#is it perhaps a one page appearance in a good chunk of these issues?

[bobbimorses]

what comics have clint hung out with coaboys??

oh past me was so prepared for this moment

avengers #142-147

champions #11

avengers #161-162

ghost rider v2 #27

marvel tales #100

avengers #168

west coast avengers #18

avengers forever #4

she-hulk v2 #20

hulked out heroes #1

occupy avengers #1-9 (red wolf is a cowboy i don't make the rules)

#is it perhaps a one page appearance in a good chunk of these issues? #yes. and #since clint never gets a hellfire gala look i demand they put him in a cowboy outfit

[quill-of-thoth]

Letters from Watson: The Adventure of the Yellow Face

Published: Febuary 1893 Set: April 1888 (Baring Gould), I literally do not know but logically 1882-1888 You know the drill: Baring Gould takes basically everything where Holmes and Watson aren't living together and dumps it somewhere in the invented 1886-1888 marriage. I counter that yes, 1889 and 1890 are getting stupidly crowded and the low number of cases that Watson writes about being in his records for 1890 in January 1892 does not necessarily mean that he did not come back later and flesh out stories he had minimal notes on. But also there's no indication whatsoever in this story that Watson is married, and while Baring-Gould appears to think that this confirms a date of 1888 (post the invented first wife, immediately before Mary Morstan) to me it opens the decade up like a starfish opening up a clam. Other simple solutions for the ongoing overcrowding of '89 and '90 are to revise the Mary Morstan and Irene Adler time frame hypothesis: perhaps Watson fudged the date of his marriage by a year in his writing, to keep his new wife somewhat insulated from having a whole book written about her extended family's strange and exotic troubles, giving us another calendar year to play with, or to suppose that Watson downplayed his involvement in Holmes' cases during the Moriarty era of 89-90 in his first few published stories, while there was a chance some of the gang was still at large. Baring Gould's timeline is shaky here, and to fully refute it we actually have to talk at more or less this time about my least favorite of the four Sherlock Holmes novels, Valley of Fear. In Baring-Gould's timeline, we've skipped it, since this reread is doing short stories only, and because Baring-Gould seems to not only invent wives but stretch out the Moriarty problem for extra years.

Valley of Fear is, like A Study in Scarlet, a novel with a huge chunk of its time spent with secondary characters in an American setting. Unlike Study, it's not very good. It was published serially from 1914 to 1915, during a huge gap (1913 to 1917) in the publication of short stories. It very likely suffered in execution from anti-union sentiment that had been growing in the 1890's and 1900's, along with a rise in international tensions preceding the first world war. It's also just a dull case to have made a novel out of. In spoiler-ridden brief: A murder in a country manor leads Holmes to uncover - mostly by interviewing the alleged murder victim - an American secret society / gang / attempt at a union that turned into more of a mob. The detecting bits are good, from Holmes' speculations about Moriarty's suspiciously expensive painting collection, to the trap he laid to catch the alleged murder victim in hiding, but the rest is, frankly, a slog, and that "rest" is half the book, without even a bookend of Holmes finishing his analysis or giving further advice to chase it. Leaving aside the moral issues of the Pinkerton Detective Agency, who were the original Bastard Cops, functioning more as a private army of strikebreakers and hired goons during the 1800's than you would expect given their more publicized role in prohibition era prosecution of organized crime, the tale of Birdy Edwards appears to be trying to lean Noir without any idea of what Noir is as a subgenre. It's also hard to follow, because characters are always trying to talk in code and drop Ominous Hints - a quick skim of the opening confirms that although some of my memories of the tedium were probably exacerbated by not having any historical context on my reread, it's still a story I would have put right back down if Birdy Edwards' introduction had occurred on the first page.

Getting back to the timeline: Although Baring Gould places Valley of Fear immediately after Blue Carbuncle (by a week and a half), and three months before Yellow Face, there's no particular indication of the year. It is not noted whether Watson is married, though one assumes it can't be too many years before Holmes and Moriarty's final confrontation. I suspect that Baring-Gould is onto something here - not that he's right about Watson having a first marriage, but that both Valley of Fear and Yellow Face easily could have occurred at any before Holmes and Watson met Mary in the summer of 1888.

This particular story doesn't even have the question of "how long was Holmes able to keep Moriarty from knowing that the most famous detective in london knows he exists?" because unlike Valley, it has no link to any crime syndicate, or indeed any crime. As an additional piece of supporting evidence, Holmes is escorting Watson on a walk in the park during this opening, something that correlates more neatly with Watson's condition after Study in Scarlet - being cooped up all winter due to chronic wound pain and desperate for the outside world, but less able to get it for himself - than with the established pattern of Watson being invited into the parlor next to the fire and being infodumped at about a case, which characterizes their meetings during Watson's marriage. With all that said I still can't pin the date down, save that Holmes has either started doing cocaine or failed to hide it from his slowly recovering roommate in the time since Study in Scarlet (presuming that Watsons description intends to imply that Holmes was, at the time of the story, a user of cocaine, and that Watson knew at that time, which isn't certain: he's writing what may be a full decade later and tends to get very general in his descriptions of Holmes' character throughout the years.) I would hazard a guess that this is somewhere between '82 and '86 - or between Holmes starting to bring Watson along on out of town cases, and the first year we have multiple cases in. Or, more accurately: when Watson is recovered enough to want to help, but not not recovered enough to start thinking about returning to his profession.

#Letters from Watson #The Adventure of the Yellow Face #alternatively you could paste the numbers 82-91 on a dart board and throw something at it #which is as far as I know Baring Gould's method for this one

[drabsyo]

I was wondering...I was always confused about Narcissa’s hair. It’s been a while since I read the books. Did she color it blonde to show her now belonging to House Malfoys. Or was it naturally blonde? Movies confused me a bit I guess.

Yes, this had me confused too! I've agonized and toiled over it, more than I probably should, about how I should draw her hair because people have generally different views, which is totally understandable! 💕

And I've always wanted to discuss it, so now that I've been given a reason to... Well.

If you take a look at some of my Narcissa fanart, you'll notice the different ways I'd color her hair. I was so confused. Is she a light blonde? Dark blonde? A mix of raven hair and blonde hair? If she has blonde hair then why does her family have (mostly) dark hair? And WHY does she have blue eyes?! This woman is absolutely confusing! (Which is kind of, you know, fitting because Narcissa always loves to be a mystery to literally anyone lol)

So I did my homework, asked around, and scoured every bit of information, canon or otherwise, that I could find about her. It led me to this:

In canon, this is what the Black sisters look like. You can find the page here. Narcissa is a child here, and already has blonde hair. So we can go ahead and safely assume that she was born with natural blonde hair. But in the films, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. I don't actually know why they gave her that hair color, maybe so that the audiences wouldn't question her blood relations with the Blacks--I don't know. I really don't. But now we have a book version Narcissa, one who has full blonde hair. And a movie version Narcissa, one who has raven and blonde hair. At least, that's how the different hair colors started: a movie version, and a book version.

So... here's where it gets confusing.

To my knowledge, it isn't actually explained why her hair color is the way it is in both the movies and the books. Having blonde hair does raise many questions, how is she the "only" blonde in a family of dark hair and dark eyes? To top it all off, it gets even more confusing, because fanon writes and draws her either as a full blonde or a mix of raven and blonde hair. We just have this large pile to sift through of her having either hair color. No one actually explains anything. She's just... infuriatingly there. She's either blonde or raven haired and blonde. BUT fanfiction writers, as I've observed, give their own reasons why Narcissa's hair color is the way it is in their respective stories. And it's actually pretty creative and interesting! It adds even greater depth to her character, and it fits the narrative of the story even better. Remember, the character we're dealing with is Narcissa Black. One of her main traits is "she won't do anything unless there is a clear purpose behind it." This character is deliberate, meticulous, and she makes sure to plan ahead at all times. And so, some fanfiction writers decide to play on that.

You can skip this part if you want to avoid spoilers but I've compiled a small list of instances in (Cissamione) fanfiction where Narcissa's hair is mentioned.

🔹 In Extinction by rubikanon in Chapter 10: Build and Break, Hermione asks Narcissa about it. Here, Narcissa has black and blonde hair. She explains that she only decided to dye it blonde to "fit in with the Malfoys." We can gather two things from that alone, which resonates with her character perfectly: 1.) Narcissa is loyal and 2.) Narcissa purposefully wants to show the rest of the world how loyal she is by committing to having blonde hair. The woman has some serious commitment, and it shows. But now, the way that it's slowly growing back into her natural black hair color, hints that perhaps Narcissa no longer wishes to fit in with the Malfoys. However, if we take an even closer look, we can safely assume that Narcissa isn't the kind of person to just leave her hair color "unattended" like that. Remember, she's meticulous. And this is a big deal for her, the fact that she's just kind of letting it grow back instead of either fully dyeing it back to black, or dyeing it back to blonde. It suggests that perhaps she's a little unsure this time, perhaps it is her uncertainty that is the reason why it's now a mix of both. Another grey area? Or maybe it's actually something more deliberate? Maybe now, she likes that it's a mix of both. That other half now being solely for Draco, and not to fit in (completely) with the Malfoys any longer. Who knows why Narcissa does things the way she does? We can speculate to the ends of the earth, or be as smart as Hermione Granger (or with the case of Extinction, see Hermione's thoughts), but something tells me we'd still be a good step behind.

"Which one is your natural hair color?" I wondered aloud.

(Narcissa) She glanced up at the unexpected question. I was relieved she hadn't sensed my attention yet. It's not like I meant anything by it, I told myself. She was so beautiful, one couldn't help but notice. And feel physically drawn to her. And want to see her two-toned hair fanned across her back, slipping over the bare skin, silky beneath my fingers...

"Why do you ask?" Her query brought me back to reality, and I hurriedly corrected my imagination to include a pretty dress covering the rest of her.

"I don't know." I chewed the inside of my cheek, suppressing my other thoughts. "I'm just curious."

Her gaze returned to the fire. "You've seen enough of my relatives to guess which color is genetic. The blond is something I added to fit in with the Malfoys, after Draco was born." She was quiet for a moment. "He looks so much like his father. I suppose I wanted to share some resemblance."

🔹 In Killing Me Softly by Looktotheedges in Chapter 4: Nagging, Hermione suggests that perhaps Narcissa is part Veela because of her blonde hair and very attractive features, like Fleur. Which is this whole other theory/plot that's very interesting, but won't be discussed in this post. Narcissa tells Hermione that Sirius has always been blonde, and that it isn't out of the question for her to be blonde either. Sirius Black. A blonde. I know! Maybe it's there because it's funny that Sirius is actually blonde like Narcissa. Prissy, haughty, lady-like Narcissa. Arguably the 'girliest' cousin that he has. No, no, no. He doesn't want to be anything like Narcissa. Anyway, if that's the reason, I think that's hilarious and cute.

Narcissa turns away. 'I am aware my appearance is frightfully drab. Work has been…'

Hermione holds back a disbelieving scoff. 'Narcissa. You always look beautiful. And you’re talking to the witch with grass in her hair who practically lives in her office all week.'

Narcissa just leans further over the crib. 'A blonde little boy. It has been so long since… I can almost imagine…'

Hermione stands next to her. Looks down at the peacefully sleeping Louis. He does look remarkably like Draco. 'Are you sure there’s no Veela blood in you? You weren’t secretly switched at birth?'

'Like a changeling?'

'It would explain your blonde hair.'

'Sirius was also blonde, it is not completely out of the question for us Blacks.'

What?!

(...) 'I know. But it is the truth. He was blond until he was about seven… then it began to darken. Mousy. Dull. He wanted to look cool and brooding instead, so he got his hands on some kind of charm right before he set off for Hogwarts. A new, edgy Sirius. It was around then he forbade us from calling him Siri. Said it sounded too girly.'

🔹 In Fixed in Time by TheWorldsaBeastofBurden in Chapter 9: Sisters and Saviors, it's also tackled a little humorously. Andromeda let's a little comment slip while they're in the middle of trying to heal Hermione. Something funny, something that suggests Andromeda and Bella, when they were children, have always wondered why Narcissa is blonde unlike them.

The first words spoken occurred after they’d risen and attempted their casting. Andromeda’s preparedness to take on their task had been clear in her mind so Narcissa rose with her sister, wrapped an arm around her waist and held her near as the woman raised her wand to draw up the rest of the injury she’d dropped, half a slash across Hermione’s hip bone…

That remained half, as Andromeda growled out, “...it isn’t working.” she looked to Narcissa, “Why aren’t you powering me?”

What nonsense? “I am!” she insisted. She was! Or “I- I am trying to!” Her magic was active and alive, pulsing to rise from her skin and transfer into Andromeda’s but it- it wasn’t working! “Could...could it be that you were disowned?”

“Disowning doesn’t take away the fact that we share blood, our magic is directly related. Ugh, Bella always said you were adopted!”

“Oh ha- oh.”

“...oh?” Andromeda returned.

“...it’s not an issue of power. It is what I intend to aid in casting,” Narcissa slowly worked out. Oh, it was most blessed Mister Goyle could be brought to assist the present Hermione. If her present self had been brought to aid Andromeda? “...I cannot harm Hermione.”

Andromeda sighed with some frustration. “I understand you are so tenderly in love-”

“It isn’t- I’m avowed! I- when we arrived from the future we had to escape Malfoy Manor, I couldn’t bring Hermione through the wards without...I couldn’t add her directly, that would be visible. I had to...attach her permission to mine.”

🔹 In Glass Silence by Zarrene Moss (Menzosarres), which probably gives one of the most interesting backstories for Narcissa's hair, for why it's blonde. I can't put a clip of the scene here without hogging up a huge chunk of space on your dash, so I'll try to explain it as best I can instead.

Understand that these come with serious 🛑spoilers🛑 so please do read it at your own risk.

In Glass Silence, Narcissa's hair and eye color was black at birth. But after an accident with raw magic, something Bellatrix wasn't able to control when they were children, Narcissa almost dies. Bellatrix, using even more raw magic, tries desperately to pull Narcissa's "life force" back, but at the cost of losing the eumelanin that made Narcissa's eyes and hair black. Narcissa survived, but now has very little eumelanin left, which is why she's so pale, blonde, and has blue eyes. Every time Narcissa looks at a mirror, her reflection is a reminder of the day she almost died. Bella, on the other hand, is reminded of that day every single time she looks at Narcissa.

So! These are only a few fanfictions I could think of at the top of my head that tackles the issue of Narcissa's hair. In the books, to my knowledge, she is described as having blonde hair and very pale skin.

But let's take another deep dive, if you're up for it.

These are mostly theories, which are largely unconfirmed, but I think they're interesting to think about.

There's this description in the wiki:

"Narcissa Malfoy is described as tall, slim, "nice looking", and very pale, with blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a clear, cold voice. Her hair colouring thus differs from most of the House of Black, who generally have dark hair, though Narcissa does possess the arrogant good looks characteristic of her family."

There's also this pinterest photo of the Black sisters being compared to each other side by side, descriptively and physically. I'm so sorry, I don't know who drew it, but here's a link to the post on pinterest.

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

Which is interesting because this hints that she's... different. It's a bit literal in this sense--she comes from a pureblood family, arguably the most influential and notorious one, the Blacks, who mostly have dark hair and eyes, and yet her physical appearance directly contrast that. There's also the matter of her namesake. She's the only Black to be named after a flower instead of a galaxy or a star. We aren't really given any explanation why she's the only one who's different. Even Sirius, who fought and died for the side of the Light, is named after the brightest star in the sky. Even Andromeda. It's been said that this is actually meant to be a parallel of some sort to Lily Evans. Narcissa and Lily are both named after flowers, even Petunia (Lily's sister). And I know there's this thing where it's a tie up to how Harry was ultimately saved by a mother's love: Harry lived at the beginning because of his mother's love, and Harry lives once again at the end of the books because Narcissa, a mother who wanted to save her own son, saved him.

If you read that scene in the books where Harry is saved by Narcissa, the whole scene is actually... pretty soft? There's that sort of disarming softness about Narcissa in that moment, where Harry expected to be callously dragged and prodded for a heartbeat. Instead, he gets a surprisingly gentle touch, a curtain of long blonde hair shielding him from the darkness, and the kind of tenderness he wouldn't expect from his enemies, "Is Draco alive?"

It's almost like Narcissa's appearance is something of a "tell". With Andromeda, she's described to have kind eyes, open, unguarded. She inherited her family's dark eyes and dark hair, and she even looks like Bellatrix's twin. I suppose we could say, Andromeda wants to fight that in any way she can by being openly kind. Narcissa is quite literally the opposite--guarded eyes, stoic expressions, cool and calculated emotions. We're veering into this fine line between fanon and canon in terms of their characterization (but only due to lack of canon materials) but personally, I think Narcissa having blonde hair and blue eyes is somewhat more fitting for her character. Again, this line:

"Narcissa threw back her hood. She was so pale she seemed to shine in the darkness... long blonde hair streaming down her back."

It's like that one glaringly obvious hint that everyone overlooks simply because... because it's the most obvious one. "Me! I'm different! I'm the last person you'd expect, but it really is me!"

Anyway. I've rambled on long enough. Hope this clears up some of that confusion, anon. Hoping it didn't ADD even more confusion... 😂 At the end of the day, this is just me speculating, gushing, and being One Big Fool™. So.

But either way, blonde hair, dark hair, mix of both, I adore her. Pretty much.

#narcissa black #narcissa malfoy #cissamione #anon #HAIR TALK #drabstuff #stupid ramblings

[liria10]

Favorite Benny books?

Ok so. Tumblr crashed as I was typing this on mobile. I am retyping it on desktop cause fuck this site, and I Have Opinions, and my friend I will let you hear them or so help me!

.... This got. Really. Really long. I am adding a read more to spare you guys from that.

Ok so! As a preface, I haven't read many VNAs with Benny in it, and of her solo books, I still have 2 of her Legion books to read.

I'm going to (re)start this with the VNAs!

Love and War: a very classic answer perhaps, but it is a really good introduction for Benny, even if the book has its flaws and can certainly show its age nowadays. Cornell absolutely nails her right off the bat, and from her very first page, Benny is just a character that keeps you interested. Not only does she work great as a counter to both Seven and Ace, but she also brings a breath of life to the whole range the way only a prose character can.

Plus, I think one of the greatest successes of that book lies in how Benny appears as a rounded and flawed person from the beginning. She’s not your ordinary girl dragged to a whirlwind of adventure and an universe of wonders, but an older, adult woman, with a good chunk of life experience and adventures already behind her, and while setting foot inside the TARDIS opens up a new and unexpected chapter in her life, it does also remain just that. A chapter. Benny had a life before the Doctor, and from that moment, while noone could have predicted it then, she would have one after him as well.

The Left-Handed Hummingbird: I just finished that one last week, so it’s obviously both fresh in my mind, and one I'm thinking highly of at the moment. Well I mean, it’s Orman! Or course I love it. She really is great at writing both intricate, large stories, and yet focusing on the personal, on the human side of things. And I find that this book does a great job at putting benny in the role of the grounding presence both for ace and the doctor, as well as exploring how time traveling as they do, and dealing with seven’s schemes can be frustrating for benny. That whole tardis team is a mess, and none of these people really… work well together, but it’s because they’re so dysfunctioning that they’re fascinating, and orman absolutely nails that.

Theater of War: A very different type of book, it is honestly a fun romp, and it has Benny being an actual archeologist, down to dealing with the academia side of things. And it’s the little things, but I love it when Benny books remember that about her tbh? Also, it has some nice theater theming, and well, as an introduction for brax, it certainly works well! It’s one of those VNAs that I think is just fun. A well crafted story with good takes on the characters, that’s always enjoyable to me!

Return of the Living Dad: Orman again?? What a surprise! But frankly, I love how this book is all about Benny and her daddy issues, be it with the Doctor or well, her actual dad. Between that, her budding marriage with Jason, and finding out so many old wounds reopened, I just. Really love how raw Benny can be under Orman’s pen? How underneath it all, she still has that side of the scared orphan that lost both parents to a war she was far, far too young to ever comprehend, and how that just left her rebelling against the world in general, and resenting deep down her parents for that abandon. I mean, it’s neat character stuff, but it can very easily be written as dull & cliche shitte you know? And Orman really… always get down to the heart of it all, and boi does it make for some great reading.

The Dying Days: It’s a very fun book, and well, technically works as the first round for Benny as the lead woman after all! It’s a joy all throughout, triumphant where it needs to be, and managing to both celebrate the Doctor and what he brought to the VNAs, as well as setting up the stage for Benny to go on to her own range. It’s basically one last run of the old team, and well. I do love Benny & Eight, and yes I am blaming Parkin for it. Also, big brained take to have Eight give her Wolsey because I love that cat and Benny deserves a cute kitty in her life. We all do.

Ok!! Now on to the NA, and my personal favorite era!

Dragon’s Wrath: It’s a fun one!! I do really like the story being centered again on archeology first and foremost, and it’s a good romp that has some really good take on Benny. Especially the trial scenes, I love how those one get down to Benny as someone who despite everything, loves history, and cares very very deeply about the artifacts she uncovers. Also, it introduces brax as a mainstay of the dellah era, and does so in a rather nice way. Overall, a very enjoyable book!

Beyond the Sun: Benny & students stranded on a planet with mystery to uncover, that’s already a fun premise, and then throw in all the various queer themes present, especially with Emile, and the whole scene of them all in drag performing on top of a bus, and it’s just a rather good book. Plus, I love how it mirrors the whole VNA Doctor mantra, except with a very Benny twist. Sometimes cruel, sometimes cowardly, but trying her damndest to do good. And well, that’s just Benny isn’t it? I always harp on about the very heart of Benny being her humanity, and if there’s something that book highlights, it’s that.

Deadfall: Jason takes center stage in this one, and well, I do really love Jason. It’s overall a fun book with some nice lore ideas, and I love how it works Cwej in the whole Dellah setting. Also, at least it’s a story with Jason in the lead that doesn’t end in utter tragedy, and that’s always nice!

Tempest: Ok so. That book isn’t great. The story’s cliche, the characters aren’t the best, and the plot itself? Forgettable, it’s another in the list of “sort of base under siege story in the dellah era” which you’d think wouldn’t be super common and yet! So… why am I listing it here? Cause the concept of the planet!! The idea of a world of storms and disaster, run through via a blind train as the only means of transport? The fantastic animal life described in it??? That book left an impression of me, and that’s not something I can say of all of the others.

The Medusa Effect: … Justin Richard writes a good Benny. Like, legit. I love how that one really works with the setting & history of Dellah, and gives further information on the planet’s involvement with the Dalek war. Plus, it also got some really, really nice aesthetics. I am soft for good aesthetics ok? Benny, dancing with a skeleton on the deck of an old spaceship made to look like a cruise liner in an hallucination/dream sequence type of thing? Sign me right up!

Beige Planet Mars: That one is a blast. I remember just, absolutely loving it when I read it tbh. Between the overall description of Mars, the further Lore Implication of the Mars invasion & all that, as well as it basically being one last round of more… Normal dellah books before everything goes to hell? It’s one i’d highly recommend if you want to have a good time.

Tears of the Oracle: Probably my favorite of that whole range? (apart from dead romance, which I am not counting as a benny book) I love just, how much overall… feelings isn’t quite the words i’m looking for, but i can’t think of a better way to put it… there is throughout the book? It was thought to be the end of the NA as it was written and well, that shows. I love how it weaves the whole mystery of “what happened to that legendary archaeologists?” with the whole side of what’s basically some of the only survivors from dellah going on one last round of discovery. The status quo of the range was destroyed quite a few books before that one, but imo, it’s there that they take the time to stop for a bit, and just. Deals with what that means in actuality. And ngl, I love the entire sequence of Benny & Brax walking through the wreckage of what used to be their home, it’s a scene that works really, really well.

And well, it does a great job at setting up the future as well after all! Yes, there’s still 3 books after it, but when you look at where Big Finish picked up… they went for what Tears of the Oracle was setting up. It really makes the transition flows well between those two, unlike my rambling for a full paragraph before going to “here’s the BF books I like”

The Doomsday Manuscript: A very good start for the range! Not only does it set up the whole collection, but it also introduces the Fifth Axis as a major threat, and does so in a wonderfully well paced book that keeps you hooked throughout. I like how it also sets up Jason’s loss as something Benny is still suffering over, as well as how she hasn’t lost hope in finding him again. Plus frankly, it’s also a really good story.

