#cats sound the most fun but according to my aunt whos owned lots of cats

[ooops-i-arted]

Miscellaneous 101 Yoditos AU Things

Din now owns an insane amount of Galaxy’s Best Dad mugs.  Anyone who knows him thinks it would be the perfect gift, and if one of the Babysitting Brigade takes the kids out Life Day or Father’s Day shopping, they really want their Dad to know he is the best, surely another mug saying so will confirm it.  Din uses them as soup bowls for the 101 as well as to drink the massive amount of caf he uses to survive raising 101 small children.

The 101 call Din a whole variety of things.  Dad, Papa, Buir, Daddy, etc.  Each has their own preference.  Din answers to any of these.  (As an experiment, Cara once addressed him as Dad for an hour and he didn’t notice, even when they weren’t talking about the kids.)

The kids quickly learn which caretaker is best for getting treats, pushing boundaries, etc.  Cara is the Fun Aunt who allows shenanigans.  Hera and Kuiil are the Do Not Cross Ever ones who are called in when they’re being naughty.

Leia is very busy with work and not a regular caretaker, but she used her Senator Voice on the 101 once when they refused to take a nap and was instantly upgraded to Do Not Engage Under Any Circumstances status.

Cara "I don’t do the baby thing” Dune is the one who lets the kids do wild shit and they know it.  She lets the kids yeet her and will yeet them in turn.  “Why are you upset, Din?  They always catch each other!”  She is also the #1 Sweets Sneaker.

Cara and Leia hang out and reminiscence about Alderaan, and end up teaching the 101 Alderaanian songs and fairy tales and games.  Both are really glad to pass on their culture and not let Alderaan be forgotten.  The kids love it, and Din also likes it because according to the massive amount of Child Development Space Googling he does every day, a multicultural education is good.

Din has a veritable library of articles, Holotube tutorials, and various child development related media bookmarked on his Space Internet Browser.  It is as neatly organized as his armory, sorted into categories labeled things like “Potty Training”, “Carnivore Biology”, and “Aurebesh Activities.”  Especially when he first picked up the kids, you could tell how his day was going just from his search history.  A lot of teacher/parenting blogs look forward to the weird anonymous questions he asks.  There are a lot of debates over how the hell you would childproof a ship against telekinetic toddlers.

Because of their Force sensitivity + being brothers who know each other well, emotions spread like wildfire through the 101.  One being scared by a spider means Din will be calming down not just him but another 30 who picked up on the fear.  But the opposite is true too - cheer up one, and the others will quickly follow.

This also means that if Din feels crappy or grumpy, he will be swarmed by Yoditos aiming to make him feel better.  It is very hard to maintain a bad mood when drowning in Yoditos, especially ones hell-bent on making you feel better.

In general if the 101 get a thought in their head, especially if it’s something they’re united on as a clan (i.e. seizing cookies) there is no dissuading them.  They are stubborn as hell.  Din can’t figure out why people keep telling him “Oh, they’re just like you.“

The kids think yeeting each other is hilarious.  Din thinks it will give him a heart attack.

There was an Emergency Clan Djarin Meeting to discuss personal boundaries and safety after Ezra persuaded the 101 to yeet Zeb as a prank and it ended up turning into a free-for-all yeet-for-all.

The most important thing in Din’s life is his sons.  The second most important thing in his life is sleep.

If he can’t get enough sleep he makes do.  He’s been informed in multiple Space Starbucks that the amount of caffeine in his preferred order is illegal in that system.

Din keeps a running tally of Things My Clan Will Eat.  Being carnivores he at least doesn’t have to worry about keeping fresh produce around, but he’s always searching for suitable and frugal food sources since feeding 101 children, even very small children, takes a fortune.  (He drew the line at the time 15 of them got into a bag of loth-cat food and ate it all and liked it, though.  He is not feeding his children pet food.)

Whatever the Star Wars equivalent of Frozen is, the kids have seen it five billion times and have all the songs memorized.  Because of this Din also has all the songs memorized, very unwillingly.  He would give a camtono of beskar to never have to hear one of those goddamn songs again, but he would sooner take off his helmet than let the kids know how he really feels, and enthusiastically praises all their performances.  (Plus, putting on Space Frozen lets him take a shower and eat in peace and get some Introvert Recharge Time.)

It turns out that carbonized bounties are the perfect things to teach parts of the body with, and if you lay them flat they make great activity tables.

Once the kids accidentally hit the de-carbonite button.  Luckily the poor bounty was so taken aback at being used as a road for dozens of toy speeders Din could just quickly recarbonize him.

In addition to learning Basic, the Yoditos have their own language of chirrs and coos they can communicate with.  Din isn’t sure if it’s a native language or instinctual sounds or just a side effect of being lab rats and not getting a formal education, but a gathering of Yoditos purring and chirping at each other is not an unusual sight.

There’s a purr-rumble-like sound in particular that’s used to comfort.  (Think the sound Baby Yoda makes at the end of Sanctuary, when WInta is hugging him.)  Din has woken up from a flashback/nightmare involving the loss of his parents to several Yoditos curled on his chest and under his arms and draped over his legs, purring furiously.

OG Yodito has been around long enough that he's picked up on Din’s dislike of droids.  If a droid approaches his Dad, he will stand by him or whine until he’s held, and simply stay with Din until the perceived threat is gone.

If anyone potential hostile approaches Din, even if they don’t outwardly react, they are all bristling with “If you even look at Din Djarin I will stomp you to death with my hooves” energy.

Din also suspects they “communicate” through the Force to some degree.  In particular, the older ones will sometimes come tell him things on behalf younger ones who can’t talk, such as telling him they’re hungry or hurt, and they’re always right.  Despite the Cain instinct/sibling culture the older Yoditos are frequently embroiled in, the older ones are very protective of the little ones.

The ten youngest Yoditos, who are basically babies, are so small they can fit in one of Din’s hands.

Any doctor visit is absolute hell, due to the whole Raised In A Lab thing.  It’s like taking a loth-cat to the vet times ten.  Din won’t take them except as a last resort, and always allots time after for extra cuddles and treats to help soothe them and tell them how brave they were.

One of the best rewards in the 101′s opinion are Jetpack Rides.  Jetpack fuel ain’t cheap or easy to get a hold of on a regular basis, so Din only saves it for special occasions, but they love flying.  Refusing “Again, Dad, again!  Pleeeeeeeeeeeease?” + puppy eyes is really hard.

#101 yoditos au #the mandalorian #can't stop won't stop thinking about this au #the POTENTIAL

[artificialqueens]

Come Home to My Heart, Chapter 5 (Lemyanka) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 ✨| previous chapters

A/N: remember when call me maybe played on the radio? also, when I was writing this I found myself missing Denali a lot so I included her in the story from now hehe & after this chapter, there are no more time skips, now we are at the “present” part of it Enjoy & thanks for reading <3

-5-

At the age of twenty-two, Priyanka felt like she was invincible.

She was living in Toronto where she went to college with a broadcasting major. She worked in a record store downtown and rocked it as if she was the main character of High Fidelity. She still had the car she bought in her teen years but it worked perfectly and she couldn’t complain. She also shared an apartment with Scarlett who turned out to be a better roommate than expected.

Yeah, life was good. Finally, things had fallen into place.

Now she was on her way back home to spend the first proper vacation with her family she had ever had since moving out and although she loved her new life, she found herself missing the old times when everything seemed simpler.

Scarlett had returned a few days before Priyanka but they had agreed on meeting with the entire group to have some shots as soon as they all were there.

The sun was bright and yellow in the sky when she arrived home. As soon as she set a foot in, her nephews and nieces pounced on her. She spent the whole day playing with them –Priyanka liked to think she was not a regular aunt but rather a cool aunt- and ended up so tired that she went straight to bed after dinner –and for goodness sake, she had missed homemade food.

Going back to her old room was weird. It felt wider now that her sister lived in Australia and spent most of the year touring with a great orchestra. Most of Priyanka’s stuff was in Toronto and the remaining ones were inside boxes somewhere in the basement; the walls were empty and there were marks where the sticky tape was on gluing posters and photos, same old curtains, and even the same lamp on the nightstand. Her luggage was untouched, clothes folded –kind of- inside it. She’d unpack in the morning and until then she would put on whatever she found on the drawer as pajamas. Luckily, she had a Totally Spies! old t-shirt with a hole in one of the sides that would do just fine.

Before turning off the lights, she saw the picture of her graduation, smiling while she hugged her friends and a good feeling invaded her body.

The moment her head touched the pillow she fell asleep.

It wasn’t until the morning after things went downhill.

Priyanka didn’t know yet, she had a great morning drinking coffee and catching up with her mother before getting a text from Kiara asking if she’d like to have brunch with them –don’t judge her, a mimosa sounded delightful- plus they mentioned something about waffles discounts.

She had grabbed the first thing her hands picked from her suitcase, a pair of grey sweatpants, sneakers, and a tank top; the morning was still chilly so she put on a light jacket and tied her hair into a ponytail.

She texted Denali as well; she was a friend Priyanka met one winter she came to town from Alaska for a skating competition and ever since then, she would visit once in a while to hang out with them and practice with one of the local coaches. They got along instantly because Denali was fun to be around, she was also a very talented skater and a great drinking buddy to have next to her any night.

She replied shortly after, something about meeting them there.

It was nice to be in her hometown again, driving around with the same car she bought there, knowing exactly where to turn and where to go. Call Me Maybe played in the radio on repeat and she let it be, even sang along with her windows down.

She passed by Lemon’s old house -the one where she lived before moving to New York- her parents had sold it a few months after splitting up and a new family lived there already, Priyanka sometimes saw little kids playing around and couldn’t help but think of them sometimes. Those days most of her memories with Lemon were nostalgically tinted more than angry like the day she left.

