#considering adding a walt tag

[darklydeliciousdesires]

The Dream - Chapter Sixteen.

Big thanks to everyone for your engagement on this, still! :) 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven  Twelve  Thirteen  Fourteen  Fifteen

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed (note: those not engaging will be automatically removed from the tag list, FYI)

Words - 2,790

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Dare I even believe my eyes and ears?” Keri put to David, being handed rinsed plates and cutlery she loaded into the dishwasher.  

Shaking the excess water from a large dish, his mouth upturned. “I say it’s safe to call it. I think mommy likes him.” Placing the dish into her outstretched hands, he chuckled. “I mean, god, I didn’t think I’d ever meet anyone else as obsessive over Breaking Bad as your mom is, but apparently it’s very much a common ground.”  

As soon as Angell had mentioned it over dinner, Meryl’s eyes had lit up, the two of them mostly dominating the conversation, discussing the layers of the plot, the characters, how they both considered the only redeemable characters to be either Mike or Jessie, and Angel’s theory that Walt began mimicking certain traits of the characters he killed, thus showing him as a true sociopath.  

What he didn’t reveal was that until someone had called him one, he’d had no idea what a sociopath was, checking with Google, finding that the pissed off woman he’d been having sex with very briefly was incorrect in her assertion. The term fitted Walter White wonderfully, though, he’d thought.

Meryl had listened to him with fascination, suddenly experiencing a pang of guilt that she’d assumed him to be a dead beat who hauled scrap metal around, day in, day out. She knew she could sometimes be a little judgemental, and very overprotective when it came to her only child, so thus worked hard in making an effort, even though she found that through Angel’s charming nature and ability to engage well with conversation, she truly didn’t have to.  

Her mind wasn’t one hundred percent made up, but so far, she found him to be quite likable. As for David...

“Well, little. I gotta say, I think he’s great. I like him, he's a straight up guy and seems really genuine, too. And let me tell you, you’re the apple of his goddamned eye.”

She bit her lip, looking away. “Hmm.”

“Hmm? Psht. Hmm, nothing. You’re onto something good, mark my words.” For once, she actually dared believe that she was. There he was, prepared to do the whole meet the parent's thing on only the second occasion he’d actually spent physical time with her, flying over seven hundred miles to do that, and fine with being ordered to the spare room. And he’d witnessed her various states of calamity.  

Yes. Things were looking promising, she had to admit.  

“So, I think you have the parent's approval, I haven't heard my mom laugh like that in years! She’s fun once the icy exterior thaws a little,” Keri told him much later in the night before they went to sleep, hugging him in the doorway to the spare room.

“Yeah, I think she’s great. Kinda freaks me out a little that she's only eight years older than me! And David is fuckin’ awesome, really good guy. He’s just like how I pictured him to be from what you told me.”  

His words made her beam brightly, reaching to kiss him. “Well, until the morning, you gorgeous man.”  

“Goodnight, tiny. Try not to miss me too much.”

She kissed him again, stroking his chest through his shirt. “I’ll try, but if I do, I can’t say that my hands might not wander while I imagine you there.” Licking her top lip, she winked, turning to enter her room, leaving Angel both frustrated and...  

“Get the fuck back down,” he spoke, looking to where his cock was beginning to swell in his jeans, closing the door. “We ain’t getting shit tonight.”  

The following morning, Keri was up before him, heading downstairs to find David pulling on his jacket.

“I'm just going out to pick up a paper and get some gas, do you want anything from the store?”

Stretching, she shook her head while yawning. “No thanks, I'll have a read of your paper when you're done with it, though.”  

“Okay I'll be back in about twenty minutes.” Opening the front door, she noticed that her mother’s car was absent, wondering why, at 9am on a Saturday, her mom wasn’t still in bed. Meryl loved a weekly lie in. David noticed her inquiring expression. “Ruth called her into work. Apparently, Agnes got her days off mixed up, so she’s had to go and cover for her.”  

“Wow,” she began, her eyes rounding. “I bet she was pleased.”

He laughed softly through his nose, remembering her fury, until Ruth had revealed the sweetener. “Actually, she was. She’s getting paid double time. Anyway, I’ll see you shortly.”  

Twenty minutes of a house to herself. Hearing the shower being turned on upstairs, armed with the knowledge that there were no parents currently under the same roof to catch her doing it, she decided that it was the perfect time to get her own back on the man currently standing under the jet of hot water.

Since the lock was broken on the bathroom door, she tapped it softly and called out 'only me' from the other side after removing her pyjamas, casting them to the floor as soon as she entered the white brick bathroom. Angel turned around in the shower cubicle, his eyes virtually popping right out of his head at the sight of a naked Keri walking towards him.

She could barely conceal the satisfaction at such a reaction, Angel gaping as she stepped in with him. “Move over buddy, there's room for a small person too.” He was rendered mute. “Oh, and good morning.” Fluttering her eyelashes, she stood there beneath the water, her bare skin not quite making contact with his, the large corner shower spacious enough for them both to stand comfortably in there. “Can you speak at all?”

Seeing her naked in the flesh for the first time had truly caught him off guard, the last thing he expected to be seeing that morning, but fuck, he was appreciative. Her body was incredible. Even more so than their dreams had alluded to.

Finally, after watching the water running down over her breasts, he found his voice. “Not that having a beautiful, naked woman in the shower with me is something I’d ever turn down, but if your mom or David come in now, we're dead.”

“Mom got called into work, and David went out to the store. He’ll be gone for twenty minutes. Besides, I’m doing nothing naughty. Merely taking a shower,” she stated sweetly, reaching around him to take her shampoo from the shelf.  

Damn her. “So, you're gonna stand there in front of me and expect me to keep my hands to myself, huh?' he said, his eyes travelling across her body, feeling a certain part of his begin to react to the sight he was presented with.  

Rinsing the suds from her hair, she once again reached past him, grabbing her conditioner and applying, placing the bottle back, her lips meeting his chest. “Yes, I do expect that. Maybe, though, I don’t have to.”  

She finally let her gaze fall, looking down, her smile broadening when she saw his cock standing erect, biting her lower lip as she grasped it with a gentle squeeze. “God, that’s so thick. See when we dreamed, it was always a little hazy, the exact size of your cock. I could never truly gauge what I was working with, but now, wow. The reality is a very nice, big surprise, I have to say.”

Her hand, a little slippery from the conditioner she’d just applied to her hair, ran up his shaft, her thumb stroking swirls over the very tip, pushing him back against the glass cubicle. He reached for her, Keri stepping back a little, her eyes warning him. Knocking his hand away, she closed the gap once more, her lips soft as his neck, a faint whine of a moan fluttering from her mouth. “Does that feel good?”  

Her whisper had him shuddering more than the deft ministration of her hand, slowly pumping at his shaft, kissing the column of his throat once more, a deep rumble vibrating against her lips, her tongue swiping where his beard met his neck, that black grit coarse against the soft lick. “Yeah, feels really good.”  

He twitched within the warm, slippery clutch of her grasp, his groans thickening as rapidly as his cock, her own furnace beginning to burn brightly. “You want me badly, don’t you? I bet you’d love nothing more than to bend me over right here, and bury this beautiful, big cock right up inside of me, wouldn’t you?”  

“Mm.” That soft grunt was all he could manage, their mouths meeting in a kiss of fiery honey, sweet heat burning between them as she quickened her hand, her other bracketing his throat and pushing him back when he tried to assert himself over her. It was an action he hadn’t expected from one quite so diminutive, her strength taking him by surprise.  

“Oh no, Angel Reyes. There’ll be none of that.” Her purr set the hairs at the back of his neck to stand on end, his chest beginning to rise and fall quicker, wanting nothing more than to grasp her waist, lift her up and drop her straight down onto his aching cock. “In fact, there’ll be no more of anything. I think I’m done here.”  

Releasing him, her mouth tilted into a smirk as she rinsed her hair, soaping herself down quickly before puckering her lips and leaving him there smouldering. His eyes narrowed at her as she swathed herself in towels, chuckling with amusement at his anguish. “I hope you enjoyed your preview.”

“You’re gonna pay for that, mamas.”

She pouted, licking her top lip. “To use your words, bring it.” Leaving the bathroom, the atmosphere definitely steamier than when she’d arrived, Keri went back to her bedroom, her eyes glancing in the direction of her nightstand drawer. God, she’d kill to take the edge off with her vibrator, but time wasn’t really on her side.  

After applying a liberal smothering of lotion to her skin, she dressed in her black skinny jeans and her lovely, soft, pale grey sweater that perpetually hung off one shoulder, revealing the dark leopard print undies she had on beneath. Finger combing her hair with some styling cream, she gave it a blast with her hairdryer, her tresses falling into their natural waves, Keri pinning it back to apply a little makeup, laughing as she heard Angel mutter about her being a demoness as he exited the bathroom and walked past her door.  

She was affixing her small, diamante stud earrings in when he arrived in her room, folding his arms, still glaring. “I hate you.”

Chuckling, she stood up, moving to kiss him. “Next time I have my hand around it, believe me, I won’t stop.”  

“Yeah, I’d appreciate that, rather than having to finish solo.” Just the thought of him relieving himself of what she’d stirred sent a pleasant quiver through her, kissing him hotly before they went downstairs, finding David in the kitchen, cooking up one of his mammoth sized breakfasts. Once they’d eaten, David heading over to their neighbour Steve’s place to continue helping him work on his classic truck rebuild project, Keri sat at the island reading the paper while Angel stood at the window, looking out into the garden as he drank his coffee.  

Five minutes passed before he got his true first taste of the local wildlife.

“Holy fuck! There’s a huge assed bear in your garden, come check it out!”  

“Colour?” she asked, not looking up from the paper.

“Black.”

She looked up, her face curious with anticipation. “Brown snout, and a chunk taken out of his left ear?”

“Yeah, it has actually,” he replied, puzzled at the specificness of her question for a few moments.

Her face lit up, flying from her seat at speed. “He’s back!” She ran at the refrigerator, pulling out a plate of meat cuts, taking it to the back door. “And where have you been?” she demanded, turning back to Angel and signalling with her hand that he should stay where he was.  

“Keri, what the fuck are you doing? That's about four hundred pounds of wild bear coming towards you,” he hissed, his eyes wide.

“Relax, he’s my bear,” she began, the huge beast approaching, making noises of greeting in his throat. “My mom found him abandoned on the side of the highway after his mother had been hit by a truck. He was only a few days old, so she brought him back here to raise him herself. My granddad used to do wildlife rehabbing, so she knew what to do.  

“He lived in the house with us until he got too big and was able to go back to the wild, but he comes to visit once a week or so. He thinks we’re his family, and we are, I guess, especially since he used to sleep in mom’s bed with her when he was tiny, before she made his own space for him when he got too rambunctious. He only came out of hibernation last week, though, so I haven’t seen him for months.”

Angel couldn’t help but feel his panic rise as the bear ambled closer, taking in the sheer size of the beast, but his anxious heart melted instantly when he saw it reach Keri, who put the plate down and crouched to fling her arms around his neck, the bear pushing his face against hers. “Hey boy, hey! I missed you so much! I wasn’t home when you came by last week, no, I was out taking lots of pictures of things not nearly as beautiful as you, yes I was!”

He was speechless at the sight, watching the bear put his head down and begin eating the meat from the plate, Keri continuing her talk. “We shouldn’t really feed him as it encourages them scavenging, but he’s never raided the trash, same with the neighbours either. He’s a good boy, he has his manners. He used to come back quite a lot, but it’s less regular now he’s older.”

“How old is he?” Angel asked, viewing the bear with fascination.

“He’s fourteen, and his name is Rufus! I named him after a bear in a book I read as a child.”  

He laughed, thinking it a very cute and non-threatening name for a creature who could disembowel a person with one swipe of his claws.  

“Don’t look so worried! I used to ride him around the lounge when I was nine! He’s lovely, but not good with new people, so you’ll have to stay there or he might become agitated,” she advised, her nails scratching his thick fur, Rufus fluttering his ears as he licked the plate clean of the blood trails. “Your breath stinks, boy. Yes, it does. I love you, though.” she continued, Rufus sniffing her face and giving her nose a lick before he turned and ambled away.  

“Well I gotta say it, you've got probably the most unusual pet in the world, even if he is a wild animal, and he seems to think the world of you,” he told her, stepping outside and lighting up a cigarette.

Her cheeks dimpled from her sweet grin. “Most gorgeous, big animals do.”  

Once he’d finished his cigarette, they headed out, Keri able to take him where she’d wanted to the previous weekend, up to the dinosaur museum, stopping for dinner on the way home at a steakhouse David had recommended, and then going for drinks with Ash and Rachel on the evening.  

His time with Keri was over way too soon for Angel’s liking, hating to leave her at the airport when Sunday morning rolled around, especially since he wouldn't get to see her for two weeks, with club business penned in the following weekend, making plans for her to go to him next time. She was able to fly down on the Thursday afternoon and stay until Monday morning, figuring she could head straight to college from the airport for her afternoon lectures.  

As soon as he walked back into his house, he couldn’t wait until she’d be there in it, too. After unpacking his bag, though, he saw a tiny part of her already was. His hand hit something fuzzy as he pulled his tangle of clothes out, peering down and removing what turned out to be a small triceratops beanie baby she’d obviously bought secretly at the museum giftshop and snuck in there when he hadn’t been looking.  

“Keri Jane,” he hummed, looking at the little plush toy with a smile. “Too fucking cute by far.”  

#angel reyes #angel reyes fanfiction #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes smut #angel reyes x ofc #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc smut #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

[thethirdromana]

Bram Stoker's letter to Walt Whitman

I've seen a few people posting extracts and links to this remarkable letter in the Dracula Daily tag, but never the full thing - and often the links are to an abridged version as well. I thought we should have it in full.

(Apologies if someone else has done this already. I did search for it, but it's never easy to find things on tumblr.)

I have added photos to make it a bit less of a wall of text, but nothing else.

___________

Dublin, 14 February, 1876

My dear Mr. Whitman.

I hope you will not consider this letter from an utter stranger a liberty. Indeed, I hardly feel a stranger to you, nor is this the first letter that I have written to you. My friend Edward Dowden has told me often that you like new acquaintances or I should rather say friends. And as an old friend I send you an enclosure which may interest you. Four years ago I wrote the enclosed draft of a letter which I intended to copy out and send to you—it has lain in my desk since then—when I heard that you were addressed as Mr. Whitman. It speaks for itself and needs no comment. It is as truly what I wanted to say as that light is light.

Bram Stoker

The four years which have elapsed have made me love your work fourfold, and I can truly say that I have ever spoken as your friend. You know what hostile criticism your work sometimes evokes here, and I wage a perpetual war with many friends on your behalf. But I am glad to say that I have been the means of making your work known to many who were scoffers at first. The years which have passed have not been uneventful to me, and I have felt and thought and suffered much in them, and I can truly say that from you I have had much pleasure and much consolation—and I do believe that your open earnest speech has not been thrown away on me or that my life and thought fail to be marked with its impress. I write this openly because I feel that with you one must be open. We have just had tonight a hot debate on your genius at the Fortnightly Club in which I had the privilege of putting forward my views—I think with success.

Nassau St in Dublin in the 1870s

Do not think me cheeky for writing this. I only hope we may sometime meet and I shall be able perhaps to say what I cannot write. Dowden promised to get me a copy of your new edition and I hope that for any other work which you may have you will let me always be an early subscriber. I am sorry that you’re not strong. Many of us are hoping to see you in Ireland. We had arranged to have a meeting for you. I do not know if you like getting letters. If you do I shall only be too happy to send you news of how thought goes among the men I know. With truest wishes for your health and happiness believe me,

Your friend

Bram Stoker

___________

Draft letter, Dublin, 18 February, 1872.

If you are the man I take you to be you will like to get this letter. If you are not I don’t care whether you like it or not and only ask you to put it into the fire without reading any farther. But I believe you will like it. I don’t think there is a man living, even you who are above the prejudices of the class of small-minded men, who wouldn’t like to get a letter from a younger man, a stranger, across the world—a man living in an atmosphere prejudiced to the truths you sing and your manner of singing them. The idea that arises in my mind is whether there is a man living who would have the pluck to burn a letter in which he felt the smallest atom of interest without reading it. I believe you would and that you believe you would yourself. You can burn this now and test yourself, and all I will ask for my trouble of writing this letter, which for all I can tell you may light your pipe with or apply to some more ignoble purpose—is that you will in some manner let me know that my words have tested your impatience. Put it in the fire if you like—but if you do you will miss the pleasure of this next sentence, which ought to be that you have conquered an unworthy impulse.