The Glass Prison: You’d think that for a book where Benny spends the majority of it in prison and not very active due to being near the end of her pregnancy, not much would happen, but the way Jacqueline Rayner builds up an atmosphere of unease, mistrust and a genuine disturbing ambiance throughout the book is just, fantastic.

Genius Loci: This book. This book!!! Ben Aaronovitch writes an absolutely powerful story of Benny as a young woman, lost and finding herself faced with far more responsibility than she ever thought possible. The way he writes the whole mystery, while also making Benny as a 20yo not only believable, but quite distinct from Benny as the adult we’ve all come to know and love is just. So good. My main grip with this book is how abruptly it ends, and how we’ll never get the sequel. I want to read Terra Incognita and more of Benny slowly finding herself damn it!

Dead Men Diaries: Just like Doomsday Manuscript, does a great job at establishing the collection as well as the recurring cast. I really enjoy most of the stories in it, and I think BF started out so strong on those books srsly!

A Life in Pieces: I love it so much. It’s pure brax at his most manipulative, and for such petty reasons. I really like how it both deals with the aftermath of the Fifth Axis occupation, as well as the repercussions Brax’s schemes have for the people living on the collection. Also, it’s just 3 very good novellas in a row that build up to something more, and I always like seeing that.

Nobody’s Children: That book has the best Draconian story in the entirety of doctor who and related. Like, yeah just that. It’s also nice to see the fallout of the Mim/Draconian war. It’s one I didn’t expect a lot out of, and frankly, I ended up really loving it.

The Vampire Curse: The middle novella is one I absolutely hated, but the other two are really good, and mixing benny and vampires is just, very fun. Also!! Predating the Predator is in it, and it is a really good take on vampires in a science fiction setting that also has some nice creep factor as well, and manages to be both a good vampire story, and a good sci fi story, which isn’t always an easy balance to find.

Life During Wartime: It’s a surprisingly hard hitting anthology about living under a fascist regime, and the compromises you have to make, the personal sacrifices and small rebellions. Honestly, there’s a lot I love about it, but certainly one of my favorite moment, is when Benny, having to dine with one of the officers, miss jones & jason, sees that the officer is nearly on to her hiding peter away, and that split second moment of “if I have to, I am willing to kill everyone in this room to protect my son” before he just laughs it off, it’s a lot of tiny moments that build up to a really well done ambiance tbh.

Something Changed: While it did the terrible, terrible sin of introducing Doggles to the world, I really love the concept of every chapter after the first being a different split universe, and how they’re all spiraling more & more out of control. It’s got some really good stories in between too, though they can also be rather hit & miss. An aspect I love about it too is how impactful Wolsey’s death ends up being.

Present Danger: That one is fun, I love how it’s basically everyone vs the deindum, a situation slipping more and more out of control, mixed with some neat stuff one the deindum’s whole temporal deal. It’s again a bit hit & miss, but it’s still a blast, and as the last anthology of the collection era, it does send it all off with a bang.

Welp. Far, far too many words later, and here we are!!! I love Benny a lot ngl, and I genuinely think that prose is the medium best suited for her. I have been rather disappointed with the more modern books, I find them far more bland than what I personally expect from Benny but ah well. Can’t always get everything.

And while it’s neither a book, nor even an official story in any mean, the fanfic “Sepelio” that’s an Hannibal au set in the Dellah era is great, and the benny story I have been enjoying the most lately. I would be remiss not to at least mention it!

#ask #ask tag #bernice summerfield #.... Look I love benny probably a bit too much for my own good

[raviotherabbit]

royal pain in the ass - chapter 5

Chapter 5: Greatfish Isle The Zeldas find themselves stranded.

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3!

  △ ▲△

The first thing Dusk notices when she steps through the portal is the smell of salt, carried on a cool breeze. And then, almost immediately, her vision begins to swim and she doubles over in dizziness.

“You weren’t-” she swallows. “You weren’t lying…”

“I’m never getting used to this,” Artemis collapses on the sandy beach, draping an arm over her eyes. “Flora, where are we?”

“Well…” Flora exchanges a concerned glance with Sun, who shrugs in return. “We appear to be shipwrecked.”

“What?!” Dusk straightens herself out in an instant, finally getting a view of their surroundings. The island they’re on appears to have been ruined in some way, the ground torn apart as though wrecked by a great force. And, as far as the eye can see, there is only water.

“By Hylia, this can’t be happening!” Dusk brings a hand to her face in horror. “We’re stuck here?!”

“Hey, it’s not that bad,” Flora kneels down, scooping a handful of sand and letting it slip through her fingers. “We have our food supplies, and there doesn’t look to be any danger around here.”

“And we can sleep under the stars!” Sun chimes in. “Have you ever gone camping, Dusk?”

“No.” She crosses her arms grumpily. “I have not.”

“I’ve basically been camping since Link finished his quest…” Sun takes a moment to count on her fingers. “Almost two years ago, now. Trust me,” she places a comforting hand on Dusk’s shoulder. “You’ll catch on in no time.”

  △ ▲△

“So what are we thinking about for dinner tonight?” Flora holds up her slate as she asks, inspecting its contents. “Dusk, I must admit, your era was great for stocking up on supplies. We have the ingredients here to make quite the meal.”

“Shouldn’t we ration, though?” Sun asks, peering over her shoulder. “I mean, we don’t know how long we’ll be stuck here.”

“The Era of the Great Sea isn’t as desolate as it appears,” Artemis remarks, head poking up from where she’d been laying out her bedroll. “Sooner or later, someone is going to come by.”

“You know when we are, then?” Dusk pipes up from her seat at the fire, arms and legs both crossed.

Artemis nods. “It’s truly a beautiful time. A shame that we’re stuck here.”

“A shame indeed,” Dusk mutters under her breath.

“Ah, I remember hearing about it during my lessons,” Flora comments, but it’s all she says on the subject before turning her attention back to Sun. “How about some risotto? We can use pumpkin in it, if you’d like.”

“Really?” Sun’s eyes go wide,and she grips onto Flora’s shoulder just a bit tighter.

“Why not?” Flora flips to the page showing her supplies. “We’ve got everything we need for it.” She pauses for a moment, eying the scowl of their newest member. “Dusk,” she asks, causing her to perk up. “Would you like to help with dinner?”

“Oh,” Dusk almost seems a bit… confused, her head slightly tilted to the side. “Really?”

“Though Wild’s taught me a few things, I’m not the best chef,” Flora admits. “I’d appreciate the extra hands.”

With a bit of hesitation, Dusk slowly scooches over to Flora and Sun. “So,” she glances down at the Sheikah Slate. “What do I need to do?”

  △ ▲△

There have definitely been better pumpkin risottos, that’s for sure. The rice is a bit undercooked, adding an uncomfortable crunch to every bite. Not only that, the pumpkin is slightly goopy, almost spine-shiveringly so.

“Well, this is…” Artemis starts, but she doesn’t finish the thought.

“It’s made with love,” Flora grimaces.

“This sucks,” Dusk says out loud.

“I think!” Artemis deliberately speaks over her. “Because we’re out in the middle of nowhere, we need to start keeping watch at night.”

Oh. Oh no. Dusk’s stomach twists at the idea of that. Sitting around, basked in darkness, doing nothing but watching, waiting? You know what that sounds like?

“Oh, that’s an excellent idea!” Flora comments. “We can even separate into shifts, to minimize any issues that would come from staying up late.”

“We are in unfamiliar waters,” Sun jokes, earning a small laugh from Flora. “But seriously, it may be the best way to ensure our safety while we rest.”

So they agree, just like that?!

“Are-are you serious?” Dusk chokes out, the taste of pumpkin risotto growing even more sour in her mouth.

“Dusk, what’s wrong?” Flora reaches over to her companion, but Dusk jolts away as soon as her fingers brush her arm.

She stands abruptly, her cloak fluttering behind her. “Do as you wish, but I won’t be participating.” Without another word, she storms out of the camp.

  △ ▲△

Thankfully, at least in Dusk’s mind, her counterparts opted not to mention her outburst from the night before. The three of them seemed to have sorted the watch out amongst themselves, but just the thought of that causes a burning feeling of shame to ignite in her chest.

The next morning, the four set about trying to make their small fragment of an islet more comfortable. Artemis has been insistent on keeping a fire going, so they could catch the sight of any passing ships. Sun was more than happy to help her scavenge for kindling. But Flora…

“Malanya’s goddess-damned hooves,” Flora curses under her breath.

Perhaps a bit annoyed, Dusk pokes her head up from her rapier, which she’d been sharpening. Just a few feet away, Flora sits with her legs crossed, arduously attempting to drag a comb through her hair. And arduous is the right word, as no matter how hard she tries, she makes little headway in regard to the tangles.

Dusk places her sword to the side, deciding it will serve her well enough for now. “Do you need help?” she asks.

Flora startles at her words, but settles into a sweet smile when she realizes who’s speaking. “Oh, Dusk.” She holds out the comb. “If you’d like a try at this, go ahead.”

Taking the comb, Dusk silently takes a seat right behind Flora. She tenses slightly as Dusk gently grabs one of the locks, experimentally running her fingers through it.

“This isn’t so bad,” Dusk remarks. “It just needs a bit of maintenance.”

Flora relaxes with a deep breath. “It’s these ocean winds,” she explains, a huff of irritation in her voice. “It always gets bad when I travel, but especially with all the salt in the air…”

Dusk smoothly runs the comb through the top layer of Flora’s hair, removing some of the surface-level tangles. “I can only imagine. How have you been taking care of it before?”

“Typically I’d try to stay ahead of it, but…” Flora sighs. “I’ve fallen behind, lately. Everything has been non-stop since I arrived in Artemis’s time.”

“And how long has it been for you since then?”

Flora takes a moment, and peering around, Dusk can see her counting on her fingers. “Around five days, give or take. It’s just so hard to take care of, you know?”

It takes a great deal of effort for Dusk to swallow down her shock. “Well, if you don’t like it long…” She pinches Flora’s hair between her pointer and middle fingers, miming scissors, at a length just at the bottom of her neck. “Have you considered cutting it?”

“Cutting it?!” Flora brings a hand to her cheek, as if scandalized by the idea. “I- well, I’ve thought of it a few times, yes, but- I’ve never really...” With a strange focus, she twirls one of the strands by her face around her finger, before glancing back at Dusk. “Do you think it’d look good?”

“On you?” Dusk grins warmly. “I think it’d be great. Most of your tangles are in the lower half, so we could just cut them off.”

Suddenly, Flora frowns. “Oh, but we don’t have any scissors. I guess it was a nice thought.”

“I brought a dagger with me,” Dusk reveals, pulling said item from her boot. The handle is intricate and golden, yet not too flashy. “I could get the length down in no time.”

Flora chuckles. “You know, Artemis would kill you if you nicked me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Dusk surveys Artemis and Sun’s work at the firepit. Sun is currently demonstrating to Artemis the proper way to fan a fire, using a palm leaf.

“How do you know this?” Artemis asks her ancestor with a glint of suspicion in her eye.

Sun straightens, realizing Artemis’s implication. “I didn’t start any fires, Artemis, it was for a Loftwing ceremony-” At that point, though, Dusk stops listening, turning back to Flora.

“Then I’ll have to be careful.”

The first cuts are the most dramatic, slicing away the largest chunks of hair. Flora fidgets with her hands the whole time, but she has the poise to keep her head still for Dusk. Once it’s down to length, though, all that’s left to do is to clean up the edges.

Finally, running the locks through her fingers one last time, Dusk announces, “It’s done.”

Flora gasps with elation, and before Dusk can even lament their lack of a mirror, she pulls out her tablet. Much to Dusk’s surprise, when she points it back at herself, both of their faces appear on its screen. Her own shock and Flora’s pure excitement are reflected back at them.

“Oh, it’s amazing!” Flora turns her head back and forth, her new bob cut twirling with her. “Dusk, thank you so much for this!” She wraps an arm around Dusk’s shoulders, pulling her forward. “Smile!” she says, just before her slate makes a clicking noise.

By the time Dusk processed those words, though, it was already over.

“Wh-what was that?” Dusk stammers out.

For a brief moment, Flora looks at her with confusion. Then her eyes go wide, her mouth forming into an ‘o’. “I took a photo of us on the Sheikah Slate.” She holds out the slate for Dusk. “Do you want to see?”

Hesitantly, Dusk takes the tablet from Flora. She doesn’t have to do much after that because there, right on the screen, is a photograph of Flora’s sweet, smiling face. And Dusk is right next to her, looking towards her descendant with the most bewildered look on her face.

“Woah,” Dusk says, politely ignoring her less-than stellar appearance. “This is amazing.”

“I know, right?” Flora takes her slate back.

Struck with an idea, Dusk grabs a few of the strands of hair left on the ground, holding them up and shouting, “Hey, Artemis!”

Artemis looks between the hair in Dusk’s hand and Flora’s new cut. “What did you do to her hair?!”

Dusk waves the hair back and forth. “I got you more kindling!”

Flora and Sun’s laughs are worth the shade of red Artemis’s face turns.

  △ ▲△

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit with me?” Flora calls over her shoulder. She’s lounging on one of the sharp edges of their little islet, her legs hanging over and dipping into the sea below. “It’s a great way to cool down!”

“No thank you!” Sun responds with a smile. Together, she and Dusk are happily sitting under their makeshift canopy, constructed from their spare blankets and tied together both with stakes and to the sole tree on their shard of an island. Dusk’s own cloak has been abandoned, now serving as a barrier between them and the itchy grass.

“We don’t have bathing suits like you and Artemis do,” Dusk explains, with Sun nodding along solemnly, “So we probably shouldn’t get wet.”

Flora shrugs, but her resignation turns to horror as, suddenly, a hand wraps around her ankle. With a shout, she disappears past the ridge, into the ocean.

Oh, Lanayru’s tears!

“Flora!” they both shout, leaping to their feet and sprinting to the edge of the islet. When they skid to a stop, though, they don’t find a horrible sea monster attempting to snap its jaws around their descendant.

Instead, they’re just in time to bear witness to Artemis, waist-deep in the shallows, hefting Flora upwards and, despite her kicks of protest, supplexing her into the water.

SPLASH!

And, just like that, Dusk and Sun are soaked.

Artemis springs out of the water, laughing in a way a cat would laugh if it caught its prey. If Dusk didn’t know any better, with her wet hair and all her grace, she might have thought she was a mermaid.

“Rude.” Flora surfaces just behind Artemis, though she doesn’t emerge past her neck.

“You needed to stop delaying,” Artemis insists, crossing her arms. “I was getting bored on my own in here.”

“I was just checking on Sun and Artemis-!”

“Uh, hello?!” Dusk shouts and gestures to her dress, which is currently dripping saltwater onto the grass below. “Two sopping wet queens, here!”

“I’m not a queen,” Sun murmurs, though she’s mostly focused on wringing the water from the edges of her own dress.

“Can it, Sun,” Dusk orders, pointing an accusatory hand at Artemis. “You splashed us!”

Artemis rolls her eyes. “A little water never hurt anyone.”

“A little water?!” Dusk almost shrieks. “Do you know how much I spent on this dress?!”

Flora stops blowing bubbles to poke her mouth above the water. “Why did you bring an expensive dress on your time travel adventure?”

“Because as a queen,” Dusk refers to herself with her fingers on her chest. “I need to present myself nicely. In fact, I’m surprised you three don’t have anything nicer.”

“Anything nice I own has been eaten by moths by now,” Flora mutters. “Or malice.”

“This is my nicest outfit?” Sun reveals.

“Stop saying nice,” Artemis groans. “It doesn’t sound real anymore. Dusk, if your dress is ruined now, do you want to join us?”

Dusk gasps with indignation. “I would never-!”

“Fine! Fine!” Artemis waves her off. “Forget I asked. Go back to your castle or whatever.”

She almost leaps into the water then and there, just to give Artemis a piece of her mind. In fact, Dusk takes one sharp, threatening step towards, her fists curled into balls, when- “Come on,” Sun takes Dusk’s hand, and the contact grounds her in a way. “I know a lot of good laundry tricks. I could probably un-saltwater your dress.”

“You’d do that?” Dusk asks, almost confused as Sun guides her pack to their canopy.

“Of course,” Sun smiles at her. “Why wouldn’t I help?”

Artemis stands in the water, watching as Dusk and Sun retreat. Her lips are pressed together, eyes narrowed in, and Flora can’t figure out what she’s thinking for the life of her.

This kind of sucks.

Hylia, alright. She can figure this out.

For now, though, Artemis has made a grave tactical error, leaving her back to Flora while her attention is elsewhere.

As quietly as she can, Flora sneaks up behind Artemis. Then, when she’s close enough, she leaps at her back, pushing down with all of her might.

“I’ve got you!” Flora shouts, before realizing… Oh no. Even using all of her strength, she hasn’t pushed Artemis down an inch. And now, Artemis is looking right into her eyes, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

Wordlessly, Artemis flips Flora off of her back, and she lands in the water with a Smack!

“Ow,” Flora whimpers as she peeks back above the water.

With a sigh, Artemis dramatically brushes her hands off. “Now, that can’t be the best we can do.”

  △ ▲△

“Sun, this has got to end.”

That’s what Flora proclaims when she wakes Sun that night for her nightly shift.

“What’s gotta end?” Sun slurs, still half asleep.

“This fighting between Artemis and Dusk,” she crosses her arms. “I don’t like it.”

“You’ve noticed it too?” Sun asks as she rubs her eyes.

Flora shrugs, settling next to Sun’s bedroll. “I think just about anyone with eyes could notice that.” And then, without thinking, she adds, “It reminds me of Link and Revali.”

Just a little bit, Flora’s heart aches.

“Huh?” Sun tilts her head upon hearing this. “Who’s Revali?”

“Oh, Revali- uh,” Flora stammers awkwardly. “He’s a friend. Was a friend.”

Immediately, Sun breaks out those sad little eyes, as if she can guess exactly what happened to Revali. As if she knows anything about her Hyrule. “I’m sorry, I know it’s hard-”

“It’s fine!” Flora shouts, just a bit too loudly. Instinctively, she covers her mouth, though she’s relieved to see that Artemis and Dusk don’t stir within their own bedrolls.

“It’s fine,” she reiterates, quieter this time. “We need to focus on this, now.”

“Alright,” Sun pushes her blanket down, meeting Flora’s eye with a determined smirk. “How do you propose we do it?”

  △ ▲△

“See, this is the Cryonis Rune,” Flora demonstrates by summoning a pillar of ice in the shallow part of the water. “It can make ice.”

“Very interesting, Flora,” Dusk comments, eying the designs on the surface of the ice. “In fact, it’s kind of pretty, too.”

“Thank you,” Flora bows jokingly. “Obviously, it can be used to keep us cool during hot days. But also, they can be utilized as makeshift bridges across waterways.”

“Oh? Like from this island to another?” Sun’s acting leaves a bit to be desired, but she can at least keep the ball rolling.

Flora snaps her fingers at Sun. “Exactly! Now, I can’t be certain of where any proper islands are, but I can at least make my way over to one of the other land masses nearby. It could be good for foraging.”

Artemis raises her hand. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Of course, Wild has done it plenty of times,” Flora assures her.

“I don’t know if anything that kid does can be construed as safe,” Dusk murmurs under her breath.

Artemis’s eye slightly twitches at that. “Dusk does bring up a good point.”

“Oh for Hylia’s sake,” Flora pinches the bridge of her nose. “Wild is fine! He’s accident prone! Not safety unconscious!”

“Oh, last time he visited, we played this fun flying game!” Sun reveals with a small clap. “He kept jumping off the side of Skyloft, and I had to try and catch him with my Loftwing while he avoided me!”

“Sun just disproved your point, Flora,” Dusk points out, smugly.

“We’re getting off-topic!” Flora suddenly shouts. “I can only have three pillars up at a time, so not everyone can come with. Any volunteers?”

“Yeah, Wild was really good at that game!” Sun continues on as if nobody else spoke. “He almost reached the Surface once.”

“I said, any volunteers?” Flora states once again, drawing out the words to catch Sun’s attention.

“Oh, I-!” Sun clears her throat. “I’ll come with you, Zelda!” she says in a tone that is not at all natural.

Flora sighs deeply before muttering to herself, “Why’d you call me Zelda?”

“What was that?” Sun asks innocently.

“I said let’s go now!” Flora jovially swings her fist. “We don’t know how long we’ll be there, so we should get there as fast as possible.”

Artemis looks between the two of them, narrowing her eyes. Flora almost buckles under her scrutiny. “Alright, you two. Be safe, Dusk and I will be keeping an eye on you.”

“Yeah sure,” Dusk says, more focused on her nails than whatever Artemis is saying.

The climb onto the ice pillars is a bit slippery, but Flora and Sun are able to find their footing once they’re squarely on top. Slowly yet surely, they make their way towards the tallest of the island shards. They’d decided on it ahead of time, since it seemed like the obvious choice.

Occasionally, Sun keeps glancing back, meeting Artemis’s gaze every time.

“I think she’s onto us,” Sun whispers, tugging lightly on Flora’s cloak.

“Keep with the plan,” Flora assures her, though her voice is shaky. “Everything will be fine.”

Once they’re at the halfway point between the islands, Flora suddenly stops. Finally, she turns back, facing Sun.

“Are you ready?” she asks, holding her Slate up slightly.

Unable to bring herself to speak, Sun nods.

Without any hesitation, Flora pulls up the Rune once again. But this time, instead of creating a new ice pillar, she breaks the three they’re standing on.

For a brief, helpless moment, they’re weightless. Then gravity rushes in, and the two girls plummet into the sea below.

“Flora! Sun!” Artemis shouts, her hands on either side of her head in horror.

“Oh no!” Flora shouts, purposefully keeping her head just above the water. She thrashes with her arms around wildly.

Sun kicks up to the surface as well. “Dusk! Artemis! Save us!” Dramatically, she raises a hand to the sky.

“Idiots! You can swim!” Dusk doesn’t bother to stand, just cups her mouth as she yells at them both. “You’re not hurt or anything!”

“Uh.” Flora and Sun exchange a glance, temporarily pausing their drowning.

“There’s a sea monster!” Flora tries.

Artemis’s shoulders sag, and just barely, the two of them can hear a groan. “Get back on land! Both of you!”

“Naydra’s fucking ice!”

“Language!” both Artemis and Dusk reprimand Flora.

  △ ▲△

“Oh no, I’m bleeding to death!” Flora theatrically collapses into Sun’s waiting arms. “I need both of you to donate blood!”

“Flora,” Dusk deadpans. “You literally aren’t bleeding.”

  △ ▲△

“I got stung by a bee,” Sun pouts, holding up her finger. “I need medical attention from two great queens of Hyrule, please.”

“Why can’t Flora help you?” Artemis asks, noticing that said queen is poorly hiding behind the tree.

“She died.”

  △ ▲△

“Dusk, Artemis,” Flora solemnly approaches the two queens, both of whom were previously busy tending to camp. “I have decided to grant upon both of you a great honor. One that, previously, I’ve only given to my dear knight Link. And, as you know, I am heartbroken over the fact that it’s been so long since I’ve seen him, and I mourn his presence everyday. Desperately, I wish for his safety and hope to reunite with him soon This is a task that I hope you will take up in his name, for he is no longer here to-”

“Spit it out already, Flora,” Dusk commands, her hands paused in the middle of sewing her blanket, because she did accidentally slash it when she was working on her dagger. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Flora presents the Sheikah Slate to the two of them. “I want you to make dinner tonight.”

“No.”

  △ ▲△

“I give up!” Sun throws her hands into the air in the middle of dinner. Having suddenly lost her appetite, she pushes her fried wild greens to the side.

“Oh thank goodness,” Dusk sighs in relief, leaning back against their lone tree. She takes another bite of her meal. “I thought you’d never stop.”