Lemon’s father had re-married a couple of years ago, he met a French-Canadian woman in one of his business trips; she had an older daughter called Rita that Priyanka had met a few times in town. Although she had never spoken to her, according to her friends, she had a charming accent and funnier than she looked in her classy exterior.

Lemon had returned for the wedding that time but their paths didn’t cross.

They hadn’t met in seven years now.

When Priyanka arrived, the dining was flooded with people and waiters going back and forward with pots of coffee and flying orders. She quickly found her friends among the crowded tables and made her way to the table without bothering other customers.

“Hello, ladies!” She smiled widely. “Missed me much?”

Scarlett shook her head. “I saw you like three days ago, you clingy bitch.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Priyanka hugged Kiara and then Juice who were sitting on the other side of the squared table.

“Well, I did miss you.” Juice said.

“See? Even your girlfriend is happy to see me.”

“Again, we’re not dating…”

“Yeah, yeah… we’ve heard it before.” Kiara complained and Scarlett crossed her arms on her chest. “Anyway… have you eaten yet?”

“No, I had coffee with my mom and now I’m starving.” She perused the menu and finally set her mind on the cinnamon waffles. “We should wait for Denali to order, though.”

“Priyanka…” Scarlett called her name with a particular tone.

Very particular.

She suddenly took a closer look at her friends. They all seemed secretive; in possession of some valuable knowledge, Priyanka wasn’t. Juice avoided eye contact, Kiara continued fidgeting and Scarlett was nicer than ever.

It had to be bad.

“What’s going on with you guys?” She was a little scared of asking.

“I think we should wait for the food…” Juice scratched the back of her head.

“No, we have to do this fast and effectively, like ripping off a Band-Aid.” Kiara disagreed.

“Uh… guys, you’re freaking me out. What the hell is going on?”

Scarlett followed Kiara’s advice.

“Lemon’s here.”

Priyanka was perplexed and for once in her life didn’t have a witty comeback. She had gone blank.

“Is she broken?” Juice waved right in front of her trying to catch any movement in her eyes.

“Give it a moment, let it sink…”

Priyanka looked at her roommate. “When you say she’s here you mean…?”

She pointed at Kiara.

“Okay so, she’s still close with some of the girls… you know, Boa, Tynomi…” Priyanka nodded, mechanically. “I bumped into Tynomi the other day and she casually mentioned that Lemon’s in town for a few weeks.”

“Weeks?!”

Great. Just great.

“What is she doing here?” Kiara opened her mouth to reply but Priyanka shushed her. “You know what? I don’t wanna know… I don’t care… I couldn’t care less.”

It didn’t make sense. Lemon hadn’t been back in five years since the wedding and she chose that particular summer to make her triumphal returning. Priyanka was starting to believe she’d become a ghostly memory of her childhood days but somehow she was there in flesh and bone.

Her hands were sweaty.

“Hey! Sorry, I’m late,” Denali’s voice took them out of their bubble. “Wow… you all look… somber… Should I come back later?” You didn’t need to be an expert to perceive the environment.

“No, it’s not…” Priyanka shook her head.

She wasn’t letting her ruin her vacations.

“Sorry. Hi, Nali…” She stood up and hugged the girl tightly. “Remember everyone?”

“Hi everyone,” She greeted the girls one by one and then sat next to Priyanka. “Seriously, if you need me to leave…”

“No need.” Priyanka assured.

“Then what’s going on? Cat got your tongue? You’re usually the loudest table wherever you go.”

“Priyanka’s first crush is in town.” Juice filled the blanks.

“Aw, that’s cute… are you meeting her soon?”

“Not if I can help it…” She muttered.

“She’s also her former best friend…”

“Oh…”

“…Who hadn’t seen her in the past seven years. It’s like her own Envy Adams.”

“Oh, no… Okay… that’s… I’m going to sit here and pretend that I’m reading this interesting menu…” Denali covered her face with the said item.

“Don’t bother, Nali. You have nothing to worry about.” She put her hand over her shoulder. “I’m totally fine with it.” Priyanka sounded convinced.

“Yeah… about that…” Kiara started. “Did we forget to mention she’s in this establishment right now…?”

Priyanka almost choked. “I beg your pardon?”

“She’s here… here.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Well, that’s…” Priyanka was feeling dizzy. “Would you excuse me for a second? I need to use the bathroom.”

“Pri!” One of the girls called her name but she didn’t turn back.

Priyanka locked herself in the first free booth she found.

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined this moment before, years ago when the wounds were still fresh and her heart had been broken, but now… after all that time, she wasn’t prepared. Her mind refused to let the memories go away but she had managed to live a life without Lemon, a life that was good and where she achieved everything she wanted. Now she felt like she was walking back to a place where she was overexposed and it was too much to handle.

She took a deep breath. No.

She wasn’t that little girl anymore, she had endured worse and by no way, she’d give all that power to a single person that wasn’t even part of her life anymore.

Priyanka lifted her head and heard the sound of the water running from the sink diverted her attention. She couldn’t see the reflection in the mirror but that silhouette, a hint of blonde hair and a floral dress, the pastel nails shaking the water drops…

It had to be…

She grabbed a paper towel and tossed it in the trash before leaving the bathroom.

Priyanka’s blood was rushing and some type of instinct made her open the door and get out of the bathroom.

She had to know.

Her eyes traveled around the dining, trying to distinguish among those faces but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

Priyanka returned to the bathroom as if the sugar rush diminished and threw some cold water on her face. The reflection on the mirror stared back at her, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked bigger than ever. She took a deep breath before going back to her table with her friends; they’d get worried if she stayed there any longer.

She walked back, shaking the feeling with every step, she only slowed down when she started getting closer and saw her. She saw her right in front of their table; her hand touching the top rail of the chair where Priyanka was sitting, her frame was still petite but she wasn’t either a sweet little girl or an adolescent teenager, she was a young woman now.

She had curves and toned ballerina legs, her hair was longer and blonder than before and it looked silky and wavy, even her posture was different, relaxed, matured, she was lively talking to her friends even laughing at something Kiara said.

What had happened there?

Juice spotted Priyanka right behind, the others did too and suddenly all the eyes of the table were on her.

Lemon turned around.

She was wearing a buttoned dress with short sleeves and a daisy design in white, yellow, blue, and green; her hair had two pins holding away from her face and there were rosy hints on her features, the tip of her nose, from her cheekbones to her cheeks; her lips in perfect pastel pink lip gloss, her lashes had mascara on and her signature eyeshadow had the right amount of spark to make her eyes pop –Lemon had worn contact lenses since she was sixteen because she was practically blind without glasses, Priyanka knew.

She blinked a couple of times and then smirked.

She smirked.

“Well, that’s my cue to leave.” She smiled at the people sitting at the table. “It’s nice to see you, guys. I hope we can hang out sometime.”

It was like a slap on Priyanka’s face who had said nothing yet.

Scarlett’s eyes were playing ping-pong, going from Priyanka to Lemon non-stop; Juice was nervous but she kept smiling, Kiara was still in disbelief and Denali hid behind the menu again.

She walked next to Priyanka like a breeze.

Now the anger built over the years had resurfaced and made her blood boil under her skin.

“Hello to you too.” Priyanka spat loudly enough for her to hear.

Kiara mouthed oh shit.

Lemon stopped and looked at Priyanka over her shoulder.

“Oh, so you can speak now…” She nodded.

Her face remained inscrutable it was annoying. Priyanka had her nails pressing the inside of her palms so hard, her knuckles were turning white.

“If that’s it…”

“It’s not.” Priyanka was fuming.

“How unfortunate because it is for me.” She walked away with the last word, leaving Priyanka behind.

She followed her figure until she was out of the dining and then felt the hand of Juice grabbing her wrist.

“Pri…?” She tested.

“It’s fine… I’m fine.” She sat back on her chair but the image of Lemon’s fingers touching it didn’t help.

She internally thanked the waitress that approached to take their order because she didn’t want to talk about it.

Priyanka didn’t want to admit that even after all those years, her heart kept running wild in her presence and there was nothing she could do. All those years of being apart hadn’t done a single thing for her hopeless, stupid little heart.

#rpdr fanfiction #priyanka #lemon #lemon x priyanka #childhood friends #friends to lovers #lesbian au #drcan #can1 #timeskips #come home to my heart #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

[mizmahlia]

Get to know me uncomfortably well!

I was tagged by my sis @donaldpiercesbae . Thanks, my dear. I loved your answers!! 

1. What’s your middle name?

It rhymes with ‘bae’.

2. How old are you?

Older than a lot of folks around here, I reckon. (Mid-thirties.)

3. When is your birthday?

January the 26th

4. What’s your zodiac sign?

Aquarius. I’m stubborn, rebellious, and quirky.

5. What’s your favourite colour?

Clover green.

6. What’s your lucky number?

I don’t have one- I’ve never been superstitious in that capacity.

7. Do you have any pets?

I have a cat who’s a bit of an asshole named Oliver, who I love to pieces. And three days from now, I’ll be picking up a puppy. It’ll be almost six months to the day I suddenly lost my Milo.

8. Where are you from?

The United States of Dysfunction

9. How tall are you?

5’6” / 1.68 m

10. What shoe size are you?

I’m an 8.5 / 41-42

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Uh… it’s more than two dozen, but less than three dozen, I think.

12. What was your last dream about?

I don’t remember my dreams, unfortunately.

13. What talents do you have?

Procrastination, I can talk to pretty much anyone, I can play video games longer than is healthy, and I can sorta write.

14. Are you psychic in any way?

Not in the slightest and I am totally okay with that.

15. Favourite song?

None of Your Business by Salt N Pepa, Alone Together by Fall Out Boy, Broken by Lifehouse, Creep by Clint Mansell/Eliot Sumner

16. Favourite movie?

I can’t think of just one at the moment; but if it’s got Batman (or his friends/family) in it, it’s safe to say it’s on my list.