Walt Whitman aged 35

A man who is uncertain of his own strength might try to encourage himself by a piece of bravo, but a man who can write, as you have written, the most candid words that ever fell from the lips of mortal man—a man to whose candor Rousseau’s Confessions is reticence—can have no fear for his own strength. If you have gone this far you may read the letter and I feel in writing now that I am talking to you. If I were before your face I would like to shake hands with you, for I feel that I would like you. I would like to call you Comrade and to talk to you as men who are not poets do not often talk. I think that at first a man would be ashamed, for a man cannot in a moment break the habit of comparative reticence that has become a second nature to him; but I know I would not long be ashamed to be natural before you. You are a true man, and I would like to be one myself, and so I would be towards you as a brother and as a pupil to his master. In this age no man becomes worthy of the name without an effort. You have shaken off the shackles and your wings are free. I have the shackles on my shoulders still—but I have no wings. If you are going to read this letter any further I should tell you that I am not prepared to “give up all else” so far as words go. The only thing I am prepared to give up is prejudice, and before I knew you I had begun to throw overboard my cargo, but it is not all gone yet.

I do not know how you will take this letter. I have not addressed you in any form as I hear that you dislike to a certain degree the conventional forms in letters. I am writing to you because you are different from other men. If you were the same as the mass I would not write at all. As it is I must either call you Walt Whitman or not call you at all—and I have chosen the latter course. I don’t know whether it is usual for you to get letters from utter strangers who have not even the claim of literary brotherhood to write you. If it is you must be frightfully tormented with letters and I am sorry to have written this. I have, however, the claim of liking you—for your words are your own soul and even if you do not read my letter it is no less a pleasure to me to write it. Shelley wrote to William Godwin and they became friends. I am not Shelley and you are not Godwin and so I will only hope that sometime I may meet you face to face and perhaps shake hands with you. If I ever do it will be one of the greatest pleasures of my life.

Bram Stoker in 1906

If you care to know who it is that writes this, my name is Abraham Stoker (Junior). My friends call me Bram. I live at 43 Harcourt St., Dublin. I am a clerk in the service of the Crown on a small salary. I am twenty-four years old. Have been champion at our athletic sports (Trinity College, Dublin) and have won about a dozen cups. I have also been President of the College Philosophical Society and an art and theatrical critic of a daily paper. I am six feet two inches high and twelve stone weight naked and used to be forty-one or forty-two inches round the chest. I am ugly but strong and determined and have a large bump over my eyebrows. I have a heavy jaw and a big mouth and thick lips—sensitive nostrils—a snubnose and straight hair. I am equal in temper and cool in disposition and have a large amount of self control and am naturally secretive to the world. I take a delight in letting people I don’t like—people of mean or cruel or sneaking or cowardly disposition—see the worst side of me. I have a large number of acquaintances and some five or six friends—all of which latter body care much for me.

Trinity College Dublin in the 1880s

Now I have told you all I know about myself. I know you from your works and your photograph, and if I know anything about you I think you would like to know of the personal appearance of your correspondents. You are I know a keen physiognomist. I am a believer of the science myself and am in an humble way a practicer of it. I was not disappointed when I saw your photograph—your late one especially. The way I came to like you was this. A notice of your poems appeared some two years ago or more in the Temple Bar magazine. I glanced at it and took its dictum as final, and laughed at you among my friends. I say it to my own shame but not to my regret for it has taught me a lesson to last my life out—without ever having seen your poems. More than a year after I heard two men in College talking of you. One of them had your book (Rossetti’s edition) and was reading aloud some passages at which both laughed. They chose only those passages which are most foreign to British ears and made fun of them. Something struck me that I had judged you hastily. I took home the volume and read it far into the night. Since then I have to thank you for many happy hours, for I have read your poems with my door locked late at night, and I have read them on the seashore where I could look all round me and see no more sign of human life than the ships out at sea: and here I often found myself waking up from a reverie with the book lying open before me.

I love all poetry, and high generous thoughts make the tears rush to my eyes, but sometimes a word or a phrase of yours takes me away from the world around me and places me in an ideal land surrounded by realities more than any poem I ever read. Last year I was sitting on the beach on a summer’s day reading your preface to the Leaves of Grass as printed in Rossetti’s edition (for Rossetti is all I have got till I get the complete set of your works which I have ordered from America). One thought struck me and I pondered over it for several hours—”the weather-beaten vessels entering new ports,” you who wrote the words know them better than I do: and to you who sing of your own land of progress the words have a meaning that I can only imagine. But be assured of this, Walt Whitman—that a man of less than half your own age, reared a conservative in a conservative country, and who has always heard your name cried down by the great mass of people who mention it, here felt his heart leap towards you across the Atlantic and his soul swelling at the words or rather the thoughts.

Walt Whitman in 1877

It is vain for me to try to quote any instances of what thoughts of yours I like best—for I like them all and you must feel that you are reading the true words of one who feels with you. You see, I have called you by your name. I have been more candid with you—have said more about myself to you than I have ever said to any one before. You will not be angry with me if you have read so far. You will not laugh at me for writing this to you. It was with no small effort that I began to write and I feel reluctant to stop, but I must not tire you any more. If you ever would care to have more you can imagine, for you have a great heart, how much pleasure it would be to me to write more to you. How sweet a thing it is for a strong healthy man with a woman’s eyes and a child’s wishes to feel that he can speak so to a man who can be if he wishes father, and brother and wife to his soul.

I don’t think you will laugh, Walt Whitman, nor despise me, but at all events I thank you for all the love and sympathy you have given me in common with my kind.

Bram Stoker

Walt Whitman in 1891

___________

6 March, 1876.

My dear young man,

Your letters have been most welcome to me—welcome to me as Person and as Author—I don’t know which most—You did well to write me so unconventionally, so fresh, so manly, and so affectionately, too. I too hope (though it is not probable) that we shall one day meet each other. Meantime I send you my friendship and thanks.

Edward Dowden’s letter containing among others your subscription for a copy of my new edition has just been received. I shall send the books very soon by express in a package to his address. I have just written E. D.

My physique is entirely shattered—doubtless permanently, from paralysis and other ailments. But I am up and dressed, and get out every day a little. Live here quite lonesome, but hearty, and good spirits.

Write to me again.

Walt Whitman

Leaves of Grass, 1872 edition

___________

Walt Whitman and Bram Stoker met three times - in 1884, 1886 and 1887. Whitman passed away in 1892.

#dracula daily #walt whitman #bram stoker #long post

[creativenicocorner]

I think the main reason I’m sharing this, outside of having very little self control, is because I’m tired of staring at it dlfkgjdlg I’ll get out of this writing slump you’ll see! 

In the meantime stare away haha 

A Terpsichore ch16 sneak peek!  //

Better a lynching now than yesterday, he thought calmly. 

The changeling wasn’t too surprised of his circumstances, his vision might be upside-down, but, in a morbid sort of inevitable way, everything was back to how it should be. 

Human doctors on with their marvelous lives.

Trolls lashing frustrations without much critical thinking skills or thought.

Changelings-

He blacked out. Ever so briefly. 

Distantly Walter Strickler felt as though he were laying on a couch. His head in Barbara’s lap. He realized he was smiling up at her, watching her as she relayed a joke. 

Something funny Anna had mentioned to Barbara over their last coffee date. Strickler tuned in, in time for Barbara to excitedly say, “And then Anna said ‘so we met over a cadaver - it was liver at first sight’!” and started to laugh and laugh and laugh.

It was music to Strickler’s ringing ears. 

At least until he popped back to consciousness with his ears still ringing. The scenery had changed, he was now deeper into Trollmarket. He remembered some of the stalls that Blinky mentioned when he first brought him to the Stronghold.

The fate of being a changeling piñata was all that seemed to await Strickler now. Or so he idly thought as more and more trolls clustered to his honorary pummeling parade - which by now he was feeling rather lackluster about. Sure earlier his heart was pumping to his ears with adrenaline. Feeling like one of those mothers that could lift full cars in order to save their child - which was himself in this scenario - he used to deeply want to save himself. But that go to fight or flight impulse was shot down faster than a migration of mallards during duck season.

It was a surreal experience to watch as more trolls joined the original three. Remarkable how trolls didn’t seem to take much convincing. He contemplated how many of them were truly like minded over their thoughts of his right to exist, or just tagging along out of morbid curiosity. Regardless it was like watching a forrest fire spread. 

Every so often Strickler would try to call out, “Jim! Trollhunter!” but didn’t quite put enough heart in it to be heard over the growing cajoling to the others of Trollmarket to join the growing mob. Using the damage sustained by their previous scuffle in the Stronghold as added reasoning to their march.  

The trolls wondered aloud how best to go about teaching this changeling a lesson. 

Strickler wondered what Nomura would have said to him, at the sight of such a spectacle. And then he remembered she was as good as dead in the Darklands. 

Strickler wondered what Otto would say, imagined his golden toothed smile, the chill in his pale blue eyes, and then remembered his betrayal. That Strickler was as good as dead to Otto. 

Then, oddly, Strickler found himself wondering what Barbara would say, or how she would treat his wounds. 

He found himself imagining they’d be in a quiet space. A living room, either his or hers, he didn’t care. As long as they were together, as long as it was quiet. With a soft breeze blowing through a half opened window. With fresh spring air that wasn’t unbearably full of pollen. The soft sound of gauze being unwrapped. An ever so tender, “Oh Walt.”

But then he remembered she’d never want to see him again, actively looked forward to not remembering him no less. And whatever level of looking after she’d do - would be from civic duty, and a cold ER room. 

The thought was merely a fruitless fantasy. 

His face grazed against a television pile, jostling, scraping him so blood would leak past his hairline. Strickler felt deserving of the sting.

A good thing about no longer being bound to the binding spell was that he didn’t have to worry Barbara feeling what he would feel. He didn’t have to take care of himself as intently. Though he had already thought about that already - didn’t he? Not that he was confident that he was going to walk away from this. His odds were, not something he wanted to think about. 

Soon he wasn’t thinking about anything. He blacked out again. 

While unconscious he was imagining a pond. The idea of which folded before him like a pop up book. The pond was full of floating flowers, primarily forget-me-nots, also known as a scorpion grass. 

In the pond was a scorpion, who had a flower stuck through its stinger, and was on the back of a most beautiful frog. 

“Oh dear.” Went Strickler, “This will end poorly.”

“Must it?” went another voice that was remarkably like his own.

“Of course.” Strickler eyed the stinger. “It is inevitable. Expected even. It’s all in character.”

“That’s a lot of metaphorical pressure to put on a scorpion. It’s only doing its best.”

“But it’ll sting her!” A pause. “The frog I mean.”

“Will it?”

“That’s just how the story goes.” said Strickler, resignation rich in his voice.

“The story isn’t over yet. And besides who says it is the same story?”

“Well isn’t it obvious?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking.” A pause. “What if the story changes? What if just this once, the scorpion didn’t sting the frog?”  

“But it’s in its nature. This won’t change.”

“I thought nature was all about change.”

“Yes, well.” Strickler searched for a way to still feel sorry for himself. He didn’t want to feel assured, be given belief of the option to become better. He wanted to sulk in his misery. “Some things stay fixed. There’s no helping this.”

“Some things adapt.” Another pause, this time it was longer. “Did you know there are poisonous frogs out there far deadlier than a scorpion? What if the frog was just as venomous as the scorpion? What if, right now, that scorpion is so far gone just from being on the frog’s back?”

“This isn’t helping. Besides I’m not projecting on the frog. I’m projecting on the scorpion.” Strickler hated how petulant he sounded. He just wanted to be alone. 

“Anyways. Scorpion or frog, takes adaptability to become like that, and to grow out of that.” 

Strickler made a non-comital sound. He couldn’t stop worrying about that stinger. Besides this voice was clearly not getting the program that now was the time to be miserable. Misery left very little room for optimism. In fact it hurt. Like an ingrown hair. 

“Well, enjoy feeling like a villain then.”

“I don’t feel like one, I am one.”

The voice didn’t respond, but Strickler felt confident it was shrugging at him. 

He didn’t like that.

That’s when Strickler came back to consciousness again. 

They, the trolls, were debating over getting a gaggle-tack or not, wondering if maybe they could hit him between changing. Strickler debated over his feelings on whether he would have preferred to die by the hands of Bular or Gunmar more.

And while the trolls displayed their misguided understanding of changeling physiology with..

“Maybe when we rip his stomach open stones will drop out.”

“Why do you suppose that?” “Well…aren’t they inside out? There was a toy that I found once in the sewers it was, uh, reversible. Wouldn’t that explain where the troll side goes when they look like this? And vise versa?”

Strickler wanted to laugh, but decided against it.

Instead he contemplated over the sheer irony of spending a lifetime being fearful of perishing under the supposed brilliant leadership of Gunmar, only to be beat up and dissected by some gaggle of buffoons. 

All that hard work. All that build up of pride. Only to meet an end unsanctimoniously by idiots.

Payback for my own pretentiousness, he gathered.   

Now he really wanted to laugh. Something hollow and cold. And Strickler started to, until something (a fist or another blasted video appliance - he wasn’t sure) crashed against his appendix and knocked the air out of him. 

It made Strickler think of Barbara, flirting with coffee and appendectomies. Maybe it was the blood rushing to his head - but Strickler welcomed being under Barbara’s knife. If anyone were to dissect him he wouldn’t mind it being her.  

It was then that Strickler noticed Krax’s face staring up at him from the crowd. There was a contorted expression on his face that Strickler found hard to read. Immensely so upside down. Was it fear? Was it anger? The foreboding gaze of seeing a potential future should Krax’s identity be found out. Was Krax contemplating rescuing him?

That’d be idiotic, thought Strickler, fondly. Though considering how they left their last conversation Strickler highly doubted it. 

He’s probably more worried I’d rat him out. Strickler frowned at the thought. 

Thus, with a reasonable amount of changeling honor, Strickler shook his head with a look that Strickler hoped would convey ‘don’t do anything stupid. I won’t expose you. Don’t expose yourself, not for me.’

Strickler wasn’t sure if Krax got the message. He wasn’t sure if the look on Krax’s face was something that resembled sadness. But he did catch Krax lowering his head, and walking away from the crowd. 

Strickler smiled at that.

//

Thank you so much for reading! ♡(´⌣`ʃƪ)

#Trollhunters #Tales of Arcadia #Walter Strickler #Stricklander #Stricklake #Knife Family #ToA Trollhunters #Ch16 #Nico Writes #Dr Barbara Lake

[rmtndew]

Begin Again ~ Chapter 2

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff) 

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

I also made a Spotify playlist for this story, if anyone is interested - Begin Again Playlist 

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @alyxkbrl, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0, @gearhead66,  @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora, @justaboringadult, @beenthroughalot, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @xxxkatxo

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

I made it home just a little after five. Darcy and I had been on track to finish up at four with the prep on the next day’s order, but her nephew Nick decided he could do the last batch of bread for us. I wasn’t sure what he did wrong, but three of the five loaves came out burnt, and the other two were so misshapen that they were unusable for sandwiches. I stayed over to help Darcy bake replacements and even though I kept my eye on the clock, I couldn’t bear leaving her in a panic just because I had a date.

When I got to the house, I went to find Mom and let her know that I was going out. She was in the living room talking on the phone. I could tell that it was my aunt June because she was loud enough for me to hear, even with the phone to Mom’s ear. I didn’t want to interrupt her so I kissed her on the head, letting her know I was there, then went up to my room to change. Amidst the bread drama, I’d gotten covered in flour. I was halfway up the staircase when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse. It was Marshall. 

“Hello,” I answered. 

“Hey Fiona, it’s Walt. I’m leaving work right now. I should be there at half past five if you’re still up for dinner.” 

“I am. I just got home myself so I’m going to get cleaned up and I’ll be ready when you get here.”