“What exactly were you two doing, today?” Artemis questions, pausing her own dinner. “Were you trying out acting?”

“No,” Flora grumbles, crossing her arms.

Gently, the moon rises into the sky. Tonight, its left half is missing, like an incomplete puzzle.

Something inside of Sun snaps. How dare they?! Whether she’s Hylia or not, she’s their ancestor! And here they are, treating her like a child?! She isn’t even that much younger than them!

“Do not speak to me in that tone,” Sun’s words are sharp, like a knife through wool, and directed towards Artemis and Dusk. “I am your grandmother several times over, and I don’t deserve to be treated with such disrespect! You reap the benefits of my kingdom to this day!”

“Oh, like I’ve enjoyed leading your kingdom!” Dusk snaps back. “Do you know what I’ve done, what I’ve sacrificed for Hyrule? Don’t hold it over my head!”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Flora covers her ears.

“Can it Dusk!” Sun throws her words right back at her. “All day, Flora and I have been trying to get you two-” she points between Artemis and Dusk. “-to get along! We’re family, this shouldn’t be so hard!”

Artemis gives Dusk a pointed look. “Well maybe if some people were a little more open to my ideas, we wouldn’t have issues in the first place!”

“Oh since we’re going there!” Dusk stands, directing an accusatory finger at Artemis. “Maybe if you didn’t try to control everything, I wouldn’t have a problem with you!”

“Both of you, stop!”

Flora peeks one eye open, hoping desperately she doesn’t find one of her ancestors choking the other. But, in reality, it’s not any of her counterparts that catch her attention. No, it’s something past them, past their small islet…

There’s something on the water.

“What in Hylia’s name is that?!” Flora points at it in horror.

Shocked out of their argument, the three Zeldas all turn to follow her finger. Floating on the water, there it is.

A ship, bathed in a ghostly blue light.

#linked universe #lu dusk #lu artemis #lu flora #lu sun #fanfic #rpita #rav's writing

[abluescarfonwaston]

Shapeshifter Au - 14

“So. You’re a shapeshifter huh?” Eskel asked taking a drink from his water skin. Leaning performativity casual against the stone. The mangled side of his face hidden from view.

“Yep.” He tugged the wool cap over his ears to cover against the biting cold of the courtyard. Ciri’s power sung out in frustration as she repeated the training drills over and over again. As she had been for days.

Hopefully they’d call a break soon or he would have to before she bubbled over.

His skin prickled with discomfort. Eskel hummed so quietly he’d only noticed it when Lambert had taken Ciri out hunting and they’d run into each other in the library. The tiny thrum of his magic.

“Bloody well glad for it too. I’ve no idea how you all stand winters up here as people.” He tucked his glove under the sleeve of his jacket before returning them to their spot under his armpits. “Half tempted to spend the winter as a polar bear so I don’t freeze to death.”

“You could. Lambert would be very jealous.”

“Ah but I’ve seen your very impressive bear skin rug and I’d hate to give you any ideas.”

“I wouldn’t-“

“I know.” He bumped their shoulders together. “I’m messing with you.”

A few beats pasted before Eskel burst out with a forced ease, “Lambert caught a buck last year and Geralt wouldn’t let us eat it because it looked too much like you apparently.” Eskel’s nerves made him want to fidget. But it was really far too cold to move his hands from their warm spot.

“You did eat it though right? Because otherwise that’s a huge waste.” He smiled crookedly, watching him from the corner of his eye.

“Course. He didn’t talk to us for a week.”

“And you noticed?” Eskel smirked back at him. Easily in spite of his discomfort. He smiled so easily. Eskel's amusement tickling his skin.

“It took a few days.”

Ciri’s frustration grew several decibels and he pushed off the wall. “You are far too attractive for any of our good.” He told him before he leapt from the staircase they’d rested against, soaring the space between them.

He cawed out his approach as she swung at the training dummy and-

Suddenly he was flying in the other direction.

He shifted before he smashed into the ground and rolled with the force of her shock wave.

“Ow.” He protested when he finally came to a stop in a snowbank.

After one too many moments of silence he looked up. To all the wolves gapping at Ciri and her frozen in place. Training sword held in place where the dummy had once been, now it's straw was scattered across the yard.

“I’m fine thank you for asking.” He called out. Unsticking them all as they looked to him. “Just got thrown across the courtyard. Totally fine. No need to worry about the poor bard.”

“Jaskier?” She turned, far too much concern in her eyes.

“No I am actually fine.” He assured standing and brushing snow off. Tugging the cap down to insure it stayed in place. He frowned. “Better than fine actually.” His skin was warm and his ache that had settled into his bones disappeared without a trace. The bruises he felt should have been forming didn’t. “No harm done. But I do think it’s time for a break yes?”

They nodded. “Early lunch.” Eskel agreed. As they stalked down into the hall.

They set the table as the witchers finished the meal prep and he curled up on the arm of Ciri’s chair and began finger brushing her hair so he could braid it.

“You’re not scared?” She asked as he worked free a knot.

“Of what? Cause I’m scared of a lot of things- spiders. Frogs. Wasps. Cages. A string breaking while I preform at competition-“

“Me.”

His heart broke for her and he continued his work without pause. “No. Don’t see the point in that.”

“You’re afraid of frogs but you don’t see the point in being scared of someone who threw you across the courtyard?”

“Someone has never tried to eat a frog before and nearly died from the hallucinogenic affects I see. It was not a pleasant afternoon and I feel completely justified.” He ran his fingers threw her hair once more to check before starting his braid. “You accidentally threw me across the courtyard, which Geralt has also done and most of them weren’t accidents, and I feel better than I have in years so no. I’m definitely not.”

She was quiet as he worked so he hummed a song to fill the space.

“You’re really not hurt?”

“Really not hurt.” He promised. “Haven’t felt this alive since- oh.”

“Oh?”

“Since your mother tossed the entire banquet hall away to protect your father.”

She spun her head to him and he barely managed to hold onto the braid. “You were there?”

“Front row to the whole debacle. Would you like to hear about it?”

She nodded as they heard the other’s voices down the hall. They both glanced to the door. Unable to not listen.

“Wasn’t just some sign shit Geralt- that was fucking magic. Real chaos. We don’t know shit about real magic! You can’t expect us to-“

“I know you think human hearing is terrible but it’s not that terrible boys!” He called out to them finishing the braid. “How about I tell you that story after dinner? Hm?”

She nodded. He kissed her crown and he watched her sit up. Regally. Preparing for the conversation ahead.

“Ah to suffer another meal with the witcher’s terrible table manners.” He sighed as they dropped the food on the table. “The things we must bare.”

She shot him a small smile.

“How come you didn’t tell us she had magic!” Lambert snapped at- at him?

He blinked at him. “What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell shit like that- why didn’t you tell us!”

“Huh?” He glanced at the others at the table. Irritation or concern or confusion on their faces as they studied him. Including Geralt’s. Which was the real shocker. He looked between Geralt and Ciri; who appeared just as flummoxed by the situation as he was, as he gapped.

When it became clear that no one else was going to answer his very obvious question he forced the words out in a voice that was, perhaps, slightly higher than intended. “I thought you knew.” He told Geralt with a wave of his arms.

“How would I know?”

The incredulity in Geralt’s voice was just insulting frankly. He waved between them. Noises floundering out of him. “I- what- its- what.” He forced himself to take a deep breath. “What other blatantly obvious things am I supposed to tell you now? The sky is blue. The keep is made of stone. Ciri has magic. I thought you knew!”

Geralt sighed into his hands. Lambert speared a hunk of lunch.

“Can you tell how strong she is?” Vesemir asked pragmatically as he grabbed his own food. “If we can train her-“

“Oh you definitely can’t.” They glared at him. “What? The only one here with anything even approaching magic is Eskel and no offense but you’re nowhere near her level.”

Eskel sat up a little straighter in his seat as he devoured his lunch.

“Who is?” Geralt asked. “Near her level.”

He leaned back in his chair and thought about it. He didn’t grab any food. He wasn’t hungry and probably wouldn’t be until the magic wore off.

He’d eaten as a griffin though. His mouth tasted like blood- but he hadn’t needed to had he? He’d just wanted to. Wanted to eat and sleep and kill.

Show me what you are.

“Jaskier?” He jolted and looked over at Ciri.

“Ah. Well. You know Yennefer?” Geralt shot him a dirty look. “Just checking, you’ve had issues with amnesia before! Anyway.” He continued with a wave of his hand. “If Yennefer is lightning then Ciri is the sun.”

They all stopped. Actually that bread didn’t look half bad. He ripped a chunk off and chewed on it.

“So.” He mouthed around the bread. “She’s going to need an actual teacher.”

“Could you do it?” She asked.

“No.” He laughed around the bread crumbs. “I am magic. That doesn’t mean I can do magic.”

“Marigold?” Lambert suggested. Triss- he supplied after a moment.

“Sure.” He agreed. “After Yennefer turns us down.”

The room dropped several degrees as he chewed.

“Why would we ask Yennefer first?” Eskel growled.

Geralt sighed. “Because if we don’t she’ll never let the slight go.”

“Is” Ciri hesitated, taking in the faces around the room. “She that bad?”

He wobbled his head. “Well.” He drew out the word. Thinking of all the times she’d treated him like nothing- like less than nothing. Like something that had once had great value but was now irrevocably broken.

And then he thought of the other mage. So much weaker and yet able to dominate him completely.

How Yennefer had never done that. Had never wanted that. Even though it would have been so easy.

And then he thought of Ciri and how much she needed Yennefer. How her chaos swelled and terrified her. How Yennefer was lighting in a bottle and might be the only one who could teach her to control the sun.

And then. Then he followed the djinn’s magic in Geralt’s chest to the lightning in her veins. To the longing in her chest.

She wanted something real.

“No.” He said at last. “We all just took Geralt in the breakup.” He grinned easily.

There were several snorts and Geralt glared fiercely at him.

“You.” Ciri glanced between him and Geralt. Trying to judge the situation. “Dated her?”

“That’s a word for it.” Lambert grinned nastily into his ale. “I’d call it-“

Geralt smacked him.

“Why’d they break up- I hear you asking.”

“She didn’t!” Geralt growled.

“But she would given the opportunity.” He smirked as Lambert shoved him in retaliation. Distracting him. “And the answer is Geralt makes terrible life choices.”

She softly laughed and he counted it amongst his greatest victories.

“What can you shift into?” Vesemir asked, pointedly not looking up from his book, where they all gathered around the fire before bed. A storm howled outside. He suspected if not for the warmth of Ciri’s magic he’d be frozen from the draft alone. The impressive amount of furs Lambert was wrapped in strengthened his conclusion. He adjusted the cap over his ears anyway. “Geralt’s only mentioned beasts before but when you meet back up he said you were a griffin.”

Geralt tensed against his back and Ciri glanced back at him from where she was propped against his legs. He turned the page, even though he hadn’t finished reading it, to show how nonplussed he was by the question.

Over the years he’d only ever explained what he could do, what it meant, his limitations perhaps a handful of times. There were so few people in the world he’d trust with this.

His life he trusted to a great many friends. But this. This was his freedom.

“Suppose I’ve never felt like a griffin before.” He didn’t intend to feel like one ever again. “Or had the magic needed to follow through on such an impulse.”

“So if you had the magic,” Vesemir glanced at Ciri, “And felt like it you could be anything?”

“Well I think you’re underestimating the importance of feeling like it but I suppose that’s the general stroke of it.”

“Have you been a bed? A chair? That’d be real helpful I bet. Hide in a broom closet and just. Be a broom til the mob passes.”

“Have you ever really felt like an inanimate object Lambert?” He shrugged. “Shifting into a mouse usually accomplishes the same goal anyway.”

“If you shifted into the monsters in the bestiary Ciri could safely apply the skills she learns on how to identify and best the different creatures.” Vesemir stated.

Ah. Now he knew why Vesemir had brought this up when Geralt had clearly told them not to, based on the way they’d all danced around their questions since he’d arrived. Well. Except Lambert, but he'd only arrived a few days passed.

“The day I turn into a necrophage is the day I die. Seen more than enough of their innards over the years to know that’s never going to be in the cards thank you very much.”

“Alright no necrophages. But anything you could shift into we could add a far more detailed description of to the bestiary. Updated drawings. Behavioral notes-“ Eskel seemed remarkably enthused about the idea.

He thought about how empty the library was. Figured there was probably a reason for that.

“He’s not a party trick.” Geralt snapped, very valiantly.

“No, no it’s fine.” They all looked so excited by the prospect. Ciri’s eyes were gleaming. He itched under the cap. Hats were really not his look. But it was better than his hair. “Requests? I make no promises about being able to do it but I can certainly try.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt warned.

“I’ve got energy to burn after this morning.” He reassured waving his hand in Geralt’s face behind him. “Which you should know given the bonfire you made when you used igni to light the fireplace.”

“That was cause of you?”

“Pretty sure.” He nodded to Eskel. “Requests? Or shall I go back to my book?”

“A unicorn?” Ciri asked.

Simple enough in theory but, “They’re extinct.” A sad truth Geralt had confirmed years ago. “I’d rather not be the last of my kind.”

Are you the last unclaimed familiar? There are so few of you in this world. The mage had said. Had he ever met any? Where their thousands of people like him who hid in small mage-less towns or wild unkempt forests. Who didn’t shift and stayed safe in a single form their whole lives?

Maybe there were countless people like him and he’d just never recognized them- how would he recognize them? Maybe there were loads of them and he just didn’t know where to look.

Or maybe he was one of the last. One of the last whose mind wasn’t held under chaotic waters to drown until he forgot everything he was.

Maybe he was one of the last.

Then where had they gone? There were days long past where every sorcerer, mage and druid had a familiar. Someone like him.

He’d never met any who did. Not that he'd met many.

“You could do the griffin again. Since we know you can shift into that.” Eskel suggested.

Geralt’s arm squeezed at his bicep. Like he suspected what a bad idea that was.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to see the form that hadn’t recognized him even a little.

“You could always try a dragon.” Geralt teased before leaning in and whispering right into his ear. “You don’t have to. We can just leave.”

The sparkle in Ciri’s eye grew.

“The only issue there- since I now know they’re real- is that I’ve never seen a living one. That egg does not count!”

“Borch wasn’t dead?”

“What?” He snapped around blazing fury. “Borch was a dragon?”

“You. Missed that part?”

“I am now Extra mad you didn’t wake me up. I could have seen a living dragon? You ass!”

“Not my fault you slept in!”

“Do you want to play the blame game about that day- because I definitely think missing seeing a living dragon is one of the lesser issues I could choose to be angry about.” He collapsed into Geralt’s lap and glared up at him. “Hm? Hmmmm?”

Geralt looked away but nodded.

“Glad we agree. Alrighty let’s see what I can do.” He climbed off the back of the couch. He was irritated and wanted to impress his cub. His mate’s family. That would help. Probably.

He shifted up into a bear. Because it was easier to feel big when one was big.

Lambert whistled.

What had he grabbed onto to become a griffin anyway?

He’d been caged. He was cold. He was alone and unwanted but not powerless.

He wasn’t powerless now. He could protect-

His mouth was full of blood.

The form snapped under him. Dropping him down until his heart raced and his incisors grated against each other and his ears were tight against his back and-

“Jaskier?” Geralt’s hand reached down to hold him and he shifted up to meet it. Tail wagging slowly even as his ears stayed folded back. “That’s enough.”

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t enough.

They liked his songs well enough but that was all he had. He wasn’t pretty or handsome with his terrible hair shoved into an ugly winter toque and Geralt's ill fitting clothing and he wasn’t strong or helpful or a good cook. He couldn’t teach Ciri magic. Couldn’t hunt them more food even as he ate theirs.

No wonder your mate’s dead.

No wonder your mate didn’t want you.

Maybe she’ll make a better travel companion then.

They’d asked one thing of him and he couldn’t even do it.

It was easy to be a form he loved.

He didn’t love the griffin.

He didn’t love what it had done. Even if it had saved him.

He was scooped into strong arms and there was a dismissal of “Bedtime,” and he tried to swallow the sounds escaping his throat. Tried to stop the way his paws shifted to claws shifted to wings.

He couldn’t even do this. Couldn’t even be something useful.

Sure he could be a horse and carry them when Roach got tired. Could scout as a raven or pull buckthorn from a river without risk of drowning. But all the wolves and all the cats and Witchers knew he wasn’t useful. He didn’t want to be.

And when he wanted to be he couldn’t.

“Jaskier.” Geralt repeated under the blankets in their bed. “Talk to me.”

There was a request there- what shape do you want me to be- I’ll stay that way forever if it means you’ll keep me. Please.

“Thank you. Can you tell me what’s wrong? You haven’t done,” He grit his teeth as he pulled him in closer to his chest. “That in a long time.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s not.” Geralt squeezed the back of his neck. Tension leached from him. Geralt nuzzled at the toque pushing it up with his nose.

He grabbed it. Pulling it down firmly. “Don’t.”

“Jaskier.” He plead.

He curled tighter in on himself and pulled the hat over his eyes. “Just couldn’t find a form that fit. Hope you got me out of there before it got too repulsive- although maybe Ciri will appreciate knowing she’s not the only one who can’t control her magic right? Gotta find the little victories.”

“Jaskier what’s this really about?”

“Nothing.”

Geralt grumbled his frustration.

It wasn’t. It wasn’t about anything.

It was about how maybe he was the last of his people- his family- and it was about how his form wasn’t what he needed it to be and it was about the things he’d done that he couldn’t remember and didn’t want to and the blood in his mouth and it wasn’t about any of that.

He was scared and frustrated and alone and not good enough and-

“Is Jaskier okay?” Ciri called from the crack in the door.

He shifted out of the bed to her despite Geralt’s protests.

“I’m alright.” He leaned against the door frame. “I’m sorry for scaring you- I know its very upsetting looking when I shift like that.” He didn't know but the way Geralt paled after an attack like that was proof enough.

“Was that because I asked you to shift? Or because of this morning?”

“No.” He crooned. “No. I-“ He paused. Took her hands in his. “It was like this morning. You got frustrated and your magic responded. My shifting responds to my emotions too so when I got overwhelmed that happened. But it doesn’t hurt.” The emotions that caused it hurt. But the shifting didn’t at least. “Promise I’m okay.”

She watched him sternly.

“Fine.” He rolled his eyes and rolled back on his heels. Sweeping a hand in front of his face dramatically. “I’m very worried Yennefer responds quickly to our message because she always looks immaculate and I am really not a hat person.”

“Really?” Her lips curved upward just a twitch.

“Ciri dear I am wearing Geralt’s clothing! I haven’t worn a color in months. Months!” He slid down the door frame and pressed a hand to his forehead. “I’m dying. Melitele forbid Yennefer see me like this. My reputation will be ruined. Ruined!”

Ciri huffed out a laugh. “Oh no. How terrible.”

“It is! I could hear the sarcasm in your tone but I am ignoring it for the sake of our friendship!” Geralt picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. “The audacity! The horror!” He continued to lament as they bid good night.

Geralt dumped him in the bed. “Gonna tell me what it was actually about now?”

“I am genuinely concerned about meeting Yennefer looking like this.” Geralt scowled down at him. “Would you feel confident and prepared if you had to face a monster without your armor?”

“Yennefer isn’t a monster.”

“You’re missing the point. I like how I look. I know it’s just hair and I know it’s just clothing but I don’t look like me. I don’t feel like me. I’m wandering the woods without armor and even when I’m not being attacked it’s still scary because I know how easy it would be to bleed me out.”

Geralt considered that and slowly sat down next to him. “Okay. I don’t know how to fix that.”

“Time will fix it. I’ll visit a proper barber and my tailor in the spring and all will be well again.” He knew that. He did. It just didn't make it easier.

He nodded. Tilted his head and looked at his face. Then dragged his gaze lower to the way his body did and didn’t fill out Geralt’s clothing. “I like how you look.”

“Sure you do.”

Geralt pushed him back in the bed. Leaning over him. “I do.” A hand came up to his head and pushed under the hat. He tensed but Geralt made no move to pull it off. “You’re not a hat person. I don’t mind that your hair’s not perfect cause it’s still soft and smells like you.”

His other hand and down the fabric of his shirt. “I like you in my clothing because it makes you smell like me. Like you’re mine. Even if it’s not what you’d normally wear.”

He hummed. “You want to show me just how much you like it?”

“I do.” He laced his fingers behind Geralt’s neck and tried to pull him down for a kiss. He didn’t move. “Was that really all that was?”

He closed his eyes. “No. But I don’t really want to get into all of it tonight.”

“Okay.” He said. But didn’t move closer.

He sighed. “What do you think it was? What’s worrying you?”

“You’re still angry about the mountain.”

“Hm. I did apparently miss a chance to see a living dragon so.”

“Mhm.”

He grabbed Geralt and rolled him to his side. “Geralt you’re a terrible liar. And if you hadn’t meant what you’d said, at least a little I’d never have believed you.”

“I was trying to break the bond. I thought I forced you into this life Jaskier.”

“Just like you forced Yennefer?”

He flinched.

“If you’d asked I’d have told you. That I was the one that bound you. That I hadn’t meant to do it and didn’t know what I was doing when I did but that I didn’t regret the time I spent with you. But you did. You regretted our time together.”

His gold eyes squeezed closed. He took several steadying breaths. His thumb stroking a strand of hair that had escaped the hat. “Not everything’s about you Jaskier.”

He frowned but resisted the urge to squawk about how it definitely seemed like it was about him.

“I was hurting from Yennefer and scared I had trapped you and terrified for the child of surprise I’d cursed just like you two. And I’m still terrified Jaskier. I don’t know how to be a father.”

“I’m not sure anyone does. I mean how many kids has Vesemir raised? And I’d be real surprised if he thought he knew how to do it proper.”

“Lambert’s good at keeping him humble.”

“That he is. It’s going to be okay. You’re not doing this alone.” He took Geralt’s face in his hands and traced the grain of his stubble. “Besides. I bet Yennefer’s going to roll up and out-parent both of us so hard that I can safely retire to my true calling of fun uncle.”

“Lambert’s teaching her how to make bombs. I think he’s got that position claimed.”

“Ah well I’ll figure out something.”

“Sure you will.” He smirked.

He propped himself up over Geralt, shoving him onto his back. “Alright I really need to kiss that damn look off your face. We good?”

Geralt smiled and pulled him down into a kiss. “We’re good.”

He walked the wall while the others trained in the courtyard. They couldn’t really expect him to work by himself.

They’d asked him if he wanted to join. Or less asked and more told him to when they'd arrived.

He thought he’d sent a fairly clear message when he flipped them the bird become becoming an actual bird and flying away. Spent the afternoon gathering dirt on all of them. Their horses were just so eager to share.

He’d spent a lot of time and energy not learning how to fight and he wasn’t going to change now just because he was living with witchers.

In a big crumbling keep.

It kind of looked like a fortress. A castle. Like something out of a storybook.

They did already have a princess.

How hard would it be to have a dragon?

He fluttered over a broken section of wall.

His keep shouldn’t have broken sections of wall. How was he supposed to keep his hoard safe?

Cause dragons had hoards. And were fiercely protective of them. He assumed.

What would he hoard? Instruments maybe. Admirers. Books.

Laughter roared in the courtyard. He looked down at them. At his family.

His.

Care for. Love. Protect.

He leapt between the stone’s crenellations.

What else made dragons dragons?

Old. Wise. Powerful.

Well there had to young stupid dragons. He could fill that niche. At least he was powerful. He had the sun warming his bones.

Prideful.

They were beautiful.

He wasn’t right now.

But he could be. He could be whatever he wanted.

The edge of the crenellation crumbled under his feet and he began tumbling down the steep walls to the cliffs below.

“What else can he turn into? Can he turn into a shrieker? A unicorn? A dragon?”

He spread his wings and twisted into the sky.

Freedom. It felt like freedom.

He loved to shift.

He loved this form.

He circled his home. His nest. His hoard, gathered in the courtyard as he landed.

“Fucking hell.”

He settled on the steps into the courtyard and tucked his chin over the edge to watch them back.

“That one’s new.” Geralt told them unhelpfully.

