#like gulliver's travels is packed with

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

#ramblies #funny #ffs foibles #writing #story #funny story

[drdemonprince]

I'm not really into it anymore but when I was a kid I used to fantasize about being slaughtered like an animal and going through the meat packing process and eventually being cooked and eaten all while remaining conscious

another common fantasy was being picked apart and slowly eaten alive by tiny itty bitty people like some kind of gulliver's travels giant infinite meat source

I love that one line from Alex Ebert's song Truth

"Say you're my lover, say you're my only / tilt my chin back, slit my throat, take a bath in my blood, get to know me."

I've just always found the intensity and boundarilessness of that to be so hot. and so fucked up. I think my favorite vore scratches a similar itch. The subsuming of self. The love that becomes willfull self destruction..ohh romance!

[hinnyfied]

Some Order era Jily!

Thanks for the suggestion! I meant to answer this with a drabble or ficlet and ended up with a one-shot instead lol!

I've got it on AO3 or below. :)

Lily was 18 years old when she lost her father. As she stood in his bedroom a few weeks later, overwhelmed by the piles of stuff on the bed and empty cardboard boxes on the floor, the only remotely comforting thought she could muster was that he was at peace with her mother now. He had been so very lonely these last few years with Mum gone, Petunia off in London, and Lily at Hogwarts.

The guilt of her prolonged absences following her mother’s death started to creep up, threatening to eat her alive, but she couldn’t go to pieces, not now. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, breathing deeply, then grabbed the box nearest to her and started piling books inside. She knew it would be faster with magic, but even with Petunia working separately down in the kitchen, Lily didn’t dare take her wand out. It had been hard enough getting along through funeral planning and working through the logistics of settling Dad’s affairs.The last thing she needed as they worked to sever the last, fragile thread that tied them to one another was a row about her abnormality.

Downstairs, she could hear the clanking of pots and pans as Petunia organised the cookware in solitude. Vernon and James were in the back garden, working on clearing out the old tool shed. They had both seemed rather reluctant to admit that it was a two-person job, but Lily was grateful that they set their feelings aside to work on it together.

Lily had yet to pack up her own room and move out, though it wasn’t for lack of options. Following her father’s accident, several friends had reached out to offer not only their condolences, but a place for her to stay until she found a place of her own. Even Sirius had suggested she take the spare room in his flat. The thought of being flatmates with him had struck her as such a ridiculous idea that his offer had actually been the first thing to make her laugh again after Dad’s death. Of course, the laughter hadn’t lasted long. She nearly immediately burst into tears and hugged him tightly.

“Is that a yes, Evans?”

“Absolutely not,” she had responded with a watery chuckle. “Thank you, though. It means a lot.”

“Probably for the best. I don’t need to start finding long red hairs tangled up in my–”

In the end, it was Marlene who she was planning to stay with for a while. Her flat only had one bedroom, but Lily was more than happy with a spot on the couch if it meant not waking up in her parents’ quiet, empty house every morning. Besides, it was only temporary; after the sale of the house, she’d be able to move into her own place.

The pile of books was nearly all packed now, but as she reached for the last one, her heart sank. It was Gulliver’s Travels – her father’s favourite book. He must have read it at least a couple dozen times, and judging by the bookmark that sat near the back of it, he had almost finished doing so again. Tears prickled at the corner of Lily’s eyes, brought on by the realisation that he would never finish it again.

Lily held the book tightly to her chest, hugging it as if it would somehow feel like hugging Dad. Ultimately she put the book not in the box for donations, but in her bag. She couldn’t bring herself to part with it.

“The shed is all taken care of,” came James’ soothing voice from the doorway. Lily wiped her eyes and looked up at him.

“You and Vernon didn’t kill each other then?”

“No,” James said with a tiny, temporary smile. “Wouldn’t complain about a break from him though. Do you want some help up here?”

Lily looked around the room, taking in the sheer volume of items that remained to be packed, all the pieces of Dad waiting to be shoved into a box and sent away. She wanted to answer James, to tell him she didn’t need help demolishing the remnants of her father’s life, but she was afraid that if she were to attempt to speak, she’d unleash her grief in full force and be reduced to nothing more than a puddle on the old rug beneath her feet.

James seemed to understand, walking over to her without another word and pulling her into a warm embrace. Tears leaked out from Lily’s eyes, settling into his shirt as he rubbed her back.