I could hear a door shut and it sounded like he was getting into his truck. “Do you want to try for Italian again or put it on the back burner for the moment?”

“Back burner, if you don’t mind,” I said, reaching the top of the stairs. 

“I don’t. Maybe we can try for it again if…” He paused. 

“If you don’t get bored with me before then?” I joked. 

He laughed, making my heart pound in a lovely way. “I can’t imagine getting bored with you,” he said. “I was actually thinking if you didn’t get tired of me.”

I smiled. “We both clearly have poor insight into how we view one another.” I opened the door to my room. “I can’t see how I would ever get tired of you when talking to you keeps me from getting tired of everything else right now. You make it so much more manageable just by existing in my life.” He was quiet and panic crept up again. “Sorry, that was a lot to put on you. I didn’t mean -”

“No, that was...I feel the same.”

“You do?” 

I heard him huff out a short laugh. “You made me excited to stay at my desk and do paperwork, so...yeah.” 

“Good, because I -” I screwed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I really like you, Walter.”

There was another moment of silence and I tried not to panic that time, but I couldn’t help how my heart pounded. 

“I really like you, too, Fi,” he eventually said, his voice soft.

After changing and cleaning up, I went back downstairs on another search for Mom. I could hear her talking and thought she was still on the phone until I heard a very distinctive, very loud, laugh, and knew that in the twenty minutes since getting home, my aunt June had come over.

I went to the kitchen where I could hear them and stood in the doorway for a moment. They were cooking. “Are the two of you up to any good?” I joked.

“Not in the slightest,” Mom said with a laugh. It died in her throat as she looked over at me. “Are you leaving?” 

“Yeah, I am. I was going to tell you earlier, but you were on the phone.”

“You’re not going back to work, surely. Darcy can’t ask you to stay over and then have you come back in. Her nephew is the one who made the mistake; not you.”

I shook my head. “It’s not Darcy.”

“It must be a hot date then,” June teased, laughing. 

She’d obviously meant it as a joke. I hadn’t even so much as entertained the idea of dating since Dad died. That was tragic enough, but added to it was my ex-boyfriend Ezra breaking up with me right after I’d found out about Dad’s accident and the desire to jump back into that fire had been long gone. But Mom took one look at me and she knew. The irritation she’d worn thinking I was going back to work melted from her face as she smiled at me. 

“Did he ask you out again?” she asked me quietly. 

I nodded. “Today when I made my delivery. We’re getting dinner.”

“I’m happy for you, Bird.”

June stopped stirring what looked like red sauce and turned towards me, wooden spoon still in hand. The movement was so sudden it slung a trail of sauce in its wake, looking like blood splatters. “You’re actually going on a date?” she asked, her voice jumping octaves seemingly with each word. 

I knew my aunt well enough to know that I had to give her a few choice pieces of information if I ever wanted to escape that kitchen without her trailing after me to sneak a peek at Marshall. 

“I am going on a date. It’s someone I just started talking to recently. It’s nothing serious,” I said. “But he’s getting off work early today and asked if I wanted to get dinner.” 

“What does he look like?” June asked. “Is he better looking than that weaselly boy you used to date?” 

“He’s far better looking than Ezra,” Mom said. “Very handsome.”

“And way more of a gentleman,” I said. 

June finally turned back to her sauce, stirring it again. “Well, that’s not much of a competition, honey. A brick wall would be considered more of a gentleman.” 

Mom and I both laughed. The doorbell rang, interrupting us. I looked at her and she smiled. “Go have fun, Fi.”

“I will.” I walked over to her and kissed her head. “Love you,” I said, then told her and June bye.

As I left the kitchen, I found myself half jogging to the front door, eager to open it. I took a deep breath before I did, trying to keep from looking childishly excited to see Marshall, but I don’t think it worked. When I opened the door and saw him standing there, his back straight, his hands clasped behind him, like he was standing at attention, like waiting for me was something to be done respectfully, I couldn’t help the automatic grin that took over my face.

“Hi,” I said. 

It was like that was his cue to go ‘at ease’. His hands fell to his side as he returned my smile. “Hi,” he said back. “Are you ready?”

I nodded. He stepped aside as I left the house. When we turned and began walking down the path, he gently placed his hand on the small of my back. Even through my coat and sweater, I could feel the heat of his hand. I let myself drift closer to him, up against his side, and his hand shifted slightly, resting right above my hip. My heart soared at the tender act. 

When we reached his truck, he kept his arm around me and opened my door with his free hand. I stepped away to climb into his truck but surprised even myself when I spun around on my heel and reached out with both hands to hold his face, and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips. When I pulled back, I covered my mouth, shocked by my boldness. 

“I’m sorry. It just sort of...slipped out,” I said, a small laugh escaping my throat. 

He smiled wide, teeth and dimples showing. He softly took hold of my wrist and lowered my hand from my mouth. “Feel free to let it slip out as often as you want,” he said, his voice gently teasing me as he brought his mouth closer to mine.

We kissed again, both of us laughing as the kiss became all teeth, our lips spread too wide into smiles to make much contact. It ended quickly and I let my forehead fall to his shoulder, still laughing. He kissed the top of my head.

“We’ll keep practicing,” he said, his laugh a glorious rumble in his chest.

“I think that’s a good idea.” I looked back up at him and the smirk he had on his face made me laugh again.

“What?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. You’re…” I shook my head, trying to find the right words. I couldn’t, so I just blurted out my thoughts. “You’re the most attractive man I’ve ever met and it blows my mind that you want to kiss me.” 

He traced his thumb over my bottom lip. “I do want to kiss you,” he whispered, replacing his thumb with his lips. “And I want to take you to dinner.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “And hold your hand.” He kissed my cheek. “And spend time with you.” He brushed my hair back from my ear before nuzzling into it. “And get to know you as much as I can.”

My knees felt like putty, weakening under the weight of his words. I had to hold on to his shoulders to steady myself. I could feel the pounding of my heart beating in my ears, the blood rushing fast as it beat hard enough that I wondered if Walter could feel it as he stood closer to me. I felt dizzy and borderline high from him. 

I kept one hand on his shoulder and moved the other, placing it on his cheek. I ran my fingers through his beard, then down to the line of his jaw, skimming them over to his chin. I used my hold there to turn his face towards me. “That’s exactly what I want, too.” 

He smiled and leaned forward slightly, not trying to rid himself of my grasp, and placed a soft kiss on the bridge of my nose. “Then we’re on the same page, Miss Sparks.”

I giggled despite myself. “Yes, we are, Detective Marshall.” 

Walter and I went to a place called Hungry Vintage. “I used to come here all the time. Especially in the summer,” I said as he pulled my chair out for me. I thanked him as I sat. He sat across from me and I pointed out the window, even though it was too dark to see anything. “My apartment was just a block and a half away, so I’d walk here a few times a week.” 

“You moved after your father died, yeah? So your mum wasn’t alone.” 

I nodded. “Yeah. She’d never lived on her own before and didn’t think she could do it in their house. I had a few months left on my lease but I had a really great landlord. I explained everything to him and he let me out of it early,” I said. “It ended up being a good move, though, because my old job let me go a couple of months later. I wouldn’t have been able to afford it on my salary at Waverly.” 

“Where did you work before that?” 

“Regency Interior Design. I interned with them in college and they offered me a job as soon as I graduated,” I said. “Dad always told me that I was lucky, that that didn’t happen for everyone, but I didn’t realize what he meant until I tried to get a position at another design firm after Regency.” I shook my head. “It was nearly impossible to even get an interview.”

He looked a little embarrassed as he asked, “What do interior designers do, exactly? Do you decorate, or…?”

I laughed. “Yeah, some decorating. I mainly worked with clients who were flipping houses, so I would help them figure out how to redesign a room so that it served the space better, but still stayed within building code regulations. Then I’d help them source materials and when construction was done, I’d help them paint and furnish everything to make sure the house was cohesive. It could be tiring, especially when clients were pressuring me to work faster, but it was fun, too,” I said. “I like the routine and predictability in my current job, but I miss being creative.” 

He tilted his head slightly, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Would you -” He stopped and shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No, I want to know,” I said. “Would I what?”

He played with a salt shaker on the table almost nervously. “Would you ever consider taking on a private client?” he asked, not making eye contact.

I smiled. “Do you know someone who might be in the market for one?”

He chewed the side of his mouth for a moment. “My house, it’s functional, that’s all. I sleep, shower, and eat there. Not much else, so how it looks doesn’t bother me,” he said. “But Faye’s room… She deserves something nice, you know?” 

“Do you want it to be a surprise?”

He looked at me, then nodded. “Her birthday is in the middle of next month. Would that be enough time?” 

“Do you only want it redecorated and furnished more? No construction?” 

He laughed slightly. “As much as she’d probably like me to knock a wall down to make her room bigger, I don’t have the space to do it,” he said. “So yeah; no construction.”

“If that’s all, then I don’t see any reason why it couldn’t be done by her birthday,” I said. “Do you have a picture of her room?”

He shook his head. “No. Do I need one?”

“Not right now, but when you get the chance to take one, you can send it to me. Just so I can get an idea of what it’s like.” 

“Would it be better if you saw it in person?”

“Honestly? Yes. But I didn’t want to invite myself over,” I said. 

“Then I’ll invite you,” he said. “How about Saturday? I could pick you up. You could take a look at her room and give me an estimate, and then I could cook for you.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “An estimate? Like for what I think you should buy for the room?” I asked. “I would help you with ideas, but I’d let you decide the budget and work with what you can spend. It honestly doesn’t have to cost a lot.”

“I mean for your fee. Or do you have a set price that you charge clients?”

“Walter, I’m not going to charge you. I’m more than happy to do it for Faye. I think it’s sweet that you want her to have a nice room.”

He looked guilty. “I didn’t ask you so you’d do it for free.”

I smiled. “I know. That’s why I don’t mind doing it,” I said. “Besides, you said you were going to cook for me, so that can be your payment.”

His face became soft, his eyes giving me a puppy dog look. I was weak for it. “If that’s the only payment you’ll accept, then maybe I’ll plan on cooking for you every week until it’s finished.”

My smile grew. “Well, if you’re a good cook, I just might accept that offer.”

He leaned in towards me over the table and smirked. “And if I’m not a good cook?”

“I might heavily suggest takeout. I’m quite fond of Chinese food.” 

He nodded, his smirk turning into a full smile. “Noted.”  

After dinner, Marshall and I drove around town for about an hour, not wanting the night to end, but eventually it had to. We both had work in the morning. When he drove me home, it was the first time since moving back in with Mom that I wished I still had my own place. I wanted nothing more than to ask him in but that was off the table while Mom was there. Not to mention my aunt June, who, judging from her car, was still visiting. 

He parked on the street in front of my house and I took advantage of what small bit of privacy we had in his truck. He was holding my hand, and with my free one, I took my fingers and lightly traced over his knuckles, then gently brushed over the top of his hand. When I reached his wrist, the movements turned into a light scratching as I ran my fingers up and down the part of his forearm that was exposed. I didn’t know what I was doing, just that I wanted to touch him. Goosebumps raised on his skin, something I wasn’t sure he experienced much with the heat he gave off, and when I looked up at him, I knew that he didn’t care what I was doing, just that I was doing it.

His other hand came up quickly, going straight to the base of my neck. He was gentle, even in his urgency, guiding my face towards his, kissing me. I clutched at his sleeve, feeling like I needed something to hold on to. He wasn’t rough but his kisses weren’t the soft ones we’d shared previously. Eventually, I grew bold enough and moved my hand from his sleeve to the back of his head, burying my fingers in his soft curls.

Each press of his lips seemed to erase all ability to think, until the only rational, fully formed thought left in my mind was that I wanted to spend the rest of my time on earth kissing this man. 

When he finally pulled away, I was left feeling like I was drunk for the first time: Warm, slightly dizzy, and giddy. It took me a long moment to compose myself. He pressed his forehead to mine, our noses touching, our mouths mere centimetres from each other’s, passing breath back and forth as we tried to catch our own. 

I couldn’t imagine a time where kissing him didn’t make me feel some kind of way.

“I think our practice is starting to pay off,” I joked. “That wasn’t half bad.”

He laughed. “No, it wasn’t.” He kissed my lips again softly, then my nose, then my forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment. I let out a contented sigh and felt his lips smiling against my skin. “But perhaps we should keep practicing, hm?” 

I smiled as I looked up at him. “I think that would be best,” I said. “Maybe we can fit it in on Saturday?”

He nodded. “I’ll try to work it into the schedule.” He moved his hand, his fingers brushing along my throat as he did. “What time would work for you?”

I let my own hand drift from the back of his head, down to the nape of his neck. I scratched lightly at his scalp. He closed his eyes and leaned back into it. I rewarded him with a few more scratches. It was his turn to sigh happily and I filed that info away in my mind for later.

“Anytime works for me,” I said, removing my hand and placing it in my lap. He opened his eyes and again and looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Maybe...maybe a little early? In case it takes a while with Faye’s room?”

He nodded. “What about four? Or is that too early?” 

I smiled wider. “You could suggest six in the morning and I’d be up for it,” I said. “So no; four isn’t too early.” 

“Then I’ll be here at six a.m.,” he joked. “I’ll bring you coffee. You like creamer but no sugar, right?”

“Yes. You have an excellent memory, Detective.”

“Only when it’s worth remembering,” he said. He adjusted himself in his seat to better face me. “But you’re really okay with that time for Saturday?”

“I really am. I’ll bring all of my stuff over. You can help me measure everything and then I can use one of my design programs to make up a few different options. Whichever one you pick, I’ll help you figure out how to get it all done.” 

“Thank you.” He raised my hand that he was still holding and brought it to his mouth. He kissed it, warm and gentle. My heart continued to melt for him. “Would you let me walk you to the door?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

He got out of the truck and came around to open my door for me. When we were standing side by side, he reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. As we began walking towards the house, I held onto his bicep, leaning my head on his shoulder, tucking myself as close to him as I could. If I’d had any doubt over whether he was comfortable with that much touch, it was squashed instantly when he slowed down, taking his time in getting me to the door.

I hesitated to let my feet touch the doormat, feeling like that was the final step before he left. I wanted to hold on to him longer. So that’s where I stopped. He seemed to sense my hesitancy, or maybe he shared it because as we stopped, he turned towards me and ran a hand over my hair, his thumb finding my cheek and stroking it lightly. I let go of his hand and wrapped both of my arms around him. He stepped into my embrace, one arm locked around my waist, the other around my shoulders. I buried my face in his neck and fought the strange desire to cry. I’d suspected early on that Marshall would be a good hugger - he just seemed too much like a teddy bear not to be - but I hadn’t anticipated the overwhelming feeling of safety that his arms would hold. I found myself squeezing my eyes shut tight and clinging to that feeling with all I had. It took a few moments for me to realize that I wasn’t just clinging to the feeling; I was clinging to him. I felt embarrassed and loosened my hold on him, but I felt his hand come up to cradle the back of my head. I felt his lips pressing on my temple. 

I knew at that moment that this man was going to ruin all other men for me. And there was nothing else I wanted more. 

We separated slowly, one touch at a time. My hands moved from the broad plain of his shoulders, down his back, then, as I took a step backward, they rested on his sides. His hand that had been cradling my head gently smoothed over my hair, ghosting over my shoulder, then rested at his side. His arm holding my waist moved, his hand going to my hip. Like earlier that evening, I could feel the heat radiating through the layers of fabric. I inhaled his scent before moving my face from the crook of his neck. I caught his eye, noticing him watching me, as I moved my head back to look up at him. 

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight,” he said. “I really enjoyed it.”

“I did, too,” I said. “You’re doing a pretty good job of making Wednesday my favorite day, you know? Between seeing you on my deliveries, and coffee dates, and dinner dates, even the weekend is losing the competition.” 

His eyes were bright and smiling. “So does that mean I have to work extra hard Saturday to impress you?”

“No. I’m already impressed by you.”

He smiled, then raised his free hand and took my chin between his thumb and forefinger gently, lifting my face, then gave me a soft, chaste kiss that made my heart skip a beat and my toes curl in my boots. 

“Goodnight, Fi,” he whispered against my lips.

“Goodnight, Walter.”

He took a step back. He was still close but no longer touching me. I had to suppress a whine and the urge to burrow into him for the rest of the night, or my life. I’d never missed someone standing right in front of me before, but there I was. 