Rude. He huffed at Geralt. All hot air. The snow that had collected on his armor and hair melted.

“You’re a dragon!” Ciri marveled as she slowly reached out to touch him. Her small hand roving over the scales of his face. He rumbled his approval.

“Show off.” He smacked Geralt with the tip of his tail without looking away from Ciri.

“You’re so fucking warm!” Lambert was plastered over his flank. “I’m stealing your bard for the rest of the winter.”

“No you’re not.”

“It’s too damn cold in the keep. He’s mine now. Jaskier you’re mine now. I claim dibs.”

He’s got dibs Geralt. Guess I’m his now.

“That is not how this works.”

“It definitely is.” He’s right. It definitely is.

Geralt turned and started to walk away. He hauled him back by the scruff of his shirt.

Eskel leaned against him. “Not that I’ve seen a lot of dragons but-“

Creative liberties.

“Not going to be terribly educational then.” Vesemir sighed pretending not to be leaning into his warmth as much as he was.

I���m very educational. I’ve taught her what a red dragon might look like.

“Ciri this isn’t what red dragons look like.”

“It’s what a red dragon looks like.” He nuzzled her in approval.

It’s what your red dragon looks like. He pointed out.

“I suppose it is.” Lambert and Eskel made retching noises at Geralt. "What our red dragon looks like."

Ours. His chest broke out in a mighty purr. His hoard.

His family.

#shapeshifter au #shapeshifter!Jaskier #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #ciri #minor lambert/eskel/vesemir this chapter #i love those guys #writing

[thecandywrites]

Blood For Gold Part 4

Again, thank you @kriskukko for indulging me. Thank you @punkhorse96​ for the amazing feedback. And thank you to everyone else who has read and enjoyed the story. 

Now let’s complicate things more shall we?

Blood For Gold 

Part 4

Agnes someway, somehow, managed to keep you out, all day, going to a host of other shops to the point you were willing to pay her just to stop, but no, you chose the more “polite” and “correct” path of simply enduring it with a polite smile that never reached your eyes, she insisted on practically giving you a list of suitors to avoid over lunch and afternoon tea as Jane dutifully wrote down all these men, making two lists, one of suitors to attract, and one of suitors to avoid as you wondered if you would fare better by switching the lists as she instructed you on which ones you should appear more moura to and which ones you should appear more English to as it took every ounce of willpower to not stuff the lists down her own throat as you mentally drifted off to that handsome and amazing orc harlot at The Red Velvet Rope, Demsey Draft and wondered if you would see him at perhaps The Midnight Peacock while your foot tapped rhythmically under the table skirt to your favorite moura songs from your memories at Dorierra from all the different festivals that you missed dearly. 

But it didn’t end there, after afternoon tea, she sent for her husband to meet you at Romboy’s for dinner where he also put in his two cents on the matter and had even more gentlemen to add to the ever growing lists which now included several pages between the two.  

Your only saving graces had been seeing the Voyambi’s at the same restaurants for lunch, tea, and now dinner, seated only a short distance away at a nearby table each time, only for dinner, it was all of the Voyambi’s and you looked over at their table, piled high with a veritable feast as all of them partook in it and it was clearly a happy family meal, while you barely picked at your own food, since Agnes ordered for you and practically ordered you to put yourself on a diet so that you would fit into those expensive dresses she just commissioned for you and noted how the portions you were served were too large for you. You ate what you could, only eating enough to stave off hunger from your belly and headache from your head but nowhere close to being full or satisfied but enough to keep Agnes off your back for the moment and seeing the Duke each time, had you strangely forgetting all about Mr. Draft as you wondered if all orcs were built similarly and strangely you felt a different kind of hunger that was finally able to distract you from your physical hunger too as you gave Demsey a heated hungering glance when no one was looking and quickly looked away when he turned his head to the side in your direction as you knitted your knees together to quell your sudden need as your attraction towards him came back to life. Going to The Red Velvet Rope had only awaken it in you and now you were fantasizing about the actual Duke Demsey Voyambi doing everything to you that Mr. Draft had done as you fantasized how it could be more than just bone rattling sex, it could be actual love making with him. It was a wonderful fantasy for you. But one you knew was too much to hope for-for it to come true. 

If you ever got to get out of this gods-forsaken place with these equally gods-forsaken people, except for sweet Jane who despite her awful parents was practically an angel, you were going right back to The Red Velvet Rope and you were going to find Demsey Draft and you were going to rut him so hard his pelvis would be ground down to dust and then you were going to practically unhinge your jaw to eat a literal feast once you were done feasting on him. 

Meanwhile Demsey and his sisters were determined to get this note back to you but when they went to lunch and saw you at lunch and overheard Agnes talking about what shops to go to next and where they were going to take tea, had them realizing the wait was going to be longer than expected. And then to hear her list off just about everyone in England as a potential suitor, a few they could agree with, the rest, they clearly didn’t because Agnes was clearly biased and prejudiced and could clearly see what Agnes was playing at. She didn’t want you to go to anyone who threatened the Morrigan name or livelihood or was competition but who would also keep you silenced, shut away and isolated so that the cycle would continue and they prayed you weren’t actually taking any of it to heart. 

By dinner time, it was clear to everyone in the Voyambi family when they saw and heard how withdrawn you were, only talked when talked directly to, did not really participate in the conversation and sat there like a doll, barely eating because even they could hear the way Agnes seemed to lecture you on every bite you took while she stuffed her own face as even Jane barely ate as well in between writing everything down her parents were saying, that you were clearly miserable. 

Demsey had been relieved that his parents had agreed with him that you were, for a moura, extraordinary, but clearly a victim as they themselves brainstormed on how to help if you didn’t like Demsey as a suitor as his parents especially could pick up on Demsey’s partiality to you and if they were being honest, they much preferred you to Lady Whitesale any day. 

Meanwhile Kiera seemed to have her own mission, why had Count Edward only lasted a year? His health had been pretty good for a man his age at the time of his wedding, and why were the Morrigan’s treating you both like a pawn, yet a threat? It didn’t make sense. While it was true that all she had to go on- were rumors about mouras and your behavior, it was still not much to go on. If you were broken beyond repair, the stables wouldn’t help you at all and take the stance that you were a lost cause. And if that had been the case, you could have easily sold what jewelry you were wearing even now, gotten passage to one of the colonies and lived the rest of your life there. Why stay? Why submit to this? Did you have no other choice? Or was this simply the best choice? 

When Demsey had said that he heard a rumor that Count Richard Morrigan had contested the living you got but lost because the stables themselves contested it, maybe the living was so handsome, you would be a fool to leave for the colonies, you could, in theory, stay a widow for the rest of your life and keep collecting it without further issue. And it did make sense that if it was a large sum paid annually, of course the Morrigans would try to cast you off. But the Morrigans were one of the wealthiest families in all of England, if they could afford to give you a dowry of fifty thousand crowns, that means the living you were being paid was close to that number a year, up to half that a year. Why pay out 25 thousand crowns a year for forever when for fifty you could end it for good in just a few months. That made the most sense. Because even to the Morrigan’s, it was always about the money. 

And by that token, the longer you took to get remarried, the more wealth you could siphon off of the Morrigans. So, that was her only way to tell what kind of person you were going forward, if you started dismissing suitors left and right, rapid fire without considering them, you were also in this situation for the money and you were going to hold onto the golden goose of the Morrigans and play nice publicly, but who knows what kind of person you were in private. Even as much as she didn’t care for Lady Whitesale, her brother could still do better than you. You were too perfect in her book. Too pretty, too proper, too...everything and everyone else in her family was taken up with you only because you seemed perfect, but she was determined to make them see that you weren’t. You may have everyone else fooled, but not her. 

Meanwhile from her private booth in the restaurant that overlooked the main floor, Dauphine Yalin Sehzade Raymond and her husband the Dauphin Gregori Raymond, sat in their private booth and watched the scene unfold below them and watched with great interest as you and Duke Voyambi kept missing each other’s looks, when you were looking at him, he was simply eating and when he would turn to look at you, you would quickly look away as Yalin herself could see there was something there and wondered what had happened on that train ride to attract each of you so. While the Duke was of humble origins, she had always seen him treat his sisters with kindness and respect, and especially his youngest sister, he doted on. He was perfectly gentlemanly. And if you did not upturn your nose at his humble origins a match could be made. 

Meanwhile the Dauphin’s son, Ramsey, who was almost 40 and had been far too picky in finding a bride and had spent his youth in the Midnight Peacock, dancing with every moura woman in the country in between spending every other night at The Red Velvet Rope, rutting with every moura girl on the menu there and blowing a good chunk of his fortune at the casino there and was himself, about to be cut off from his parents if he would not settle down and mature and find a bride by the end of this courting season. 

Ramsey for his part, had finally breathed in sweet relief when he took sight of you again, for he would not take his eyes off of you either. He had been so pouty during Count Edward’s wedding, not feeling it was fair that Edward, as old and feeble as he was could capture a moura bride as perfect as you but yet he was still searching for ‘the perfect one’. He had even visited the stables himself after your wedding, trying to find someone similar and left disappointed. He needed someone who would give his royal moura cousins a run for their money for they were already married with heirs. He needed someone new and fresh yet wise and accommodating and the word he got from Edward only a short three months after the marriage was that you were perfect in all respects and in his plotting, he was the first to mark his calendar of when your grieving period would be over so he could pursue you and he was not going to let the little detail of you being a widow from deterring him. 

He was practically enraptured by you now. You were a purer moura than he was and had married into nobility and had acclimated and naturalized into this country and would be perfect as his long awaited bride. Your manners were correct for the polite society of England and wondered what other moura traits you possessed and while he too noticed you kept looking the Dukes way, he had his own plan in mind to keep the Duke occupied and while his mother was distracted by watching you further, he and his father had a small, private conversation of their own where they agreed on the distraction for the Duke because a moura as great as you- should stay with your own kind and the Dauphin, outside of the immediate royal family was the right place for you. And fifty thousand pounds would pay off their own debts nicely and being part of the outlying royal family, they could demand that the Morrigan’s continue to pay your living and they would have no choice but to obey and they could afford to live just as comfortably as the royal family themselves with your added income from the Morrigans. In fact the Dauphin was going to be looking into it the very next morning to see exactly how much it was while Ramsey was going to put his plan in place. 

Once you finally made it home, you had ordered your house’s cook to cook you up something quickly because you had barely eaten all day and you were starved before there was a knock on your door. 

“Countess, it’s the Duke and Duchess Voyambi are here to see you.” Your house keeper informed you as she came into the kitchens. 

“So late at night?” You wondered before you had them go to the drawing room while you stayed in the kitchen and consumed as much as you could as quickly as you could before you went to the drawing room to receive your guests. 

“So what do I owe the pleasure of your visit this evening?” You asked once you came into the room and took a seat. 

“We wanted to return this, since it was clearly not a receipt, and we pray that you’ll forgive us for reading it, but once we did, we knew you’d want it back.” Amara said as she handed you the note and you wanted to cry since it was just Amara and Demsey and you were grateful it was them and not the whole family. 

“Thank you,” you breathed as you took it and held it reverently in your hands. 

“But what will it cost to…” You began to ask. 

“Nothing, you don’t owe us anything. It was clearly a private letter and we must apologize for breaching that privacy. And what we saw, will never be spoken of again unless you freely chose to bring it up and moving forward, we will deny we saw or know of anything written in it.” Amara reassured you and if it was proper for you to go over and hug her, you would have. 

“Thank you.” You nodded in understanding. 

“Sultana, might we be friends?” Amara asked hopefully. 

“Yes, I would like that very much.” You nodded in confirmation. 

“Then you may simply call me by my name, it’s Amara.” Amara insisted. 

“And you can just call me Demsey.” Demsey insisted and his voice at saying his name threatened to send a shiver down your spine. Demsey must be a very common orc name. Like John. Or Fitswilliam for most humans in this country. 

“Audra.” You motioned to yourself as it was Demsey’s turn to fight a shiver down his spine. Audra must be a very common name for mouras as flashes of Miss Audra Draft from the Red Velvet Rope flashed in his mind before he fought to put them out again to refocus on you as he thought that your voices were eerily similar. 

“And as friends, is there anything we can do to help you? Do you need the addresses to the places mentioned in the letter? Will you need any help getting into contact with any other mouras that are in London or the greater part of England?” Demsey asked as he leaned forward in the chair, eager for any kind of direction to go into. 

“No, I already have the address, and thankfully I have gotten into some contact with the other mouras here, not all, but some, but I thank you for your consideration and willingness to help Demsey, it’s very thoughtful of you.” You shook your head and did your best not to cry even as glassy as your eyes became because the sentiment was incredibly endearing but finally your smile to him did reach your eyes as you were almost glowing with gratitude. 

“Are you sure? Even if it’s something small or simple or big or complicated, you have been a victim of your circumstances, the last thing you should be is a victim of anything or anyone else.” Amara insisted and it nearly broke your countenance, and you wondered how they were able to pick up on that so quickly. 

“Uh, um, I...I believe you are mistaken Amara, I’m...I’m not a victim.” You insisted with a wobbly shake of your head as you did your best to blink back your tears, your anxiety started to rise in your chest, as your moura marks glinted rose gold again for a moment, but even as many times as you had said those words, practicing to make sure you sounded convincing, it was still just a lie, repeated until it sounded true but it still did not sound anywhere close to true and anyone who truly knew you would know you were lying but you prayed that they would not know. 

“I’m actually very fortunate. At least I had the good fortune for the Late Count Edward to afford me to live in a house as nice as this after he passed. I know of far too many mouras who were left with next to nothing after they became widows, or sometimes, even before.” You tried to reassure them.  

“Is that why you stayed in England instead of returning to the stables? Because you weren’t left with nothing?” Amara pressed and as much as you wanted to tell them everything, you could not because of the contract which you signed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to outright lie to their faces any more than you already had.  

“No. I didn’t return for quite a few reasons, but it’s a private affair and not without its own complications and thankfully it’s a matter that is already settled and taken care of and there’s nothing else to be done about it and leave it in the past and move forward to the future. All I can say is thank you for returning this to me, but if there is ever anything I can do for either of you, I will be happy to do whatever I can.” You assured them, putting on a brave and pleasant smile. 

Amara and Demsey simply looked at each other and knew that this was probably as far as they were going to get with you, at least for now. If your past had proved to you that you couldn’t trust those around you, they could understand that you didn’t want to trust anyone, let alone them, when they barely knew you- and you- them. 

“Well then we will no longer trespass on your time any longer, it is quite late, you should be getting some much needed rest.” Dempsey decided. 

“Thank you Demsey, do give my best to Lady Whitesale whenever you get to see her next.” You tried to graciously offer as all three of you stood up and Demsey wanted to actually point out that his sister had been wrong about Lady Whitesale but he couldn’t bring himself to embarrass and contradict her and give you the wrong impression so he simply nodded in agreement as Amara was giving her brother a pleading look to say something but he guiltily avoided her gaze. 

“Will you be at the ball at Havenfield?” You asked hopefully. 

“Yes, we’ll be there, we look forward to seeing you there too.” Amara insisted. 

“Likewise, thank you so much for returning this to me. Till we get to see each other again.” You curtsied as they did the same before they left. 

“Why didn’t you say more? Why didn’t you tell her about the true nature of your relationship with Kate?” Amara pressed when they got in their carriage on the way home. 

“I didn’t want to embarrass Kiera.” Demsey defended. 

“But in an effort to protect Kiera who outright lied, you just lost your own chances with her. I thought you had some kind of...friendship, attraction, at least some kind of partiality if you’re willing to go out of your way just to return her note to her.” Amara argued. 

“If...if she was really interested in me as a suitor, she would have shown it.” Demsey tried to reason. 

“No, that’s a poor excuse and you know it, she clearly has more honor than that, at the mere mention of that potential attachment, she withdrew but remained friendly. If she knew the truth of the matter, she would probably be behaving differently. She’s about to be reintroduced out into society, she can’t afford to make any kind of enemies and if you were even engaged to Kate, you know she would not show you the same loyalty or fidelity. At least mouras are known to be loyal friends and partners and show discretion and shrewdness. Could you not see it in her eyes? How desperate she is for help, for friends, for allies but the Morrigans have made her afraid of her own shadow. The poor thing is about to be bait in a dog fight and you couldn’t even bring yourself to at least warn her about it.” Amara argued. 

“It was our first meeting as friends. We still have plenty of time before then.” Demsey tried to justify it but that answer seemed to satisfy her for now. He would find a way to talk to you more. He was sure of it. 

#Blood For Gold #Blood For Gold Part 4 #Regency orcs #regency orc period drama #moura #orc love story #lemon next chapter

[blankdblank]

Ridikulus Pt 36

“Among word of an incoming engagement to both Elven King and Lord on the heels of a soon to be named premier of Jaqi Black’s latest cinematic appearance comes with another new tidbit to clarify a long since pondered puzzle. Not a few months past the win of the Kenmare Kestrals, the team which won the Quidditch League Cup with Miss Black at the helm of Thief, an unmistakable pregnancy was announced by Rita Skeeter. Such conditions are protected and some fans have questioned if the Kestrals should have relinquished the trophy as their Thief has possibly broken that rule against harm of any possible child conceived at any duration of a pregnancy.

From none other than Newt Scamander we have our answer, Boa Red Panda Cubs. Known upon further research to have used Morphers as surrogates in the past while Miss Black and then fiancé David Tennant had been guarding their surrogate for their little girl on a protected island question of survival through the oncoming battles brought on a wish to leave some good behind should the worst come to pass. An old offer from Newt, known to be good friends and mentor to Miss Black since discovery of her Basilisk on Hogwarts grounds, was taken up and together have forged a new brighter future for a once marked to near endangered status with populations soon to be thriving with hoard of daughters in the fifteen cubs born, fourteen of which are female.”

Process of impregnating was next along with statistics that even before the war they were marked for extinction if they had not been regimes to your islands anyways through the destruction of their home territories in the war. With a stunning two month gestation period to calm any nay sayers on you being so heavily pregnant for such a short time out of nowhere. Some more it carried on filling in details on the rare breed and then branches into how this was a much needed good bit of news on the heels of a chunk on the yearly pox push that was marked as successful branching into news on the fostered youth in the Elven and Dwarf territories.

Letters plopped onto the end of the table and Regulus said, “Jaqi, from Newt.” Waving the letter he lifted them opened at your approving nod reading, “Apparently Newt has been hearing whispers on an inquiry into the validity of your win on terms of pregnancy. He submitted memories of conception and birth to go with his official statement on the event along with documented notes on the Panda populations. Apologizes for not warning you sooner.”

You shook your head, “Had to come out soon enough with the new season.” Continuing to finish feeding Em so you could eat before your first class.

The second page however was turned to and Lindir said, “Oh,”

You looked at him as Regulus asked, “Oh?”

Lindir said, “It’s a death notice. It reads, speculation and rumor has spread around the absence of a driving force of our allied forces these near on two decades past. Harry Potter, upon the discovery of Auror Nymphadora Tonks, wife of freshly elected Minister of Magic Remus Lupin, has been revealed to have sacrificed himself to push Auror Tonks and another to safety in the call to flee. While hope was held out in the search of the final missing duo and searches of the new lands were approved by the leaders of said lands coming up moot with the exception of the discovery of another kingdom named Rohan.

Aged just out of his teens brave young Harry is survived by numerous aunts, uncles and cousins along with his newborn son now in the custody of his godfather Sirius Black.

For now this is just a notice of death with another issue to follow enlisting all of those lost to the flight and battles prior destroying our old world. While talks of a memorial are still in discussion within the Ministry walls to be forged and no doubt unveiled in the summer breaks of our magical schools to ensure all will be available to attend.

Again the Ministry is continuing its plea to not use the flue system until all grids have been inspected. Out of a yet to be explained fluke formerly assumed deceased Leta Lestrange was discovered by her distant relation along with that of her oddly still toddler aged baby brother Corvus Lestrange. Their arrival came on the heels of the feather and spider barrage from the flue system making it all the more puzzling as no other long since deceased figures have been discovered as of yet.”

Sirius said in shifting the bottle in Fin’s mouth, “We had to say something. People kept asking on Harry and no doubt would when Leta was spotted.”

Em swallowed her last spoonful and Regulus smiled taking her on his knee as you said, “Not a bad explanation.”

Neville said, “Well Hermi and I are off to check on Lockhart today, see what he remembers.”

You asked, “Luna not going?”

Luna answered, “Oh they have me helping Draco with possible ideas for the memorials. I was thinking of involving Thestral charms somehow, or Nifflers if the former is too morbid for some.”

Neville, “Besides, we figure since we know him a bit more than others he might be more open to sharing with us.”

Ginny said in your glance her way accepting the crescent roll bin she passed your way, “I get to go with Regulus to gather notes from Star Speakers from the Elven Kingdoms to pass onto our Astrology classes. I get the impression it will take a while.”

Again Lindir turned the page taking in each odd article until he said, “Three headed puppies for sale... Is that accurate?”

He asked looking to Regulus who leaned in, “They’re not meant to sell those in papers. Strictly protected creatures requiring licenses.” Reading over the ad he said, “Cerberus do have three heads, however these are memorabilia on the mascots for a pro Quidditch team. Selling homemade goods to honor their favorite teams prepping for the future season and no doubt stashing up funds for tickets.”

Lindir looked your way asking, “Does your team have a mascot?”

Ginny answered as oh were eating, “Kenmare Kestrals have golden harps on a green background. Other than that they are known for using Leprechauns on occasion.”

Lindir looked to the paper in search of an ad for that and Regulus chuckled, “True Kestral fans buy from the source. Their own shops in Ireland. Badge of pride for them getting goods with the official seals and details around signatures from their favorites.”

Lindir nodded, “Yes, Lord Glorfindel informed us of the tradition of autographs. Quite interesting gifts from those you admire.” Again he looked to his paper and you held back your giggles at his tries to blend in on his second morning he had slept over the night prior. Figuring out himself how he fit into the incoming future of dwelling with his One. Before long however you were off to school claiming a kiss from Em on her cheek as well as one for Fin then hurried off through your door to make it to your desk in time for your students to enter. All seeing your hands smoothing around the waistband of your jeans ensuring your blouse was tucked in properly still. Questions still lingering in their eyes with a few papers spotted in between making you say, “Alright. Before the lesson, anyone have any questions about today’s paper?” All the hands shot up and with a smirk you went a desk at a time answering each to calm any confusion or concern from those stunned by some of what was in the papers.

 *

Tucked in a private suite in the bustling floor for energy maladies Lockhart laid back in his assigned bed still under watch of the doctors there ensuring nothing else had befallen the popular Wizard. Upon seeing the familiar young Ministry Members he inched up in his seat grinning at the pair collecting a silver framed compact and another small trinket now rested on his lap. “Miss Granger and young Longbottom, I was curious which of my old students would be sent my way to question me.”

Pulling a duo of stools from the wall over the teens sat and Neville asked, “Feeling better? Remus said you were rather queasy last time he saw you.”

Lockhart nodded and said, “Yes, and I am pleased to have been so prompt in checking on me. While it appears mainly my captors were only able to drain my energy I was able to ascertain much more. And while some may not believe me to be of much use sans powers my plan worked out brilliantly.”

Hermione’s brows arched up, “Your plan? You planned to be captured?”

Lockhart nodded with a spreading smile, “You see, we arrived here and there were whispers of a Wizard hiding horcrux and deeming to endanger us all. How better to draw out such a fool than with a chance to take a hostage. I make quite the damsel, and I knew you all would find me soon enough. The Elf Lords did share which lands were known and which might be more likely for said baddy to be hiding in. Starting off, I have this for you,” passing over the silver framed compact to Neville closest to him. “Mirror glass charm contains my travels and especially the castle they kept me in, which is where I found this,” into Hermione’s palm a golden ring with runes of Khuzdul around a large rectangular sapphire narrowing her eyes recognizing Durin’s marker inside the band. “There were two more I couldn’t reach. But that one I managed to get close to. I know they said that Wizard had an affinity for using rings for his misdeeds so I assumed that might be the most useful.”

Neville asked, “Where did they take you, any idea?”