“Marlene’s going to get so sick of me, moping and weeping all over the place,” Lily said with a sad laugh as she pulled away from James and wiped away her tears.

“First of all,” James said both tenderly and sternly. “You’re not moping. You’re grieving, as you are well within your right to do.”

“Secondly,” he continued “I’ve been thinking about your living arrangement.”

“Have you?”

He didn’t answer her right away. James was usually one to blurt out his thoughts and feelings, especially to Lily, to have an idea or a whim and immediately want to tell her about it. It was peculiar, the way he was looking at her now, as though he were thinking very carefully and deliberately about what he was about to say.

“I don’t think you should move in with Marlene. I know she’s your best mate, but a couch is not a home, Lily. You’ll give yourself back problems for one thing.”

His concern was rather sweet.

“Well I’m certainly not moving in with Padfoot, if that’s where this is going,” she smirked.

“Having shared a dormitory with him for seven years, I think that’s very wise of you.”

There was that look again – the tentative, serious, not-at-all-James-Potter face.

“I want you to move in with me,” he finally said.

That was not what Lily had expected. James lived at Potter Cottage with his parents. Monty and Effie were wonderfully kind, and Lily had grown to love them very much in the year that she and James had been together, but they were a touch old-fashioned.

“You think your parents are going to be ok with two unmarried teenagers shacking up in their house?”

“Not exactly,” James said with a soft smile. “They are, however, more than happy to have you move into one of the spare bedrooms. There’s the one at the end of the hall that has its own attached bathroom, so you’d really have your own space.”

Lily nodded, taking in the offer. She had always felt at home at the Potters’, who had embraced her from the first moment she set foot in their home. She thought she ought to feel far more apprehensive than she did. Surely, she should be fretting about whether she and James would break up and how awkward that would be – moving out of his parents house. She should worry, but frankly, it didn’t worry her one bit.

“Even if you don’t live with us,” James continued, keen to fill the silence, “I’d want you to be at the house a lot anyway, you know, dinners and holidays and all that. You’re my family, and my parents think of you that way too.”

Lily’s heart swelled, and her throat felt unexpectedly thick. Her family had slowly disintegrated before her eyes; her sister’s condemnation, her mother’s illness, her father’s accident. She had feared she’d be left with no family at all in the end, but as she looked into James’ hazel eyes, full of love for her, she felt a glimmer of hope.

“Ok,” she managed. “If you’re sure they don’t mind.”

James beamed at her. “Not at all. They love you. Not as much as I do, of course, but they’re close.”

It was comforting, Lily thought as she and James kept working on the bedroom, the idea of waking up every morning in a house full of people who loved her. She would never fully recover from the loss of her parents, but she took solace in the fact that there was still family to be found – in James and the Potters, in their friends, in the Order. Perhaps even a few children of their own someday, their own little family.

Lily’s heart still ached as she started packing up her father’s jumpers, but it felt the tiniest bit easier to breathe.

#lovely tumblr friends #hp fanfic #marauders #jily #canon compliant #harry potter #pre canon #grief

[hostsmmorg]

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[bananainter]

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[yenahas]

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[xcziel]

After seeing your tags abt CQL vs MDZS, I wanted to throw my 2c in. MDZS is a 18+ book tagged with bourgeois tragedy. The horror aspects and hypocrisy of the characters is very much part of the point. WWX was *not* a hero. Censorship in China forbids all depictions of moral ambiguity, violence, resurrection/necromancy etc. and CQL is a product of that; relying heavily on the audience also knowing the novel, so it's extremely frustrating to see ppl bag on MXTX for "not knowing" her own characters

Yes, I've seen some posts in reaction to that sort of thing, and I can see that that kind of entitled assumption would be infuriating? And kind of ... bonkers? I guess I don't go in the tags enough because I've never actually seen the posts judging MXTX, just the more reasoned responses on blogs I follow.

I'm not sure if it's just the posts in the generic fandom tags (which I mostly avoid) or if some of these takes are coming from twitter, but my only experience with MXTX criticism is literally just these reaction posts. My preference for CQL is just that, a personal preference, not any literary criticism of the source material or its author.

I've seen many posts from people with deep experience of the novel, the genre, and c-fandom in general explaining why judging source material from another culture by western media standards is inappropriate and often disrespectful, and that MXTX's writing is both indicative of its genre and cultural climate, while also being substantially an intentional deconstruction of expected tropes.