“Can I call you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Absolutely. Yes.”

“Good.” He rubbed his neck, his eyes drifting away from me towards his truck for a moment. When he looked back at me, there was a sense of shyness on his face. Something about it made him seem impossibly boyish. “I don’t…” He paused. “I don’t know if I could wait until Saturday to talk to you again.” 

My arms automatically crossed over my stomach, hugging myself, like I was trying to hold back the multitude of butterflies I felt trying to take flight. “You don’t have to wait, and you don’t have to ask. I would love for you to call whenever you want,” I said. “Because I think waiting would be hard for me, too.” 

He nodded, taking another step back. “Then I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

He took a few more steps back, looking at me for a moment longer, before finally turning and walking away. I stood, watching him until he got into his truck. The interior light lit up the cab and I could see him. He waved at me. I waved back, then, with a heavy sigh, went inside.

I closed the door and pressed my back against it. I could hear my mom and aunt talking, but it all sounded like white noise. I placed a hand over my heart, feeling how it pounded. My veins felt like electricity was running through them. My whole body was buzzing. Walter Marshall was under my skin, and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

#Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #Night Hunter #Night Hunter fan fiction #Nomis #Nomis fan fiction #Henry Cavill fanfiction #Henry Cavill fanfic #Detective Walter Marshall #Begin Again

[plus-size-reader]

Spoiled

Ransom Drysdale x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1711 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Ransom spoiling you and spending a ton of money on you which upsets his parents when they see just how much money he spends on you

——��———————————————————————————————

It was no secret that Ransom liked to spend money. 

He had basically come out of the womb with a silver spoon in his mouth and the promise to keep it there all his life. In fact, you often wondered if money had any value to him at all. 

As best you could tell, he was always going to be that way and nothing would change that.

You, on the other hand, had never been able to shop without worrying about the price tag that it came with. You had worked hard for everything that you owned and you never took it for granted. 

However, that all changed as soon as you started going out with Ransom. 

He refused to let you pay for anything on your own...and that included your car payments, rent, and student loans. Before you knew it, Ransom was even showering you in gifts. 

It was no better than helping you pay off your bills but something about it seemed more unacceptable. 

You could live without crushed velvet peacoats and gold jewelry. 

...Not that telling Ransom any of that meant anything. 

He didn’t care at all for your eye rolls and complaints when he handed you the bags he’d acquired throughout the day. If anything, he liked shopping for you and it made him happy to spoil you. 

It made him feel like there was a reason for his wealth, and that he had a purpose.

It was something he wasn’t used to, especially not knowing the family he came from. 

That being said, you never really thought about how much money he really spent on you in all the time that you’d been together. Spending cash and showering you in lavish gifts was how Ransom showed his love. 

It was just the way it was. 

After this long, you had just grown to accept that Ransom wasn’t going to stop. However, that didn’t make the idea of visiting his family any easier. As a general rule, you two kept to yourselves. 

You avoided his family at all costs, but the death of his grandfather changed that. It meant a lot of different things, but for you-it meant that you’d have to meet his parents, for the first time in your life. 

It wasn’t something you were looking forward to. 

...Not even in the least. 

“I’m not sure about this Ransom, what if they hate me?” you grumbled, unsure if this was really worth it. Ransom had made it clear that his family wasn’t all that supportive of him, which only lessened the chances of them liking you. 

It just wasn’t looking good, and you couldn’t help but be nervous about it. 

However, all Ransom did was scoff at your worry. His family may not have been super into him as a general rule but if he knew anything at all, it was that they would love you. 

You were a well-mannered, kind, decent girl who deserved the world and if they couldn’t see that, they didn’t deserve the pleasure of your company. 

You were incredible, and they would realize that as soon as possible. 

“Don’t even worry about that, they’ll think you’re awesome” he assured, reaching over with his free hand to take your hand. He was driving with the other but he would always figure it out when it came to you. 

Maybe it was the fact that Ransom didn’t give a shit about his family’s opinion but whatever went on, it didn’t matter. 

...It wasn’t going to change anything between you. 

“But what if they don’t?” you countered, shocked that he would even dare to be so confident about that. There was a much higher chance that they’d find you bothersome, and he had to know that. 

They could hate you just on principle without knowing anything about you, but it didn’t help that you were wearing a dress that Ransom had bought you. 

...You were sure they wouldn’t like that.

“Well, no time to worry about that now Sweetheart, cause we’re here” he grinned, pointing out the window to the large estate. At first, you thought he was kidding but when you glanced in that direction, you could hardly believe it. 

The home resting there was hardly a house at all. In fact, it was more or less a fortress and you couldn’t believe it. You had never seen a more brilliant place. 

It was incredible. 

“This is your grandfather’s house?” you gasped, eyes wide as you surveyed it. You knew that Ransom’s family had quite a bit of money but you never would have guessed it was that much. 

This was some Bruce Wayne level wealth, and he didn’t even exist. 

Ransom grinned, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. He was a proud guy, but the fact that you were that enthralled by what he’d always had added to his ego. 

One day, he hoped to get you an estate like this. It would be a wonderful place to raise spoiled rotten little rugrats, likely with hunting dogs to chase them around the yard. 

It would be perfect. 

“Yep, this is it” he muttered, parking it in the driveway in the front, turning to you before getting out. “Don’t worry, they’re going to love you” he assured, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

It wasn’t a foolproof plan but by the time Ransom pulled away from you, you were actually feeling much more confident about this whole thing. 

“No matter what happens, you’ll always be my girl” he winked, opening the door with a start. Everyone else was already inside, but Ransom didn’t mind being the last to arrive. 

...Especially not when he had such a catch to show off to his loser family. 

It was a terrible idea really, but by this point, you were completely on board, mostly because he was telling you the truth. 

If Ransom’s family hated you, it may actually increase how in love with you he was, knowing how much he hated them. 

Ransom’s entire family was convened in the front room of Harlan’s house, just talking and catching up. It was supposed to be a time of mourning but that wasn’t going to stop Ransom. 

He had a whole plan around this evening, but in order for it to work, his family had to get to know you first.

...Not that they cared. 

As soon as you two came into the room, all conversation came to a halt. No one knew what to say or do, only exchanging glances between each other. 

They didn’t know what was going on, but nevertheless, Linda was the first to speak. 

“You’re late Ransom. Would it have killed you to show up on time?” she wondered, ignoring the elephant in the room for a moment. 

It was easier than even trying to address that. 

See, you didn’t know it but Ransom had never brought a girl home before, and they weren’t even sure how to react to that…

A simple fact that he’d chosen to keep to himself.

“You know, that’s a poor choice of words, considering-” he smirked, clearly amused with how clever he thought he was. Normally, you would make more of an effort to calm his mouth, but you didn’t have that kind of power here. 

Besides, after all of the things that had gone down between Ransom and his family, you knew better than to interject. 

It wouldn’t get you anywhere. 

“We’re being incredibly rude by the way. Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Y/N” Ransom tutted at them like you would a child. He was really having a good time with this whole thing. 

It was going to get you into a lot of trouble before this was over. 

That was it. That was all he had to say and then the questions ensued. Linda and Richard wanted to know everything about you like if you’d gone to secondary school and where, how much you made, where you worked. If they could think of it, it came out of their mouths. 

Not that the rest of the family was any better. 

Walt, Joni, and Donna were no stranger to putting their noses where they didn’t belong either, which you’d heard from Ransom on many occasions. 

You always assumed that he was being dramatic, but that clearly wasn’t the case. 

...And the entire time, Ransom sat in the middle of it with a huge smile on his face, just taking it all in. 

“Wait a second, is that a Cartier amulette?” 

The voice came from outside the hounding you were currently in the middle of it, but that didn’t mean that you were in any way safe from their upset. 

Everyone turned around to find Meg, sitting on the couch with her phone in hand, staring intently at the chain on your neck. It was a birthday present that Ransom had given you, but you had no idea where it came from. 

Clearly she did though. 

“Maybe, I’m not sure” you shrugged, not understanding why it was that big of a deal. 

However, everyone else in the room could hardly contain their gasps of shock and confusion on their faces. “Not sure? That’s a four thousand dollar necklace” She filled in, as if you were supposed to know that. 

You assumed it was expensive when he gave it to you, but you never guessed that it was that much. 

“Ransom? Did you buy that? That is such an irresponsible use of your money” Linda huffed, finding it hard to believe, though before the conversation could go on any further, you heard the man you loved clear his throat. 

“If you don’t like that, you’re gonna hate this” Ransom smiled, standing from his chair only to kneel down in front of you, pulling the biggest diamond ring you’d ever seen from his jacket. 

...You should have known. 

That was why he’d asked you to come here. You should have been upset that he was using your engagement to get back at his family, but you couldn’t because you were too busy saying yes. 

The rest of his family would just have to accept the fact that Ransom was going to spoil you, for the rest of your lives.  

#ransom drysdale #hugh ransom drysdale #knives out #knives out movie #ransom drysdale x ps reader #ransom drysdale x plus size reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale imagine #hugh ransom drysdale x ps reader #hugh ransom drysdale x plus size reader #hugh ransom drysdale x reader #hugh ransom drysdale imagine #knives out x ps reader #knives out x plus size reader #knives out x reader #knives out imagine

[wondersofdreaming]

Lost Boys - EIGHT

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 1.524

Warnings: I don’t know, there’s guns?

Author’s note: Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

And a little inspiration from ‘Furious 7’.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Tag: @katerka88 @littlefreya @hell1129-blog @mitzwinchester @mary-ann84 @valkavill @sciapod @henry-cavlll @luclittlepond @iloveyouyen @trippedmetaldetector @radaofrivia @omgkatinka @gothwhopper @fcgrizi @vania-marie @alyxkbrl​ @readings-of-a-cavill-lover​ @singeramg​ @onlyhenrys​ @henrythickcavill​ @madbaddic7ed​ @palaiasaurus64​ @mis-lil-red @queenslandlover-93​ (I’m so sorry I haven’t tagged you until now, love, I think I must have run into some technical issues when I wrote your URL in my document with tags, but you’re there now to stay)

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.

Feedback is appreciated.

MASTERLIST

[ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [NINE] [TEN]

“Don’t worry brother. I’ll save you instead.”

There was a knock on the door. August quickly closed the laptop. He moved with stealth towards the wooden entrance, silently clicking the safety off on his gun. He looked into the peephole and let out a breath of relief.

He opened the heavy door to let his tech-associate inside.

“Were you followed?” He asked as he investigated the hallway, it was empty.

“No,” Marc sounded offended. “Listen, Lark…”

“My cover has been blown, call me Smith.”

“Fine, Smith. You’re in deep shit. The bounty on your head has doubled, and now it’s definitely dead instead of DOA. You need to move away from here, go to some island and lay low for a few years.”

“Marc… I don’t have a few years.”

“Smith, you’re being hunted. Every government agency in the world is looking for you.”

“I know.”

“If you are recognized, I won’t be able to help you out of this country.”

“I know.”

“You need to keep moving.”

“I have a place in mind. But you’re not going to like it.”

“If you say that shitty cabin in Northern Thailand…”

“I won’t say it.”

“But it is that place. Fuck man! That place has no connection to the outer world! No internet. The nearest village is 10K away…” Marc took a deep breath, “But it is the safest place for you right now.”

“When can you arrange a flight?”

“Let me talk to my contacts. I’ll have a plan by tomorrow.”

Melanie could guess from the knocking who was on the other side of the door. She smiled brightly at the grumpy face that met her.

“Good morning, Walter,” she chimed happily.

“Morning, where’s my brother?” He grunted.

“Answering a phone call. Coffee?”

“Yes, black, no sugar.”

Melanie poured the dark liquid into a mug and handed it to him. Lucas walked out of his bedroom with a grim look on his face.

“Luc, what’s wrong?”

“That was Aiden. The bounty on August’s head has doubled. It’s up to two hundred million now, and they want him dead.”

Lucas plopped down on the sofa and ran his good hand over his beard.

“Then we better get started on finding him,” Walter mumbled.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Lucas’ voice sounded hopeless.

“You can start by telling me, when and where you last saw him.”

Walter wrote down the information, Lucas was giving him in a little black notebook that looked brand new.

“My brother, Charlie, works for the FBI, he should be able to help a little with this case.”

“Should I arrange for travel plans for Iraq? That’s where you last saw him,” Melanie inquired. The two bulking men stared at her.

“Don’t think he’s back in the Middle East, Mel. He might have passed through and gone across the border to hide in another country,” Lucas explained.

“Then how are we going to find him?”

“We’d have to speak to the people that know him. His colleagues, his adopted parents, his friends, if he had any, and so forth,” Walter chimed in.

“Alright, then it seems we’re going to Virginia after we’ve talked to your FBI brother.”

Walter and Lucas swallowed their cooled down coffees, they were mimicking each other without knowing it. They held the mugs the same way, on the opposite side of the handle and chugged the black liquid. They would lean their heads back a little to catch the last drops before putting down the empty cup with a loud thud.

Melanie was amazed by the two men, who looked so much like each other, but at the same time looked so different. One with long curly hair, the other with a military styled buzz cut. They both looked intimidating as hell, and Melanie prayed she’d never get interrogated by those two brothers.

Walter led them towards his truck. The drive took almost an hour before he parked at what looked like an abandoned warehouse.

Melanie felt Lucas tensing up next to her. He made sure to walk in front of her. She knew it was to protect her, but at the same time, she was annoyed, because he knew that she knew how to bring a man to his knees, in more ways than one.

Walter opened the steel door. He motioned with his head to follow him.

Inside looked to be a normal old warehouse with an abundant number of wooden crates. The smell of the room was awful. The waft of rotting fish and mould mixed together in the worst way possible hit Melanie’s nostrils. She nearly gagged at the odious place.

A door opened across the room, lighting up the dark room.

“Good to see you out of the police station for once, little brother,” the man said with a smile. He wrapped Walter into his arms. Melanie noticed that Walter didn’t wholeheartedly return the hug. Charlie Marshall was taller than his adoptive brother, but not as broad and muscular. His blonde hair was cut short at the sides and longer at the top. His deep ocean eyes were dancing with mischief until he locked eyes with Melanie. The smile disappeared from his lips and was replaced with a more curious look.

“Charlie, this is my brother, Lucas, and his sister, Melanie,” Walter introduced them. Charlie walked around his brother and greeted Lucas with a firm handshake, while he kissed the back of Melanie’s hand.

“Pleasure to meet you both. Walt told me about you last night, come in and I’ll show you what I’ve found so far.”

Lucas was burning holes into Charlie’s skull. Having not liked him kissing his sister’s hand. Melanie was elated to be shown a little attention.

“Charlie, back off. She’s not here for you,” Walter grumbled and walked into the tiny office space. A black-haired woman was sitting in front of multiple screens, tapping on the keyboard in front of her at lightning speed.

“This is Raven, she’s a hacker and technology expert. We’re doing this behind the scenes because we want to find your lost brother as soon as possible,” Charlie explained.

Raven didn’t look up but grumbled a greeting of some sort.

“How are we going to find August?” Lucas asked.

“With this,” Raven motioned to the screens. The monitors filled out a picture of the earth moving. A picture of August sitting on the top left.

“What does it do?” Melanie asked.

“It’s using all the cell phones with cameras to find him, kinda like God’s Eye from Fast and Furious.”

“Is this legal?”

“Not at all. That’s why we’re here, hiding from the rest of the world. This is only used during emergencies, and I consider this an emergency.”

“Found him yet?” Lucas grunted. He stood behind Melanie with a rank back and stern look. Walter stood almost in the same stance next to him, except he had his arms folded across his chest.

“Last time he was seen, was in an unused airport hangar in Northern Italy last night. He could have travelled anywhere since then,” Charlie said.

“How long?” Walter muttered.

“Hours, days, weeks. I don’t know, he’s really good at hiding,” Raven threw her arms in the air.

“Then there’s nothing to do but go to Virginia. Call us, when you have something, and thank you, Raven, for helping us,” Melanie sent the pale woman a soft smile and went to walk out the tiny room. Lucas, Walter and Charlie followed her to the truck.

“Thank you, for your help so far,” Lucas told Charlie and held out his good hand.

“If I had a lost brother, I’d do anything to find him too.”