“Just past Gondor within a ring of mountains, not Mordor, I know Mordor has a volcano, there was one in the distance, perhaps one of the Elves might know where I was. Upon our flight back however there was a destroyed little village we flew over similar to where the Dwarves were met heard those houses were in hills. Caught sight of Mordor and a set of islands in the distance all coated with white glowing trees.”

Journals were brought over from his night table as well copied to ensure he had full record of all this adventure the pair flipped through listening to his sharing exact details around symbols they knew to be where he would embellish later. And when they went to leave he grinned saying, “Some might find it a bit mad however this will make a perfect plot for my next best seller.”

His next round of tests had the duo leaving trading nods and handshakes with the former Professor on their way to head to your house first to go through the memories and journals more thoroughly. Leaving the possible basilisk venom dip of the ring to you later so any memories from it might be tapped by you for more help in the search for the remaining Dwarf Rings from Sauron. A report was drafted up to share with the Ministry to be edited later for full disclosure once you had consulted the memories and Elves for information on the unknown lands and any more cursed items securing all threats to peace had been quashed.

To their evenings off the duo relaxed while Fred and George at the shop caught their first glimpses of a few Dwarves eyeing the shop known to be yours. The brothers stealing glances at one another from across the sales floor making note to share with you more clients for the gender swap potion clearly successful by Thorin’s demonstration.

Ginny’s evening however seemed to drag on while Regulus gleefully delved into learning about the stars and constellations of this world. For his hope to possibly use a name for a child of his own with Lindir the rule limiting that sank his mood a tinge at least until the next tale was shared. Copies of each record was made by Regulus who would compile them later to fit better way for sharing with the schools for one of a set of encyclopedia’s of sorts on this new world and lands to be sold and used in schools to inform the masses to study.

 *

Post feeding at lunch you did get a glimpse of Regulus’ notes brightening your mood on having to keep delving into the painful subjects covered in the paper. Though after school a wish to have some time to yourself brought you to the open pastures beyond the stables in the middle of the trees you walked eyeing the branches above. Soft hoof beats behind you and a warm breath to follow shifting your raven ended silver ponytail across your back turned you around to find Turo there, “Hello Queenie, care to run?”

Grinning up at him in a stroke of his cheek he lowered his head to receive more, “Only if you’re up for it. Just needed some time to myself before heading home finding others.”

“Sometimes silence and solitude can be cleansing to a wounded heart. Our youngest require supervised runs, come and run with us, allow the forest to speak to your pain.”

“Thank you,” you said stroking his neck in a turn for the stables to dress the Great Elk hoping this run may help to lighten your spirits.

Scattered between the hoof beats stray tears flew off your cheeks in tiny gems nestling into the grass sprouting wild flowers for the opening steps of the run until the smaller elk came into view and surrounded you. The response to your letter to the Pear clan about the papers was thankfully supportive with actual glee that Em was never in risk for being harmed. Each of them so proud to hear of your special task of aiding an endangered species supporting the affection you have for magical creatures they treasured highly since first meeting you. They had put up with so much, the whole David mystery and dissolution of whatever that was just as suddenly as it had popped up, Em out of nowhere before the nonexistent wedding, and now hearing you carried cubs for a giant cuddly creature. You just hoped Em, if she learned the truth, she wouldn’t hate you for what some could be seen as a bold faced lie.

The boys were well aware that they were adopted, had memories of their families you knew they were holding back on to spare your feelings. So much like their wish to be older than they are, even to the point of barring playtime in fear of harming their clothes. There was so much you had to unlock for them and somehow in balancing the weight of all your godchildren with help of the new Ministry this generation would be a safer and happier one. Stolen strokes of your hand down Tuo’s shoulder in slowed breaks allowing another young one to pass him up had him glancing back to you in subtle checks on if your mood was lightening. A break for water however for the young ones had his head turn again to spot your downward gaze at the grass and he asked, “Are you in pain, Queenie?”

Your eyes met his and shaking your head you replied, “Do you get orphans in your herds?”

“On occasion. We have heard of the young ones you have gotten charge of. Is one of them unwell?”

“No, I just, another woman carried my daughter. I don’t want her to hate me when she finds out. Everyone knows about it now.”

Underneath you on his hooves his body weight settled and facing you as fully as possible he replied, “No greater gift to claim a young one who requires a clan. The sons you have accepted in your heart are beyond content to have been welcomed they will always bear a fondness and love for their adopted mother. Your daughter will be proud to have such a mother to guide her.”

That had a tear drop down your cheek causing him to inhale deeply, “A lot of people are dead because of me, and there was no shortage of people who wanted me dead. So many cruel people that never hesitated when I was a child to sentence me to be beaten and imprisoned. Only thing I can think of when I remember the names of people I’m responsible for their deaths is if I killed enough. If my little girl is ever going to have to be afraid to tell people her name like my dad was.” Another tear fell and you wiped your cheek on your shoulder saying after a sniffle, “It hurts so much, how easy it could have been for me to have killed them all, anyone who tried to hurt or insult me. I could have put even Melkor to shame I bet, all the chances they gave me to turn dark. Em shouldn’t have to be afraid, least of all of me, what I had to do to get us here where she could be safe.”

His mate had come up beside you turning your head with a comforting nuzzle of her head into your belly, “All our fathers face painful seasons we may not weather to build our herds stronger. Your pain will not be lost to your daughter.”

Tuo spoke again, “There is honor in kindness little Queenie. In mercy. A strength some will never face. Hard lessons must be given to our young and we must stay the path we cannot shield them from all suffering and trials.”

“Thank you,” you said stroking her face and his neck again. “I don’t mean to sour the mood of your run.”

Another of the Elk stated, “You have soured nothing. Runs are great times for clan discussions.”

One of the other females added, “We have seen the birth and growth of many a young one, the troubles are welcomed among our herd. Your daughter is your first child, always the most worrying along with your final child.”

The bounding steps of her youngest from his full belly of water had you giggle at the circle around her he made joined by his cousins around the legs of their own parents starting the second round of the run. It was nothing new you had heard but somehow with the hoofed creatures you felt more support in hearing it from them. Back to the stables you got swinging your leg over the front of the saddle to drop down and begin undressing Tuo who pressed his head into your belly glad for the gentle hug to his head and peck to his forehead as a goodbye freeing him back to his family. “Pleasant run, Darling?”

Turned around your eyes fell on Glorfindel in his moment to wet his lips looking you over in this stolen time alone, “The baby elk are adorable.”

However you hoped to sound closing the distance he asked with hands smoothing from your shoulders downwards, “Something is troubling you.”

“Just over thinking the reaction Em might have to hearing I didn’t carry her when she’s older. The Pears are relieved, like others have been that she wasn’t in danger at all.” Inching his head closer to silently urge more from you he sighed to your stating, “I’m fine.”

The distance between you was closed and what was meant to be a brief kiss found him again pressed into that moment of that evening he had to leave you from such a warm chance at entangled matrimony to finally be all yours. Firmly his hands pressed into the small of your back melting more into the kiss that lured your hands from his middle upwards. Clearly he had hoped for a place more secluded, yet in the stroke of your fingertips along his jaw in a path towards his ear the stall he felt you step back to would have to be accepted for now. Two blind steps and he readied to lift a hand to open the gate to at least be inside for some semblance of privacy only the back of his hand met silk. In the blind fumble a decision of your own called your enchanted doorway that brought you straight inside the King’s apartment, unknowingly into the back of the King.

From the papers in hand his eyes rose turning at the body that pressed into his back. Pink lipped in a break for air Glorfindel straightened up a bit as you turned your head to catch the turning King’s gaze that warmed in seeing it was you. “Hello, Dew Drop,” you managed to squeak out with a hint of a blush that made the corner of his mouth tick upwards.

“Hello, My Darling Starlight,” his eyes scanned over your face.

Glorfindel said, “Apparently our Love is fine.”

“Hmm,” Thranduil hummed and shifted a hand to stroke though your hair behind your ear, fingers finding their own strands of curls to tangle in at the warm demanding kiss, through which Glorfindel’s hands stroked along your back and side. The moment his lips left yours however to press to your cheek below your ear Glorfindel moved with a hand raised to your neck, thumb extended to angle your head in a slow tilt granting the King a straight path to trail his lips meeting your shoulder when you turned your head again. Hungrily now claiming your neck Glorfindel moved in what would be the tipping point to a blind tugging path to get the three of you on the lounge in the bedroom now locked to prevent the children coming in.

Against the back of the lounge you rested still on a knee stretching to give Thranduil more neck to claim. His hand you found only partially certain of its owner to ease up under the end of your disheveled shirt for the snapping of the tether or restraint. Your shirt went first and down your chest to your back he moved guiding you to melt more into Glorfindel’s kiss so he might selfishly steal the first taste of your skin and claim as many strokes and caresses as possible until Glorfindel gained the courage to be more bold. Their shirts were next and again in a tangle of lips that same hand was smoothed along your thigh in a silent path to the waistband you had magically undone.

Permission was given and while your hands worked the pair into a frenzy around you his to make you come undone first while his moan parted lips savored the bare skin revealed between those obstinate loose curls failing to bar him from that tempting silky skin on his newly made wife. Easily they crumbled first and in an experienced albeit rusty endurance Thranduil made easy the task of turning you to lay you against Glorfindel’s chest to wiggle your lower layers off and see to your release next.

Slow and tender his lips found yours upon your recovery and with a chuckle blending into your soft giggle to Glorfindel’s question of, “How do I touch you?” Thranduil simply kissed you while you did the instructing, until he had the chance to lay you against his chest to hold you through the finale of your lesson, hands loose and wandering to the helpful nibble on your ear.

Just breathing in the silence you sat between the pair, like kittens nuzzling their heads affectionately to yours with stolen kisses in between, both allowing you the first word in joint adoration of this blissful union. “I take it this means we’re married now.”

Those were the magic words and with a thumb used to turn your chin in a blissful hum Thranduil replied, “We are married,” claiming the lingering kiss to seal those words into being contractual. All it took, the offer of matrimony after the physical union and with agreement and kiss the marriage is born.

Of course you didn’t get the depth of that offer for them and how long they had waited to have this one particular moment they had dreamed of come true. Glorfindel was next not missing his chance to reply, “We are married,” beginning a kiss for which reason why you couldn’t help but struggle against the moment ending smile fighting to spread across your face.

The next silent moment however came with your hand smoothing over the droplet of milk now leaking out down your belly. “I should probably take a bath and pump.”

“Of course, a bath sounds wonderful.” Glorfindel said in his pop up with smile down at your bringing out yours at the Elf with haphazardly loose pants still open and threatening to fall that matched his lopsided curls your hands had eased one side slightly out from the ribbon wrapped down the length of his ponytail. Into his offered hand yours settled and you found your feet with crownless King smoothing his fingers through his out of place hair ignoring the open pants shifting down his hips in each step.

Thranduil, “Give us a chance to give you a massage as well if you wish.”

The pair while you dipped a foot into the hot spring in the open bath tugged off their boots and pushed the last of their coverings down to step into the water to help you down into the seemingly bottomless pool of a tub. “How deep does this go?”

Thranduil, “Not far, the bottom is lined with abyss crystals however that deepen the appearance of it. There is a bench inside here.”

They both helped you to sit down and while he worked the ribbon wrap from his hair Glorfindel said, “You most certainly were not fine when I found you. Would you care to discuss it? We are your husbands and here to aid in your burdens.”

Softly you sighed watching Thranduil’s long arm bring the floating soap bowl over in case you wanted to use some of his. “I was doubting if I killed enough of the despicable people from my world so Em would never have to be afraid they would do to her what they did to me.” They shifted closer to your sides in the lift of your feet onto the bench in front of you. “I’m never going to be perfect, I have moments or days even where I get so helplessly lost in the pain of all those wrongs. Seventeen years I didn’t have a life that was mine, I didn’t matter except as a shield, and,” you inhaled looking between them with tears bubbling into your eyes mirrored by theirs at the darkening or your roots.

“75 adults on the Wizengamot sentenced me to Azkaban when I was eleven years old, ‘by any means necessary’ they were told to get me to surrender Tulip. That’s what the records said along with notes of the names of seven ‘suspect’ Wizards who could have argued against the decision they kept from knowledge on the vote. They had me for a month before I was found. People have no idea how many chances I had to go dark, how easy they made it, and people would have still supported me. I could have put Melkor to shame. I spent so long with people that made my skin crawl, with a mark from the man who tortured my mother to death and tried to kill me and Harry. I can’t say how many times I wanted to snap and just blow up entire buildings with thousands for my death count.”

A tear dropped down your cheek furrowing their brows in focus to not cry themselves sensing the pain you were expressing. “I lost it once, I thought my aunt Bellatrix had killed my dad, I had her head in my hand and, I slammed it into the ground. And I kept punching her until she stabbed me in the side to get me off her. I lost it,” you whispered out to another two tears falling and you shook your head lifting a hand to wipe your cheeks. “Remus managed to snap me out of it, and I managed to get back, to the plan. I haven’t been able to breathe for seventeen years, and it hurts to breathe a bit right now. But, I’m trying, to see who I can be now.” Your eyes shifted to Thranduil saying, “I wouldn’t trust me to be in power right now. I’ll try to help you both if you need it, but-,”

They moved closer and smoothed their hands over your arms and Glorfindel said, “Take your time. There is no rush. No one is going to force you into anything you don’t want to take charge of. We have charge here.”

Thranduil drew your gaze adding, “No one is harming our little ones. There is an army to guarantee that now, all of the Elf Lords would send armies should anyone dare to be foolish and harm a child in these lands. A promise the Dwarf councils will surely back as well.”

“I’m sorry,”

You said and he again shook his head saying, “You owe us no apology.”

“There always was a goal, a job to do, no mission.”

Glorfindel said, “You will find peace, that was very much my same pain upon my return. The restlessness. I know you will handle the pain better than I had.”

Thranduil chuckled saying, “Made it his mission to collect every uncut quartz stone in our river beds. Took him months and upset countless beavers and bears in the process. Five hundred years of watching him drenching wet being chased by some creature roaring after him. You make mistakes, you learn and heal.”

You nodded and said to the ripple of your hair to silvery blue again calming them a bit at your pain retracting its claws, “Well whoever cleans that couch will be furious, I’ll charm it when we get out.”

Glorfindel began to smooth his hand down to your leg he claimed, “Pay no mind to the couch,” massaging it while Thranduil claimed the other.

Couch charmed and wrapped in a towel you dried your hair with your wand using a jet of warm air you shifted to help the others with theirs afterwards giving both a time to smile in your fingers again traveling through their long locks. Again in fresh pants the pair found you now in shorts and a tank top, lip tucked between your teeth in thought widening their curious smiles on the path to your sides for another cheek cupped kiss for the both of them from their loving wife once you had finished pumping your milk. Both speaking to you sweetly all the while and helping in the transition between bottles when the two were filled and capped the third when you had tapped out halfway.

Behind his back however Thranduil kept the hand holding the box with gift meant for just this occasion to Glorfindel’s hand being offered that snapped you from your thoughts. “Might we discuss something with you a moment?”

You nodded and joined them back on the couch, wetting your lips in the cross of your legs to look at the pair on the foot stools in front of you. Glorfindel anxiously bumped Thranduil’s arm with his and you looked between them and then to the expanded then retracted smile on his face that preceded his throat being cleared. “Our Love, now, with this new deepening of our union comes certain tokens to bestow and so after much deliberation and sleepless nights put to use between us we wished to present this to you. Like a small metal book the box now resting in your palm waiting to be opened in the retraction of the King’s hands from leaving it there. His fingers hovering a moment then reaching out to open the lid that caused your heart to skip.

Inside on 4 overlapping bands, 2 black, 2 silver with white glowing stones lining these. In the center a yellow heart also surrounded by more of the white glowing stones with two black antlers extending above it. “Oh wow,” you whispered to yourself.

Glorfindel said, “The black metal is Galvorn, a black form of mithril, among some of my properties returned to me upon my awakening from Gondolin and the lemon quartz stone is also from my gatherings that we chose together.”

Thranduil, “The rest of the ring is silver mithril with the remaining white stones that are from my collection of Lasgalen stones from Doriath carved out of the heart of a fallen star gifted to my line from Valar Queen Varda.”

Carefully you lifted the ring from its box that felt impossibly light for how heavy it should be. “Is this the, do you have separate engagement and wedding bands or is it all in one? We haven’t discussed this before.”

Thranduil, “Upon meeting your father we have chosen to adapt to your customs of using engagement rings, now, we are bound by marriage for our kin though a ceremony of sorts could be planned according to your customs. Also we are aware these rings sit on separate fingers to ours that sit upon our index finger and this has been fitted to your chosen ring finger.”

“You measured my finger?” You asked with a hint of a grin.

“Estel was bribed to help us with that.” Glorfindel answered, smiling as you watched as he eased the ring onto your finger that fit perfectly, “When you are ready to discuss a ceremony we could possibly discuss designs of what a wedding band might be.”

A moment you bit your lip and said, “I need some dirt.” Parting his lips at your pull back to ease over the back of the lounge you swung your legs over to head for the window revealed in the magical ease of the curtains back in its opening to let you pass through it. The pair of them stretched to see what you were doing, watching your stroll across the patch of grass looking between each of the bushes in the marked off garden plots, beside a patch of orange flowers they saw you charm two handfuls of dirt out of the ground, careful to leave the few small worms back in the garden. A bit confused a pair of guards tilted to watch your path back through the window that closed and covered itself again leaving you just in the sight of the duo.

Glorfindel, “You need dirt, for, what exactly?” He asked watching you ease back over the back of the lounge you sat cross legged on top of again.

“Not exactly fair if you both don’t have something shiny of your own.” Their brows inched up only to see your skin begin to shimmer in the multicolored hue of your eyes that grew lighter in spectrums of color to the deeper the breath you took in. Out of your lips around the dirt clump above your left palm a white flame escaped your lips while you mentally recited the Draconic spell splitting and contorting the clump in half. More and more they compressed making the shapes of rings, in the center an oval mystic quartz stone sat between two wide flat black metal edges of the ring that dipped for a platform for the stone, down the band the ring grew thinner and held white opal shapes between strips of the black metal.

A second breath drew their focus back to you on the lift of the second clump that you blew out over the clump that split into three, this time for two more black metal sat around five round green opals, the one in the middle the largest that around the top and bottom had five emeralds closing it off. The third had the same metal and shape, merely with blue opals and sapphires around the top and bottom of the center opal.

At the dim of your glow they watched your hands to shift and offer the both of them the larger of the two styles of rings then locked their eyes with yours as you said, “These should morph to fit whatever finger you slip it on and won’t break, for your engagement rings if you like them.” Timidly the pair accepted the rings, lost for words on the skill of the gift you had made for them, looking next to the pair of green rings that they stared at taking in every detail of these as you slid them over the ends of their index fingers to the last knuckle. “We’re married,” that had their eyes shoot up to yours again missing the ripple of the stones’ colors turn to yellow, “Ceremonies for my culture can wait, we can have a family dinner or something. You’re a King and a Lord, you deserve to have your status marked. If anything I can always just put in the paper I eloped.”

Thranduil, “These,” he said clearing his throat to steal a second glance down at his hand that had him exclaiming, “It’s yellow now!”

“They change colors, I can make them stop-,”

“No,” they both said and after a shared glance eased their engagement rings on above their wedding bands. Tenderly with free hands Thranduil took the wedding band from your hand he eased onto your left index finger locking his eyes on yours. “I have never seen rings of this skill before.”

“I rarely make rings, yours must have taken months-,”

Glorfindel eased his hands around your free hand, “Thank you falls utterly short. Elleths rarely forge in our culture, merely hire a master craftsman. We will be the envy of all with your unmatchable gifts.”

Thranduil said, “Yes, truly. These five opals alone would have taken weeks to shape and I do not doubt several months to find the proper shade. I am flattered as well that they change hues. Five, we did not cover significant numbers for importance in our cultures, seven is sacred to our kin, five is sacred to yours?”

“No,” you said looking between them to say, “I thought, we have, five kids, between us.”

If they thought it was impossible to breathe upon seeing the ring that was nothing to now at realizing this was not just a wedding back but a sort of birth celebration as well that Legolas especially would be honored to have been included in. Glorfindel said, “Birth celebration as well, then truly this is beyond precious to us and will be to our children when we share it with them.”

“Well, um, my mother had one from my dad for theirs. Used to spark up around the stone when I got hurt. Um, Leg’s is in the middle, since he’s, well, fully grown, bad luck to put his anywhere else, and they’ll grow as the kids do and get their little crowns of emeralds.” Quickly you looked down and then up again in time for Thranduil’s lean in to steal a loving kiss trailed by a moment of foreheads tapped together. “I’m guessing you’re behind the antlers on mine?”

Lowly he chuckled and replied inching back to allow Glorfindel to claim his own warm kiss and pause with joined foreheads to Thranduil’s reply of, “It was a joint decision, as was the choice of yellow, your favorite color.”

“Thank you,” you said in their inch back and tangling of their hands in yours on your lap again. “Never really thought about engagement rings before, I mean, Barty gave me the rose gold pink teardrop ring, and it was beautiful, I was really grateful for it, I just…I guess you just don’t think of what you might want until you meet the person who you’d be needing it for.” You inhaled at their spreading smiles and said, “I’m rambling.” The narrowing of your eyes a moment had their brows twitch up tick only to hear you say, “There’s someone in my study.”

Glorfindel, “Is, that forbidden?”

“No,” you said uncrossing your legs in their rise to stand and help you up, “There’s just, someone there.”

Thranduil released your hand hurrying to the closet, “Grant us a moment and we shall inspect this together for any danger.”

“It’s not a danger,” Glorfindel turned in the doorway of the closet accepting the shirt tossed his way he found the bottom to that parted for his arms to slide through to the sleeves, “How is this so weird to say, you don’t ever just, know, something. Like you randomly pull the toast off a bit early or it will burn or you go to check on your chicken coop even though it’s not laying day to find that there’s now a huge gnawing blackberry bush taking over the back of the enclosure that has to be moved or it’ll ruin the fence? Places to go aren’t really unreasonable to explain but sometimes I just feel I have to say something and usually it goes terribly wrong but I just have to say it because I guess no one else will.”

Glorfindel, “Such as?”

You sighed, “Such as I had to tell a girl Margerie in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, she came from Beauxbatons, the school Fleur studied at.” The pair nodded in securing their shirts and robes after having tugged on their boots to their knees, “Never met her a day in my life, never spoke a word to her, walk right up to her and have to say ‘How did you like the Trout in Their Pajamas?’ She slapped me across the face and storms off! Two days later, I have this other girl Ophelia coming up to me hugging me. Saying that there’s this whole convoluted plot that had been buried with Margerie’s family that goes all the way back to a Unicorn thief who had stolen this useless children’s book from Margerie’s ancestor and then used it to break into the conservatory where Ophelia’s family had been keeping their Unicorn herd. Nearly got the ancestor locked up from his name written inside the book cover.”

Their brows narrowed in confusion as you mimed and explosion on either side of your head, “I didn’t get it either, but apparently I pissed off Margerie and she went steaming mad and ranting back to their tower and Ophelia overheard it. Apparently they both had been compiling their own internal investigations over the years and they sent what they came up with back home and they caught the guy 87 years later.” Your hands popped up at your sides and fell again, “I don’t get it, just had to say it.”

Glorfindel, “That, must be tiring, does it happen often? Was it a voice you heard?”

“Not a voice, no, I’ve been down that road, no, that time it was the cover of the book popped up in my head. Which reminds me I have to settle a flight time for the Pegasus foals, could we fly over your forest, they don’t like flying over towns they aren’t fond of seeing people.”

Thranduil, “Our forest, and yes, absolutely, these, Pegasus, are they another Quidditch team?”

“No, they’re winged horses,” parting their lips, “They also mostly have fangs, and tend to not like people, well, most people. But they have a new bunch of foals and they have a traditional first flight that has to be a long one and usually we would take them to Sherwood forest for that but the Muggles aren’t situated enough right now for us to get the Prime Minister involved for the approval of memory charms. Still a work in progress on the tolerance of us for them at the moment.”