Of course it's frustrating to see people with limited understanding (and seemingly little desire to acquire any) quip away with their "hot takes" and I sympathize. But I'm not sure why I'm being pulled into this - I'm not reblogging or participating in posts that are attacking the original novel or MXTX herself. I don't have any contact with people judging MXTX or MDZS in a negative light. I'm in the tags, in my feelings about people posting on my dash who seem disdainful of fans who prefer CQL because they consider ignorance of information covered in the novel to be some kind of ... scholarly lack? that the newer fans should be eager to rectify immediately, preferably, I can only infer, by reading the novel themselves. So I do have an untagged post where I try to explain why that's not happening for me personally.

All I've been trying to say in the previous tags is that, for myself, CQL is more engaging - as you point out, a lot of things were left out of the TV version for censorship reasons or just adapted for the realities of live action media production. And many of those things also just happened to be things that I personally don't care for or about - leaving out many of Wei Wuxian's darker moments for example, doesn't damage the narrative as far as I'm concerned. And the other aspects that are appealing to me have little to do with the source novel - the actors, the costuming, the sets, the music - these are what drew me personally to CQL, not necessarily the depth of the writing, aside the love story.

And I'm really not looking at it as a _ vs. _ situation? To my mind, it's two different canons and I'm basically advocating treating them as such. It's the opposite of say, Harry Potter, for me: I've never seen even one of the movies, only read the books, so book-canon is where I lived, while still being able to read fanfic that incorporated aspects of both. I'm not preferring CQL only because I dislike the MDZS novel. Without CQL I wouldn't even be aware that there was a novel. And if I had been aware, even in english, that most likely wouldn't have been a novel I would have chosen to read.

Definitely there are aspects of CQL that must have a deeper resonance with an informed and savvy Chinese audience, but I think the surge of international fans makes clear that it does also work as a piece of media without that more intimate knowledge of the source material? It may not be interpreted the same way (obviously) but it's still an enjoyable work and I think people are allowed to be fans of the more superficial view where, indeed, Wei Wuxian is not a "hero" - he's the protagonist of a romance: not specifically good or bad, but necessarily Loved.

In a way it's kind of a Death of the Author thing - I'm not criticizing MDZS, because I will never experience the novel in its raw form, without the interference of a translation process. Just as I cannot make any value judgement of MXTX herself, knowing nothing about her personally, nor enough about her works' place in, and reflection of, the larger culture of Chinese online fandom and entertainment to be able to form a valid opinion. So I accept that my experience of the TV show is basically independent of the original authorial intent. For me and many others, it's just a xianxia show, a very pretty one.

I can only rely on what I've been told by others with more knowledge, and the translations that I've seen, and I'm not fool enough to think that either is sufficient to give me a true grasp of the source work itself. So I find it simpler to rely on the parts that I can judge for myself - the visual elements of the CQL adaptation. I mean, no one seems to be able to come up with a single, holistic english translation for "Jinlintai", nevermind being able to somehow explicate or encompass all of the Chinese cultural and linguistic/literary associations embedded in the written text, or even just the dialogue of the tv show.

I lost my way in here somewhere, but I just wanted to iterate that no reasonable person will ever give credence to some weirdo claim like an author "doesn't understand their own characters" or any other delusional stance hot take fandom twitter mavens are advancing about non-western cultural mores being "abusive" or "regressive" (I have seen twitter bad takes - whoo boy is all I can say there), or whatever else they're saying here on Tumblr that is causing c-fans to feel they need to jump to defend both MDZS' source webnovel and its author.

So ... yeah. I get that the source novel is more sophisticated and transgressive than is represented in the television series, but on a personal level I really do care more about Wang Yibo's microexpressions than I do about debating cultural morality or societal hypocrisy, so I'm definitely gonna stop talking now.

#answered asks #not so much answered as rambled at #i cannot word you guys #tags are where i talk #bc the space is limited #and i can't go on so long i lose track #of my train of thought #also this oncoming migraine is not helping #but it's like 'great literature' ok? #yeah there are themes and all kinds of references #that you don't get if you read at the surface level #but that's still okay #as long as you're not willfully misinterpreting #what you can get to #like gulliver's travels is packed with #cultural and classical referents of the time/place it was written #it's still an okay story without knowing all that though #some people read like that watch movies like that #seeking out the deeper understanding #i feel like i absorb what i absorb #i soak up the general 'vibe' of a piece of media #and ghosts and horror stories are not a vibe i really enjoy #the point got away from me again dang it #i get that some people are being dismisive AND appropriative of chinese culture in all of this #but i don't know what to do about it other than call it out and refuse to tolerate it when i see it #and i can acknowledge the issues while still preferring cql that's all #ooh dang i would put a cut but ofc i can't edit one into a post made on mobile #self tag

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 11/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

Jack Willis is buried in the boneyard outside of town a week to the day after Mulder and Katherine meet.  Mulder attends the burial, but Katherine does not.  Aside from the gravedigger and the undertaker, no one is there to pay their respects.  Mulder is only there to pay the two men for their time.    