Charlie winked at Melanie and walked back into the building. Walter drove the two back to the hotel in silence. Everyone was grumbling over their own things.

“Thanks for your help, Walter,” Melanie cut through the silence when he parked.

“I’m coming with you to Virginia,” Walter told them.

“What about your daughter?” Lucas asked.

“She said, and I quote: ‘You either find your long-lost brother and bring him home, or I’ll be the worst rebellious teenager that’s ever existed in the history of police-dads.’”

“Three tickets to Virginia, coming right up,” Melanie smiled.

The plane ride was fast and short. They landed, got their luggage, found the rented car and drove to the hotel. Another huge suite with three bedrooms. At first, Lucas wanted three separate bedrooms next to each other, but Melanie had stubbornly told him off that he needed her help with his broken arm. Walter didn’t have a say in anything as Melanie shut him up with a fiery glare.

They ventured out towards the house where the lost brother had grown up. The house looked like it needed a loving hand with the front garden, and the paint on the front door was slowly peeling off in large spots.

Walter rang the bell and knocked loudly. They heard a commotion inside before the door was opened. A short woman with greying hair stood in front of them. Her eyes widened and tears formed at the corners.

“August? Is that you?”

#Henry Cavill #This man #I need a drink #Lost Boys #Series #Triplets #August Walker #Walter Marshall #Captain Syverson #My story #Fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Knife in a Gun Fight

Colson Baker/MGK 1920s bootlegger AU

A/N--This is the very short intro/prologue of my Colson Baker/MGK 1920s gangster AU. Message me to be added to the tag list, and chapter 1 will be up in a few hours.

Established in the plains of north Texas, a solitary, Irish Catholic family existed solely on their ability to farm and sell—farm, sell, farm, sell. For generations, farming produce, such as wheat and corn, was all any member of the Nevin family knew. There was nothing outside of the small, flat farm; no prospects of any other career, no hope for advancement, no life for a person with the last name Nevin, and the same could be said about the Klaffs. This was a fact of nature known for generations upon generations, until the birth of Siobhan-Honora Nevin.

As a bitter cold air pierced her neck, Siobhan peeled her eyes away from the newspaper she had been examining and carefully scanned the room. Sure, there was a sense of protection as she sat in a semi-circle booth surrounded by her cousins and brothers, but it didn’t take away from the sheer danger she knew they were in. The cozy and welcoming feeling of the small café she sat in did nothing to ease the gnawing within her stomach as her eyes nervously danced across the room once more before she returned her attention to the paper before her.

A fresh mug of steaming hot coffee was placed in front of her by a young woman who couldn’t have been much older than herself, and she tried to ignore the flirtatious glances the woman exchanged with her older cousin, George Klaff. “Do you mind,” Siobhan huffed under her breath as she pulled the paper back to her line of sight and cautiously examined it for any tips or leads that contained information about any of the five individuals gathered around the table.

“Get off it, Shiv,” George grumbled as he leaned over and propped his elbows up onto the table. “We’re in Saint Paul. Ain’t no body going to find us here.” Shiv eyed her cousin as she chewed anxiously at the inside of her lip.

“We’re ‘hiding out’ in the place all criminals go to lay low. It’s a safe haven for the lowly, and it’s the first place someone will come looking for us,” Shiv retorted as she lowered her voice and glared across the table at George.

“Lay off her, George. You know she’s right,” George’s little brother, Walter, piped up. At only twenty-one, Walter was the youngest of the bunch of familial misfits. He hadn’t meant to get mixed up in the actions of his older brother and cousins, but once he had, he knew there was no going back.

“Who’s the oldest one here?” George retorted as he scanned over the faces before him. “Who formed this operation nine years ago?”

“You know your role, George,” said Shiv’s older brother, Arthur, in a deep and low tone. “All of us do, and right now, it’s time for us to back down and for Shiv to take over. Got it?” George scrunched up his face and pursed his lips in aggravation, however he knew the words Art had spoken to be true.

Had it really been nine years? Shiv thought as she looked over the men’s faces around her. George was a year away from thirty with nothing to show as proof he’d lived life other than a few scars from narrow escapes from death. George was a fairly tall man, standing just below six foot, with a stocky build. His dark eyes were clouded with hooded brows and his black hair fell over his forehead in shaggy strands. The energetic and playful look he’d once had when he first, unintentionally, introduced his cousins and brother to this lifestyle was replaced with a stoic and mysterious grimace which instantly tied together his allure of being the tall, dark, and handsome stranger of the group.

Art stood slightly taller than George with a leaner frame but equally as strong and muscular as his older cousin. He was only seventeen when he began driving George around to neighboring counties, unaware at first of what they were doing, however upon realizing there was something to do with his life other than farming, Art willingly continued working with George. His deep blue eyes had only grown sharper with time and his once sandy blonde hair had darkened into a light brown.

A year of Art and George wandering throughout Collin, Grayson, and Hunt counties was more than enough time for Shiv to connect the dots and blackmail her way into the non-nefarious criminal activities the pair of cousins were performing. At sixteen, she could see the benefits her brother and cousin were bringing their families, and being the only educated member of either family—aside from their parents—Shiv demanded to be let into the operation. She’d always been tough and stronger than other girls her age. Being a girl didn’t excuse her from working on the farm once she returned home from school or had no where to go during the summer, however it did damn her to the fate of being nothing more than bride-wealth for her family. She saw what her cousin and brother were doing to be a means of escaping her fate, and like the older two members of the group, she embraced it.

Undenounced to Shiv, her younger brother Edmund had overheard her conversation with George and Art, and threatened to tell their parents if they didn’t include him. Two years later, when Walt was fifteen, he joined what would become known across the country as the Nevin-Klaff gang.

The papers have it wrong, Shiv would constantly tell herself as she read article after article in nearly every Tribune, Press, News, Gazette, and Journal from Texas to Minnesota containing the words Nevin and Klaff. They only see us as breaking the law. They don’t care that it’s a stupid law, and they certainly don’t try and see the benefits small farms across the country are reaping because of it. Shiv knew the papers didn’t care, that law enforcement didn’t care, and that no glory would ever be sent their way, but she knew that because of her, her brothers, and her cousins, farmers that would have otherwise lost their land to banks are now developing nest eggs, and that was all that mattered to her.

“I wonder how Ma and Pop are doing,” Eddy sighed as his eyes trailed the paper over his sister’s shoulder. She knew he was trying to read, and after what she’d been teaching him, she assumed he could come to the same conclusion she had—they were going to be on the move for quite some time.

“Sometimes I have dreams of Mom and Pa swinging out on the porch swing with Auntie Johanna and Uncle Owen, not having to worry about a damned thing anymore, but then I remember they’re probably worrying about us,” Walt sighed as he scooped some eggs up on his fork and shoveled them into his mouth. “It makes me want to see them again.”

“Y’all know we can’t ever go home,” Shiv commented sharply as her eyes darted between the two younger members of the group. Edmund was only a year younger than her, but only growing up on the farm and not having any friends outside of their cousins made him seem much younger than his biological age, and even thought Walter was only three years younger than Shiv, he shared a similar outlook as Eddy. “I don’t mean to sound harsh, but you knew this was a possibility when you signed up,” she said in a softer and more gentle tone after seeing how her brother’s face fell at her harsh words.

“They’re still kids, Shiv,” George whispered into his cousin’s ear only to have her turn her head to face him. Her pale eyes shone up at him as her dark hair fell around the soft, pale skin of her face. Everything about her was binary; her features were sharp yet gentle, she was dangerous but offered safety and comfort, and the one he struggled most with: the wisdom that aged her stood in stark contrast to her youth. Too many times both George and Art forgot that the brains leading them across the country and into safety while still calculating ways to help others was barely older than the two members he still considered kids.

“So, what do we do?” Art asked as he looked at his sister for guidance. Shiv laid the paper down in her lap and looked nervously over her accomplices’ shoulders before lowering her voice to a whisper.

“Local cops are looking for us in the towns we hit on the way up here. We stuck to smaller cities and already returned the profit to the farms. We have enough cash to keep us tied over for a bit, but we have to be careful. No blowing cash, starting fights, or trying to find a quick score or fast job, got it?” she asked as she met each of her family members’ eyes. “Don’t draw attention to yourself by any other groups hanging around here. Most of the country’s attention is on Capone, so there’s still a way we can slide by unnoticed.”

“We can’t stay here forever, Shiv,” Art said softly as he stretched his back and looked out over the café.

“We just have to stay long enough for me to pull off one last scheme.” A devious smirk tugged at her lips as she plotted what was sure to be a one-way ticket to safety for her and her family. Shiv thought through everything: how to gain protection and ensure safety, how to pass through dangerous territory without feeling the threat of danger, how to not only survive, but thrive. She knew her plan inside and out, but there was one obstacle that stood in her way, one uncertainty she figured she could face and be done with, one man who was known by outsiders solely as The Gun.

Next Chapter 

#colson baker #colson baker fanfiction #colson baker fanfic #colson baker au #mgk #mgk fanfic #mgk au #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly fanfiction #machine gun kelly fanfic #machine gun kelly au #gangster AU #1920s gangsters #colson x reader #colson x ofc #mgk x ofc #machine gun kelly x ofc #knife in a gun fight

[thelittlehansy]

Discussing ( again) if A Frozen Heart is canon.

To talk about it i m gonna talk about the many fair issues point out by fans in the book to doubt the book is canon.

No chris buck and lee approval.

I think the most likely scenario here is that a frozen heart belongs to all that stuff disney makes and planned when a disney movie come out it most likely they plan it since 2013 and since that book is the movie. It just retell it with Hans and Anna thought disney didnt think that book needed jeenifer lee and chris buck approval. It retell the movie but Without changing thing just putting stuff. Like for example i dont think they wait for Linda woolverton approval. When they publish novelization of maleficent (2014) same for pirate of the careebean.  As for the backstory what is mainly new mabe disney give directive to Elizabeth rudnick it was establish that Hans had a not good life in his Homeland and luckyly it fit with jennifer lee words later. I just dont think disney makes a big deal about Hans bacsktory. On the contrary of the fans who analyze everything and are supiscious of Hans life in his homeland. Disney seems to not makes a big deal about that. For them its clear their character got a shit life.since they publish the short comic with little Hans having scraps of his brothers food in disney storied place. that seems to be canon for them. 

inconsistency

Visual inacuracy

I tried to makes research in how many times time a book get publish. And its around 2 years. Traditional publishing take around 24 month. So october 2015 ? Thats move us to october 2013. So thats is most likely this book was wrote in 2013 when the movie didnt even come out. It will be faithful to elizabeth rudnick interview who said in it disney send her script and didnt even have the visual to work it. Thats is one of the issues she adress in her interview talking about fans who had issues with thing that are not right. So i think thats give us a solid explication as why hans eyes turn blue and sitron turn white.

"One of the hardest thing of novelization of a film script is that it changes no matter what the script i get it never gonna be the script that goes that you see on the film and There is a lot of time i Will get review and poeple will be there thats different from the movie and well i didnt have acess to the final script. So i get i mean they tried to give me the shooting script they tried and its very rare for me to get images or visual and i have To thought about whats going on in the script when there is an action scene i have To be hoping that what i m describing will reflect what is on the film. When i try to describe character outfit and expression i dont necesserarly know" ( 2019 interview can be find on youtube)

2- age

The age of hans 23 years old was talk in november 2013 in a jennifer lee tweet where she said she think Hans is 23. This is possible that Elizabeth rudnick has maybe finished writing the manuscript after fixed stuff like sitron name who was confirm in september 2013 by lee but didnt fixed the age maybe didnt knew jeenifer lee has give an age on her Twitter. In the encyclopedia of disney i found one day hans information said he had 12 older brothers and that his horse name is sitron so the horse name of hans seems to be very official stuff nothing at disney nothing is said about his age

Scene that were added.

While going thought the Elizabeth rudnick tag on twitter Someone said about maleficent a cut scene was in the book and the person was glad it was supress on the movie. It is possible that scene who was added where part of the script disney give to Elizabeth rudnick was not part of the movie at the end. (I think thats when Hans talk to the diplomat before talking To the duke) it is also faithful to what Elizabeth rudnick said she dont have the final script.so in the end the inconstitencies are more here because of elizabeth rudnick actually works for disney that here because she didnt do her research

4- Arendelle southern isles/Frozen Fever 

arendelle being away from the southern isles in the book. but close in frozen fever. so following what i say i think therefore this is possible the manuscript was wrote in 2013. and frozen fever i think began to be created around 2014 ? So thats could explain also this. And they miss that part.🤷‍♀️

The book is a fanfiction or its another universe.

I can understand this point about fanfiction but while doing research Elizabeth rudnick is someone that has been hire several times by disney to wrote their movies. Mulan (2020)lion king ( 2019)Aladdin (2019)A Frozen Heart (2015)Maleficent (2014)The Curse of Maleficent: The Tale of a Sleeping Beauty (2014)Mistress of Evil (2019)Thor (2011)captain america Pirates of the CaribbeanDead Men Tell No Tales (2017)Cinderella (2015)Beauty and the Beast (2017)

About the alternate The book is the movie. It change nothing but added the thought of Anna and Hans. Thats the same universe. And thats is not an anormal stuff to wrote a book from a character point of view. Divergent did it. we get to be in four head. same for the new twilight book where we are in the point of view of edward. Even from a different auhtor it will still be the same universe. so i can understand how the book can seem not canon because the woman who wrote it didnt work on the development of the character on the movie. so the argument will be more “ i dont consider this book canon because the development of the character was not wrote by the original screnwritor” and not “ i dont consider this book canon because that’s another universe”. adding thought about a character point of view doesnt make it another universe.also jennifer lee and chris buck are busy they cant wrote all the books of the franchise of frozen who has developp into a huge stuff because they are the original writor. (I read One day a team was created for that stuff.)

The book seems to be link to official information.

What makes me think that is the name of Agnarr. I read fans back in 2015 saying the book got agnarr wrong   and how they hope they are gonna fix the book mistakes in how this is not agnarr but agdar. and in the end ...well the names is actually wrote Agnarr. So the book has information the fans didnt have...weird that’s a offcial book publish by disney press and officially therefore approved by the walt disney compagny is right in how to spell the king name  and not the fans who translate it.. 🙃

.we are not sure if the book is canon

 yeah i agree ! We are not sure if that book is canon to the movies. Its publish by disney press and a several people work on it. Thats a still a big stuff. I think Disney is aware About whats they publish

It is pretty solid.

"Disney Publishing Worldwide (DPW), formerly known as The Disney Publishing Group and Buena Vista Publishing Group, is the publishing subsidiary of Disney Parks, Experiences and Products, a subsidiary of The Walt Disney Company.[2] Its imprints include Disney Editions, Disney Press,[3] Kingswell,[4] Freeform, and Hyperion Books for Children.[5] It has creative centers in Glendale, California, and in Milan, Italy.[3]"

they are also the productor editor of the book also , the one that makes the cover. so i think the one in charge of the frozen franchise are actually aware about the existence of A Frozen Heart just like all of their book anyway. The one who said yes or no this is disney itself and they planned their stuff very carefully there are organized. So now imagine we are in some far far away hypotethical future where Hans go back in the franchise ? i just dont think Disney will suddenly let Hans have twins brothers names goerges and lucas. the oldest is alphonse and he got 5 nice brothers and his mom is actually the bitch and his father the loving one. i mean they seems to want to makes thing consistent in this franchise and how they are actually names of kingdoms that are the same in several stuff in the frozen franchise it seems they want to keep stuff faiftful in the franchise at the difference of other franchise like lion king.

The only detail i have see change is Anna horse kjekk who was also name kjekk in one or two others stuff and turn into havski in others material. After checking in october 2013 disney publish a book not wrote by Elizabeth rudnick a junior book where the horse name is kjekk so possible thats why they went for kjekk and thought the times they forgot they had give a name for the horse. But here Thats Anna horse not a whole new character. So that’s why i beleive ( maybe i m wrong ?) that if in some far far faaaaar away future disney want to used Hans family ( the main thing new in a frozen heart because you know the rest...is the movie) they are gonna kept  Caleb , Lars , Rudi , Runo. the name who were used. I think that’s this is most likely that what was for Agnarr would also be for Lars caleb rudi runo if we may to see them one day.🤷‍♀️

I just found that book has its credibility. it is not a independant stuff wrote by.a stranger who told a very different thing that the movie. But thats ok to just dont consider it canon because of disliking stuff in it. I personally didnt like how all the prince of the southern isles were bully to Hans.