Glorfindel, “You have flying horses and yet you do not ride them,”

“They attack people. Viciously. Their nests are normally high in cliffs out of reach from people. We just have the tolerating herd at Hogwarts in the Forbidden Forest now quadrupled from those we saved in the move here otherwise Hagrid would have handled it, the new ones think he’s going to eat them.”

Thranduil, “Why do I imagine that day Thengel will drop by unannounced?”

“Well it has to be tomorrow you can have him for tea I guess. I can show the boys, even bribe a Unicorn to drop by possibly. Buckbeak could use a nice long flight I can take him instead of the bike this time still have to get myself a new broom. He’s been anxious waiting for his baby sibling to hatch.” The confused pair followed you out of the bedroom and through to your door linked to your house where you heard voices inside of your study.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Draco said only to be answered by Neville’s sigh.

Neville, “I know that, but he told us, he did it on purpose.”

Draco, “And they let him teach us?!”

Papers were shifted and once in the doorway you caught Neville’s eye and he smiled in relief, “Here’s Jaqi, Lockhart says he went there on purpose to play Damsel. Gave us his journal and this mirror glass charm of his travels and that place they locked him inside of. And, found this.” In his palm was the glass jar holding the ring Lockhart had found that lured the Lords in around you to see it.

Thranduil, “That is Durin the Deathless’ crest. King Thror bore that ring.”

Neville, “Said there were more rings but he only could manage that one.”

“Hmm,” you said setting the ring down the accept the journal you lifted to sniff, “This is a copy, it smells like guava.”

Draco, “Kept the original for his next book.”

“Ah, naturally.”

Neville, “Says he was kept in the mountain but wasn’t Mordor. No volcano but it was in sight of an island with glowing white trees,” that had the Lords’ heads tilt to look at him directly, “And there was a city like the Shire that was destroyed on the way back.”

Glorfindel, “That is not possible, the only island with that description was taken by the seas ages past.”

Looking back at him you asked, “Which Lord would have ruled that one?”

Glorfindel, “Lord Elros. That would be Numenor, if they are correct.”

“Hmm,” you accepted the Mirror Glass Charm saying, “I’ll tend to the screaming ring later, for now, I’ll see if the Lords can help us find out where he went.”

Draco said, “We’ll keep the twins posted if you need a sub tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you said turning back for your room leaving the pair to share their mutual notice of the ring on that particular finger, and into your closet where you confused your husbands in the tug of your shorts off to hop into a pair of jeans and long socks you added tall boots to your knees.

Thranduil asked, “How you were dressed was acceptable.”

“Not for a Mirror Glass Charm. Last time I went in one of those took me three days to get out and it was nonstop gales and moors.” Over the top of your tank top you pulled your silver low cut sweater that hung over your thighs that once the neck was tied over top you added a black rib covering vest and the holster for your wand from the pile of clothes you had sent back earlier during your bath to the vest pocket.

Glorfindel, “Three days?”

“Surely this time we can just skip to the end and miss any weather but I had to go day by day last time to figure out where they hid one of our Aurors a few years back in a Muggle Born raid.”

Pt 37

#Thranduil x OC #Glorfindel x OC #The Wedding #Trading Rings #Gifts #Bad Day #Big News #Calming the Storm #Lockhart's Damsel Display #Neville #Hermione #Draco #HP Crossover #Ride With Tuo #Talk With the Elk #Mirror Glass Charm #Off to Rivendell

[scribbles97]

Left Behind -- Chapter 28

In which Virgil stumbles

PART 1 / PART 2

Chapter 22 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27

The cafeteria was loud despite all the conversations around him being hushed, everything merged into one hum of white noise that his overloaded brain could not cope with. Was it not enough that Mom was seriously hurt? Was it not enough that his Aunt and Uncle were back to tearing chunks out of each other through fear of having lost Mom? Was all that and the weight of IR not enough without the added thought that maybe, just maybe, Dad was alive?

He had to be grateful for the headphones that could drown anything out, for the Denver University hoodie that was big and baggy across his shoulders giving enough room for movement whilst still being a cozy comfort. That he had managed to bag the table in the farthest corner of the room was just an added bonus. There he could simply curl up in his seat, sketchbook rested on his knee and music blocking out the hum he didn’t want to hear. 

Mom was in a coma. 

Mom was in a coma because Gaat had lured her in. 

Gaat had lured her in with a new Zero-X. 

A new Zero-X Mom thought she could use to find Dad.  

Mom thought Dad was out there to find. 

Virgil wasn’t sure what to believe. What evidence was there? 

A new camera angle, according to Scott.

What were the chances though? Could Dad have survived that launch? Could anyone survive four years in space unaided?

Apparently Brains was on the case.

He hadn’t thought to ask how or what he was looking into.

Perhaps he should find out. 

His hand jolted across the page in front of him, graphite scratching hard against the fibers leaving a fine dust in its wake. Shaking off the sheet he sighed and focussed on the boxy lines of the ship that had caused the whole mess. 

Movement across the table caught his attention, drawing his eyes away from the black and white sketch. A steaming mug was placed in front of him, the distinctive smell of freshly brewed coffee taking over from the smell of nothing. 

The music was paused with the touch of a button, the duet he and Mom had composed a few years back fading to nothing quickly as he pulled the headphones from his ears and let them rest around his neck. The hum of the cafeteria was suddenly deafening and irritating, but someone had brought him coffee and that took priority. 

“Thought you could use it.” 

Kayo. 

An angel in t-shirt and jeans. 

What would he do without her?

“You can thank me later.”

He snorted, nodding as he sighed, “Thanks, I was kinda…” Trailing off he lifted the sketch book onto the table, brushing the stray chips of graphite from the page, not really caring for the smudges it left. 

“Lost in thought?” She offered, eyes tracking his movement, “Yeah, I get it.”

When she had found out about it all, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps she had known earlier, it did involve Gaat after all. Kay tended to keep herself in the loop on such matters, albeit quietly and discreetly. He wouldn’t hold it against her if she had known, she would undoubtedly have her reasons for saying nothing. 

“Mom wouldn’t want you taking any blame for this, you know?” He murmured, watching the way her eyes stayed focussed on his sketchpad, waiting for her to look to him. 

When she did look up the green of her eyes was soft, wide, almost childlike with something that he knew just couldn’t be fear. 

Kayo didn’t get scared. 

Did she?

“I didn’t know.” She stated softly, “Not until I spoke to my father. How did I not know?”

“Hey,” He reached across to her, taking her hand as he shook his head, “You’ve spent the last week upgrading the Island security systems and the week before that chasing down whoever tried to break into Beta base.”

He had hoped it might be enough to make her smile, at least to get the corner of her mouth to twitch up in something like a smile.

Instead she just looked angry. 

“Mom would say you can’t know everything all the time.” He added quietly, knowing she would still hear, she always did. 

“I should have stopped him though Virgil! I spent the week doing upgrades and he still made it onto the Island, into our home!”

There was the anger. Not at her father, or even the uncle she despised, but at herself. The same anger she had been bleeding when they had been waiting for Mom to get out of surgery, the same anger he had assured her was misplaced.

“How?” He frowned, tilting his head, focussing on the issue they hadn’t already tackled once, “How did he get onto the Island?”

She used the excuse of shaking her head to look away again, “When the servers rebooted there was a brief chance for him to slip through, I think he must have realised it.”

Nodding he swallowed, “So we need something in place for when the servers might be down, right?”

She sighed heavily and nodded, “Yes.”

Tilting his head he watched her, waiting a moment to see if she twigged on before he prompted, “How long was your Dad head of the Island security?”

It drew those green eyes back to him, darker than they had been a moment ago, subtly shifted from emerald to pine. 

“Ten years?” She shrugged, “Why?”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, that would only rile her up more. Instead he smiled softly and squeezed her hand under his, “Ten years and he never thought that a back up would be a good idea?”

She shrugged again, “We have a back up, we just don’t put it in place when the servers are down for a matter of seconds.”

“A practice your Dad put in place, right?” He sighed and shook his head, “Come on Kay, this wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have known.” She stated, almost growling at the thought. 

“So should your Dad.” He murmured leaning across the table, “Please Kay, this isn’t on you.”

The side eye she gave him made him wonder if she was coming around to the idea. He could see her thinking about it, the twist of her lips as she thought over it all and the dip in her eyebrows. 

He wondered why he hadn’t noticed her profile before. Those high cheekbones and that soft curve of her jaw. Would drawing them be enough when he had an urge to just reach out and…

“Seeing as you asked so nicely.” She smiled softly. 

That smile, those warm lips. 

Her eyes were watching him, waiting for him to say something. 

Shit. 

“Erm.”

Great, now he didn’t at all sound like an idiot. 

Her smile widened, eyes brighter as she watched him, the emerald shining like she knew something he didn’t. 

Part of him wondered if she could somehow read his mind.

Part of him sincerely hoped she couldn’t. 

“What?” She laughed, “You were adamant a second ago that nothing was my fault.”

He nodded quickly, perhaps too quickly. Would she notice?

“It’s not.” He said, “Nothing is… I mean, none of this is -- you didn’t do anything. Anything wrong that is.”

The shine was gone from that beautiful green of her eyes, shifted away as confusion took the place of laughter. Her head tilted, long hair falling over her shoulder like silk. 

He wondered if it would feel like silk to touch. 

“Virgil,” She frowned, eyebrows dipping, concern taking the fore, “What’s got into you?”

It wouldn’t be fair to tell her the truth. Not there and then, not in a hospital cafeteria when his main focus should have been his mother and her main focus should have been finding her Uncle. Besides from that, she was like a sister. Mom had always called her the daughter she had never had. Why had his brain drifted from all the important things to something so unexpected? Unneeded? 

“Just--” He started, not entirely sure just where he was going to go with the sentence. 

The buzz of his phone as it skittered across the table saved him from having to come up with some form of coherent thought. Grandma’s image appearing on the screen alongside a simple straight message.

Doctors update. Ten minutes. 

“It’s Mom.” he murmured, “Kay, I’ve gotta--”

“Go.” She nodded, “Go on, let me know how she is.”

As he stood, he hesitated, part of him wanted to reach out to her, to touch her shoulder or her arm. Reassure her that nothing was her fault. 

She waved him off, smiling as she gestured towards the exit, “Go on! What are you waiting for?”

He had to smile back, wishing that he could say something along the lines of ‘see you later’ without it sounding weird. 

“Right, okay. I’m gone.” He nodded, turning to leave.

If he glanced back as he went, it was just to make sure that he hadn’t left his pencil.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfic #Lucy AU #Lucy Fic #Virgil Tracy #kayo kyrano #Left Behind Part 1 #Left Behind Part 2 #Left Behind Part 3 #scribbles writes

[mobius-prime]

245. Sonic the Hedgehog #176

Cracking the Empire

Writer: Ian Flynn Pencils: Tracy Yardley Colors: Jason Jensen

After surviving Knothole's destruction, Sonic returns to Freedom HQ at the outskirts of the carnage with Tails, just in time for Amy and Knuckles to have freed themselves from the rubble. They're horrified to hear that their homes have all been destroyed and the entire populace captured, but Sonic grimly tells them to stay put and try to fix the base up a little bit while he heads out to New Megaopolis to rescue everyone. They try to argue, saying they want to help, but he seems determined to do it himself, and this makes Tails snap.

This outburst ultimately puts Sonic in a pretty bad mood, but everyone is willing to listen to Nicole, serendipitously left behind in all the chaos. During the entire next scene, the bottom of every page is devoted to showing the heroes' progress - taking a hovercraft away from the ruins of Knothole, entering New Megaopolis, and fighting their way through various badniks to get to the Egg Vineyard. Within the Vineyard, Eggman theatrically greets everyone trapped within his Egg Grapes, as though merely inviting them to a fantastic play. He thanks them for their "entertaining resistance," mocking the monarchy and Elias' leadership, before deciding that he'll give everyone a little demonstration of exactly how his Egg Grapes work. He selects Charmy from one of the vines, horrifying Saffron, though Charmy tries to comfort her as his grape is pulled close to Eggman's catwalk.

Eggman merely sneers before directing Snively to press the button to activate the grape, and at the exact moment the grape starts up, Sonic, Tails, Knuckles, and Amy all burst in through the wall. Tails flies Nicole up to the controls of the vineyard, Knuckles and Amy begin smashing everyone free, and Sonic heads straight for Charmy's grape, which Eggman watches him smash open in horror, shocked that his evil speech from before didn't break Sonic's spirit. Just shows how much you actually know about your own adversary, huh, Eggman?

Down on the ground, Dr. Quack examines Charmy and determines that he seems stable and was rescued in time to avoid any serious damage. Sally leads everyone out of the building while Tails disconnects Nicole from the mainframe, confused at her comment that she'll be able to explain the full extent of her plan once they're "home."

Sally complains that running away isn't a feasible plan for anyone else besides Sonic, but Tails and Sonic cheerfully reassure her that it's Nicole's plan, much to her confusion. Tails tries briefly to apologize to Sonic for his harsh words back in Freedom HQ, but their conversation is cut short as Eggman appears in front of them, once again clad in his invincible battle suit. He begins zapping large portions of the fleeing crowd, and Sonic leads everyone down an alleyway which turns out to be a dead end. Snively starts trying to get Eggman's attention over the radio, but Eggman shushes him, zapping more and more of the populace away until only Sally, Sonic, and a couple others remain.

With that, everyone but Sonic disappears in another flash of light, and Eggman gloats down at Sonic, mocking him for losing a second time that day. Sonic seems unconcerned and refuses to put up a token resistance, instead happily allowing Eggman to zap him with one last beam of light. Eggman is triumphant, and tells Snively to get ready for his return to the Egg Vineyard, only for Snively to finally be allowed to say his peace - that the teleportation frequency was altered, and the reserve Egg Grapes are totally empty. Eggman is floored, before blasting off from the ground furiously, readying his fleet once more and ordering Snively to track where everyone was taken. Snively is stunned to find that the location seems to be… the nanite city. Only it looks significantly different from how we remember it…

Everyone turns around to find none other than Nicole, fully projected in her lynx form, walking toward them, welcoming them to New Mobotropolis. She's apparently been working on this little project for quite some time in secret, and though she wasn't completely finished with it, now is about the best time possible to reveal it to everyone.

Sally is amazed and grateful, thanking Nicole and the Freedom Fighters on their daring rescue of Knothole's entire populace without a single loss, but Nicole tells her to save her congratulations for later… as right now, they're still not out of the fire. The Egg Fleet is already looming on the horizon, and the next phase of their battle for freedom is about to begin…

So, the obvious thing for me to tackle here is: is this a deus ex machina? Losing their home, only to gain a new, better one back in an instant, with no effort? Well, yes, it is, but I don't think it's bad. I would argue that a long-form story like this is perhaps one of the only cases where such a convenient deus ex machina can actually work without seeming trite. Comics are made up of shorter stories and minor arcs within a much larger plot - even longer arcs, such as the "eras" I've been covering this comic through, aren't organized the way a season of a TV show or anime might be, but are themselves made up of smaller "chunks" of story. It's hard to gracefully change anything significant within just a few issues, but to simply stick to the status quo and not change anything would quickly get boring. I don't know how other comic series handle it - this is the only comic series I've ever read, after all - but the solution that the writers of this series hit upon was to shake things up majorly every fifty issues or so. At the beginning of this era, it involved sending Sonic to space for a convenient one-year time skip, allowing Knothole to be developed and changed significantly from how we remembered it - and now, at the end of the era, it involves shifting the setting from Knothole entirely. We've been based out of Knothole for almost two hundred and fifty goddamn issues, and this is a convenient way to change things up without having to devote a huge chunk of the story to everyone having to find and/or build a new home. Remember, while we're currently reading through these at a rate of one issue per day, these were designed to come out at a rate of one per month. An arc like that would quickly start to feel like it dragged on for far too long when the real appeal of this series is watching Sonic and his allies fight the good fight against Eggman. So ultimately, while this is a very sudden change with no prior foreshadowing, I think it's a good one, considering the type of story we're dealing with. Goodbye, Knothole, and hello New Mobotropolis!

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 176 #writer: ian flynn #pencils: tracy yardley #colors: jason jensen

[jasperygrace]

Let the Moon Bleed

My first written piece to be posted online; it’s a bit exhilarating to finally share my writing to the world. Thank you to Lily who was willing to beta this for me at last second. 

I hope you’ll enjoy.

Synopsis:

A series of murders have taken place within the city of Trin, all of which are seemingly random—except for one key detail. Whenever a victim died, the moon would bleed in response. Jiro Shinizawa and his colleagues are doing their best to solve the case, but how can one solve a murder mystery when there’s no evidence to go on and all their leads turn up dry?

Word Count: 1867 | Genre: Suspense; Supernatural

  Jiro Shinizawa had just arrived at the scene of the crime. An alleyway. It was barricaded by yellow tape and dully illuminated by the lights of sirens. By the scene, he saw a young woman wearing a Peace Corps uniform—his rookie assistant, Shiki Sanaki.

  “Ah detective,” Shiki greeted, “Glad you could make it.”

  “What happened to the guy?” he asked.

  “Lacerations across the torso and the face,” Shiki began. “There’s glass shards embedded along the victim’s skin. We found a broken wine bottle a couple meters from the scene and took it in for evidence.”

  Shinizawa looked up to the sky. There, amongst the black & starless sky, was the moon, bright red cuts were strewn across the surface and chunks could be seen protruding from the bloody gorges as a red liquid dripped from them.

  It mimicked the victim’s wounds.

  “It’s just like all the others.”

  This hadn’t been his first case regarding this phenomenon—there had been countless others before this. All of them shared one common feature: The Moon. Whenever a victim died, the moon would bleed in a similar manner—and this wasn’t just an occurrence in their city of Trin. It was happening worldwide. Folk would wind up dead in the middle of the night, their wounds lining up with those of the moon.

  It was the cause of mass panic—their only clue was displayed clearly above their heads.

  “Has anything else turned up on scene?” Shinizawa asked.

  “Not yet,” Shiki replied. “Knight’s already checking the rest of the vicinity, but if it is like the others, I don’t think he’ll find anything.”

  From the corner of his eye, he could see the freezer truck driving away—the body was on it’s way back to the precinct.

  “Then we’re done here,” Shinizawa stated flatly and turned back the way he came. “Get Knight back here before he causes a scene.”

  “Yessir!”

 ...

  Now begun the waiting game—the crime scene had barely a clue to go on, only the body and the presumable murder weapon.

  “Oi boss, take a look at this.” An officer by the name of Wyatt Knight had rolled his chair over to Shinizawa’s desk and dropped a newspaper on it.

  “I’m not in the mood to read your shitty tabloids, Knight,” the detective spat.

  “Boss, it ain’t a tabloid—it’s the front page.”

  That had piqued his interest, and Shinizawa decided to indulge his subordinate.

  …He really wished he hadn’t.

  The front page had been about the Moon last night, and like the nights before, Trin hadn’t been the only place that had gotten hit—major cities throughout the world had gotten it even worse: Esmerelda, Burgpoint, even the Nicaean capitol. The body counts had been staggering; Trin had been lucky to only have one murder.

  Shiki then appeared from the hallway, file in hand. Her lips were pressed together tightly; it certainly couldn’t have been good news...

  “The results came back from the lab,” she stated.

  Shinizawa leaned forward in his seat. “Yea, and?”

  “The victim died from the lacerations caused by the wine bottle,” then Shiki paused, as if uncertain of speaking more on it.

  “Out with it, Sanaki!”

  “…There were no fingerprints. It’s another dead end.”

  “Damnit!”

  It was just like the others…

  “Jezu, Sanaki, I think you broke the boss…” he heard Wyatt comment. Shinizawa had his head against his desk, ruminating. He wanted to be left alone.

  “Uhm, Detective?” Shiki tapped the top of his head to get his attention. “What do we do now?”

  Truthfully, he had no idea. No fingerprints meant no leads, and no leads meant no investigation. They were stuck. Again.

  “Y’know, they’re practically sending us on a wild goose chase at this point,” Wyatt complained. “One moment, we think we got something—the next, what we got is completely useless.”

  “Maybe we’re just missing something,” Shiki added. “Only problem is what are we missing…”

  Ring ring.

  The conversation halted when the phone on Shinizawa’s desk rang. When he made no movements towards it, Wyatt had picked it up instead.

  “Hellooo~ Boss’s desk.” Then Wyatt’s face went sour as he handed the phone to Shinizawa. “Yea... I think you better handle this one, boss.”

  So he took the phone from him. “This is Shinizawa.” His nose scrunched up in annoyance by the time he hung up.

  “Grab your shit; another body’s turned up.”

  Shiki eyes widened. “What? How can that be? It’s broad daylight out!”

  “Dontcha know, Sanaki?” Wyatt began as they followed the detective out into the hall. “Sometimes you can see the moon during the day.”

 ...

  By the time they got to the new scene, a crowd had already surrounded the police tape.

  “Sure did a shit job keeping bystanders at bay,” Shinizawa spat.

  “What’s so wrong with a crowd? It’s like being the star of a show,” Wyatt teased.

  “We’re not in some TV show,” Shiki scolded. “Can’t you be a little more serious for once?.”

  “Lighten up, Sanaki. You’re getting to be as bad as the boss—”

  “If you two are done with the banter,” their boss cut in as they pushed their way through the crowd, “we’ve got a job to do.”

   Their latest victim had surely passed that morning as the body was still fresh; just faded in the sky had been the moon, it’s bright red gorges only partially visible this time of day.

  It was just like the others.

  “Lacerations just like the previous victim,” said Shiki. “Only difference is there‘s no glass in his flesh.”

  “Found ourselves a pocket knife though,” came Wyatt from the distance. He was toting a plastic bag with a utility knife in it; it’d been covered in blood. “It’s gotta be our murder weapon.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Shinizawa stated. “We’re heading back.”

  He began walking away with Wyatt following him… only Shiki didn’t make any attempt to move. She had just stood there, her eyes transfixed to the sky.

  “Sanaki, we’re leaving,” Shinizawa reaffirmed, but she didn’t move. So he approached her, grabbing her by her shoulder. “Hey, Shiki. You alright?”

  She snapped out of whatever trance she had been in. “Uh—Y-yeah. Sorry, must have been lost in thought.”

  “Then take it easy on the way back, can’t have you drifting on me on the job.”

  “R…Right, sorry. Let’s head back.”

 ...

  The three of them headed back to the precinct, and sent the utility knife to labs to get tested. When the results came back, they once again turned up with nothing. No prints, no leads, therefore no investigation.

  “This is getting ridiculous!” Shinizawa exclaimed. “How can something that clearly had killed the victim not turn up with anything at all?! What did he do, fall on the knife?”

  “Maybe he did. Musta been pretty unlucky too,” Wyatt replied, but he got shot with Shinizawa’s glare. “Whoa, it was just a joke, Boss.”

  “What do we do now, detective?” Shiki asked.

  Frankly, he had no idea. They had nothing to go on, just a growing pile of bodies. He was much more content to lay his head down on his desk and contemplate his life existence.

  “Don’t you think this is all kind of strange?”

  “Huh? Whatcha mean, Sanaki?” Wyatt asked.

  “It just… it’s kind of like we’re chasing a phantom,” she explained. “It’s like you said earlier, Knight. We think we have something, but it turns out to be a dud. It all seems too clean… too coordinated, especially for a single killer to have done.”

  “Think a group’s behind it, then?”

  “Maybe…” but Shiki hadn’t sounded so sure.

  Ring ring.

  Then the phone rang again. When Shinizawa once again made no attempt at it, Shiki decided to answer the phone for him.

  “Hello? Detective Shinizawa’s desk.” Then her face contorted as she handed the phone to the detective. “They’re asking for you…”

  So he took the phone from her. “This is Shinizawa.” By the time he hung up the phone, a silent anger had been radiating off him.

  “Grab your shit.”

  “Jezu! Another one?!” Wyatt complained. “We better get paid overtime for this goose chase!”

 ...

  The sun had just barely set by the time they arrived. The victim had been shot in the head at gunpoint judging by the size of the hole; the moon was quick to scar as soon it bore the image a single, bloodied hole much like the victim’s… it was going to be another bloody night.