Time has an interesting way of moving.  When Mulder met Katherine, those first few days felt like the longest of his life.  And now weeks slip by and it feels like he needs to slow things down.  He remembers telling her his priority and focus is on the ranch, nothing more, yet now that she’s here, the ranch feels secondary to him in a time where he can’t afford to be distracted.

It’s coming up on October before he knows it and he’s got to get the horses ready to ride out to Fort Worth for the postal service.  If the team he’s built up is satisfactory, there’s more work to be had and a government contract just may be forthcoming.  If that’s not enough to occupy his time, with the new land he has thanks to his wife, he hopes to start in on the expansion before winter sets in.

Katherine fits in so well it’s like he can’t remember a time when she wasn’t there.  He notices that she seems to fill a role with each of the ranch hands.  For Trevor, it’s like the mother he never had.  She darns his socks and patches the holes in his pants and reminds him to wash up for supper.  He ‘yes, ma’am’s’ her more in a day than he’s ever ‘yes, sir’d’ Mulder in five months.

Jesse and Jimmy are often good-naturedly teasing Katherine like a little sister.  They challenge her into imaginary competitions like they bet she can’t drive the carriage in a circle around the barn or they bet she can’t make as good of an apple pie as Melvin or they bet she can’t catch all the suckling pigs in under a minute.  For her part, she seems to enjoy proving them wrong.

Melvin treats Katherine almost reverently, like a father would a daughter.  He speaks of her with pride when he tells Mulder of how she handles the carriage or how she’s put logical sense into the kitchen and the cellar shelves or how she read some beautiful verses from the bible to him.  He notices that Katherine also worries over him like a devoted child as well, telling him to rest more, to sit down, not to overtax himself.

It’s been harder for Mulder to pinpoint the relationship Richard has with Katherine.  Richard keeps to himself most of the time, but he has had the occasion to observe them speaking.  One particular time, they were both crouched low and Katherine was scratching at the dirt with a stick.  Richard was nodding thoughtfully and he moved away looking as though he was in deep contemplation.  Mulder asked Katherine what they were conversing about.

“I asked him to make me a washing line on a pulley,” she said.  “I was explaining where I wanted it, the type of pulley I would need and where the loosener should be fitted.”

“I’m sure he’ll build you a very fine washing line.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.  We were trying to determine which space might maximize efficiency.  There’s a lot to think about; which way the wind is likely to blow, the position of the sun, where to keep the wash basin and ringer, for example.  He’s going to think on it.”

So, Mulder determines that Richard thinks of Katherine like a colleague or an equal.  She’s the one person he’s ever asked for advice from.  If he runs into an obstacle, he seeks her out to talk it through instead of wallowing in self-loathing.  Perhaps if the army had been populated by Katherines, Richard would still be there.

He’s been too busy to take Katherine out on another picnic, but they spend almost every evening sitting on the porch together.  She is usually sewing and he tells her stories about the constellations or reads to her from his favorite book, Gulliver’s Travels.  It’s a good thing she seems to enjoy listening because he’s never met a silence he can’t fill.

He’s packing for the trek to Fort Worth and remembers that Katherine still has his valise.  It’s late, he wonders if she might be asleep, but he can see light coming from under the door, so he knocks quietly.

“Katherine?” he calls, as soft as he can in case he might disturb her.

“You may come in,” she answers.

He opens the door and then cuts his eyes away for a moment when he sees she’s in her nightdress and a robe, sitting at the edge of the bedstead.  “Oh, uh…”

“Yes?”

He looks at her and she’s combing her hair.  He’s never seen it loose before and it’s wildly curled, like endless fiery waves over her shoulders and down her back.  She always keeps it braided and he’s surprised she’s able to tame it so well.  

“I’ll be needing my valise.”

“Oh!”  She sets the comb down on the bed and goes to the wardrobe.  “I should have returned it to you weeks ago.”