#A Frozen Heart #Frozen book #frozen books #Prince Hans #anna #Disney #Frozen franchise #hans #hans westergaard #elizabeth rudnick #yep a lot of this in the end is based on hypothese #frozen

[starship-squidlet]

New Music: Act 4, Scene 4

Chapter summary: Things escalate at school for the band.

Word count: 2,639

Disclaimer: Preface

Tag list: @the-cowbi @i-am-a-wizard @xbanner-carriedx @celestial-rose-sky (let me know if you’d like to be added to/removed from the tag list!)

Links: Spotify playlist, YouTube playlist, ‘Anything Goes’ on YouTube

A/N: Not going to lie, I love this chapter! Anything Goes is a favorite song of mine, and is also the last song I ever performed (fun fact about Jack: she used to be able to sing in public lol) and I was super excited to be able to use it for New Music! I hope you all love it as much as I do, as we head into the final arc of this story.

Previous chapter: Act 4, Scene 3

Next chapter: Act 4, Scene 5

Jack yawned and rubbed his eyes. Their show the night before had gone late, and getting up for school in the morning had proven… difficult. But he had hauled himself out of bed, and was now trudging along with Race as Cora, Elaine, and Albert chattered cheerfully a few feet ahead of them.

“How are they so awake?” Race groaned, nearly tripping over his own feet as he shuffled along the pavement.

“Witchcraft,” Jack mumbled.

“Keep up, Racer,” Albert grinned, glancing back at them over his shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t want to be late to Pulitzer’s assembly,” Elaine snorted.

Both Jack and Racetrack groaned. “I forgot about that,” Race grumbled.

“Did they even say what it was about?” said Jack.

“No, just that we were supposed to check in with our homeroom teachers outside the gym and that homeroom and first period were cancelled,” said Elaine.

At the school’s property line, as they had become accustomed to, they split off into two separate groups. Normally, they would have met up with some of the others near the property line and split up with them, based on who was going to which class, but today they stuck in the groups they’d walked in—Elaine and Cora with Albert, and Jack with Race. They saw some of the others as they went: Spot and JoJo with JoJo’s sister Cami; Elmer with his older brother and younger sister, walking with Davey and Sarah Jacobs; Henry and Boots with Specs; Mike and Ike and their older and younger brothers. Alan, Bill, Darcey, and Katherine joined Jack and Race as they headed for the gym, then Alan ran ahead to scare Elaine, who chased him down the sidewalk to the school door and vanished into the crowd. Cora joined Davey with his little group of Elmer and siblings, along with Cami de la Guerra. Finch and Mush came from the parking lot, with Tommy and Crutchie a few feet behind them.

Inside the gym, Jack looked around for his friends. They were hard to find, spotted in their little groups of two and three. Finch and Mush joined Elaine and Alan near the front of the bleachers; Jack and Race followed Katherine, Bill, and Darcey into the same row, using Alan, Bill, and Darcey as a sort of buffer between their two groups. Cora, Davey, and Elmer sat with Sarah, Walter, Annia, and Cami a bit to their right and a few rows further up. Spot and JoJo took seats in the front row, and Blink joined them a few moments later. Henry, Boots, and Specs were on the far side of the room; Mike, Ike and their brothers were two rows down and against the wall to their left. Crutchie and Tommy sat in the front row with Smalls, near the door where it would be easier for Crutchie to get out at the end of the assembly without being trampled by the inevitable crowd. On the other side of the gym—there were bleachers on both sides, and they’d all been set up to accommodate the entire student body for the assembly, although it was still a tight squeeze—Jack could see Oscar and Morris Delancey, sitting almost exactly across from him and Race, making faces and sneering at them.

“Do you think they realize how stupid they look?” Katherine leaned over to whisper to Jack.

He snorted. “Who knows what’s goin’ through those thick skulls of theirs.”

As the last students found their seats, Seitz and Bunsen closed the doors to the gym. Something pricked at the back of Jack’s neck; if the Delanceys hadn’t been visible across from him, he would’ve guessed that it was the niggling feeling of them staring holes into the back of his head, but, since he could see that their attention had turned to Crutchie and Tommy instead of him and Race, he didn’t think that they were the source. Jack did a quick look around. Everyone seemed okay. What is this? he wondered. Why do I have such a bad feeling about this?

Katherine nudged his arm. “Hey. You okay?”

He smiled. “Yeah. Just tired.”

The gym fell silent as Pulitzer strode across the waxed floor. There was a single microphone set up on a small platform in the middle of the huge room. He walked up to it, stepped up to the microphone, and tapped it, almost like he was trying to quiet the already silent student body. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said into the mic, the phrase echoing around the room, bouncing off the tin ceiling and wooden floor. Every eye in the room turned to the principal.

Pulitzer looked pleased with himself. He cleared his throat and leaned a little closer to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen; students of the World. I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called this assembly today.”

“Don’t really care,” Race muttered.

“It has come to my attention that there has been a petition circulating around the school,” said Pulitzer.

Every member of the band, their friends, and Alan, Bill, Darcey, and Katherine froze. Jack felt his heart leap up into his throat, Katherine squeezed his hand. He could hear Race’s breathing get faster next to him.

“I want to make it clear to every person in this room that actions of that sort are not going to be tolerated in this school,” Pulitzer’s voice rang out, sounding vaguely tinny to Jack. “Under no circumstances will Jack Kelly and the Newsies be performing on school grounds, or at any school function. Nor, in fact, will any similar bands that boast such vulgar-sounding ‘music’ be welcome in these spaces.”

Jack heard Elaine hiss “Alan” from further down the bench, and then, before Pulitzer could continue, a new voice was ringing out through the gym.

“Why?” Alan called. His voice was loud and clear, ringing out to echo just like Pulitzer’s had.

Pulitzer zeroed in on Alan. Jack and Race shrank away, trying to make themselves as small as possible. On Alan’s other side, Elaine looked like she wanted to melt into the floor as she, Mush, and Finch also tried to make themselves disappear. “And you are?” Pulitzer said drily.

“Alan O’Dell.”

Jack was pretty sure he saw Pulitzer’s face twist in disdain at the name.

“My sister’s a member of the Newsies,” Alan explained. “I’ve been to a ton of their shows. Their music is really good. I guess I just don’t understand why they’ve been banned the way they are. It seems unfair, and based entirely on your own, personal, opinions and bias. The Newsies are an extremely popular band, and that’s not just a coincidence. They’re good, and the petition clearly indicates that your student body enjoys their shows and would like to be able to have music they enjoy at their end-of-year dance.”

“Mr. O’Dell, am I to take it that you were responsible for the petition that has led to this assembly?” Pulitzer stuck his thumbs in his vest pocket and rocked back on his heels. He now looked thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Actually, no,” said Alan, crossing his arms over his chest, “but I wish that I had”—

“We started it.”

Every eye in the room shot from Alan O’Dell to Walter Kasprzak and Sarah Jacobs, on their feet and mirroring Alan’s posture. Turning back to look at Pulitzer’s reaction, Jack noticed that Theo and Conrad Duncan—Mike and Ike’s older and younger brothers—were also on their feet. Beside Katherine, Bill and Darcey slowly stood up, and Cami and Annia stood next to Sarah. Jack noticed the teachers around the edge of the room scribbling notes and the sinking feeling in his stomach got worse.

Students around them were whispering furiously at this turn of events. Jack glanced back and saw Davey and Elmer beaming proudly up at their respective siblings. Cora looked a little more like a cornered cat, but still seemed happily surprised by everything going on around her.

“My name is Walter Kasprzak,” Walter said. “My little brother Elmer is one of the Newsies. I’m really proud of him and his friends and everythin’ they’ve done. Their music is amazin’, and I thought they at least deserved the chance to play prom, rather than just bein’ rejected out of hand.”

“And I agreed with him,” said Sarah. “My brother Davey’s in the band too. If other school bands are considered for the dance, there’s no reason that the Newsies shouldn’t be just because the music they play is newer. Like Walt said, the music they play is enjoyable. People our age like it. We want to listen to it. It’s great to dance to. So, we talked it over, and we wanted to do what we could to at least get them considered for the prom.”

“That’s why we came up with the petition,” Theo said. “To give our brothers—‘cause I’ve got two in the band to be proud of—a chance to show their stuff and get the recognition they deserve. If you look over the petition, you’ll find that it’s divided by class, and you’ll notice that there are just as many signatures from the ninth and tenth grade classes as there are from the eleventh and twelfth grade classes. That means that it’s pretty clear: even students who have no vested interest in prom since they won’t be attendin’ it are interested in havin’ the Newsies play it. They think that the band deserves the chance, because they like them and their music.”

“Just because a thing is popular does not mean that it is good or appropriate,” said Pulitzer, almost laughing behind the words. “The music that the Newsies play is wild and unrestrained. If we give into that sort of attitude”—

Before he could finish, Katherine had shot up to her feet and stepped up onto the bench where she’d been sitting. She flung her arms out, threw her head back, and belted: “Times have changed! And we’ve often rewound the clock since the Puritans got a shock”—

“When they landed on Plymouth rock!” Crutchie jumped up and interrupted her to finish the line. They grinned at each other across the gym, then turned to face Pulitzer.

“If today any shock you should try to stem,” Mike popped up like a rabbit, Ike right behind him.

“‘Stead of landing on Plymouth rock,” sang Ike, then the twins slung their arms over each other’s shoulders and belted in unison:

“Plymouth rock should land on them!”

“In olden days, a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking,” sang Elaine, climbing up onto her seat so that she stood even with Alan.

—“But now, God knows! Anything goes!” Cora hopped up to finish the line. Elaine turned around and they grinned at each other, before turning to glare at Pulitzer.

“Good authors too, who once knew better words,” Davey gave in and stood between Cora and his sister.

“Now only use four-letter words writing prose!” Race popped up, not to be undone by his younger sister. “Anything goes!”

“The world has gone mad today

And good's bad today,

And black's white today,

And day's night today,

When most guys today

That women prize today

Are just silly gigolos!”

Finch was next: “And though I’m not a great romancer, I know that I’m bound to answer when you propose”—

“Anything goes!” sang Mush, standing up next to him.

“When Grandmama whose age is eighty,” Romeo was the next one up, climbing up onto his seat to belt, ever-so-slightly off key, “In nightclubs is getting matey with gigolos!”

“Anything goes!” Elmer shouted.

“When mothers pack and leave poor father because they’ve decided they’d rather be tennis pros,” sang Specs.

“Anything goes!” they all cried before launching into the next chorus:

“If driving fast cars you like,

If low bars you like,

If old hymns you like,

If bare limbs you like,

If Mae West you like

Or me undressed you like,

Why, nobody will oppose!”

“When every night the set that’s smart is intruding on nudist parties in studios!” Blink was next, to his friends’ surprise, given that they’d never heard him sing before.

“Anything goes!” Tommy shrugged and stood up next to Crutchie, who nudged him with his elbow and grinned.

“The world has gone mad today

And good's bad today,

And black's white today,

And day's night today,

When most guys today

That women prize today

Are just silly gigolos!”

Boots and Henry took the next chorus together, the others joining in as it went. Then, JoJo stood for the next line: “And though I’m not a great romancer”—

“I know that I’m bound to answer when you propose!” Spot was on his feet next to JoJo almost instantly, another almost unheard voice from among the band members.

“Anything goes!” Smalls popped up next to Tommy, grinning wickedly.

“If saying your prayers you like,

If green pears you like

If old chairs you like,

If back stairs you like,

If love affairs you like

With young bears you like,

Why nobody will oppose!”

Jack sighed and shook his head. He didn’t like where this was going, but he wasn’t about to abandon his friends again. He stood up to sing the last chorus with his friends. They were no longer the only ones singing; not only had the others who had stood with them—like Sarah, Theo, Bill, and Darcey— started singing as well, but many of the students seated around them had joined in. Even the Delancey twins seemed caught up in the moment, although they weren’t singing. Jack was pretty sure if he ever saw Morris and Oscar Delancey sing he would spontaneously combust.

“And though I’m not a great romancer,

I know that I’m bound to answer when you propose!

Anything goes!”

As the last line died away, almost as if they had rehearsed it, every member of the Newsies filled their lungs with air and shouted as loud as they could, one last time: “Anything goes!”

The gym slowly fell silent again. A few students tried to start a round of applause, but that quickly died out. Pulitzer simply waited for silence to fall and attention to return to him. Once it had, he spoke: “All members of the Newsies, as well as any of you who stood in response to the petition, please take your seats and stay in them. We do know who all of you are, so if you attempt to leave, you will still be punished. All other students are dismissed.”

Jack sat down, a lump in his throat and his hands trembling. That’s what I was afraid of. They sat as still as possible as the rest of the student body filed out. A few whispered encouragement as they passed, but most seemed too afraid of Pulitzer’s retribution to do or say much.

Once the gym had emptied of the other students and teachers, Seitz and Bunsen once again closed the doors, and Pulitzer stepped down from the platform. He accepted a piece of paper from Seitz, who gave an almost apologetic glance to the teenagers before moving aside.

“Sarah Jacobs, Walter Kasprzak, Annia Kasprzak, Theodore Duncan, Conrad Duncan, Camilla Carlotta de la Guerra, William Hearst Jr., Darcey Reid, Alan O’Dell, Katherine Pulitzer,” he read from the sheet of paper. “You are all suspended through the rest of the week. The rest of you,” he looked up, and an evil smile crept over his face, “are expelled. You may collect your belongings from your lockers, and then must leave school property. Once you have left, you may not return to school property for any reason. Officers will escort you in pairs to your lockers. Once they have escorted you out of the school building, you must leave the property. Those of you who are only suspended must leave immediately.”

#new music #new music (newsies) #newsies #newsies au #newsies band au #newsies 50s au #newsies fic #fanfic #fanfiction #jack kelly #jack kelly (newsies) #katherine (newsies) #katherine pulitzer #katherine plumber #joseph pulitzer #joseph pulitzerl (newsies) #crutchie (newsies) #tommy boy (newsies) #albert (newsies) #race (newsies) #elaine o’dell (newsies oc) #cora higgins (newsies oc) #mike and ike (newsies) #spot conlon (newsies) #jojo (newsies) #kid blink (newsies) #romeo (newsies) #elmer (newsies) #buttons (newsies) #specs (newsies)

[geek-gem]

So I just discovered well @kaijuguy19 told me about him sorry for the mention.....

I was surprised...so this is Ub Lwerks. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ub_Iwerks I’m surprised to see that picture....I’ve used that picture before and I’d thought that was Walt Disney himself. Including saw that in The Lost News Reel by Iron Horse Cinema. 

Unless I’m wrong but considering the fact he’s a co creator of Mickey....glad he still got credit or so. I’m just surprised learning wow...Themeatly and Mike Mood really did some research and took a lot from the history of Disney. Yet that’s just me kind of assuming right now. Because I’m seeing much more comparisons now. 

There’s also the fact right now I’ve had this post in my drafts of my head canon ages for BATIM characters which is the humans. Including thinking of adding my own. Ones that are in Bendy And The Last Rebirth. Which is some sequel idea I’ve had. Don’t know if I’ll add Audrey because we don’t know much of her yet. Not even a last name as well.

Mainly because I wonder if I made Henry a bit young. Including seeing Walt and Ub were the same age. So I wondered about looking at their age where I wanted to get inspiration of how possibly old Joey and Henry were. 

I just wanted to ramble about that. Think I’ll just tag this with the BATIM tag if the fandom doesn’t mind.

#batim

[imagitory]

D-Views: The Princess and the Frog (with guest input!)

Hi everybody! Welcome to another installment of D-Views, my on-going written review series focused around the works of the Walt Disney Company, as well as occasionally films made by other studios that were influenced by Disney’s works! For reviews for Disney films like Mary Poppins, The Little Mermaid, and Treasure Planet or non-Disney films like Anastasia, The Nutcracker Prince, or The Prince of Egypt, please consult my “Disney reviews” tag!