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

Someone I’m comfortable sharing my nerdy hobbies with, who can communicate, and who isn’t content with life as-is. (That means he wants to explore, try new things, strives to be a better person than he was yesterday, etc) To be cheesy, I want a partner in crime.

18. Do you want children?

Yes, but being 35 and having been single for 5+ years, I’m scared I’m running out of time.

19. Do you want a church wedding?

As someone who’s been married (and sadly, is divorced), I’ll be the first to tell you the venue isn’t nearly as important as people like to make you think it is. If I do it again, I’ll probably not do so in a church.

20. Are you religious?

No, but I consider myself a Christian.

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

I’ve been there as a visitor many times, but as a patient, thankfully I’ve only ever been to the emergency room.

22. Have you ever gotten in trouble with the law?

Nope! But I used to get rides home after cross country practices in the back of my friend’s mom’s police car.

23. Have you met any celebrities?

Yep! Karen Gillan, Richard Speight Jr, Sebastian Roche, Hugh Grant, Johan Santana (MLB pitcher), EJ Henderson (NFL player) 

24. Baths or showers?

I love me a hot bath, but it’s usually a shower.

25. What colour of socks are you wearing?

I’m barefoot whenever possible, like right now.

26. Have you ever been famous?

LOL nope

27. What type of music do you like?

Just about anything!

28. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

Only in my bathtub

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

One. I have a neck problem, so I have a specific pillow I need to sleep with.

31. What position do you sleep in?

Curled up on my side.

32. How big is your house?

Three bedrooms, two floors, and an awesome living room.

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

Coffee and a granola or protein bar.

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

Several, and I honestly don’t see how/why it’s fun,.

35. Have you ever tried archery?

Yes, but I’m certainly no Roy Harper.

36. Favourite clean word?

Shenanigans

37. Favourite swear word?

Fuck and all of its derivatives

38. What’s the longest you’ve gone without sleeping?

30 hours, I think? 0/10, do not recommend.

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

Nope, and I’m okay with that. I find it a little creepy.

41. Are you a good liar?

Better than I have a right to be, and it bothers me.

42. Are you a good judge of character?

I think so, but then again, based on past experiences, I’m utterly terrible.

43. Can you do any other accents than your own?

I can do the stereotypical Minnesota one, though a lot of us don’t talk that way. But I’m terrible at trying to imitate accents, so no.

44. Do you have a strong accent?

I’ve been told by quite a few people I don’t sound like I’m from Minnesota. Make of that what you will. :)

45. What’s your favourite accent?

Irish, by far. I love that accent so much.

46. What is your personality type?

I don’t have a favorite type, but I generally prefer those who aren’t judgmental, arrogant assholes.

47. What’s your most expensive piece of clothing?

My wedding dress. It’s ludicrous how much they cost, and you wear it once.

48. Can you curl your tongue?

I certainly can!

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

A pierced innie.

50. Left of right handed?

Right-handed

51. Are you scared of spiders?

Is water wet?

52. Favourite food?

Peanut butter

53. Favourite foreign food?

Authentic Italian, not like the crap they call Italian here.

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

I’m somewhere in between. I’m clean, but somewhat disorganized.

55. Most used phrase?

“What the hell?”

56. Most used word?

“Damnit.”

57. How long does it take you to get ready?

Depends on the occasion- for more important things or when I want to go through all my steps, about an hour and fifteen minutes because I have long, thick hair. For class every day, about 15 minutes.

58. Do you have much of an ego?

I seriously hope not, but I’m not the best judge of that.

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

Neither because I don’t like lollipops.

60. Do you talk to yourself?

All the freakin’ time.

61. Do you sing to yourself?

In my car every day!

62. Are you a good singer?

Nope, but since I’m the only one who hears it, that’s okay!

63. Biggest fear?

Losing my parents or being alone for the rest of my life.

64. Are you a gossip?

I try not to be because gossip never helps anything or anyone.

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

L.A. Confidential.

66. Do you like long or short hair?

I like short hair, but I love long hair.  

67. Can you name all 50 states in America?

I should hope so, since I live in the country.

68. Favourite school subject?

A tie between anatomy and microbiology.

69. Extrovert or introvert?

Introvert with some extroverted qualities.

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

Nope!

71. What makes you nervous?

Dentist appointments, waiting around at the starting line of a race I’ve never run before, flying.

72. Are you scared of the dark?

If it’s somewhere unfamiliar, sort of. Otherwise, no.

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

Depends on the mistake and the person.

74. Are you ticklish?

Everywhere and I absolutely hate it.

75. Have you ever started a rumour?

Not that I know of, no.

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

Several times and every time, I’ve hated it. I’m more comfortable as a worker bee, not the queen of the hive.

77. Have you ever drank underage?

LOL yes. My hometown had little to do other than that.

78. Have you ever done drugs?

Nothing that wasn’t prescribed. I’ve never been curious enough to try any.

79. Who was your first real crush?

A boy named Davey (his name is David) when I was a kid. He’s a year younger than me and loved Batman, riding bikes, and wanted to be a Navy fighter pilot. He had these gorgeous blue eyes and almost black hair.

80. How many piercings do you have?

Three, but that will likely increase at some time.

81. Can you roll your R’s?

I should hope so; I studied Spanish for almost a decade.

82. How fast can you type?

According to a typing test I just took: 83 words/minute.

83. How fast can you run?

LOL not fast. Right now, I’d be lucky to break 9:30/mile.

84. What colour is your hair?

Medium brown with some grown-out balayage.

85. What colour are your eyes?

Like about 2% of the population, they’re green.

86. What are you allergic to?

Stupidity.

I recently developed an allergy to something, but I’m still trying to figure out what. I blame a trip to the state of Kansas.

87. Do you keep a journal?

I don’t, but I should. It really helped me work things out when I didn’t want to talk to someone.

88. What do your parents do?

They both still work, though I wish they would/could retire.

89. Do you like your age?

For the most part, yeah. I hated myself in my 20’s, but my 30’s have been so much better.

90. What makes you angry?

Intolerance, rude behavior, the Green Bay Packers, and the New York Yankees.

91. Do you like your own name?

Of course! It’s not a super common name.

92. Have you already thought about baby names? And if so, what are they?

I admit I have, but I’m not gonna share them.

93. Do you want a boy or girl for a child?

I’d like a healthy kid, plain and simple. Gender doesn’t matter.

94. What are your strengths?

I’m stubborn, persistent, and empathetic.

95. What are your weaknesses?

I’m stubborn, persistent, and empathetic.

96. How did you get your name?

A family friend’s first name is Molly and I got my aunt’s middle name.

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

Not that I know of or care.

98. Do you have any scars?

Physical or emotional?

99. Colour of your bedspread?

100. Colour of your room?

Plain ‘ol white.

I tag @rolodexthoughts . :)

#About Me #personal stuff

[worstfruit]

NORI’DUN HUMAN SUBRACE

the next race i have most mapped out are the northerly human clan: a subrace of very tall, heavy set and muscular humans who reside in the moorlands alongside goblins and orcs. While orcs are mostly nomadic, these barbaric humans sort of bridge the gap between the endless bogs and the more varied mountain range that borders the kingdom’s edge. They often act as a trade mediator between the goblins and orcs, but also will live amongst and intermingle with the two races.

they call themselves the Nori’dun (bastard mix of the little gaelic i know paired with icelandic (or olde english depending which sounds cooler lol) which i know nothing about!), common folk to the south hardly know they exist but those who do refer to them as the North Folk, Norfole, or Nawfelv. 

their society is matriarchal, with a head mother leading small clans who exist in settlements that pepper the moors at the mountain’s feet. the great mother choses a small group of esteemed individuals to act as her council, and this group travels from one settlement to another, spreading news and diffusing ideas. They act as merchants as well as bards and scholars, and report back to their home establishment bringing back goods and valuable knowledge. this council tends to be the only literate individuals, but even then their writing system is simplistic and much like the goblin written language, focuses primarily on identifying items and their quantity for trade purposes. many of the symbols used to denote trade don’t have a spoken equivalent, and common nori people have no use or even knowledge of this system. they do make use of pictogrographs, though there is hardly a commonality between tribes and most images rely on rudimentary depictions of humans or animals, and are mostly created for art or entertainment. 

nori people live in pueblo-like buildings crafted out of a brick called ‘vergs’, made of peat, peat moss, gravel, and guano. the mixture is shaped into blocks and fired, then stacked into long, rectangular modules and set with a slit like mud/clay type mortar, and then finally covered in a thin limestone paste gathered from within the mountains. Once the paste fills any gaps and sets, the structure is often painted using natural dyes and pigments such as soot and charcoal, animal bloods, fats, or waste, berries, local roots, vegetables, and plants such as lichen or moss, and various soils such as clay, lime, or peat. The outer architecture also utilizes bits of stone or petrified woods to border door frames or window holes in a peg like fashion, and painted designs (differing from tribe to tribe) tend to use simple lines, borders, or geometric figures surrounding entrances and exists. the interiors are similarly overlaid with lime but usually not painted like the outside of the homes. the arrangement centers around an elongated room dedicated to cooking and eating; there is usually a large fire pit surrounded by seating in the center of these rooms-- like so: 

not the best example but still gives you an idea of the CENTRAL room layout. additional modules are merged, called ‘ryms’ for sleeping quarters, storage, or religious purposes. minecraft doesnt lend much to decor but there would be shelves and cabinets, baskets and even counter like constructs with hollowed innards for food and wares storage. the top chimney like openings are outfitted with stones in place of the fence I used, and during heavy storms they are covered dried and stretched animal skins. otherwise the water collects in the central fire pit and drains out of through a small and simplistic network of clay enforced tunnels that run under and down from the house. the pits are not as deep as depicted, and the houses are built on a foundation of dirt and rocks that elevate the fire pit just enough for these tiny pipes to run downards. 