“I’ll get you one of your own in Fort Worth.”

“What would I need with a valise?”

“For traveling.”

She hands him the valise and their hands meet on the handle.  She doesn’t let go.  “Traveling?” she asks.  “Am I going somewhere?”

“Maybe one day you might like to take a trip somewhere.  We could take a trip.  A honeymoon, perhaps.”

Her brow shoots up and she releases the valise into his grip.  He feels foolish for saying such a thing and bites his lip for a moment and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I only meant that maybe you’d like to accompany me when I need to return east some time.  We could stop in New York City.  See the electric bulbs in the park.”

“You would...you would take me east with you?  To New York City?”

“I’m needed in Boston from time to time and I would love to bring you along.”

“I would like that very much.”

“I wish I could take you with us to Fort Worth.”

“I wouldn’t be able to go anyway.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have my own valise yet.”  She smiles at him rather coquettishly and he chuckles.

“I will remedy that soon enough.  Do you think you might miss me when I’m gone?”

“I may not have time to miss you.  With half of you gone, I was planning to give the floors a good scrubbing.  Not to mention, Richard is installing my washing line and I hope to get all the bedclothes washed.  And of course there’s-”

“Alright, you can’t wait to see me gone and have me out from underfoot.”

“No, I…”  She pauses, drops her chin and cocks her head to the side just a bit.  “Keeping busy helps take my mind off things like missing people.”

He tries not to smile too broadly, but he knows the grin on his face must look foolish.  He bites his lip and nods.  “I’ll say good night, then,” he says.  “And I’ll let you get back to...your bedtime rituals.”

“Good night.  I will see you in the morning.”

He hesitates and then gestures a sort of farewell with the valise.  As he starts to close the door, he can’t help himself and he stops.  “I will miss you, in case you were wondering.”

“I suggest you try to keep yourself busy, then.”

He chuckles and closes the door behind him.

↭

Katherine is up early in the morning to make breakfast and to pack a nice noon dinner for Mulder, Jesse and Jimmy.  Richard, Trevor and Melvin will be staying behind at the ranch.  Even though she’s up before sunrise, the wagon is already packed and the horses have been saddled and hitched.  The men eat quickly, eager to set out on their journey.  Before they leave, Mulder pulls Katherine aside and gives her a bankroll.

“Don’t think I didn’t remember the first of the month is just a few days away,” he says.  “I assume you’ll want to head into town and see Mr. Skinner about the mortgage due.”

“This looks like more than we agreed to.”

“Well, call it an advance.  There’s a nice little cafe in town.  See if you can’t treat your lady friends to a noon dinner while you’re there.”

She crushes the bankroll in her fist and tries to think of a place she can keep the money safe.  He puts his hat on and then winks at her.

“Keep yourself busy,” he says, and then heads out into the morning light.  She follows to the porch to watch him go.

Jesse is driving the team of horses pulling the wagon and Jimmy rides next to him on the horse they call Faithful Jenny.  Mulder mounts Blondie and turns to give her a wave before he takes the lead on the small party and then they are off and she already feels a pang of longing for him to return.

The first two days, she keeps busy with the scrubbing she’d told him she wanted to do and prepares for a day of heavy laundry.  She helps Richard with the hanging of the washing line and with a few adjustments and tightening of the rope and pulley, it works as smoothly as she’d hoped.

On Friday, she dons the new calico skirt she’s only just finished sewing, a fresh blouse, a pair of black gloves she purchased at the mercantile but has not yet had occasion to wear, and ties on the hat that Mulder gave her the day they married.  She asks Melvin if he could hitch up the carriage for her and though she’s terribly nervous about her first foray into town by herself, she knows she can do it.  She’s put in a good amount of training with Melvin learning how to drive these last few weeks and there has to be a first time for everything.

Lady is ready and waiting with the carriage when she comes outside after having secured her money into a hidden pocket she’s sewn into her skirt.  She’s more afraid of losing the money or having it stolen off of her than she is for problems driving the carriage.

“You sure you don’t want me to ride with you?” Melvin asks.  “I can saddle up George and follow you even, if’n you’d like me to do that.”

“I’ll be fine,” she says.  “I’m just going to go to the bank and drop in on Mrs. Byers and Mrs. Doggett.  I’ve boiled some eggs and took out some canned pears.  There’s enough salt pork left to fry up.”