I’m super excited about today’s subject -- not only is its heroine my favorite Disney princess, but I also won’t be watching the movie alone! My darling mum, who has in the past helped me review Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, has graciously agreed to co-review this with me! We hope that you will join us on this magical adventure through the Louisiana bayou as we review...The Princess and the Frog!

In the early 2000′s, the Walt Disney Company -- especially its animation department -- was in trouble. Of all of the films done in the so-called “Experimental Era,” the only animated film that had made Disney a real profit was 2002′s Lilo and Stitch. The others, even if they did manage to receive favorable reviews, were all financial disappointments. The Emperor’s New Groove was fourth at the box office opening weekend behind movies like What Women Want and How the Grinch Stole Christmas and only grossed about 169 million dollars in theaters worldwide after costing 100 million to make. Brother Bear even now boasts a rather sad 37% rating at Rotten Tomatoes. And even if Atlantis: The Lost Empire hadn’t received such lukewarm reviews and been accused of plagiarizing several other movies (most notably Nadia: The Secret of the Blue Water, Stargate, and, as I’ve discussed previously, Castle in the Sky), it wouldn’t have changed the fact that it was released the same year as Dreamworks’ green monster hit Shrek. But no Experimental Era film did as badly as the last one -- Home on the Range -- which after its release in 2004 was so badly received both by critics and at the box office that it prompted Disney to write down the production costs and announce the closing of its 2D animation department for good.

But it didn’t close for good. In 2006, the new president and chief creative officer of the company, Ed Cadmill and John Lasseter, reversed the decision. The 2D animation department had one last chance to turn their dark destiny around, and in 2009, as Disney did after World War II with Cinderella and in the late 80′s with The Little Mermaid, it pinned its hopes on a beautiful, goodhearted princess.

The Princess and the Frog in some ways was Disney’s attempt to return to their Disney Renaissance roots. Its directors -- John Musker and Ron Clements -- had previously directed The Little Mermaid and Aladdin among others. The reinvented fairy tale story features magic, a theatrical villain, a prince, animal sidekicks, romance, and Broadway-musical-style songs. Even the advertising highlighted how much it wanted to remind millennial audiences of the films they grew up with, putting a spotlight on the music and beautiful hand-drawn animation, rather than the “adult,” meta humor that Dreamworks had used to advertise its films and Disney later used to advertise its next Disney princess movie, Tangled. Some production details leaked to the public, such as the title of “The Frog Princess,” the main character’s original name, and her profession as a chambermaid, also were edited upon receiving backlash, and still others (such as the use of voodoo in the plot and our black princess’s prince not being black) were just left as is. Despite all of the negative press that swirled around the project, there was also a lot of promise that Disney fans noted too, such as Dreamgirls supporting actress Anika Noni Rose being cast as Tiana, Pixar composer Randy Newman being chosen to write the film’s score and songs, and Oprah Winfrey being brought on both as a technical consultant and the voice of Tiana’s mother Eudora.

The marketing decision to focus more on nostalgic millennial adults rather than the new Generation Z is what I feel largely contributed to The Princess and the Frog not being the blockbuster Disney was hoping for. As much as I wholeheartedly believe that animation is not and has never been a children’s medium, the attitude that lingered around the public consciousness in the late 2000′s and sadly even today is that animation -- most importantly, 2D animation -- is for kids, and without the kids being just as excited to watch the film as their nostalgic parents, uncles, aunts, and older siblings, The Princess and the Frog was fighting an uphill battle, even if it was produced by a marketing monster like Disney. Even though the movie was handicapped by this bad marketing choice, however, I would still argue that The Princess and the Frog was a success. Even with that bad marketing choice, the racism-themed controversies that had swirled around its production, and the release of James Cameron’s blockbuster Avatar a week later weighing it down, Tiana costumes were selling out everywhere prior to Halloween that year. The movie still was #1 at the box office opening weekend, an honor not held by a Disney animated movie since Lilo and Stitch. It still made $104.4 million and was the fifth highest grossing film that year. It still earned pretty favorable reviews, earning an 85% at Rotten Tomatoes.

Sadly, because The Princess and the Frog wasn’t the big blockbuster that The Little Mermaid had been, Disney turned its focus more toward its 3D projects, and after the release of Winnie the Pooh in 2011 (the same weekend as Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2 -- COME ON, DISNEY, WERE YOU EVEN TRYING TO GIVE THIS FILM A CHANCE??), the 2D department did close its doors after all, and the studio went in a new direction with the release of Tangled. It’s a choice I lament Disney making, for as much as I’ve enjoyed most of the 3D entries to the Disney Revival, there was something so utterly magical about seeing The Princess and the Frog’s premiere at Walt Disney Studios in Burbank with my mother back in 2009. 2D animation is a beautiful art form, and it’s frustrating that Disney has turned its back on it so thoroughly after it got Disney to where it is now. The Princess and the Frog could’ve been the Great Mouse Detective to another 2D film that could’ve been a Little Mermaid and proved once again that 2D animation is for everyone, not just for kids, just as Little Mermaid did. But instead, the film that was the Revival version of The Little Mermaid was Disney’s first 3D princess film, Tangled -- and not to diss Tangled as a film, but it saddens me that it succeeded largely by playing to the public’s ignorant attitude that 3D animation is more “adult” than 2D animation and that the way to communicate that your animated movie is “for adults too” in your trailers is through using snarky meta humor rather than through artistry and complex themes.

With all this background out of the way...laissez le beau temps rouler! Let’s start the film!

Anika’s singing voice starting our film out is just a perfect introduction. Its pure, unassuming tone just ripples with sincerity as we are led into our introductory scene for our main character Tiana, her mother Eudora, and her absolutely hysterical best friend, Charlotte “Lottie” La Bouff. As we leave the La Bouff manor, we also see a touch of the “Lady and the Tramp influence” that Musker and Clements added to the production in the background design. Just by transitioning from the well-kept, affluent neighborhood in the dimming sunlight to the more run-down areas of town at night, we get a perfect, complete sense of the environment that our heroine lives in, all without any dialogue. And yet, as Mum pointed out, even the rundown areas are full of warmth and charm. Just like in Lady and the Tramp, they never look scary or shady, simply modest and maybe a little worn. On the note of charm, as well, I absolutely friggin’ adore Tiana’s dad, James. Considering how big of a role he has in the story, it’s really good that we see how big of an impact he had on his daughter through his good, hard-working attitude and love for his family and neighborhood despite not having much screen-time.

Once the “Walt Disney Pictures” banner floats by, we finally meet Tiana as an adult. As mentioned earlier, Tiana is my favorite Disney princess. Part of the reason why comes back to the fact that Tiana’s movie came out right before I started my first job (ironically enough at a restaurant in Disney World) and she inspired me to give 120% everyday, but the other reason Tiana speaks to me so much is because she reminds me quite a bit of Mum! Like my mother, Tiana is a very warmhearted, logical, and hardworking person who never sits on her laurels and is always ready to fix a problem, and it was really cool to see a Disney princess with the same kind of organized mind and stubborn work ethic that I saw in my mum growing up. That feeling I had watching Tiana’s story is one of the things that inspired me to write my Disney crossover story TrueMagic, where I wrote a character directly inspired by Mum. On top of all that, I realize that Tiana speaks a lot of the millennial and gen Z experience, having to save up a lot of money at two dead-end minimum wage jobs just to try to get ahead in a world where the cards are stacked against her. We even see her sleeping in the room she grew up in, meaning she’s still living at home as an adult to make ends meet!! Isn’t that relatable!!

I have heard others critique Randy Newman’s music, but in my opinion the score and songs developed for this movie perfectly set the mood of 1920′s New Orleans. The opening number “Down in New Orleans” is really well-paced with the medley of scenes introducing Tiana’s usual work day, Dr. Facilier’s vindictiveness and desire for Eli La Bouff’s wealth, Naveen’s playboy attitude, and Charlotte’s instant attraction to the newly arrived Prince. Of the songs, I’d personally cite Tiana’s “Almost There” and Facilier’s “Friends on the Other Side” as the strongest links, with “Gonna Take You There” as the weakest, but even if you don’t end up finding the songs catchy, I don’t think anyone can deny how well it suits the film’s setting.

Now admittedly, one critique you could give the film is its idealized, whitewashed view of historical race relations. Let’s be honest: in the 1920′s, a rich cotton baron like Eli La Bouff would not have visited a cafe on Tiana’s side of town and he would not let his precious daughter engage with Tiana as an adult either. As much as there were people who didn’t follow the common attitude that black Americans were somehow “inferior” to white Americans, if you didn’t follow that attitude, you couldn’t have expected to be very financially successful or influential in such a racist society, as Mr. La Bouff is. On top of that, Tiana would not only be facing passive prejudice when trying to open her own restaurant, like the kind the Fenner brothers express about her “background” -- she would also be likely facing active discrimination and potentially violence. As much as this film doesn’t truly represent the way things were back then, however, I would argue that the decision in the end benefits the picture, which clearly is supposed to be a fairy tale. This is a story where a girl kisses a frog, becomes one herself, meets an alligator who plays the blues and a firefly in love with a star, and both fights against and alongside people who practice voodoo. It may have a historical backdrop, kind of like Pocahontas and The Great Mouse Detective do, but it is still a fantasy. There are other films that aim to teach us about how things really were back then, so why can’t we have one where a young black American lives her own fairy tale in the iconic Crescent City? Plus, in Mum’s words, an integral part of this story is the pure, unlikely friendship between Charlotte and Tiana, which would have been close to impossible in a completely historical setting. To my memory, it’s actually one of the few times we see a close friendship between two female contemporaries in a Disney princess movie -- the closest we’d had previously were relationships like Aurora with the three fairies (which was more of a familial relationship) and Belle and Mrs. Potts (which...yeah, big generation gap). Even in films that came later, we have Elsa and Anna, but they’re sisters, not just friends. And Tiana having a friend like Charlotte ends up being pivotal in her eventual triumph.

Speaking of Charlotte and her friendship with Tiana, something I love about her is that she doesn’t just give Tiana the money she needs to open her own restaurant. Instead, because she knows Tiana has pride and wouldn’t just accept the money for nothing, Charlotte finds a reason for her to give her the money she needs by assigning her the task of making beignets for the ball she and her father are hosting. It’s something that reminds me a bit of my mum and her best friend, who also comes from a wealthy family -- like Charlotte, my mum’s best friend likes spending money on my mum, but has always known that she can’t buy my mum’s friendship. Both she and Charlotte know that you can only be a friend through expressing sincere caring, which is the mark of a true friend.

Ever since The Princess and the Frog first came out, “Almost There” has been my work mantra, and every time I hear it, I just am full of drive and excitement. The animation for this sequence -- animated by senior Disney icon Eric Goldberg, who previously worked on the Rhapsody in Blue segment in Fantasia 2000 and was the supervising animator for the Genie in Aladdin -- is also pitch perfect, incorporating both Al Hiershfeld-inspired designs and an Art Deco vibe to envelope us in Tiana’s fantasy. It’s one of the kind of artistic risks that Disney used to do more often, like the Pink Elephants sequence in Dumbo, the fairy’s gift sequences in Sleeping Beauty, and the Zero to Hero sequence in Hercules, and you just don’t see this sort of highly stylized song sequence in most of Disney’s newer films. The only one that comes to mind is the “You’re Welcome” sequence in Moana, which ironically enough also featured Eric Goldberg drawing all of Maui’s “Mini-Maui” tattoos! Those sorts of stylized musical numbers is something I’d love to see more of in the Disney Revival, because it gives the film in question such character and can bring an already great song to new heights.

Naveen is a character who I could’ve very easily disliked upon first meeting him. Obnoxious, selfish, and/or vain characters -- such as Lightning McQueen from Cars or even Kuzco from The Emperor’s New Groove -- really tend to rub me the wrong way, unless there is something in the character at the very beginning that makes me want to see them improve themselves. Fortunately our main prince is saved for me because we see that along with his vain, shallow, playboy attitude, he also expresses a great love of music and living life to the fullest. He doesn’t ignore his responsibilities as a prince just to be rebellious or lazy, but because he is so in love with New Orleans and its culture. He isn’t an angry or willfully condescending person: he immediately starts dancing with regular New Orleans citizens and is enthralled with the moves of a tiny street entertainer. And just as Tiana represents the millennial experience through working multiple jobs just to make ends meet, Naveen expresses a different kind of millennial experience -- that of being so sheltered by one’s privilege that, once you’re on your own, you’re incapable of sustaining the life style you’ve become accustomed to and are led by society to believe you should be able to achieve. At this point, it’s still easy to feel sorry for Lawrence, Naveen’s resident “Peter Pettigrew-look-alike” manservant, though that impulse quickly disappears after we see his interactions with our villain, Dr. Facilier. Speaking of which...

Just as Tiana is my favorite Disney princess, Dr. Facilier is my favorite Disney villain. Voiced by Keith David, the man who previously gave life to Goliath in Disney’s Gargoyles, the so-called “Shadowman” is -- in Mum’s words -- just “deliciously evil.” His voice drips with cold charisma, dipping into rich bass tones but never sounding groggy or lacking in energy, and the animation -- done by Bruce W. Smith, supervising animator for Oscar Proud from the Disney Channel show The Proud Family -- just fits David’s line-reads like a glove. Although Lawrence briefly provokes Facilier, effectively foreshadowing his true viciousness, the witch doctor largely puts on a theatrical persona that entices even the most jaded viewers in with his song “Friends on the Other Side.” Mum brought up the wonderful comparison to Oogie Boogie in Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas, and just like Oogie Boogie, Facilier’s number feels very unscripted and spontaneous, and yet it’s still conniving. Even though the song is jazzy and oddly conversational, there’s this dangerous, sinister darkness echoing in the background, not just in the echoing voices of the Friends on the Other Side but in the lyrics with multiple meanings (”when I look into your future, it’s the green that I’ve seen”). Along with the theatricality, however, Facilier doesn’t forget to also be very intimidating as a villain -- the scene where he turns Naveen into a frog gets quite scary in its imagery.

Just as everything seems to have come up roses for her, Tiana is suddenly about to lose the restaurant of her dreams for good. But there is still hope -- or, at least...there’s a frog. Or a prince. A frog pri -- you get the point. Interestingly Naveen, while a frog, reminded Mum and me of two very different characters. Mum immediately thought of Aladdin, thanks to his charming, smiling expressions, while I immediately thought of another frog seeking a kiss from a beautiful girl: Jean-Bob from The Swan Princess. I personally think the second of those is a coincidence, given that Jean-Bob and Naveen really don’t have much in common excluding a flamboyant accent, but Aladdin’s influence on Naveen’s character animation is pretty reasonable. After all, Flynn Rider’s design was also influenced by previous Disney princes.

Not having seen this movie in a while, I’d forgotten about the “frog hunters” sequence in the middle of the movie until it came on screen. I know that Tiana and Naveen had to face multiple dangers before they reached Mama Odie, not just for dramatic storytelling but also to help cement their budding relationship...but I’m sorry, the characters of the frog hunters are just...uncomfortable. The stereotypical portrayal just comes across as very mean-spirited, especially when compared to the great respect for New Orleans culture in the rest of the movie. The scene does give Tiana and Naveen good character development, though, so it’s a flaw I can overlook to enjoy the rest of the movie.

Usually I don’t enjoy Disney “sidekick” characters as much as I do more developed main or side characters, but I will grant that as sidekicks go, Louis the alligator and especially Ray the firefly are among the better ones. Louis is kind of there for humor more than to advance the plot at all, which is a shame, but Ray becomes both ridiculously charming and central to the film’s theme of love when we see his romantic side in his song “Ma Belle Evangeline.” This song has special significance to Mum and me, all because of Mum’s little Russian Blue/Short-Hair kitty, Evangeline, or Eva for short. When Eva and her sister Ella (full name Cinderella) were being driven home from the pound, the two cats were absolutely beside themselves, crying and yowling the whole way. The only thing that quieted them was me singing songs to them, including songs based on their names -- Cinderella’s opening theme (”Cinderella, you’re as lovely as your name”) for Ella, and “Ma Belle Evangeline” for Eva. Even now, Eva knows that that song is her song, and she always relaxes whenever she hears it. The song sequence in the film also beautifully reflects Tiana and Naveen’s budding relationship, which has already affected them enough that they are starting to take influence from each other. Tiana has started to open up and have some fun, while Naveen is more able to acknowledge his shortcomings and takes more responsibility. They even see eye to eye enough that they stop Louis from telling Ray that Evangeline is a star, not a firefly. Tiana/Naveen is my Disney OTP mainly because of that influence that they have on each other. Both of them are such beautifully flawed characters, but they both also teach and encourage each other to be better people than they would have been on their own.