nori make use of the limited supply of wood for structural reinforcement and decor in important settlement buildings such as the clan’s meeting hall, temple, great hall, or the great mother’s home. decor ranges from dyed and painted animal hides, woven linen tapestries, wreaths, dried and hollowed gourds, animal bones, weaponry, metal work, baskets, and pottery. many of these items tend to serve a purpose as well, be it practical for storage, fighting, or ritualistic in nature.

most settlements include the aforementioned buildings as well as a smithy or forge, grain and meat storage, as well as more basic, temporary structures called ‘jaels’-- made of sticks, animal bones, dried hides, and moss in the form of forest tent/lean to shapes. these are used for vendors to set up shop outside their homes if need be, or simply to offer animals and travelers shelter during the night or a storm.

the nori keep small herds of domesticated cats, dogs, rats, birds, rabbits, foxes, badgers, insects, and even deer. they use these animals as both pets and food and keep them outside in various shelters, generally only one household will produce an animal product and offer it to the rest of the settlement through barter. they also hunt larger herds of native animal such as bears, wolves, and allegedly even the occasional mammoth if they live far enough north. since settlements typically run under 100 people, farming is also done by single households who offer their goods to others: berries, roots, gourds and squashes, latuca genus wildflowers and greens, legumes/trefoil, lichen, moss, ferns, and mushrooms. nori also trade all of these goods to orcs and goblins and very rarely dwarves or travelers from the south.

despite not being united by one great mother, the nori people seem to share a very unified religion, one which incorporates the worship of storms, moreso than an individual deity or even element. melanism, though not common enough to be considered typical, is frequent enough within this gene pool that most communities have one or two individuals with the gene who are revered as storm prophets and lead religious activities within the settlement. if a melanistic nori is not present, or is otherwise unfit or unwilling to take on this role, a different woman will be selected based of magical ability. in some settlements there are many melanistic people who have little or no clerical affiliation, in others there are no melanistic people. it should be noted that either gender can take on this role, but only a non-melanistic woman is allowed otherwise. these individuals often specialize in storm barbianism or storm sorcery of some form and seem genetically predisposed to have an ability with some form of elemental magic, be it classified as divine or unholy within the borders of the empire. the gene can be inherited but also seems to be carried passively by enough individuals that it can pop up unexpectedly or not be passed down through having a mellanistic parent. like twins or multiples, it is seen as a sign of exceptionalism and highly revered.  

individual family units tend to be headed by a matriarch, her sisters, cousins, or offspring (according to age), and so forth. a great grandmother, grandmother, or mother may take this role, or in some cases, an aunt or eldest cousin, taking on the role of hunter and warrior. men tend to the earth and domesticated animal, deal with trade and bartering/distribution of their household goods, and settlement building/infrastructure. there are exceptions, when men hunt, fight, or even lead households, and vice versa, wherein women see fit to raising crops, animals, and overseeing the riches of a house. all elder members of a house are expected to aid in child rearing regardless of gender. 

tomorrow i will try and divulge further into their dress, music, war practices, trade goods and crafts, and other facets of culture but i am still developing this race! i think the idea of placing humans as the barbarians in a fantasy setting is interesting, as opposed to delegating it to greenskins and having that culture marked as negative through implication! i also wanted to try my hand at conceptualizing 1) humans who get along with the races painted as lesser and violent, 2) melding different tidbits of cultures that interest me in a respectful but also uh...unique? way so that im not making trolls and going LOL THEYRE JAMAICAN or some shit. i.e. pueblos, hakas, celtic tribes, pacific islander skin art traditions, etc! it needs a lot of work but, yknow im just posting it here for my own reference and having fun with it!

[humanoid-whowouldveknown]

Basanavičiaus gatvė

Six rooms

Six separate rooms, one of them in the corner with two windows - to the north and the east; two rooms - just to the north; three rooms - to the south, one of the southern ones has a balcony. And no rooms with windows to the west. It just happens to be that way.

I didn't relocate too much in my forty plus years; of course, there were hotels, tens of identical clean rooms, but I don't count those. Thus, six rooms.

I asked myself many times, where did this idea come from? Did I read about it? Heard something? Dreamt? Saw in the movies? Finally, I remembered: I created it myself, a very long time ago, while giving my first interview. Well, frankly speaking, the second interview; but, since I had like a dozen of those that day, one after another, unable to even let go of a mug with cold coffee to which I gripped as to a lifebuoy, we can say it was just a single perpetual "first" interview. The journalists were interested in the opinion of a young author of the best architectural project of the year on almost every question possible, from the upcoming parliament elections to another apocalypse that was promised to all individuals interested in participating as early as the end of August. And the "newly baked"celebrity thought about only one thing: how to not publicly blurt out the fact that the idea of participation in the contest and the project itself were simply a joke gone too far. Such statements should be avoided at all costs. Especially if they are true.

At first, it was fun to answer all the trivial questions, but it got boring after about a quarter of an hour before a cute girl in a blue knitted hat suddenly asked: "How would you build your ideal house?" Her brown curls stuck out of the hat; the girl was stunning, one of those women you want to show off to, even when not planning to continue this relationship. This question was a great possibility to present me in the best light. I began expertly discussing: said the topic is utterly irrelevant to the architecture or interior design since the ideal house of any human is from his childhood. Actually, why just childhood? A perfect home is a compilation of all the rooms where you lived in happiness. Quickly calculated - then I only had three poor rooms, but that, of course, was merely a matter of time.

The time added three more rooms, all with a much better design. Meaning not just "whatever I buy goes into the room", but according to the style, taste, and need. It added up to a total of six separate rooms, one of them in the corner with two windows - to the north and the east; two rooms - just to the north; three rooms - to the south, one of the southern ones has a balcony.

However, then it was a chatter, nothing more, prepared specially for a pretty brunette in a blue hat. I would never even think about bringing it to life. Maybe as a project, but who would've ordered something like this madness.

Once, a long time ago, probably before the prize for the best project and before some enthralling changes, which logically followed the victory, my mates and I held a conversation - who would do what if they suddenly turned rich? Won a lottery, found a treasure, got an inheritance, found an ownerless bag full of money, had a cordial conversation with gnomes - whatever the reason. What would we do if we didn't need money? Great Question! I said that I would pursue the same path, just work much more, since the most exciting projects are usually impossibly expensive, but in case there is a lot of money...

"Turns out you're a remarkably happy person!" one of my mates got surprised. I shrugged, "Yeah, I guess." I never thought about it. "Happy" is just a word, who knows what the person means by it. Frankly speaking, all the other words contain the same problem. The walls, roof, windows, doors, stairs, floor, facade, electricity, base are another matter. A house.

I liked the houses. Always. Since birth.

I even married a house. Anna had beautiful long legs, green eyes, and a derisive mind, but, most importantly, she had a giant, old house she inherited from her grandfather. It desperately needed reconstruction, and a perspective of becoming its owner looked so tempting that Anna had to accept my proposal; later she amazedly recalled that she wasn't in love, and didn't want to marry at all, just couldn't withstand my knockout pressure.

When, days before the wedding, Anna found out that she is much richer than could be expected, I got excited: that meant we would have enough money to rebuild the house, even if there shall appear any surprises. I had absolutely no other self-serving impulses. I always believed that poverty is when you don't have enough money for the ongoing project; the wealth appeared as an outstanding opportunity to increase the outlay if needed.

By the time the five-year project was finished, Anna finally decided to live separately for some time. And formulated this offering so delicately that I had no inner protests, just a practical question: "some time" is how long exactly? Like twenty-thirty-forty years? Yep, that's what I thought.

Alright, separately means separately. We have no kids, the cat is indifferent, and the house is already perfection.

One could've said "They parted as friends," but neither of us knew friendship. So we parted as mates. We were far too lazy to divorce, and set these negative thoughts aside, to resolve them later. Whatever "later" meant.

And a couple of years later Anna died, and it seemed not exactly sad, rather absurd. Wild, unbelievable. Anna - and suddenly died. Don't lie to me; it's impossible. Whoever, but not Anna. You don't know her well enough.

Yep, that's precisely what I replied to the call about a date and time of the funeral. And continued replying even after hanging up, arguing with an invisible, inconceivable, indefinite partner, who only condescendingly smiled in return. He already put down his single, yet incredibly destructive trump.

I thought it was a mistake for quite some time after that conversation. Maybe a stupid prank. Anna never joked so dumbly, but everyone has moments of weakness. We can do many things in those moments.

I did go to the funeral though. But it changed nothing.

After learning that I became not just a widower, but a wealthy heir, I got enraged. She wrote a damn last will. She left almost everything for her husband, except for a house that was passed onto her aunt; who would've guessed how jealous Anna was. Here is your gigantic pile of money, dear, but you will not get the house you loved instead of loving me. No letter, no note. Now I must live like an idiot, not having a final conversation, not understanding something important - about Anna, about me, about, perhaps, life.

I thought: what a surprising thing! I was enough with two or three dates every year, and never missed her, but now, when Anna is dead, the world lost color. Maybe not all of it, but a significant portion. And who cares about these damn money?

The money, however, did not disappear from these thoughts. They just lay in my bank account, awaiting their moment. There was no wish to spend them. There was no wish to do anything. I even worked without initiative, just on the inertia, and that was entirely unusual. I didn't know myself, why did this happen. "Middle age crisis," said my coworkers, and gave me numbers of great, competent psychotherapists. I even went a couple of times, more out of curiosity than a hope to get help. All psychotherapists appeared nice, like people you would love to be friends with, meet once a week with a glass of good wine, watch movies with, gossip with, take advice from, discuss the recent books with, got to a vacation together once in a while, rent a house by the sea together, drive a car one-by-one, greet every morning in the shared kitchen, forgive the unexpected bad habits, not get angry at, not make angry.