“Don’t worry about the kitchen today, go have yourself a nice time in town.  But, if’n you’re not back here before the sun drops west, I’m comin’ out there after you.”

“Lady, walk on now.  I’ll be back soon!”

She can scarcely believe she’s driving a carriage on her own, making her way into town, and yet she is.  Even Lady seems to sense her excitement and prances down the road in a nice, quick trot.  Katherine smiles when she passes the trees she recognizes from her picnic with Mulder.  Her arms are tired by the time she makes it into town, but she feels exhilarated by her accomplishment.

“Well done,” she tells Lady after tying her to the post and rubbing her cheek.  Lady nods and shakes her head.

The bank is busier than when she was there before.  The teller is assisting a man at the window and two others wait behind him.  One of them nods and tips his hat to her when she walks in.  She waits as well and looks past the line to see if she can spot Mr. Skinner, but his office door is closed.  She becomes a little anxious when she waits, not sure of what she is to say to the teller.  She thought she might just walk in and be able to speak with Mr. Skinner.  Soon, it’s her turn and she steps up to the window and then fumbles for the money concealed in her pocket.

“I am here to pay my mortgage due,” she says.

“Name on the account,” the teller asks.

“Um, Jack Willis, I believe.”

“One moment.”

The teller turns away and then opens a box.  He takes out a stack of small cards which he quickly shuffles through and removes one.  He returns to the window and takes up a pen that he dips in ink.

“Ten dollars and sixty cents,” he says as he’s writing on the card.

Katherine carefully counts out eleven dollars and then slides it into the tray at the window.  The teller counts it as quickly as he shuffled the cards and he puts it into another tray below the counter.  He slides forty cents change back to her and the card as well.

“Sign, please,” he says.

She hesitates with the pen in her hand.  She does not know what name to write.  Should she sign Katherine Willis, or Katherine Mulder?

“You can mark an ‘x’ if you are illiterate,” he says.

“No, I am not illiterate,” she answers.  “I was recently remarried, I am unsure if I should sign with that name.”

“Who’s your husband?”

“William Mulder.”

“Wait here.”

She begins to feel nervous all over again.  Another man has come into the bank as she’s been at the window and is now waiting for her to finish.  She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know if she should leave and come back, but the teller told her to wait and so she waits.  She starts to perspire and she loosens the tie on her hat.  She whirls around when someone says her name.

“Mrs. Mulder,” Walter Skinner says.  “I’m glad you’ve come by.”

“You are?”

“I’ll take it from here, Mr. Crawford.”  He takes the card from the counter and gestures for Katherine to go ahead of him to his office.  She returns the pen and then goes with Mr. Skinner.  He makes an imposing figure and rather reminds her of her father, which makes her all the more nervous.

“Is something the matter?” she asks, taking a seat in front of his desk.

“Not at all.  Mr. Mulder was in earlier this week before his trip out to Fort Worth.  I just have a paper here for you to sign adding you to his account.”

“Adding me to his account?  What does that mean?”

“It means you are able to make deposits or withdrawals on your husband’s account, provided we have your signature on file.”

She stares at him, incredulous.  She doesn’t even know what name she should sign with to pay her mortgage and now she’s expected to have access to a bank account?

“I have my own money here,” she says.  “I don’t think I need Mulder’s account.  Do I?”

“He added your name on Monday and asked that when you came in to make the mortgage payment that I have you sign the paperwork.”

“I must confess this is all very new to me, Mr. Skinner.  I’m not even sure if I’m supposed to sign this card as Katherine Willis or Katherine Mulder.”

“That card just keeps a record of the payments.  My teller signs it saying he received the money and you sign it saying you paid it.  You don’t have anything to worry about there, but I think that you should go ahead and sign as Katherine Mulder from now on.”

She nods and he gives her a pen to sign the card.  It’s the first time she’s written her married name on anything and it feels strange.  She never did get accustomed to being Mrs. Willis, but when Skinner had called her Mrs. Mulder earlier, she answered without hesitation.  She hands him the card and he passes her the paper she’s to sign for Mulder’s account.

“And just so you’re aware,” he says.  “I expect the transfer of your lease to be returned by next week.  It will be filed under your joint account, so be sure to request the mortgage under your own name next time.”

“I will remember.  Thank you for helping me, Mr. Skinner.”

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Mulder.”

She leaves the bank with much less of a triumphant feeling than she felt in successfully driving the carriage.  In fact, she feels as though she has hardly taken a breath in that whole time.  She steps down to Lady and rests her forehead against the horse’s neck and strokes her mane.