  “Strange,” said Shiki, “there’s no murder weapon nearby.”

  “Search the vicinity then,” Shinizawa commanded. “Meet back here in ten; if you find anything before that, use the radios."

  The two officers then went off on their searches, leaving the detective with the body. There’d been lack of any identification on the previous two victims, perhaps this third one might have something on him. He dug around the victim’s pocket, trying to look for a wallet of some kind.

  He found something he wished he hadn’t.

  In the man’s pocket had been a Peace Corps badge, inside held the striking image of their victim when they were alive.

  “Boss, I found something!” he heard Wyatt’s voice over the radio. “I’m heading back your way.”

  When Wyatt had arrived, the two of them shared the same look of distraught.

  “Bad news, boss.” Wyatt began. “I found the gun, but it looks exactly like the ones they issue to Peace Corps officers.”

  “Makes sense,” Shinizawa replied. He held up the victim’s badge. “The guy was an officer.”

  “Wait—you don’t think? Boss, did he shoot himself?”

  Shinizawa looked up at the sky then, a sense of foreboding came from the moon. “Something’s up, and I’m not liking the looks of it.” Then a thought came to mind. “Knight, change the channel.”

  “What—?”

  “On the radio, change the channel.”

  So Wyatt did. They wished he hadn’t.

  Frantic voices from other officers came over the intercom, confused but all saying the same thing.

   “I-I need back up! My partner is injured! He… he just shot himself in the chest…!”

  “We need help, there’s an officer here in critical. Our boss just… she just went berserk and shot at us…!”

  “Knight… Where’s Sanaki?”

  “I-I don’t know! She had gone the opposite direction I did—Whoa boss! Where are you going?!”

  Shinizawa had bolted in the direction Shiki had gone. Something was wrong.

  “Sanaki!!” he yelled, but no response came. “Shiki!! Where the hell are you?!”

  He almost missed the alleyway in his frenzy, almost missed seeing the young woman that stood at the very end of the alley.

  Shiki.

  She was just standing there, motionless.

  “Damnit, Shiki…!” Shinizawa gasped. “You nearly gave me a heart attack—I thought something bad happened to you.”

  But no response.

  “Shiki? Shiki, are you alright?”

  When he approached her was when she began moving. Rigidly. Like something was controlling her body, motioning her towards Shinizawa—he then noticed something in her hand: her handgun.

  “Shiki, put the gun down,” he said to her. “You’re unwell, put the gun down.”

  The moon had seemed to rise some in the sky as it loomed over the area. 

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  Then suddenly, Shiki’s body stopped in its tracks. She raised her handgun.

  But she didn’t point it at Shinizawa.

  She pointed it at her own head.

#short story #flash fiction #writblr #suspense #supernatural #Tales from the Bug Lady #Detective Jiro Shinizawa #Shiki Sanaki #Wyatt Knight #jasper's archive

[splendidcas]

My Supernatural Fandom Research Paper

A/N: this is the draft of my 17 page research paper on the fandom that I am doing for my communications college class! I still have work to do on my results section but it’s almost done! once the final draft is complete, I will be presenting my research at my college’s student symposium! I want to thank all of you who helped me with my research, it means so much!! <33

ALSO feel free to skip the Literature Review; it’s not about SPN, just scholarly literature! 

I also included some screenshots of tweets and posts from the cast that are in my actual paper. tada :) hope yall like it! 

Finally, THIS PAPER IS 17 PAGES LONG SO FAR (in my Pages application). so yeah, feel free to skim or read as much or as little as you like. I just wanted to thank you all again for your help. Love you all <3

the rest is under the cut!

Abstract

This research paper explores the uniqueness of the hit television show Supernatural on The CW, which has been ongoing since 2005, and its fandom. Fans of the show have been labeled as “die-hard” and the cast has engaged in an ongoing relationship with the fandom for the past fourteen years and counting. This paper investigates what about the show and the fandom makes it so unique, as well as what the impact of such a relationship is.

Introduction

Five years ago my mother introduced me to the hit television show Supernatural, and I was instantly hooked. Since then I have participated in fan-created content, made many friends in the fandom, and have been to three Supernatural conventions so far. Through being such an active member of the fandom, I gained extensive knowledge on the show, its cast, and fellow fans. I realized what a unique show and fandom this was, and I began to question what the impact of that would be.

According to dictionary.com, a fandom is “the fans of a particular person, team, fictional series, etc., regarded collectively as a community or subculture.”  Fandoms can also form around TV shows, movies, books, video games, and more. Although many of them share similarities, every fandom is different, and the Supernatural fandom in particular very much stands out from the rest. In fact, they’re not just a fandom; the cast and fans call themselves the “Supernatural Family” due to their close relationship. “Both aca-fans and mainstream media have recognized the increasingly reciprocal relationship between fans and producers, facilitated by internet technologies and social media” (Fandom at the Crossroads, 2). This relationship is certainly unique; for the past 14 years and counting it has led to episodes dedicated to the fans, fan conventions where the fans and cast meet and interact, charity campaigns, scavenger hunts, and more. Needless to say, the cast and fans have been engaged in a constant conversation that has greatly impacted the lives of all who are involved.

Since social media took off, fandom culture has grown significantly and has become an important part of the individual’s lives. For example, fandoms are an example of participatory culture, which “involves fans acting not only as consumers but also as producers and creators of some form of creative media” (Grinnell College). Fans creating art and fiction, also simply known as fan art and fan fiction, are examples of such creative media. Fans are not just fans anymore. They’re no longer simply reading or watching their favorite media; they are becoming a part of the fictional worlds themselves, adding to them by creating their own versions of canons in the worlds. The Supernatural fans are no exception to this; there are currently 328,391 works of Supernatural fan fiction on the fan fiction website Archive of Our Own alone (archiveofourown.org). There are countless works of fan fiction on Tumblr and Wattpad as well. Many fans even bring their fan art to the cast at Supernatural conventions where they can get cast members to sign them.

The relationship between Supernatural fans and cast members is important to note because not only are the fans immersing themselves into the fictional world, engaging with the cast, and dedicating a good chunk of their lives to the show, but also because it has been ongoing since 2005. Jensen Ackles, one of the main actors on the show since the beginning, has even hinted that the show will “keep going for several more years” (TV Guide). This begs the question: What is it about the show that has created such die-hard fans? In addition, what is the impact of such a reciprocal relationship? To conduct such research I plan to use the Uses & Gratifications theory create a survey for Supernatural fans. By using the Uses & Grats theory and conducting a survey I hope to discover what the impact of the relationship between Supernatural fans and the cast members has been, as well as why Supernatural acts as a breeding ground for die-hard fans.

Uses and Gratifications in Fandoms

Elihu Katz provided the foundation for the Uses and Gratifications theory with his work, “Uses and Gratifications Research.” He explains that the theory “begins by specifying needs and then attempts to trace the extent to which they are gratified by the media or other sources” (Katz). In other words, people have needs that need to be met, and they seek to meet and gratify those needs in different medias.  In his work he also provides five basic assumptions of the theory. First, audience members are active, and second, “much initiative in linking need gratification and media choice lies with the audience member” (Katz). In other words, people choose what media to consume; they do not passively wait around for media to find and affect them. Third, different media compete with one another to provide gratification and satisfaction. Fourth, people are self-aware and recognize the needs they seek to be met and can report on them. Fifth, “value judgements about the cultural significance of mass communication should be suspended while audience orientation are explored on their own terms” (Katz). In other words, different medias affect people differently, and judgements toward that concept should not be made.

In the McGraw-Hill textbook A First Look at Communication Theory, Emory A. Griffin does a great job at explaining Katz’ work in simpler terms. He goes on to explain the typology of Uses and Gratifications, or the categories of reasons one might consume a particular type of media. Such categories include: passing time, companionship, escape, enjoyment, social interaction, relaxation, information, and excitement.

Other scholars have chosen to take Uses & Gratifications even further by combining it with other factors and theories. By doing this, it becomes easier to get more specific in terms of why audience members choose the media they do. For example, Roger Cooper and Tang Tang in their article “Predicting Audience Exposure to Television in Today’s Media Environment” combined seven structural variables with Uses & Grats and turned it into a model of audience exposure. Such variables include internet, audience availability, the cost of multi-channel service, age, instrumental motivations, and gender (Cooper, Tang). In other words, these variables influence and affect what a person is going to choose to watch, read and engage with. A woman who is 25 years old might not be watching the same thing as a 75-year-old man because of the age difference, gender difference, or because perhaps they cannot afford a multi-channel service while the elder can. Scholars Gildasio Dos Santos, Michael Kotowski and Jake Hardwood expand on the gender variable in their article “Television and Gratification: The Role of Sex in Predicting Media Uses and Gratifications and Television Programs.” Gender plays more of an important role in the uses and gratifications of a media than one might think. The article cites research that found that women have a “greater tendency than men to have an empathetic and accommodating attitude towards situations in which characters struggle with an issue” (Dos Santos, Kotowski, Harwood, 9). Therefore one can draw the conclusion that women are more drawn to certain genres of television and certain television shows than men. Given that the Supernatural fandom is mostly women, this is an interesting aspect to note in my research.

Another possible variable in why someone chooses a certain media is race. Jessica R. Abrams discusses in her article “African Americans’ Television Activity” the reasons why African Americans select certain television programs and what they may get out of it in contrast to caucasians. Results found that caucasians and African Americans had different gratifications for selecting television.

Uses & Grats is deeply psychological, and it is important to note research about the psychological aspects of the theory. Alan M. Rubin argues in his article “The Uses-and-Gratifications Perspective of Media Effects” that dependency on media is a big factor in  consuming certain medias. He says, “Dependency on a particular medium results from the motives we have to communicate, the strategies we use to obtain gratifications, and the restricted availability of functional alternatives.” Any of these factors may result in a dependency on media. If someone doesn’t have any other alternative to communicate or receive a certain gratification, they resort to depending on a media to get it (Rubin). Continuing with the psychological perspective of Uses & Grats, authors Mark Galauner, Michael Beatty, Jill Red and David Atkin did a study combining the personality traits of extraversion, neuroticism, and psychoticism to see if there were any connections between them. The article discusses research conducted that found that “ extraversion and psychotics both appear to reject most of the ‘traditionally identified’ television viewing motivations” and that neuroticism “represents the strongest predictor of media use” (Atkin, Beatty, Galauner, Red). In other words, those who showed extraversion and/or psychoticism were less likely to engage in television use than those who showed neuroticism.

One model that has been combined with the Uses & Grats theory is the MAIN model, which stands for modality, agency, interactivity, and navigability. Scholars Chamil Rathnayake and Jenifer Winter used the MAIN model to conduct research on 383 college students and social media use. They explain that the MAIN model argues that “distinctive gratifications can emerge from new media affordances.” Modality is the way the media is presented, agency recognizes the ability of users to be able to contribute to media, interactivity relates to the interaction with and on a medium, and navigability is “the affordance that allows user movement through the medium” (Rathnayake and Winter, 374). Shyam Sundar and Anthony Limperos also use the MAIN model to find out if new technologies bring out new gratifications in consumers. Technology itself is a gratification, and the article found that more and newer technologies bring about more gratifications.

An extremely important aspect of the Uses & Grats theory is parasocial relationships, or an “ongoing, one-sided bond with a media figure” (ThoughtCo). Parasocial relationships are important because they are a driving force of why many engage with a certain media over and over again. Scholars Sarah Erickson, Kristen Harrison and Sonya Dal Cin wrote a journal article which explores romantic parasocial relationships that adolescents in particular have, called ARPA. Although APRA is largely ignored by scholars, the authors argue that they have a great impact on the lives of adolescents. To discover just what the impact of those relationships might be, scholars Riva Tukachinsky and Sybilla M. Dorros did a research study and found that APRAs created an idealized relationship that led to disappointment in real-life relationships. A journal article by Bradley J. Bond argues that parasocial relationships are even more important among adolescents who are members of the LGBTQ+ community. Such members may experience trouble forming real-life bond as well as expressing themselves to others. This is perhaps why they form such strong and continuous parasocial bonds with certain characters. One study by Jhih-Syuan Lin, Kuan-Ju Chen and Yongjun Sung in “Understanding the Nature, Uses and Gratifications of Social Television” found that when an audience is attached to a character, they become attached and loyal to the program. When audiences are loyal to a program, they then inadvertently become loyal to the television network.

One example of using a Uses & Grats approach to parasocial relationships is Alan M. Rubin discussing the parasocial relationships between talk radio hosts and listeners. He also discusses the impact of the relationship, as well as what the attraction and motivation of the listeners are. Rubin found that parasocial interaction with a talk radio host “should lead to greater talk radio exposure, should lead to increased information acquisition, [and] should positively predict perceptions of attitudinal and behavioral effects in line with a host’s expressed opinions” (Rubin, 640).

Scholars Darrin Brown, Sharon Lauricella, Aziz Douai, and Arshia Zaidi used a Uses & Grats approach to discover what it is about crime dramas that attract so many viewers, similar to what I would like to do with the Supernatural fandom. They fond that “frequency of viewing crime dramas was a statistically significant predictor for only full gratification and curiosity/information” (Brown, Douai, Lauricella, Zaidi, 1). Using this theory can reveal just how impactful media is; it affects the way we perceive real-life events as well as real-life relationships.

Method

In order to conduct my research with the Uses & Gratifications theory, I will be conducting a survey to gather the data necessary to discover the impact, uniqueness and perseverance of the Supernatural fandom. To discover this, many questions must be asked and answers must be sorted into categories, thus a survey makes for the easiest and most sensible method. I will be using SurveyMonkey to conduct my survey and will post it to Tumblr for several reasons. First, a very large portion of the Supernatural fandom engages with each other and with Supernatural content on the blogging website. Second, Supernatural fans on Tumblr are very willing to participate in surveys that have to do with the show, as I have discovered in the past with previous surveys. Third, as I have experienced in my 8+ years on Tumblr, it seems to have an extremely diverse group of users, and by posting my survey there I hope to gain more diversity in my sample.

My survey will first begin with a series of closed-ended questions, including age, gender (male, female, non-binary, or other), ethnicity, and sexuality. I want to include such questions because they give me reassurance that I am getting a diverse sample, and also because the answers to these questions could have an impact on the reasons they watch Supernatural and engage with the fandom. My survey will then move to open-ended questions. I realize open-ended questions may cause participants to stray, however I feel comfortable asking open-ended questions because the fans are generally very willing to participate in anything Supernatural-related, even surveys. I also feel I will get the most helpful responses through open-ended questions. I will begin with asking perhaps the most important question: “Why do you watch Supernatural?” After gathering answers to this question specifically, I will categorize them based on the answers I receive. The next open-ended questions include: “Why did you get involved in the SPN fandom?”, “Do you participate in any fan-created content (fan art, fan fiction, etc.)?”, “Have you ever been to a convention? If yes, briefly describe why and what your experience was like”, “Has Supernatural and the fandom impacted your life? If yes, briefly explain how”, and “What do you think makes Supernatural and its fandom so unique from the rest?”.

Results

After posting my survey to Tumblr and letting it run for the course of about 24 hours, I received a total of 515 respondents, though that number varies slightly among the survey questions.

My survey found that out of 508 respondents, 39.8% were between the ages of 18 and 24. 25.8% of respondents were between 25 and 35, 22.2% were under 18, 8.3% were between 35 and 45, 3.0% were between 44 and 55, and 0.98% were 55 or older. These results show that, while the majority of fans are younger, Supernatural attracts fans of all ages.

Next, out of 513 respondents, 92.4% answered that they identified as female. 2.34% identified as male, 4.5% identified as non-binary, and 0.8% identified as other. This clearly shows that the vast majority of the fandom identifies as female. This is interesting to note and can lead to many suppositions as to why this might be.

513 respondents answered the question about their ethnicity. 81.3% of respondents were white or caucasian. 13.1% were Hispanic or Latino, 4.5% were Asian or Asian American, 3.3% answered that they were another race, 1.2% were Black or African American, 1.8% were American Indian or Alaska Native, and 1% were Native Hawaiian or another Pacific Islander. 

Out of 513 respondents, 39.8% identified as heterosexual. 37.4% identified as bisexual, 8.6% identified as other, 7.8% identified as asexual. 2.9% identified as gay or lesbian, and 3.7% said they preferred not to say. These results show that the majority of fans were either heterosexual or bisexual, but there were also many fans who varied among the spectrum of sexuality.

The next question I asked respondents was the first open-ended question of the survey, asking “Why do you watch Supernatural?” and it received 514 responses. Based on the answers I received, I created eight categories of Uses and Gratifications that most respondents said got from the show. The categories were: Actors, Characters, Community, Escapism, Hope. Attractiveness of Actors, Humor, Mythology, Storyline About Family. The most popular answer for as to why they watch Supernatural, which was given by 45.5% of respondents, fell under the Characters category. Many said that over the years they had grown attached to the characters. One respondent said, “I love the characters like my own kids.” Many also responded that they loved the relationships between the characters on the show and watching them interact.

The second most popular response fell under the Mythology category, with 27% of respondents. The show involves stories about monsters, lore, angels, demons, God himself, Satan himself, and more. Many respondents seemed to find that concept extremely intriguing because not many other shows go into depth with mythology like Supernatural does.

The third most popular response, with 22% of respondents, fell under the Storyline About Family category. Several respondents said that they enjoyed that the main storyline of the show was about family because there weren’t many other shows like that. One respondent said they felt like the characters were their family now, too. Another respondent answered, “It [Supernatural] taught me more about love, friendship, and family more than anything or anyone else in my life.” Someone else also said, “It [the show] just feels like home.” Based on these answers, I have concluded that the familial storyline is one major reason as to why the show has grown so popular; it seems to have provided a family to viewers as well.

9.5% of respondents answered that the show gave them hope, falling under the Hope category. Here are some quotes from several respondents to show this and give insight as to why this is: “It [the show] makes me believe in myself again,” “These two brothers fighting against everything makes me know I can fight whatever I’m going through and overcome it,” and “I watch Supernatural because it is, in almost a way, perfect. It’s people learning to live with their demons. It’s people trying to make the world a better place. It’s finding family and love and acceptance, and a place to belong. It’s about never giving up. It’s about carrying on.” For the remaining categories, 16.9% said they watched for the actors, falling under the Actors category. 12.7% said they watched the show as a form of Escapism, 7.8% fell under the Community category, meaning they watch because they have found a community within the show and its fandom, 7.4% fell under the Humor category, and finally, 6.2% fell under the Attractiveness of Actors category, meaning they watched the show because they found the actors good-looking. Based on these results, there are many reasons as to why people watch Supernatural. However it it seems that it is mostly because it is about a family who battles demons, both literal and metaphorical, and the show has provided fantastic, lovable characters played by equally lovable actors through that storyline.

The next open-ended question I asked was “Why did you decide to get involved with the Supernatural fandom?” This question received 514 respondents, and I broke the responses down into 10 categories: More Content,  Actors/Charity, Boredom, Community, Fanfiction/Fanart, Inclusion/Acceptance, Frequent Postings, Enjoyment of Show, Recommendation, Support, and Same Interests. The More Content category means that fans joined the fandom as a way to get more content for the show, whether that be through fan-created content, discussion of the show, gifs, and more. The Actors/Charity category means that respondents got involved with the fandom because of the actors and/or the charities they created. The Boredom category is for those fans who got involved with the fandom simply because they had nothing else to do. The Community category was for those who joined because they wanted to be a part of a new community and to make new friends. The Fanfiction/Fanart category means that respondents saw the fan-created content and decided to join in themselves. The Inclusion/Acceptance category, as well as the Support category, were for the fans who joined based off of the reputation that the fandom has for being accepting, welcoming, and supportive. The category of Frequent Postings means that respondents said they got involved because Supernatural and the fandom’s posts “kept popping up everywhere on Instagram and Tumblr,” as many respondents said, so they decided to give it a try themselves. Enjoyment of Show was for respondents who got involved with the fandom simply because they liked the show. The Recommendation category means that respondents got involved based off of a recommendation to do so from a family member or friend. Finally, the Same Interests category was for respondents who said that they joined the fandom in order to discuss the show with people who had the same interests as them.

The most popular response, with 18.9% of respondents, was Same Interests. As one respondent put it, “I loved the idea of being part of a community of people who are so passionate about a show.” Next, the categories of Frequent Postings and Community tied with 14.4%. For Frequent Postings, one respondent said, “I just wanted to understand all the references on Tumblr.” It seems that, based on the responses, the fandom took over a large part of Tumblr, leaving little room for non-fans to escape. For the Community category, many joined because they had heard about the fandom and wanted to be a part of a community of people with a “reputation for being a brilliant fandom to be a part of,” as one respondent put it. Another respondent said they had “never felt a part of anything in [their] life until the show and the fandom came along.” The next most popular category was Fanfiction/Fanart, with 14.2% of respondents. The remaining categories were Recommendation with 10.9%, 9.9% with Enjoyment of Show, 8.8% with Inclusion/Acceptance, 7.4% with Actors/Charity, 6% with More Content, 5.5% with Support, and 2.3% with Boredom. Based on these results, it can be concluded that fans got involved with the fandom for a wide variety of reasons, but mostly because they wanted to meet and talk to people who shared similar interests.

The following question I asked was, “Do you participate in any fan-created content (fan art, fan fiction, etc.)? If so, please describe your participation.” The fandom is so widespread, and I wanted to know how many were participating in fan-created content because that shows what an impact Supernatural has had on its fans’ lives. As said before, they are not simply watching the television show and moving on with their lives. Instead, they create their own canons within the Supernatural world. This question had 505 respondents and answers were divided into 4 categories: Creator, meaning they themselves create content, Consumer, meaning they do not create themselves but consume the content created by others, Both Create and Enjoy, and No, for those who did not participate in any fan-created content. The majority of respondents were Creators, with 30.3%. 28.9% were Consumers, 17% fell under Both Create and Enjoy, and 16.4% said No. Based on these results, one can conclude that the vast majority of the fandom is participating in some way, shape or form in fan-created content. What this means is that they are letting the show take up a larger portion of their lives than they would if they only simply watched the show and then left it alone. It also means that the majority of fans are creating for/because of/based off of the show, which is significant because they may be enhancing their own creativity and skills just because of a television show.

I also asked participants if they had ever been to a Supernatural convention. These conventions are expensive and the price goes up every year, so I assumed many people would answer No. However I wanted to ask anyway for the fans that had been to a convention in order to get a sense of what the experience was like for them. 85% of respondents said they had never been to a Supernatural convention, and the vast majority of them said they wanted to if they could afford it. 15.5% said they had, and almost every single one of those respondents answered that it was a very positive experience. Many of these respondents also said they had been to multiple conventions. One respondent said, “I have been to MinnCon and it was AMAZING!! Meeting them [the cast], listening to stories, taking pictures with them [the cast]…it was heaven.” Another respondent said, “I met a lot of great people from all around the world.” Another respondent also said, “Rich and Rob [cast members] put on an amazing show for us, Louden Swain [the cast band] rocked the concert, and all of the actors are just so fun and funny you can’t help but have an amazing time.” One respondent even said it was the best experience they’ve ever had. These answers are important to note because, based off of them, it can be concluded that Supernatural is greatly impacting and changing lives. Fans are saving up money to go to expensive conventions in order to be able to interact with the cast in a more intimate way that not many other fandoms do. For example, one person said they went to a meet and greet with Jensen Ackles, and they said they “got to tell him how much [they] appreciate him to his face.”

The following question I asked respondents was, “Has Supernatural and the fandom impacted your life? If so, briefly explain how.” Out of 510 respondents, only 37 of them said that they had not been impacted, meaning that 92% of respondents had been impacted and in a positive way. Many mentioned Jared Padalecki, another main character of the show, and his charity campaign Always Keep Fighting that he ran in 2015 in an effort to bring awareness to mental health, as he suffers from depression himself. 