However, these people couldn't return the either once lost or never existant meaning. They could only teach how to live without it. This was not an option.

I thought: my life was like a summer that you spend in the city when there is a ton of workload, and parties almost every night, and, maybe, a festival you can't skip, and long-legged girls outside of cafes who are willing to communicate; and you spin in an entertaining tornado, presumptuously thinking you are this tornado; and then you realize that August is almost over, and the nights grew longer and colder, and the windowsill is covered in fallen dry, scratchy stars. And it wouldn't matter, but you suddenly remember that you never went to the market for ripe cherries. You didn't even steal them from neighboring trees, though passing them every day. And you sort of understand that it is not a big problem, that cherry is just cherry, a sour berry that grows in late summer, a simple food; but it's still bringing you close to tears, because there was no cherry, so you had no real summer, everyone had one, and you didn't; it's the last day of August, so you can't change anything, because time is ruthless, done, finito, basta.

I thought: the time is ruthless. From the very first day, it begins to crash us in its millstones and never stops. At first, it works carefully, trying not to disturb us, but at some moment, it frees oneself and runs as fast as possible - what's the point of all these ceremonies anyway? Get used to it; you can't escape, this is what your life will forever look like. And when the sound of breaking bones in the millstones gets so loud you can't hear your own voice, they call it "middle age crisis" and give you phone numbers of specialists. They are usually people, just like everyone else, already halfway broken, so they can't help you. The best thing you can do at this point is to find some exciting work to distract yourself from the incomprehensible that you can't stop.

I thought: wait, I have this work. I always have had. Before, while working, I forgot not only about time - about myself! Did it suddenly grow boring? No, I won't let that happen.

So I began looking over unrealized old ideas. The ones that didn't find their customer. The best ones. But they didn't inspire me much either. And,  all of a sudden, I remembered: an ideal house as a compilation of rooms one had a happy life in. A funny idea. Way too simple concept and a way too complex creation, plus no one would care enough. I can't even imagine this customer. Who is that psycho and what is going on in his head?

Suddenly, I grinned - this psycho is me. Nice to meet you, congratulations on your new excellent contract. A sane, easygoing, wealthy customer that knows exactly what he wants. Where will you find one like that again? So, how many rooms exactly do we have?

I made a list. A room in my parents' home, where I lived from early childhood until graduation. A room in a big cold flat that I rented together with my three mates. A tiny studio in mansard, where I lived after getting my first job ever. Another studio, larger and much more expensive, a typical "stylish flat of a successful unmarried man" from a glossy magazine, to which I moved when things got better. A cabinet in Anna's house, perfected a couple days before I had to leave it forever. Finally, the present space, thought-through and well-equipped, a perfect working place, sadly not adding to inspiration, though clearing my head in whatever condition I enter it, which is already a lot.

I realized: wow, it appears I was quite happy in every place I lived in. Okay, maybe "happy", "unhappy" are not useful terms, I doubt anyone understands what they mean. But I most definitely had a pretty damn good life, though not recognizing it. Well, at least now, later in my life, I began to understand some things. It's regretful, of course, the fact that I can't re-live my life once again, now definite in its happiness. Unfair. Even the driving tests give you multiple tries, and life is much harder than driving a car. And they, in the sky, have to understand it.

Whatever. No means no.

I drew a line: total - six separate rooms, one of them in the corner with two windows - to the north and the east; two rooms - just to the north; three rooms - to the south, one of the southern ones has a balcony. Damn, and how do I find such an apartment? An impossible task.

A then I finally felt the real excitement.

Theoretically, there was a straightforward path: buy land and build a necessary house. But it seemed incorrect. My entire life, I lived in big cities, in multiple-apartment dwellings, and the only exception was Anna's house, but it was stuck between two prominent buildings on the main street and was so huge one could divide it into several separate apartments.

After thinking for some time, I decided to search for a necessary flat. The chances are small, but that's even better. Let it be somewhat a lottery: If I find a matching space - great; if not - I will not do this project, and think of something else.

Nothing would ever happen without Laimė, of course.

Laimė was my old mate, so old that he had to be called a friend already - just for the length of service. Laimė was a realtor, but not a simple one -a golden one, just like the famous chicken's egg, and his service cost accordingly.

I called him and said, "I need a flat". Requirements are six separate rooms, one of them in the corner with two windows - to the north and the east; two rooms - just to the north; three rooms - to the south, one of the southern ones has a balcony. After thinking for some more, I added: let it be on the last floor, I'm used to being the closest to the sky, it would be stupid to change that fact... What city? You know what, I almost don't care at all. No, I'm not ready to live on another continent. Let's find something in Europe, the northern or central one - I don't like too hot summer. Start from the capitals and merely large cities with airports, so it's easy to travel since I always have job hell knows where.

Almost a half a year later, when I already began to think that almighty Laimė though this order was a momentous caprice, not worthy of time and skill, he started regularly calling and giving options. Some of them were utterly unsuitable: some had only five rooms, some had a whole eight, some had a room with a window to the west, some with all windows to the north, some had three balconies. Unworthy of even looking at. And all of a sudden, like thunder on a sunny day: looks like Vilnius has precisely what you need. It is not a single flat, but three. All on the same floor, no other neighbors, a shared corridor. A good, brick house, ten minutes away from the Old Town. But, take into account that the biggest flat is in an utterly disgusting condition because for the past couple of decades there lived a few generations of alcoholics. They didn't even build sewage and just kept on doing their stuff into a bucket. My agent almost fainted after entering the space, poor boy. On the positive side, they will sell it for tiny amounts, just as fast as possible before they are thrown out for not paying debts. The owners of the one-room flat, on the contrary, raised the price awfully - a flat in London would cost less. Their neighbors were searching for costumers these two years, but this family never planned to move. However, after realizing how much we need it, they took their chance to enrich the funds. Well, it's their right... Are you going to look at it? You understand, right? It's Lithuania. Not an edge of the world, but pretty damn close. Do you, at least approximately, know where it is?

"Yes," I said, "I know very clearly. Can I look?" And bought a ticket.

The city was tiny - the road from the airport to the center took about ten minutes, and that is if you stand in traffic - and unexpectedly charming. Mariuš, Laimė's local agent, was disconcertingly young and sweet, the pearly light shone through the holes in clouds, front gardens and balconies drowned in flowers, the streets were filled with girls with glassy mermaid eyes and imposing, well fed, colorful cats.

We turned to Basanavičiaus street and parked in front of an old brick house. Walking to the third floor, I was almost deafened by my heartbeat - nervousness took over. I suddenly desired this whole idea to complete - not somewhere-sometime, but here, now, that's it.

I carefully looked through all three of the flats: a three-room, a two-room, and a large light studio, a bit similar to my apartment from meeting-Anna-epoch. In total: six separate rooms, one of them in the corner with two windows - to the north and the east; two rooms - just to the north; three rooms - to the south, one of the southern ones has a balcony. Exactly what's needed.

While finishing up the formalities of the purchase I hanged around town all day and night, thinking that after we sign all the documents, I will have no time to wander Vilnius. There will be too much work. Delightful, ravishing, hard work. Thank you, God, for this happiness.

I settled in a small hotel next to my future home; when the studio was free, I moved there. I began to sleep twelve hours a day. The dreams were so beautiful in that flat that wasting them by staying up before the work starts seemed a squander. But I had to be awake for at least half of the day. Though, I wouldn't want to whine about it - an awake man, while being tied up with the chains of cause-effect relationships, still can descend into the Old Town and walk to the intersection of two rivers, the large Neris and small Vilnia, where, according to the legend, knyaz Gediminas spent a night and, after seeing a metal wolf in his dream, got so affected that began building this city. I sat down on the grass, looked at the flowing water, and thought: actually, I would make this city myself if knyaz didn't pass me, lead by a wolf. Great job, they created an awesome city, I have no other comments.

I spent hours walking through the Old Town, observing the houses, climbing into closed yards and porches, drawing, looking, remembering. Insinuated myself with the students of the Arts Academy, and found a guy there who knew all the paths to the city roofs. I was a thankful tourist, positive and quiet: I petted the sun-warm tiles, watched the city from bird-eye view, hugged chimneys, and emotionally whispered to cats, "We are one." The cats looked at me knowingly and nodded in agreement. I thought - who, if not I, will understand the secret behind the charm of this city, calculate a formula of its modest, unobvious, intoxicating and eternal beauty? But I quickly realized: no one can do so. Neither can I. Let it be.

I spent a lot of time in cafes, bought spices and tea in small shops, walked for honey and raspberry to a little, only open on Thursdays market by the river. Quickly developed new habits and preferences, got new things and new mates, took roots. Laughed at myself - wow, finally, - but deep inside of my soul I was satisfied.

A small granny on the market whispered to me about a product - "shoes for dreams" made of soft felt. She explained: their soles have special signs embroidered on bottoms, which leave trails in every, even the vaguest dreams. It's beneficial for the ones who want to be guaranteed that they will wake up in their beds, whatever dreams they have. I got amazed by this creative fantasy but bought the shoes anyway. Told myself that I only did it to help the granny's strange business. However, from then on, I never fell asleep without those shoes. They were very warm. Good purchase.

When I first left Vilnius for a business trip, I felt so lost that I had to return as soon as possible, meaning almost three days before I thought I would. I paid a ton for the ticket change, flew with two confusing stops - in Vienna and Riga - but it didn't matter. Only home did.

Home. Who would've known?

Finally, the last tenants left. I could begin the work.

It's about time. All of a sudden, I got so much energy that I walked almost not touching the earth, outraced my own reflection in the windows, and put the coffee mug on the table seconds before taking the first sip. The workers I hired to destroy the old walls and build the new ones, bringing room sizes closer to their distant prototypes, claimed their boss had a terrible trait - he could be in two rooms at once and, at the same time, clearly observe what happened in the third.