Tiana and Naveen learn that if they want to turn human again, they need help from Charlotte, who will be “princess” of the Mardi Gras Parade until midnight that night. Unfortunately, when Tiana finds Charlotte, she finds her about to marry who she thinks is Naveen on a float in the parade. Admittedly I kind of wonder why Tiana didn’t consider that it might not be Naveen, as earlier she saw a human Naveen dancing with Charlotte before meeting frog!Naveen and so should know there’s an imposter, but I suppose it’s just story convention, to have this kind of a pre-climax misunderstanding. It’s the same reason why Naveen is locked in a box on the float where he can interrupt the wedding, rather than being stowed away more securely somewhere else, or why Charlotte didn’t turn into a frog too after not being able to turn Tiana and Naveen back.

At long last, our climax arrives. After Dr. Facilier “lays Ray low” in a scene that makes both Mum and me cry out in grief, he corners Tiana in the graveyard, enticing her with the dream she’s worked so hard for in the hopes of getting the medallion that would allow Lawrence to impersonate Naveen and Facilier to steal the La Bouff fortune. But because of all of the character development Tiana’s gone through, she remembers what’s really important -- the people she loves -- and she outdoes the Shadowman, condemning him to be yanked down into the underworld by his so-called “Friends” for all time. The growth Tia’s gone through also gives her the strength and courage needed to put her dream aside and tell Naveen about her feelings for him. And because she’s a true friend, Charlotte shows no hint of bitterness about missing out on her “happily ever after” with Naveen -- instead she immediately is supportive of her friend and tries to fight for her happiness, to the extent that she looks over the moon when Tiana and Naveen get married as humans. Even Ray, who Mum wishes desperately had been able to make it, achieves happiness by finally becoming a star beside his beloved Evangeline. As our film comes to an end with a reprise of “Down in New Orleans,” we’re left with a sense of triumph and optimism...two things that embody our newly crowned princess beautifully.

The Princess and the Frog is a movie that, in Mum’s and my opinion, should receive much more appreciation that it has. Financially speaking, it only did about as well as The Great Mouse Detective and Lilo and Stitch in theaters, but it still has left a lasting impact. I still see plenty of little girls dressing as Tiana in the parks, and I still hear about young black women and girls who have found validation and comfort in the first African American Disney princess. Even I, who share a complexion with white bread, find Tiana an engaging, brilliant role model in today’s world -- in Mum’s words, she embraces the idea of success being half inspiration and half perspiration, but she also learns the virtue in disregarding the chase for success when it comes at the cost of your values. She learns how to love, how to grow, and how to change, while also encouraging the best from those around her. The Princess and the Frog also features what I would argue is the best Disney animated villain since the Disney Renaissance, a soundtrack that embraces its setting to the Nth degree, and a prince who grows just as much as his love interest does while they are together. It’s not a perfect film, but no film is, and Mum and I hope that like other Disney films that didn’t make much money on their initial theatrical releases, we as a Disney fanbase can make this movie a cult classic and give it the love it fought so hard to earn and so rightfully deserves. Look how it lights up the screen -- ma belle Princess and the Frog!

#d-views #disney reviews #mum and tory watch together!! #disney #the princess and the frog #reviews #opinion #analysis #oh boy here i go

[violetganache42]

Well, we're eight days into the decade and a lot has already happened. I think it is about time that I share with you another big announcement of mine.

During Christmas morning, when we were almost done opening presents, Mom surprised me and my younger brother in the best way possible: all next week, the three of us are going to be at Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida! She was able to get tickets a few months ago, and during that time, she booked reservations and scheduled rides we wanted to go on, especially at the newer attractions. Considering that this is a huge Christmas present, my younger brother and I understandably didn't get a whole lot, but we did get the stuff needed for the trip: our own suitcases, luggage tags, gift cards and money for when we want to buy stuff for ourselves, and Disney World Magic bands. The two of us haven't been to Orlando since May 2013 and we are super excited to check what has been added since then.

With all that said, you can pretty much tell what this means: I will not be online for the duration of that week specifically from the 13th to the 18th. With the new decade having started and the spring semester of junior year starting in a couple weeks, might as well end winter break with a bang, you know?

Anyways, not much else to say other than I am super excited about going back to Orlando and I cannot wait to see what new memories I'll make there. 😄

(This post will be reblogged again on the day I leave as a reminder that I'll be away for the time being. If there are any posts you may think I'll like, be sure to tag me in them and I'll check them out when I get back.)

#my post #update #hiatus #walt disney world

[bookenders]

Good Metaphor, Bad Metaphor, Who’s to Say?

I’ve seen some advice posts about this goin’ around and thought I’d add my two cents.

[All images in this post are line breaks.]

What is a Metaphor?

A metaphor is a literary device wherein one thing is compared to/equated with another without using the words “like” or “as.” So, rather than saying “it was hard to get to know her,” one might say “she was a closed book.”

What Makes a Metaphor Good or Bad?

Good - fits tone/narrative voice, often in character, tells us something, accurate

Bad - inaccurate, cliché, forced, does not fit with the tone/theme

In simple terms, good metaphors aren’t noticed (or, rather, noticed in a good way) and flow with the rest of the writing. Bad metaphors don’t work and take the reader out of the story.

It’s like puzzle pieces. The blue goes in the sky, not the lava.

[Continued below the cut:]

Basic examples of in character metaphors (ft. my improvised prose):

If I’m writing about a person who loves space, their pulse would skyrocket, their thoughts would orbit one topic, their confusion would be nebulous, and their smiles would burn bright like distant stars.

If I’m writing about an accountant who was passionate about their job and hated art, I wouldn’t say that they did things in broad strokes, or painted their paperwork with the sweat of their brow, or minded their calculations as a modern Michelangelo, everything planned and ready to bleed black and white on paper canvas.

I’d say that their mind clacked through figures the way a gray matter abacus operates, exacting and precise. I’d say they held their clients’ futures in their Atlas hands, dedicated to keep them afloat in uncertain times. 

[I’m gonna look at accurate and tonal metaphors in a minute, so hang in there until then, because they need context to be understood.]

BUT.

Because there’s always a but.

If you’re consistent, it can work out just fine.

It’s all about tone and mood, really. If you’re writing about trees, don’t compare everything to race cars unless your character is a former driver who is now a lumberjack trying to fit in and make sense of his new job, or you compare everything to race cars. That sort of thing.

Douglas Adams can write Douglas Adams metaphors because that’s his absurdist style of humor. Unless the voice of your story is like that, or your POV character thinks that way, it’s probably best that you don’t pepper in absurdist/surreal metaphors.

Okay, But How Do You Write a Good Metaphor?

If I had the answer to that, I’d never need to edit my work again.

But let’s take a stab at it, eh?

To reiterate, a good metaphor is accurate, is fitting of the tone/voice, reveals information, reveals character, and/or echoes the theme of the story.

Alrighty, let’s look at some good metaphors (in my opinion, anyway) and examine why they’re good:

“Every night I stunned myself with gin.” (Jac Jemc, “A Violence”)

First of all, it’s accurate. I can see it in my head even without knowing the exact context. Getting black-out drunk is a sort of stunning. There’s a “person vs. self” conflict in the story, as well, and a theme of self-punishment, which this metaphor mirrors. That’s what makes it work: it’s accurate, flows with the tone and theme, and doesn’t pull you out of the story. You read it and think, “yeah, that fits, that makes sense.”

On a side note, if you wanna take a look at acoustics really quickly, there are all those elongated “n” sounds that bring a numbing sensation to the sentence, like your tongue is falling asleep just reading the words. It’s practically a borderline hum.

This metaphor works because it is accurate, mirrors the story’s theme, and reveals information about the character and their relation to their world.

“Be not ashamed women, your privilege encloses the rest, and is the exit of the rest, // You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.” (Walt Whitman, “I Sing the Body Electric”)

Poetry is a little different than prose in this case, but it is also where some stellar metaphors can be found, since poetry is a true home of figurative language. I mean, look at these lines. A woman is the creator of life, the bearer of life, and the exit of life. “The gates of the body,” going in and out. Gates of the soul, finding and leaving. It’s all a bunch of very clever ways to refer to a woman’s sexuality and body separately, but also at the same time.

He calls attention to both the concrete, with gates, and the abstract, with the soul and rest. Which is what the entire poem is doing. He’s “singing the body electric,” praising all the body can be in both an physical and metaphysical sense. 

This metaphor works because it is accurate, tells you how the speaker feels/reveals character, and fits the narrative tone.

“It surprised [the protagonist] how fond he had been of his teeth. His tongue, a flat sleek seal, used to flop and slide so happily among the familiar rocks, checking the contours of a battered but still secure kingdom, plunging from cave to cove, climbing this jag, puzzling that notch, finding a shred of sweet seaweed in the same old cleft; but now not a landmark remained, and all there existed was a great dark wound, a terra incognita of gums which dread and disgust forbade one to investigate.” (Vladimir Nabokov, Pnin)

I admit, I love Nabokov’s writing. And look how gorgeous this is. Now, I haven’t read this novel so I don’t know the context, but this is an excellent extended metaphor (which means it’s a metaphor that goes on for a while and explores several different aspects of the comparison).

A tongue as a “flat sleek seal”? Accurate, visceral, visual. The following description mimics the motions a tongue makes when running over the teeth, picking things out of them, examining them from the inside. “Finding a shred of sweet seaweed in the same old cleft” is like finding something between your teeth. And when a tooth is pulled, it does feel like something great and wide is missing. A “terra incognita of gums” - the undiscovered area, what was hidden from your tongue’s previous explorations and a place you don’t really want to touch because it’s weird and kinda gross now. 

This metaphor works because it’s accurate, echoes the theme of the passage, and tells you something about this character and the way they feel.

“Put out the light, and then put out the light: If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, I can again thy former light restore, Should I repent me: but once put out thy light, Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat That can thy light relume.”

William Shakespeare, Othello v.ii

Let’s get classical for a minute. This is one of my personal favorite Shakespeare metaphors. I’ll take this one beat-by-beat because Middle English.

The first line refers to both the lantern he’s holding and Desdemona (his wife’s) life. First he puts out the flame he’s using to see, then he kills her. He goes on to say that if he puts out the light that is the flame, he can light it again no problem, but he can’t do the same with her life. This is the point of no return for him. 

The extended metaphor here is the candle and light. There’s fire language (flaming, quench, heat, light, relume, etc.) and direct comparisons to said fire. And we have a direct allusion to the story of Prometheus, the Greek titan who created humans and stole fire from the gods to give to them, with “Promethean heat.” Putting out a candle = putting out the light of her life, the fire gifted by Prometheus, but Othello can’t light it again because he is not Prometheus and cannot find it again. There’s also a running theme of passion throughout the play, and what happens when passion is stoked too high (there’s another metaphor for ya) and spirals out of control. 

This is also an example of how a cliché can work in your favor. There’s no direct reference to passion in this passage, but passion is often compared to heat and fire. By using fire as a comparison for life, Willy is using that cliché to his advantage by allowing the audience to connect life and passion via this metaphor. Clever, yeah?

The metaphor works because it’s accurate, it fits the tone, and echoes Othello’s character.

As always, if you have any questions or concerns, shoot me a message! I’m always happy to help!

Some extra sources if you’re looking for a more in-depth look at metaphors and more examples:

Metaphor: The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

How to Avoid Clichés and Bad Metaphors

Grammarly: What Is A Metaphor? (Also Metaphor vs Simile)

Want more original fiction?  Take a gander at my original writing tag and my short stories tag!

For writing advice and observations, check out my advice tag.

Want info on my WIPs? Have a look-see at my WIP page!

Do you like the way I put words together? Consider buying me a Ko-Fi! (Link in my blog description!)

Want to be added to my original fiction tag or my WIP tags? Let me know! 😊

#writeblr #appendix #metaphor #metaphors #advice #writing #writing advice #brainbox #good metaphors #bad metaphors #figurative language #literary device #literary devices #detail #description #descriptive language #prose #writers on tumblr #writers of tumblr #metaphor vs simile #simile

[duscarasheddinn]

I posted 2,522 times in 2021

174 posts created (7%)

2348 posts reblogged (93%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 13.5 posts.

I added 177 tags in 2021

#g/t - 35 posts

#giant/tiny - 33 posts

#sfw g/t - 28 posts

#g/t fluff - 24 posts

#gentle g/t - 18 posts

#giant/tiny fluff - 12 posts

#jurassic park - 7 posts

#hybrid - 7 posts

#jurassic world - 7 posts

#arrietty - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 49 characters

#i'd want to be protected by a human as a borrower

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I first played Dungeons & Dragons Online many years ago.

I started free, but eventually paid real money for the game, permanently upgrading my account to Premium. That gave me several buffs without having to spend extra money. The one I noticed first was that I had two more character slots than a Free-To-Play account. When I left the game, F2P accounts had just two character slots. Now, they have three. Not that I got to see it for myself. Premium accounts used to have a default of four character slots, though one could buy up to 30 more. Now, the new default is five character slots.

Anyway, when I picked it back up on Steam, I remembered that I had purchased the Artificer class. Apparently, I also got 400 total favor (a fairly easy task) and unlocked the ability to play as Drow Elves for free. Using favor to unlock the Drow only works on one server, but buying Drow Elves (not recommended, by the way) unlocks it for all servers. Combining the two, I made a Drow Artificer, which is a good combination of race and class.

I named her "Jobrare Goldberry," the exact same name as the heroine of Not Just One. This was intentional, and no one already took that name, so I managed to get a name I wanted on the first try. That doesn't happen too often because the name of every player character on a server MUST be unique. Surnames are optional, but she was my only current character with one because I lose it each time it says that a name is taken.

This is what she looked like after the Korthos storyline, basically the tutorial of the game, was completed. I later redid the six mandatory quests in that storyline on Hard (I did it on Normal before), but this screenshot was taken before that.

4 notes • Posted 2021-02-25 16:12:01 GMT

#4

This is the evolution of the Natural Fake Grox, just called “Fake Grox.”

The clothing items added share the names of the Grox parts, but do not look like them. Then again, while the Grox parts exist in the base Spore game, players are not supposed to access them.

I came up with lore for these. They used to be something different, but once they learned of the Grox, they turned to worshiping them to survive.

They went as far as modifying their genes in an attempt to look like them, but they could not figure out how to get the Grox cyborg implants or the unique, nameless philosophy the Grox have (fans have nicknamed it “Groxology” or “Groxism” but they are the only ones that can have it without mods or hacks, as neither the player nor randomly generated empires can have it).

4 notes • Posted 2021-01-22 15:26:10 GMT

#3

Disney Committed Bribery for DECADES!

Copyright law says that, when the creator of copyrighted material dies, that material exits copyright and is now free for anyone to use.

Mickey Mouse has been in copyright since the death of his creator, Walt Disney, for about as long as Walt lived. That’s 6 decades.

How does Disney keep Mickey in copyright?

Simple. Whenever the government considers removing Mickey from copyright, Disney bribes them to keep Mickey in copyright.

They must have been doing it for decades. Otherwise, Mickey Mouse would no longer be copyrighted.

Given how exceptionally rich Disney is, they can probably afford to bribe the government to keep Mickey Mouse in copyright until at least the 100th anniversary of Walt Disney’s death.

Maybe then the government will remember that Mickey Mouse should’ve been out of copyright for the overwhelming majority of the previous 100 years.

4 notes • Posted 2021-04-12 18:16:04 GMT

#2

Body weight and attractive looks have NOTHING to do with each other!

I know multiple people who look good even with a lot of weight!

4 notes • Posted 2021-03-29 00:16:29 GMT

#1

Gro-Gurt

Gro-Gurt is what I call Go-Gurt with The Mandalorian advertising.

What a pun!

6 notes • Posted 2021-03-13 00:47:01 GMT

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