“We’ve done it,” she whispers to the horse.

“Katherine?”

Katherine steps back from the horse and turns towards the voice that called her name.  She sees Monica Doggett hurrying towards her across the dirt road, waving to her.  She waves back.

“I thought that was you,” Monica says, greeting Katherine with a warm embrace.  “It’s so good to see you.”

“Yes, you as well, Mrs. Doggett.”

“Ach, Monica, please.  Mrs. Doggett is my mother-in-law and trust me, there’s only room enough in this world for one Mrs. Doggett.”  Monica laughs and squeezes Katherine’s hands.  “What brings you to town?”

“I had a banking matter to attend to.”

“Are you here long?”

“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you.  I wasn’t sure how to find you, but I was just on my way to drop in on Susannah Byers and I thought she might know.”

“We’re down on this road if you keep going over the bridge ahead.  Can’t miss it.  If I’m not there, it’s probably because I’m running something over to John.”

“I’ll remember that.  Mulder told me there was a cafe in town and I should invite you and Susannah for a noon dinner.  I’d understand if you’re busy with chores or errands though.”

“Are you kidding?  I would love nothing more.  And if I know Susannah, she will be absolutely delighted by the offer.  Is this your carriage?  Did you drive in all on your own?”

“I did.  Though Lady did most of the work.”

“How thrilling.  Shall we?”

Katherine climbs up into the carriage and Monica hops up next to her in the passenger seat.  It takes nothing but a few minutes to end up at the mercantile and Monica steps down first and waits at the foot of the porch steps for Katherine.

John Byers is standing before a display table with a clipboard and pencil, taking notes.  He smiles when the ladies come in and puts the pencil behind his ear.

“Good morning, ladies,” he says.

“Mr. Byers,” Katherine answers.

“We’ve come to collect your wife,” Monica says.  “You won’t mind if we borrow her for a bit to have dinner at the cafe, do you?”

“Not at all.  Let me go and get her.”

“Oh, how darling.”  Monica holds up a knitted pair of baby booties that she picks up from a table.  “Sometimes I sure can’t believe my little ones used to fit into socks this small.”

“You have children?”

“Two.  Luke and Sarah.  Sarah just turned nine and Luke will be fifteen in just a couple weeks.  Do you have any children?”

“No.”

“Well, there’s plenty of time.  And when that time does come, I promise I’m the best midwife all of Texas has to offer.”

Katherine gives Monica a polite smile.  “I’m certain you are.”

“Oh my word, is it true?”  Susannah comes bustling into the storefront, throwing off an apron that she carelesses flings in her husband’s direction.  John catches it with one hand.  “We’re going to go out to dinner?  Is that right?  Oh, let me get my hat.  John, how could you let me walk out without my hat!  I’ll hurry back.  Don’t go nowhere you two!”

Monica laughs and then winks at Katherine.  “I told you Susannah would be delighted.”

When Susannah returns, the three ladies head out of the store and Susannah leads the way down the boardwalk to the cafe.  Katherine worries a little about leaving the horse and carriage, but Susannah tells her not to fret that it’ll be fine where it is.  They’re seated next to a window at a table for four and after ordering some cold cut sandwiches and lemonades, Susannah and Monica start to gossipping about people Katherine has never heard of.  She’s content to listen to the conversation and doesn’t mind that she isn’t required to participate.

“Oh, but listen to us,” Susannah says.  “We’re being rude.  Katherine, I haven’t even asked after your husband or how you’re faring out on the ranch.”

“Mulder is well.  He’s in Fort Worth right now to take a team of horses to the United States post office.”

“You didn’t join him?” Monica asks.  “When John and I were first married, I’m telling you he couldn’t hardly walk down the road without pulling me along.”

“I’d much rather stay behind anyway.  There’s so much to tend to at the ranch and...well, the truth of it is, I would just like to stay put for awhile.  That was one of the reasons I married Mulder in the first place.  To just...to just stay still.”

“You did a lot of traveling around with your first husband, didn’t you?” Susannah asks.

“Too much.  In four years I don’t think we were ever in the same place for more than a few weeks.  And then we ended up here and it was like there was nowhere left to go.”  

Monica nods and then she reaches across the table and puts her hands over Katherine’s. “I did have the occasion to meet Jack Willis once,” she says, petting Katherine’s hand lightly.  “He had the blackest aura I’ve ever seen.  You must have been miserable.”