I sympathetically laughed, listening to their complaints, but kept all of the workers in their place. Especially myself.

Just as I guessed from the beginning, the hardest of all was the childhood room. The wallpaper alone was incomprehensible.

This wallpaper was brought to me as a gift by my uncle from Germany. There were large amanitas painted on top, all transformed into residential houses - with doors, windows, chimneys sticking out of the pileus. The inhabitants of these mushroom dwellings - fat male hedgehogs in satin vests, female hedgehogs in starchy aprons, solid male hares in frock coats, female hares in frivolous mob caps with ribbons, dandy ladybugs in derbies, and gangling grasshoppers in spectacles - peeped out from the lace curtains, smoked pipes on the porches, had picnics in the yards, and danced on the wry trails between giant daisies. It's tricky to find such a beauty forty years later.

I hoped for a miracle, called many people from different countries, but never found anything similar to the wallpapers with mushroom houses. So I had to draw them from memory. In about a month it became resemblant, but still clearly wrong - either the colors, or the proportions, or the expressions on hares' faces were off. Most likely all at once.

I kept on thinking just about the wallpaper. Every evening, before falling asleep, no matter how tired I was, I worked a bit on the sketches. Laughed at myself, playfully cursed my dead uncle - thank you so much for your present! I hope you shall dance with these hares until the Doomsday. And even after, according to the sentence. The maximum-security paradise awaits you, dear.

Hoping for a hint, I bought from the internet-flea market: old German postcards, magazines, children books with illustrations, and other nostalgic staff.

The hint unexpectedly awaited me in a dream. I heard many stories about people solving impossible problems in their dreams, but never believed it - what a nonsense. And, all of a sudden, I get this dream: a white door of my childhood room, a brown linoleum, thick red sienna curtains, an uneven edge of thin tulle, a low wooden bed with a once blue, but now faded murky-cyan cover. In the corner, there is a big cardboard box painted in red - for the toys, and one more, blue, for the books. By the window stands an old, double pedestal table made of dark wood, too big for a child. It was only comfortable to work on about two years before graduation. On one side of the table stands an oval drawing of a serious girl with a blue ribbon in her dark brown hair. With surprise, I remembered: wait, we were good friends with her, and I never kept a single secret away from this girl. She was terrific at comforting and never said any unnecessary words. For quite a long time, I believed she was a fairy from the wonderland, that traveled to live on my table and keep me company. One of the walls was covered in half-a-dozen handmade paper puppets, the ones we drew and glued together with my dad. Wow, how could I forget? It's such an important detail, just like the girl with a blue ribbon! I thought that the only problem is the wallpaper.

After waking up, I rushed to draw it down, before forgetting. My visual memory was always retentive, some of my coworkers even said, "phenomenal," but here we have a dream, and I never tried to remember dreams in general, let alone the details.

I tore myself away from the paper only after realizing how much I need to go to the bathroom; after returning, I looked at the clock and sighed: four in the evening. You know, I got up at sunrise. I didn't even drink coffee.

The sketch, however, looked pretty decent, and the puppets were almost perfect - one could say they are done. Said out loud, "Finally, something started happening". I whispered it, although I wanted to scream from excitement, halfway out of the window.

That's precisely what I did a half a year later when I got samples of the printed wallpaper. They weren't just "like real," they were actually real. And it felt like a miracle; technically, it was a miracle, which is why I happily opened the window and shook the winter air with my three-time "Yes!"

The passers, though, acted very delicately. Not a single person even raised their head to rubberneck at a screaming psycho. And not a single cloud that swirls by one's mouth on a cold day turned into a question mark. Big deal, delighted screams. Some people do crazier things.

It only got easier. Even the old drawing, the girl with a blue ribbon, appeared at an old collector's shop, held by a bored ancient man in the far corner of the flea market. In the same shop, there was a blue cover, exactly like the one in my parents' house; it was merely a matter of technique to fade and age it. The table was built from my sketch, and a sad brown linoleum happened to be in the building materials store on the outskirts of the town - the fortune has to be complete.

The handmade puppets were ready long before we could glue the wallpaper, but I didn't stick them on the walls. Instead, I put them into the locker. I just suddenly decided - it would be amazing if the work on all of the rooms finishes at once. It's simple, there will be some minor, yet an essential detail that one may hide and then, on the last day, put it on the required spot. I had no idea why this seemed so critical, but I was happy for finally listening to my intuition, the one I thought of so highly in my youth, but then insensibly either lost or just forgot about in the multi-voice inner noise.

In total, the work with the childhood room took more than a year to complete - with some breaks for other matters that slowly began to disappear. I finished up all the old responsibilities and tried not to take up the new ones. The idea of working on the flat on Basanavičiaus street like I used to work on Anna's house - in the time free from the main work - seemed stupid. Because the moment I began, I realized which work is the "main" one now. And it felt great.

The other rooms were even easier than the childhood one, - meaning they gladly came to me in dreams, showing themselves from a necessary angle - watch and memorize. This fortune made me wish I could take my pencil and sketchbook into the dreams, but it didn't work. I tried putting it next to my head or in my pajamas - it just didn't appear in the dream.

Well, still amazing. Without these dreams, I would probably not recall all the posters and placards that I stuck to the walls of the room I rented as a student. And the stupid orange blanket with giraffes that used to help me a lot in those years; the rug, by the way, had to be ordered too since it was a unique object.

And the paintings of my friends on specially primed walls in the tiny mansard I remembered too vaguely before. And the big bright splashes of paint, supposedly made by mistake, with which I decorated the floor and furniture, would also be forgotten. And I completely forgot that, for example, in the "stylish flat of a successful unmarried man" there were paper planes everywhere because I almost manufactured them out of anything I saw while thinking. And on the windowsill of the cabinet in Anna's house sat a rag bear, made of colorful patches. Anna constantly created these bears; she said it calmed her down. Slowly, thoughtfully, she picked the colors and patterns, stuffed the bears with herbs that she collected in the park and everywhere else she could, so her bedroom always smelled like the end of summer, the sunny dust of a hot August midday and the freshness of first cold nights. And it's so sad that I can't talk to her about it all anymore - now, that the whole world, including Anna and her rag bears, became an utterly incomprehensible, yet incredibly important thing, the spy cipher with instructions that are locked by a long-lost key. Now, idiot, you have to sit and think about the meaning of it all.

My mates were worried. Or rather curious. They asked - some delicately, some unceremoniously: where did you go? What happened? Why are you stuck in Vilnius? What the hell can you possibly do in that dump anyway? What do you want there?

Telling the truth is tedious and ungrateful. Especially when you don't know it yourself. There was no one, in the entire world, that could understand the concept of six separate rooms, one of them in the corner with two windows - to the north and the east; two rooms - just to the north; three rooms - to the south, one of the southern ones has a balcony. Maybe just that journalist girl in a blue hat, but where will I find her now? Which is why I said that I got a girlfriend here, it's all love, happens, you know.

On a large scale, the love part was completely truthful. The details are no one's business.

I was completely sure that no one would come to check. In this sense, a flat in Vilnius is much better than, say, a house in Province, which brings you to a terrible realization of how many close friends you have and how much they miss you.

I was right - no one came.

The work took up almost five years. And only thinking back after it was done, I finally realized that I began something impossible to do. And, somehow, I completed this impossible task - these were not just fantasies about my past dwellings, but exact copies of those rooms. I couldn't believe it myself.

It's worthless to ask yourself: "So? What's the point? Why did you do it all?" When you are doing the impossible, the answer is obvious: so it exists. Because humankind is itself the impossible, whatever it says.

So I tried not to think at all, just do, work nonstop, be happy about completing the parts, get tired, fall on the bed, see dreams, wake up happy and work again, breath in, breath out, exist.

On the first day of summer, I told myself: "done." I put the puppets on the wall, stuck a poster of "Led Zeppelin" on my student's room, drew a bright yellow blot on the floor of the small studio. I folded a small plane from a dark-blue napkin, set a rag bear on the windowsill. In the last room, I put a mirror ball, the one I bought when I started missing Anna's cat, - for the bright light reflections. The sunny bunnies. They could make good pets, funny and effortless.

I winked at my deformed reflection - that's it. The reflection didn't wink back. It kept seriously examining me as if it tried to understand who it belongs to and does it really want to belong to this person.

All of a sudden, I got scared. I didn't exactly know of what, but it was so strong, I ran off to the street without even changing, happily with the coat I automatically grabbed from the corridor. The wallet in my pocket allowed me to change from the working cloth into a new one in the nearby shop. I couldn't make myself go back into the flat for money and documents.

I spent two nights in the hotel, not sleeping at all on the first one, and making myself take sleeping medicine on the second one. First time in five years. After resting, the fear completely disappeared, so in the morning I couldn't understand why did I run away from my perfect house instead of celebrating the end of the project there. I probably just got too tired - that's the only logical description.

After breakfast, I returned to Basanavičiaus street. Got inside of the house, climbed to the third floor. Walked around all of the rooms, feeling neither fear nor happiness, just a patient satisfaction of a man that completed good work. Finished it, and that's great. Now he can live.

I spent the evening thinking which room should I sleep in. Still couldn't choose, so I threw a dice. It's very comfortable: six sides, six rooms in a chronological pattern, so it's easy to use.

Number one - meaning, the childhood room. I thought that it seems logical.

I spent a long time searching for my "shoes for sleeping," but couldn't find them anywhere. Did I throw them away with trash? Well, what else can you expect from a man who ran away from his own reflection a few days ago?

I fell asleep shoeless.

When I woke up, the room was filled with light. I lay under the blanket for some time, happy with an opportunity to wake up whenever I want, not when the alarm rings, - this is summer! Observed the pictures on the walls. If you look at them long enough, the animals begin to move, walk through the trails, nod to their neighbors, smoke pipes. It's better than any cartoon.

