm, sad and joyful at the same time. 
That combination, pitched somewhere between high drama and comedy, is part of what made Harlots a peculiar sell. As Buffini explained to The Frame, the channels they took it to before landing on US streaming service Hulu struggled to grasp its tone. They didn’t understand the role of humor and wit in hardship. After three series, Hulu cancelled the show, after which point the BBC bought the UK airing rights.
“We think it’s about women who are dancing on the edge of an abyss,” Buffini said, “But they are dancing on the edge of an abyss. Right from the word go, we thought that we would show them dancing.”  
Harlots series one arrives on BBC Two on Wednesday the 5th of August at 9pm with a double-bill
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