Above is a screenshot of a Facebook post Jared made back in 2015 when the campaign was still running. Those who mentioned Jared and the campaign said that the campaign improved their mental health and has given them hope on a daily basis. Some said that it, the show, and the fandom saved their lives. One respondent said, “Someone that I hold very near and dear to my heart is Jared. I 100% believe that if it weren’t for him, his character Sam, and the Always Keep Fighting campaign, I wouldn’t be here today.” Below are several more quotes from other respondents that show what an amazing impact the show, its actors, and the fandom have made on the lives of fans:

“It’s made me feel welcome when I’ve felt like an outcast. It’s given me focus when I felt untethered. It’s given me a family when I’ve felt alone. For those reasons and so many more, I owe Supernatural and its fandom so much. More than I can say.”

“The actors have impacted me a lot with what they’ve done for the world and that they talk about things not everyone else does. It makes me feel accepted, and I don’t get that often.”

“The characters have flaws and the series shows the it’s okay to be different or not alright, but it’s always important to get help…this show makes me want to keep fighting.”

In addition, below is a tweet made in 2018 by Misha Collins, the third main character of the show.

The final question I asked respondents was the open-ended question, “What do you think makes the Supernatural fandom so unique?” Although I did not categorize these answers or look at all of them because there were 510 long responses, many respondents said similar things. One answer many provided was the fact that the show has been around for so long and yet still has such active, passionate members. As one respondent put it, “It has survived for over ten years and still has a following. Most other fandoms lose steam or just die in that amount of time. But even during weaker seasons, the fandom lives on…” Another popular answer for this question was the fact that it is more than a fandom, it is more like a family composed of not only fans but cast members as well. A respondent said, “What makes Supernatural and its fandom so unique from others is that we are a tightly-knitted family that was started by people who just wanted to do some good in the world. Supernatural is so unique because the characters we see on screen…are real, kind, selfless people…We see that the actors who play those characters we look up to possess those same virtues and qualities. What makes people so dedicated to Supernatural and its fandom is the fact that nothing is fake, even if you take away the movie magic. The fandom has built itself into something more: a family.” Below are several more quotes from different respondents discussing the Supernatural Family phenomenon:

“I think that it’s a fandom for people who find themselves lost, and together we’ve made a home for ourselves. We help each other learn and grow into better people. Other fandoms don’t seem to be as much of a family as we do and I think that’s what makes us special.”

“This show is special because of how much interaction we have with all the actors; they are constantly saying how much they love the fandom and family.”

“The fandom feels more like a family than a group of strangers fawning over the same thing (a very, VERY huge family, of course) and we’ve all bonded deeply over the years while seeing these characters we love suffer time and time again and yet always emerge more or less intact and ready to keep fighting.”

“When we are at our best, we operate like a family. The actors will ask fans one on one how they’re doing and if they’re okay. Friends who were strangers before the show have saved each other’s lives. We keep hope alive for each other when we don’t have any.”

“We accept everyone as is. We are voca, about mental health. We are supportive of each other. We are a family. Not a fandom.”

All of these quotes by respondents and the cast members show how significant and positive the impact of the show and the relationship between the fans and actors have been on so many, especially in terms of mental health. All of these are proof that the Supernatural fandom is not just a fandom: it’s the Supernatural Family, and it will continue for years to come.

----------------------------------------

tagging those who were interested: @mrscasnovak @dammitsammy @unisaursarethebest @ezilyamuzed @tardis-impala-bakerst-221 @supernatural-bellawinchester @iammsamy

#supernatural #spn #spn family #supernatural family #spn fandom #shannons college adventures

[berniesrevolution]

There are so many bad opinions crammed into this single Wall Street Journal op-ed by Yale professor David Gelernter that I cannot hope to address them within the finite period of a human lifespan. Primarily, Gelernter  argues that hatred of Donald Trump is hatred of America. Here is a large chunk of the op-ed for you to read and enjoy with me:

Every big U.S. election is interesting, but the coming midterms are fascinating for a reason most commentators forget to mention: The Democrats have no issues. The economy is booming and America’s international position is strong. In foreign affairs, the U.S. has remembered in the nick of time what Machiavelli advised princes five centuries ago: Don’t seek to be loved, seek to be feared. The contrast with the Obama years must be painful for any honest leftist. For future generations, the Kavanaugh fight will stand as a marker of the Democratic Party’s intellectual bankruptcy, the flashing red light on the dashboard that says “Empty.” The left is beaten. For now, though, the left’s only issue is “We hate Trump.” This is an instructive hatred, because what the left hates about Donald Trump is precisely what it hates about America. The implications are important, and painful. Not that every leftist hates America. But the leftists I know do hate Mr. Trump’s vulgarity, his unwillingness to walk away from a fight, his bluntness, his certainty that America is exceptional, his mistrust of intellectuals, his love of simple ideas that work, and his refusal to believe that men and women are interchangeable. Worst of all, he has no ideology except getting the job done. The difference between citizens who hate Mr. Trump and those who can live with him—whether they love or merely tolerate him—comes down to their views of the typical American: the farmer, factory hand, auto mechanic, machinist, teamster, shop owner, clerk, software engineer, infantryman, truck driver, housewife. The leftist intellectuals I know say they dislike such people insofar as they tend to be conservative Republicans. Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama know their real sins. They know how appalling such people are, with their stupid guns and loathsome churches. They have no money or permanent grievances to make them interesting and no Twitter followers to speak of… In truth they are dumb as sheep. Mr. Trump reminds us who the average American really is… He might be realigning the political map: plain average Americans of every type vs. fancy ones. [T]he Trump-hater truly does hate the average American—male or female, black or white. Often he hates America, too.

My God! Where does one start? I suppose it’s futile to insist that despite writing a book on what a loathsome person Donald Trump is, I do not, in fact, hate America. Or to point out that there are many people who dislike Trump and go to church. Or to show that there’s no such thing as having your “only ideology” be “getting the job done,” because everything depends on which job you choose to do. Or to note that there are many extremely valid reasons to be horrified by Trump, like his intentionally malicious immigration policies and his deadly and irresponsible rejection of climate science. Or to deconstruct this idea of the “average American,” who always seems to be a goddamn farmer. (Besides, there are countless farmers, machinists, and factory hands who also think the president is a cruel and stupid man.) Perhaps I might note that I like vulgarity and bluntness, mistrust intellectuals, and enjoy Simple Ideas That Work. (Though I do find “American Exceptionalism” to be a downright silly notion. The only respect in which America is exceptional is that it is exceptionally convinced of its own exceptionalism.)

The whole assumption here, that there is a thing called “the left” and it is associated with Hillary Clinton, is just remarkably off-base. Gelernter does make one accurate observation, which is that the Democratic Party has lost touch with working-class people. But you know who else makes that extremely common observation over and over? The left! Bernie Sanders! Thomas Frank wrote a whole book about how this happened! Conservatives frequently conflate “the left” and “the leaders of the national Democratic Party,” which is false. It’s true that those Democrats have “no issues.” But here in New Orleans, there are DSA activists campaigning constantly for Medicare for All, serious immigration reform, a comprehensive climate policy, debt-free college tuition, etc. No issues? Are you serious? Have you read the full Black Lives Matter policy platform? Have you seen what Larry Krasner is doing? The left cares about a ton of really important things! (In an amusing twist, I actually think it’s Gelernter the Yale Professor who is out of touch with the reality of the country.)

But look: I spend a lot of time pointing out that bad conservative arguments are bad. So much so that people sometimes accuse me of shooting fish in a barrel. (Although fish are not entitled to clemency merely because they happen to inhabit a barrel.) This is the Wall Street Journal op-ed page, what do you expect?

I’m kind of alarmed, though, by just how far apart Gelernter and my worldviews are. I do not buy the idea that “too much partisanship” is the problem with American politics. But it is strange that this guy can see as completely self-evident something that to me seems completely absurd. Readers know that here at Current Affairs, we are all about dialogue and debate. But sometimes it really does feel as if we are living on completely different planets. To me, Donald Trump is obviously a corrupt and greedy sociopath. To Gelernter, he’s the spirit of America. (Though in one sense I do notnecessarily dispute that.)

For the most part, my leftist friends do not take Wall Street Journal subscriptions, because they think it’s not worth reading. I disagree, because the WSJ is actually the most Marxist publication in the country (in that it believes wealth, rather than ideas, rules the world) and it’s a good way of tracking what the capitalists are up to. I understand why you’d write off the op-ed page completely. But part of me is still incredulous that an article this delusional can appear in the pages of a major newspaper.

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #current affairs #partisanship #Donald Trump

[naijamp33-blog]

13 Tips for Learning Unusual Dialects

foreign music download Depending on typically the language you want for you to find out there may end up being thousands of books, Compact discs or tools out presently there (if you're lucky) to help help you study often the language. Don't be used up along with buy anything just but.

foreign music download

1 ) First you need to do some research. Analysis the books, and elements best suited to your personal needs. How would you do that will? Well the easiest approach is always to go online in addition to visit the greatest purchasing sites that sell textbooks, CD's and multimedia; consumers often leave feedback with items they have acquired. Browse the feedback and pretty swiftly you should always be able to determine what exactly guides or materials usually are best fitted to your requires. On the other side, you may not neet to purchase anything at all. Several libraries have a very foreign vocabulary section and they will probably enable you to borrow their stuff at no cost. In addition, a number of websites like speakingjamaican. com can also offer you a free of charge head start in the actual language or dialect you need to learn. If you tend to be a student, who will be within high school or strategies to go to school, (or happen to be in college) you can ask any teachers' opinion on exactly what books/materials are best appropriate for learning your own unknown language (of choice). Pupils could also consider getting the spanish, of curiosity, as part of their particular program.

Another very significant point to recall if learning some overseas 'languages' is that there are usually dialects and forms regarding the terminology and that they vary by country or even by region. You really should choose dialect you would like to learn to chat. Here is a basic example: some sort of dialect coming from "country A" may definitely not be understood in region B, C or Deb even though it will be classified because the same words. On the other give, a different dialect spoken inside "country E" may possibly be understood by simply all different countries. What's the purpose that the dialect involving "country E" is commonly understood (by other countries)? Well it may become widely recognized because most or most of the particular shows, music or enjoyment could possibly be produced in in which country (country E), as a result the dialect is usually generally understood in all typically the some other countries. A foreigner planning to learn the dialect can be better off mastering the idiom of "country E" as it is far more widely understood. Yet another thing in order to remember is that, throughout some international languages, a new huge variation with vernacular should not be a issue since learning often the standard form of the actual language should ensure this you are generally understood by means of all indigène speakers.

ALRIGHT other techniques for learning unusual languages usually are:

2. Listen closely to foreign language tunes and watch foreign vocabulary television, even when at 1st the language all of looks like "one big very long word. " By enjoying the programs, you'll understand new words. Some thoughts have a way connected with jumping out there at an individual and sticking with anyone even if you in the beginning have no idea whatever they mean. With time, you actually can learn just what these kinds of words mean through questioning a native phone speaker, wondering at school or perhaps by way of self study. Should you retain listening to foreign new music or watching foreign terminology tv set, in time the particular "one huge word" will certainly begin to sound just like "smaller word chunks" as well as eventually you ought to be able to be able to tell where one particular expression begins and an additional comes to an end even if you no longer understand the actual word(s) suggest. Later on, it is possible to look their meanings.

a few. Many people spend their moment listening to the noises of these native language regardless of whether it's good news, music or maybe by conntacting friends. Which how you figured out your current native language; simply by playing. Spend less of energy hearing to your native words and try to load as much of your own personal world, as possible, having the seems of typically the foreign language you desire to discover. You could do this by listenening for you to language tapes, above and over again in a car. Try to be fun and definitely participate by simply repeating that which you hear upon the tape. Continuing often the words helps both along with pronunciation and memorization. It is crucial repitition. If you consider a coach or cab, invest in the audio player (tip: you can certainly match more mp3 content for a passing fancy CD) and help to make your own mp3's when possible. If mp3's tend to be out of the query then opt for Compact disks, computer software or cassettes.

several. Try listening to help foreign language tags with home also. It's very best to employ headphones mainly because you get the total effect of a indigenous subwoofer speaking into your personal ear. Moreover, with earphones you hear the actual intricacies of the language far better. In addition, if a person decide to leave the space (or go outside) the particular headphones will still end up being on your hearing and also the speaker will continue to be discussing directly directly into your ear.

a few. Some sort of lot of the previously mentioned methods require listening resources. Listening along with imitating is definitely the way an individual discovered your native dialect since a child and is actually therefore a great way to come to be proficient in a completely new vocabulary. But there are usually other materials you should utilize in order to complement your rigorous being attentive exercises. These could contain books, flash cards, software. Books are especially critical if the language, you need to learn, would not work with the English alphabet (Roman alphabet). The written concept would help in circumstances when you can find words anyone have difficulty pronouncing, deciphering or understanding.

6th. Since mentioned earlier, another support to learning a unknown terminology are movies. Unknown language films with english language subtitles are desired. In the event that you can turn typically the subtitles off (as you actually can in many DVD MOVIE titles) then you can definitely watch often the movie with in addition to with no the subtitles to check your understanding.

7. To find out a foreign words a person have to completely involve oneself in that lifestyle for amounts of time (whether by music, videos, television as well as by visiting somebody who have speaks the language).

7. Visiting the country the location where the foreign language, you wish to learn, will be spoke is also a extremely good solution to learn the actual language. Pretty logically, the particular longer travel the considerably more you will learn. In the event you have others who all mainly converse the overseas language then you may be forced to study and communicate in typically the language.

9. Some international which have use a distinct alphabet method, different phonetics and the agreement associated with the letters do not really constantly follow the A new to Unces formula. As a result, by finding out their symbol, phonetics as well as alphabet buy you'll not simply increase your pronunciation but in addition manage to use a thesaurus.

10. Over time after researching intensively, likely to begin to be able to ask yourself "what will be the word for such and also such". At this period a small bank account size dictionary becomes a vital application. With a foreign dialect book, you'll be in a position to quickly find often the word, devote it for you to memory along with satisfy your own mind's interest.

11. Move over the basics every once in awhile. Never assume or explain to yourself "I already realize that in order to skip that. " You could be surprised to help find that searching on things from a brand new perspective you'll gain fresh insight on something an individual thought you had previously learned.

12. Take arrives when it is necessary but don't keep away a long time because is actually easy to forget the things you have learned.

13. Close friends who will be native speakers regarding the spanish are additionally an essential resource. Act as around them especially whenever they are talking other folks in their native is usually a. Even if you have a tendency understand initially you can increasing your listening skills. One particular important thing you may possibly come to recognize while learning a foreign vocabulary is that some terms although they are spelt together with a particular letter, which letter may possibly fall noiseless when talked in many countries while in additional countries it is evident. Essential thing to take into account is that despite the fact that the word may be spelt using a letter and that will letter includes a particular seem in uk, in one more language that very same page may have a several appear. Those are any few of the causes why getting around local speakers might help improve your current foreign language skills by means of leaps and bounds; certainly not to mention the ethnical tips you'll learn which usually a book, CD, cassette or teacher probably is just not protect. Friends are furthermore great assets because many people can give insight which help you with the connotations in addition to usuage of words and phrases.

[seenashwrite]

Changes for Nash

I'm going to be pulling back the time I spend on here in various ways, and if you'd like to know in what ways you can find the basic scoop below the cut.

To new followers - I hate that you've arrived just in time to see this, but I must hit “pause” and look after myself. Story-wise (and otherwise!) there's quite a bit of original content to peruse, so I hope this will satisfy you for the time being.

To all of the Nashooligans  - please understand this does not mean I won't still post things and queue things. I've got a ton of stuff in drafts (thank you notes, replies, feedback, etc.) that will get posted in due time. I'm not disappearing. I'm not dropping the friendships I've made and the chats we have/the things we share/etc., nor a couple of challenges I agreed to and the side-blog projects I’ve committed to work on with others.

For those of you who don't read further, I'll close for you with a heartfelt...

Much lurve - Nash.

What’s changing / stopping:

I've been doing some purging offline, and now have starting doing some purging online. As there are many of you I consider friends and as I have a good chunk of devoted readers/participants in my shenanigans around here, I feel I owed you the scoop on what's changing (at least for now). 

The TL;DR is that “major” original content (things that require great time investment) are not going to be making an appearance for the near future.

So, here are the things related to how I am choosing to spend my time in the context of my activity in the world of fanfic/SPN for the future/near future:

.

* Some projects are indefinitely on hold and some projects are cancelled altogether (see freshly updated Works In Progress post); I will fulfill my remaining challenge commitments as promised, and while perhaps it will be more abbreviated than normal, I will do my best not to kick out anything less than what y’all expect from me creativity-wise

* I've pulled everything from FF.net - the user end is too cumbersome, I'm tired of wasting time on it. I've left everything up on AO3, no plans to take it down from there. I've actually been going through the works there and editing formatting that slipped through the cracks. One thing I am doing is ceasing with adding cute images to stuff, simply not willing to spend the time on it; I may or may not remove the things for which images are necessary to understanding references in a story; we'll see

* Speaking of images - and videos and gifs and whatnots - no more any time soon; I promised one to someone and that’s already done, it’ll be stuck in the Q

* The Nail is on indefinite hold, very possibly will no longer happen; I may whip up an abbreviated version with the fics I had prepped for the next edition, or I'll individually reblog them - priority going to those with less than 100 notes - with brief versions of my usual in depth commentary as time permits; we'll see

* CASPN has been a commitment of mine each week > 1 year, minus the 3 weeks or so absence in the fall due to an injury that resulted in an unexpected hospital stay; I know this is a favorite weekly "break" for a good handful of you; I think I just need my own break. I know for sure I'm no longer able/willing to work on the decks, it is likely more of a time-suck than people realize to comb scripts, get the format for workable Qs and As right, maintain the whole shebang, etc.; bottom line: I just don't know. Like I say, I think I need a hiatus. Maybe until the season premiere. I'll keep thinking about it, let you know on Thursday where I'm at.

* The couple of side blog endeavors I’m pleased to be part of will still keep happening, I committed to it and I’m not gonna leave y’all in a lurch. Plus, that stuff’s fun, and not being in charge of ‘em means less stress and less time consumption

* Having said that, I won't be finishing up the substantial behind-the-scenes work I’ve already done on the SPN Theft Watch blog that is still in construction mode; I'm not deleting it, I'm just not willing to invest time in it right now. I still have several outstanding issues to deal with regarding the personal theft that came over to Tumblr and the reblogs that still have not been deleted. There are a few I still need to give a second notice to; the ones who have now ignored me after 2x, I'm reporting

* I won't be taking on "Dear Nash" things that ask for writing advice, offering up the "Dear Nash: Script Doctor Edition" option, re-blogging any of my writing tips; to the Nonners who asked for a complete master post of such, and the Nonners who asked for a post on how to give and accept critique, I'm putting those on the back burner as well; I also won't be passing along writing tips from professionals; basically nothing under the umbrella of “advice” [ETA: I have done this once since this post (months later) and it went okay. Will consider doing again]

ETA - Neglected to mention that I’ve had an idea for a gift for y’all when/if I hit 1K followers - the “materials” have been accumulating in a bookmark folder - and it’s unlike anything/any concept I’ve seen during my tenure in the fandom. It may take awhile, but I do still plan on doing it.

And if you care to know more scoop about the why... well, the “why” of the tipping point(s) that made me seriously ponder on what I’ve been feeling for awhile now... that’s on a page I made here. 

(Spoiler alert: I’m not angry, there’s no hurt fee-fees, it’s just realization about what I choose to spend my time on and what I get out of those things, how much joy it would bring me and how that’s shifted.)

#Nash Alerts The Populous #The Nashooligans #Nash Ponders #Nash Makes Changes #time management #life balance #perspective #priorities #Queueby Dooby Doo #Dad's on a blog post and #he hasn't been queued in a few days

[arecomicsevengood]

Hellboy

Dark Horse has begun reprinting Mike Mignola’s Hellboy comics in omnibus editions, $25 paperbacks collecting work which previously appeared in forms that seemed priced too high for the amount of enjoyment I thought likely I’d get out of it. While Mignola has made images I have thought looked cool before, probably the most visible aspect of his work has been the covers he has provided to various serializations and collections of work in his shared universe, and the visual aesthetic of these images, repeated over time, is very difficult  to distinguish one work from another. Title characters pose portrait style in shadowy tableaus evoking a gothic atmosphere. When flipping through the pages, and not really reading, the way he honed his style down to something minimal often seemed like it had reached a place too spare to tell a story.

Images don’t seem indicative of a three-dimensional world, with a moving light sources. It seems like what the reader is looking at, they are also lighting, perhaps with a flickering candle. The graphic purity is so intense that it seems almost ocular: What is in focus is all we can see. When there’s a character in the foreground, and more happening farther away, the character in the foreground is with us, looking at that thing. When I think of the Mignola images I like that predate the Hellboy material, I most often think of a page in the DC event Cosmic Odyssey, where Batman is hiding just out of sight of the larger, Kirby designed villain above him: This sort of framing is nowhere in Hellboy.

Reading Hellboy, it turns out it still works. The aspect of Mignola’s visual language that seems most uniquely his is the insertion into a page of a statue or something that is primarily about atmosphere than a progression of sequential images. Despite his pages being redolent with big chunks of black and negative space, it was easy for me to see the similarities with Rob Liefeld and other Image founders. But reading this collection, those sort of insert shots that seem atmospheric or decorative when looking at the page as a whole comes across differently when you’re actually reading it: Like you’re noticing something else in the room you didn’t see before, but that now is emerging from the shadow because it’s directly in front of you. I don’t think of Hellboy as actually “scary,” despite its designation in the horror genre, but the stripped-back visual language works to convey that feeling as much as any of the story’s tropes.

At the same time, these tropes coalesce and stack atop each other, and the fact that the cast and mythology are large helps. The narrative interest is what pulls you through a fairly sparse visual vocabulary. There are a lot of plot points to move through. The world of the book is large, even though the spaces the characters occupy often are depicted only in an establishing shot that gives way to shadowy corridors. There’s a good amount of shot reverse shot. The artist is only drawing what he wants to draw, but he wants to draw these characters he invented, and maybe he just wants to draw them once or twice before killing them off.

The book comes into its own once Mignola starts writing it himself, though the initial miniseries was scripted by John Byrne. It does not seem like Byrne was trying to create a masterpiece that would stand the test of time right form the jump. There’s a funny tic to the early issues, in that literally every one Byrne writes a narrative caption describes a thought as occurring in the “small part of my brain still conscious,” or something similar. It’s like on some level he knows he shouldn’t be scripting this much, to keep pace with how Mignola draws. He leaves once it’s clear Mignola knows what he wants to do, that he has a lot of story he wants to tell, and Mignola as a scripter dials the prose way back. The promo stories Byrne wrote, collected here, have an even more jokey tone: Once Mignola takes over it’s clear he’s going for something, building something large, whereas with the Byrne stuff, he’s just doing a comic like other people are doing. Included in the collection are the little ads on each cover of the Seed Of Destruction miniseries for Art Adams’ Monkeyman And O’Brien backup. The stuff Dark Horse was pushing at this time was maybe not as dumb as the Image founders, it had a more interesting set of stylists, basically, but the intentions were similar, they just manifested in people who didn’t really want to do “straight superhero comics, but maybe with more sex and violence.”

Soon there will be omnibus collections of the later Hellboy material, including work he wrote for other people to draw. The artists who drew the most are, I believe, Richard Corben and Duncan Fegredo, two people whose work I in many ways prefer to Mignola’s, but who clearly respect Mignola’s approach to a page and the images that make it up. Mike Mignola won, is what I’m saying. Not just in his commercial success, but that he convinced truly huge talents, and not just the comics readership, to share his investment in his vision: These are not just people doing it for a paycheck, these are people who could draw whatever they wanted, agreeing that they want to draw the stories Mike Mignola wants to tell. It’s like John Gilmore being an influence on John Coltrane before deciding he wants to to work with Sun Ra for the rest of his life. (Yes, yes, Brian, this is a point of reference everyone is familiar with and thinks about as much as you do, you’re really nailing it and this totally works as a conclusion.) They see, or hear, in this work something truly genius they want to learn from, and wedding their work to it makes it more convincingly powerful. (I don’t really think Mike Mignola is a genius, that’s probably overstating things a bit, but ok, man, whatever.)