I lay on my back, face up, looking at the wall where fat hedgehogs almost began dancing on the meadow, when the boys in the yard scream: "When are you coming outside?" I stand up, walk to the open window and scream in reply: "In a half an hour."

#the tales of old Vilnius #vilnius #I don't own the text #translator #max frei #fiction #story #stories #experimental fiction

[avengeher]

Brave Little One. (Rogers/Reader)

Summary: You couldn’t imagine believing in anyone more than you believed in Steve Rogers. You had followed him into the battle of New York; and you had followed him further into bringing down Hydra-Shield; furthermore, you had fought Ultron and won, and you knew whatever it was- he’d do the same for you. Along the way, you had fallen madly in love with him, and he with you. So when the accords were laid in front of you in black and white, videos of what you’d all done in defense of the people, you knew the decision would be an easy one. Til he looked up at you with bright blue eyes, defiance swimming in them and your heart broke.

Or, the one where Captain America refuses to sign the accords and the ink of your signature was practically already drying on the page.

Pairing: Steve/Reader (female pronouns)

A/N: Hi there, so this is going to be my attempt at a multi part story and I kind of liked the idea of lovers torn (the reader and Steve are already in a relationship from the start). The first few parts will be the whirlwind that was the first part of cap3, up til they get arrested and then from there you will start to get backstory on Steve and her, how she was found and joined the avengers, plus angst and swearing because I am apparently part sailor lol but thanks for reading and hope you enjoy lovelies

Disclaimer; i own nothing but the reader’s basic personality and Marvel if y'all want that, you can have it lol

“You have to take responsibility for your actions.” Ross had demanded, showing the havoc the lot of you had wreaked all over the world. “While some see you as heroes, a great many see you as vigilantes.”

You had felt smaller than an ant as he stared you down, eyes beaming directly into yours when he pulled up a video of what you’d done in Sokovia. You had the ability to manipulate the elements, and the gust of wind you’d used to take out a hoard of Iron Legion bots also leveled a whole - empty - block. You had sunk in your chair, eyes darting to Steve’s as he reached out to take your hand with a sorry gaze.

“That’s enough.” Steve had commanded, the clip of Wanda accidentally sending Rumlow through an office building playing behind him. “Cut it off, you made your point Ross.” Then the accords had been introduced, landing in front of you on the table with a resounding bang.

‘Approved by 117 countries’ is all you could hear. 117. 117 countries saw you all as a liability, as borderline a problem. 117 countries wanted you to take responsibility for what you’d done. Where did that leave all of you then? You didn’t want to be owned by government officials, with agendas and problems that didn’t fit your job description. That’s why you signed up for the Avengers in the first place, so you wouldn’t be some lab rat. Steve’s hand tightened in yours, your eyes meeting his as he gave you and encouraging smile before glancing over at Tony.

“The UN meets in Vienna three says from now, talk it over.”

-

You had read through the gist of the accords, double and triple checking for loopholes or any kind of mistreatment of you all as humans and so far you couldn’t find any. Sam and Rhodey had been getting into it all afternoon, something about medals and criminals but you weren't really paying attention as you switched between watching Steve read the accords and Tony sitting despondently - he seemed utterly concentrated.

“I have an equation.” Vision started, earning groans from Sam but you were willing to hear the android man out. And you were glad you did because he made far too much sense. Strength had always bred challenge, Steve’s immediate defensiveness sitting heavily on your chest. You had never felt so disconnected from him then in that moment. You couldn’t figure out what he was thinking, didn’t know what that stone cold expression on his face meant but you knew Steve, knew he’d make the right choice and you’d probably follow right along with it.

“Tony, you’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.” Natasha pointed out what you’d all already noticed. Tony shifted and it was like a cold breeze through the room.

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind.” Steve’s jaw tightened, hand crumpling the papers a bit as Tony stood. Your eyes went wide, mind catching up to your eyes and relaying the message of understanding. That wasn’t despondent posture you’d noticed. It wasn’t concentration, it was acceptance and the relaxation in his choice.

“Actually, I'm nursing an electromagnetic headache. That's what's going on, Cap. It's just pain. It's discomfort. Who's putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?” Tony deflected. He tapped his phone against the wireless photo display, letting a photo of a young boy none of you recognized pop up on the screen. “Oh, that's Charles Spencer by the way. He's a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul... before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn't want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn't go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.” You looked away from the photo with tears stuck in your throat. You had been the one to level most of Sokovia. “He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won't know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass. There's no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, if we're boundary-less, we're no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don't give up.” What was Steve doing? Did he just not hear what Stark said? Responsibility needed to be taken for what you’d all done.

“Who said we're giving up?”

“We are if we're not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blames.” You were this close to arguing him when Rhodey cut you off.

“I’m sorry. Steve. That... That is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the World Security Council, it's not SHIELD, it's not HYDRA.”

“No, but it's run by people with agendas and agendas change.”

“That's good. That's why I'm here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stop manufacturing.”

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don't think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don't let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.” Why was Steve fighting this so much? He had a good point but was he fighting being under supervision or afraid of another Hydra-Shield situation?

“If we don’t so this now,” You finally broke in, “Do you think it’ll be done to us?” Tony nodded. They’d force your hand.

“You're saying they'll come for me, and you.” She placed her hand on your arm, accepting your pained smile with one of her own. She’d been your best friend through all this - minus Steve, of course. But she understood you in a way no one else could.

“We would protect you, both of you.” Vision explained. But they couldn’t dedicate their lives to protecting yours when there was a whole world out there.

You had never felt so confused in your life with both sides of the coin having equally valid opinions. You had to take responsibility, that was the agreed upon consensus but how? By letting others help decide so it was less likely for there to be so much collateral or was it truly just shifting blame around so it didn’t rest on all of you? Or was it arrogant like Rhodey said to think you could make decisions that involved innocent lives when aliens and sentient AI robots were involved?

“Perhaps Tony’s right.” All of your heads went on a swivel to Natasha. What? “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer but if we take it off, then nothing.” The way Sam’s neck elongated, hands folding over his chest as he leaned closer would have been comical in any other situation but you could feel an impending fight and for once, looking in Steve’s eyes didn’t calm you in the slightest because you still couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry, aren’t you the woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam exclaimed. “Then released all the Shield files?”

“I’m just reading the terrain.” She explained, rolling her eyes when Tony held up his hand. He was grinning like the cheshire cat.

“Focus up. I’m sorry. Did I mishear you or did you agree with me?”

“I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no. You can't retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case closed - I win.” Steve’s phone chiming interrupted the small moment of comedy, the look on his face telling you that no one would be winning today.

“i have to go.” You stood with him, following him as he practically flew down the stairs. He stopped halfway, only to turn and drag you into his arms as tears welled in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Peggy.” he didn’t have to say more. You simply let the moment be, forgetting about the accords and how you didn’t know where you stood let alone where he would. You just held the man you loved, while he cried for the woman he never truly got to.

-

Sharon Carter was a beautiful woman with long blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes to match. She held herself with a poise you’d seen in old photos of Peggy, but more than that, she held herself with a confidence you wished you could possess. So much confidence that when she started to speak, for the first time that day, you truly listened.

“Margaret Carter was known to most as a founder of SHIELD... but I just knew her as Aunt Peggy. She had a photograph in her office. Aunt Peggy standing next to JFK. As a kid, that was pretty cool. But it was a lot to live up to. Which is why I never told anyone we were related. I asked her once how she managed to master diplomacy and espionage in a time when no one wanted to see a woman succeed at either. And she said, compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if everyone is telling you that something wrong is something right. Even if the whole world is telling you to move... it is your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in they eye and say " No, you move.””

It was in that one minute long speech, that one paragraph of profound thinking and intense truth that you made your decision. You don’t know if it was the fact that Peggy Carter, the woman who stood up stronger then she fell, said it or if it was because you’d known all along and just needed a little shove in the right direction. Whatever it was, you finally felt settled for the first time since seeing the accords.

Then you looked over at Steve and it was like someone took your heart in their hands, crushing it with all their might. It was such a strong feeling, such deep emotion that you felt yourself tear up because bright blue was already looking back at you. The resilience in his eyes, the downright stubbornness of a man who was about to be the cause of an absolute shit show, made you question your own resolve enough that you don’t think he realized the truth yet. Not like you had, because you knew it’d break his heart.

He wasn’t going to sign those papers, but you had to.

#the avengers #the avengers blurbs #the avengers aus #the avengers imagines #the avengers fanfic #avengers #avengers blurbs #avengers aus #avengers imagines #avengers fanfic #Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers blurbs #Steve Rogers aus #Steve Rogers fanfic #Steve Rogers imagines #tony stark #captain america #captain America fanfic #captain America imagines #Natasha romanov #sam wilson #Wanda maximoff #brave little one #writing

[klomonx]

‘The Raven’ Review from 2012

Plot Summary   The movie attempts to explain the mystery of Edgar Allan Poe's death by including him in the finding and stopping a serial killer. I'm not too sure when the movie begins, or how long it is before his death, but by October 7, 1849 Poe does indeed die. (This isn't a spoiler you can go look it up people). The serial killer's victims all pretty much make references to Poe's work, which is why Poe is needed in the investigation; Poe is also involved because his fiance, Emily, gets kidnapped by the killer and it becomes the central point of the movie to get her back. The serial killer makes Poe write about the various deaths which provide Poe with inspiration that he has not had for some time according to the movie. Characterization of Poe   First off, I do not agree with the actor chosen for Poe's part. He vaguely looks like Poe, but does now have the same head/face shape, nor the same style of facial hair (seriously, Poe had a mustache not some goatee thing going on). He also does not talk at all like Poe does; not only does he not have a slight southern accent his way and manner of speaking just..do not sit right with me. For instance, over the course of the movie Poe says twat, shit, whore, and fuck(ing). I know that most of those probably existed during that time, but a quick search for the word 'twat' reveals to me that it did not become a common swear until the 1920's so it seems really out of place. Fuck also does too, but I'm not as clear as to how often that word has been used.   Other than the swears nothing Poe says truly..sounds like Poe. The movie portrays him as a very romantic drunkard, which I guess is somewhat close to what Poe really was like...but they make him sound very grouchy. He had his moments of violence yes, but he wasn't really a grouchy, angry fellow unless he was drunk. In fact, he does drink quite a lot in the movie, but he never appears drunk. This makes little sense to me because it seems Poe got drunk fairly often and easily, so how on earth did he remain sober throughout the whole movie remains a mystery to me.   Secondly, for some reason or another the movie makes Poe own a raccoon. I don't know why, and it's never explained why the thing exists, but it is such a..a...stupid thing to include. Poe was a cat person, he owned two cats over the course of his life, if I remember (one being named Caterina). The movie also makes no mention whatsoever of his aunt, Muddy, who lived with him throughout his life. I find this strange, as the movie does actually mention Virginia. Poe has a slightly emotional conversation with another character where he speaks of Virginia's illness and how hard it was for him. I found this to be very unexpected as up until this point 'The Raven' seemed to make him appear like the stereotypical author many people know him as.   Perhaps the most damning thing about the actor's portrayal of Poe, however, has to be a common misconception about him and how it is displayed in the movie. He is accused of being an opiate by his fiance's father, and the movie does not seem to deny that Poe was or was not an opium user-he was, in fact, NOT a opium user in spite of the movie's implications of it being otherwise. This misconception alone probably was the worst way Poe was displayed in the movie.  However stranger than what the movie got wrong about Poe is what they got right. For instance the movie shows that when Poe wrote, he would glue his individual papers together so that the second page, for instance, would be glued to the bottom of the first, and so on. This made his various writings scroll-like and long, and I was incredibly happy to see that they knew that detail. Also, the movie seems to hint at Poe's various morals and views. For instance there is a part early on where Poe is dissecting a heart (I should mention now that this movie is very, very bloody) and describing various things that a heart does. When asked where he received such a thing, he says how an admirer of his writings works at the morgue. I took this to speak about what Poe thought of grave-robbers, those who would dig up corpses in order to sell them to doctors, etc. to study for medical purposes. Such a practice was illegal but needed for those in the medical profession, and it was something Poe agreed on. The movie also makes Poe's critic nature clear very early on as he rants about Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Ralph Waldo Emerson and how terrible they are. The former amused me greatly because I remember reading that Poe had spoofed Longfellow's 'Paul Revere's Ride', making fun of its simple rhyming and such. To see his anger directed at both of those writers seemed very accurate, as Poe was more well-known for his criticisms during his lifetime than his stories or poems (although those were rather well-known too). The Accuracy of Other Characters / Poe's Life   Similar to how Poe is portrayed, I should also note about the other characters in the movie in relation to Poe, and how Poe's life is reflected upon in the movie. What I think is one of the worst features of the movie is the including of Emily, Poe's fiance. After Viginia's death in 1847, Poe did indeed go through quite a few romances with other women and did become engaged to one or two. However, at this time in 1849 he was to be married to his childhood sweetheart, Sarah Elmira Royster. Before his death in October, Poe was on his way to be married to Elmira in Virginia, but somehow ended up in Baltimore on his way there-where he died. The movie, however, makes Poe appear to be a resident of Baltimore and makes up Emily completely. Poe was involved with a few women (including Elmira) who had money and disapproving families, yes, but one named Emily was not among them.   The time period of the movie alone makes me unhappy, as Poe would not have made a good detective at the end of his life. Even though everything in his life at the time seemed to be getting better, he still had to overcome Virginia's death, was still poor, and still had alcohol problems. It also makes the newspaper Poe works for (The Baltimore..something. I don't remember the full name) inaccurate as Poe did not live in Baltimore at the time and would not have had a job there.   Another slip-up in the time period of the movie has to do with a part where Poe actually mentions his mother who was an actress. Poe along with the Baltimore Police Force enter and search a theater, and Poe mentions that the theater was the one his mother had acted in. However Poe's mother, if I remember, went to various theaters, and I remember the one in Boston (where Poe was born) had burned down. Maybe my memory is a little fuzzy on this point, but I find it highly unlikely that Poe's mother would have acted there..or if Poe would have known seeing as she died when he was quite young. In fact, the movie makes absolutely no mention of his foster mother and father or his schooling with the exception of West Point. I didn't understand this at all, as I thought if anything the Allan family would have been mentioned or referenced.   As for West Point, Poe mentions that he had learned navigation skills there, and he then proceeds to solve a clue left by the serial killer using said skills. I found this to be very, very convenient as I don't think Poe ever had to use such skills in real life-so, if he learned them, why would he need them? In fact, he probably wouldn't even remember anything he had learned, so it seemed much too easy to solve the problem.   However, the movie does include some interesting character's related to Poe's life. For instance a coworker by the name of Griswold. I was happy to see this name appear, as Rufus Griswold was Poe's literary rival, and it is Griswold that dragged Poe's name through the mud after his death-however the Griswold in the movie, although a rival of Poe, does not have the same first name (I didn't hear it clearly but I believe it may have been Linus). The movie still makes Griswold and Poe rivals, and Poe does criticize the man, but I wish he could have played a larger role in the movie than he did.  Lastly, and perhaps most unexpectedly to those of you who know little about Poe is the murder. I spent time before the movie trying to guess whom the murderer would be, but I somehow forgot a very key thing in Poe's life. By the middle of the movie, however, I had figured out who the murderer was not based on the clues and characters in the movie, but based on an actual name. I don't wish to spoil this name, but when I realized it I felt so stupid that I hadn't figured it out by the beginning of the movie. (As a side note, the killer also speaks about Jules Verne, in France. This made me giggle.) Story Accuracy Perhaps most importantly in the movie is how the various stories and poems are used in the murdering and other parts of the movie. What amazed me most about this is that for the most part, the movie was very accurate in the details of relating the murders to different stories. The stories/poem that the murderer references are the following, in order; 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue', 'The Pit and the Pendulum', 'The Masquerade of Red Death', 'The Raven', 'The Mystery of Marie Roget', 'The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar',  'The Cask of Amontillado', and 'The Tell-Tale Heart'. Other writings mentioned in the movie are 'The Decent into the Maelstörm' and 'Annabel Lee'.   As mentioned before, the movie is extremely bloody. The first murder, based on the 'Murders in the Rue Morgue' made me laugh quite hard as the police investigated the crime scene I knew exactly what was going to occur. In the 'Murders, the murders are discovered in a locked room that appear to be inescapable from the outside, one victim's head is nearly severed off and the other is shoved up the fireplace. However, upon further inspection it is learned that the window is opened with a spring, and as the main Inspector realizes this and connects it to Poe, I was just dying of laughter. After all it seemed to play out and follow the details of the story very, very well. Less funny, however, is the 'Pendulum death..which does show the poor man being cut in half and was very hard to watch. This was not quite as accurate in the story (that story is one of the few with a happy ending.).   The Masquerade was done well, it occurred during an actual Masquerade in the movie, and it is when Emily is kidnapped. There is not much to say about how accurate this is to the story, but it did occur at midnight, and the movie drives home the point that the killer is basing it off of the short story with various references. The Raven and the Marie Roget go together, with the discovery of a victim who has been strangled using the same method used in Marie Roget-she is discovered in a coffin that also contains a Raven which bursts out when some unfortunate people happen to open the coffin.  However a sad bit about 'The Raven' occurs earlier in the movie when Poe is reciting the last few stanzas of his poem. One of the last lines of the poem reads, 'And the lamp light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor', however in the movie the actor playing Poe misquotes this. He says:  'And the lamp light o'er him steaming throws his shadow on the floor'. This I caught almost automatically, and I was very angry that they somehow were able to mess up that word of the poem-especially since the word 'steaming' does not make much sense in context. The most obscure reference in the movie is made to 'Facts, as it is not a direct reference at all, but has to be explained by Poe when he and the police discover a severed tongue. This minor detail is not obvious until Poe explains it, but I was happy to see one of Poe's lesser known tales noted within the movie in such a creative way. 'The Cask is most obviously done, where the last victim murdered is walled up behind a wall-I was hoping for 'The Black Cat' to be mentioned as well but was let down. Another referenced to 'The Cask is a boat which is named 'Fortunato', which instantly caught my attention. However even though this adds to the murder later on in the movie, it leads to an inaccuracy. When asked if Poe wrote any stories about sailors, he says no, however I seem to believe that this is untrue. Off the top of my head I can think of two stories- 'The Decent into the Maelstörm' and the novel, 'The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket.' 'The Gold Bug' also involved Capt. Kidd, so I'm not quite sure why they seemed to overlook these details, since the murderer himself mentions 'The Decent to Poe in one of his ominous notes. As for the 'Heart, it is done last and toward the end of the movie. I won't say much, but it is rather obvious to figure out whilst watching the movie. Lastly, I must mention another irksome detail. The poem, 'Annabel Lee' is of course recited within the movie (not in full). I don't mind this, but what I do mind is that Emily seems to imply that Poe wrote the poem about her-and worse, Poe seems to be totally okay with it. Even though I know the true inspiration for the poem isn't known, it is very likely that the poem was done for Virginia. The fact that the movie decides to mention Virginia later on proves that they did some research into where the poem originated-so why do they simply make it so that some person who DOES NOT EVEN TRULY EXIST IN POE'S LIFE the subject of the poem? The more she mentioned or recited the poem, the more I began to despise her character. Overview Poe's Characterization: 4/10 The Accuracy of Other Characters / Poe's Life: 6/10   Story Accuracy: 8/10 Overall: 6.5/10 (Better than expected)         

#Poe #edgar allan poe #review #movie #The Raven