“It wasn’t a very happy marriage.  I don’t know what an aura has to do with that.  I don’t even know what an aura is.”

“Oh, Lord, Monica, not the auras!”  Susannah throws her hands up, but chuckles.

“There’s a belief that all people put off energy,” Monica says.  “Like a candle putting off heat.”

“Monica is an enthusiast of alternative ideas.”

Monica laughs.  “John was posted in San Francisco for a few years and I met the most fascinating people there that believe in some of the most extraordinary things.”

“We had a preacher come through here once that called her a heretic,” Susannah adds.  “In the middle of a sermon.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have become a preacher if he didn’t want to answer questions.”

Katherine looks between the two women and shakes her head.  “Energy is the quantitative property that must be transferred to an object in order to perform work on the object,” she says.  “Like measuring the temperature required to boil water.”

Monica glances at Susannah and she shrugs.  “I don’t know what any of that means,” Susannah says.  “I just turn the stove on and wait for the bubbles.”

“Have you ever gotten a bad feeling when you meet someone for the first time?” Monica asks.  “Or even a really good feeling?”

“Yes.”

“You’re feeling their energy.  Auras are like...I suppose they’re like a way of measuring a person’s disposition.”

“I don’t know how you would measure a feeling.”

“Auras are the colors of the energy that people put off.  Some people are lucky enough to see them.”

“And you’re one of those people?”

“I am.  Anyone can see them though if they want to.  It’s about opening yourself up to possibilities.”

“How does one open oneself up to possibilities?”

“I think it starts with inner peace.  Really letting go of fear and doubt and not worrying so much about the past or the future and being extremely present in the moment.”

“I see.”

“Your husband is mostly blue, but there is some red there too.  He’s very compassionate, loyal, trustworthy, and nurturing, but also driven and hard-working.”

“I don’t really think you need an aura to tell you that.  Just as I don’t think you need an aura to tell you that Jack was surly and unpleasant.”

“No, but I could tell right away, even without knowing you, that you and Mulder belong together.  You can’t tell me you weren’t drawn to him immediately, even if you didn’t know why.”

“I was intrigued by him, I will admit that.”

“And you knew he was someone you could marry even though you’d only known him for a day.”

“But, she didn’t really have much of a choice in that,” Susannah interjects.

“I did though,” Katherine confesses.  “He offered me money for my land, land I didn’t even own, and he said he would help me start out somewhere if I wanted.”

“And you chose to marry him.”  Monica smiles.

“He was kind to me when he didn’t have to be.  I know I didn’t know hardly anything about him, but still I felt...very fond of him.”

Monica nods knowingly.  “Your auras.”

“I’m a yellow,” Susannah says.  “But, Monica, you haven’t said what Katherine is.”

“Would you like to know?”

“You might as well tell me.”

“You are almost equally tan and crystal.  Which means you’re very private, cautious and practical.  And you’re a healer.”

All of those things are true, but Monica could come by those conclusions without more than a few minutes conversation with her.  The part about being a healer though, that is a little disturbing.  The waiter comes over with their tray of sandwiches and lemonades and the conversation falls to the wayside.  Katherine wonders what color Monica is, but doesn’t want to ask, lest Monica think she somehow believes in that kind of foolishness.  People emitting colors?  How absurd.

#i wrote this #broken things #chapter 11 #AU #MSR

[imthedoctorlove]

The Virgin and the Violinist - Count Orlo x Reader.

My first Count Orlo fic - enjoy. Thanks to @13atoms for proofreading for me. 😊

Warnings - bullying.

Word count- 1686

---

You were one of the court’s musicians; a violinist. A position you were grateful to have as it kept you from living your life as a serf. You still couldn't believe how lucky you were; a woman being a part of the Emperor's orchestra. You were sure that when you were caught playing in the forest you were as good as dead. Although you were privileged, you were lesser than the lords and ladies of court because after you had serenaded, you shuffled back to the servant quarters where you could feel hateful glances burning in the back of your skull. It was as if you were in limbo because you did not belong in either world and by playing your music, you were able to walk the thin veil between the two. 

Your instrument was precious and the only thing of any value in this wretched hell. No, you mustn't think like that. Your mind tended to drift when your fingers glided over the finger-board of the violin's sleek neck as you tried in vain to drown out the howls and screams of the rowdy court. Why did you bother? It wasn't like they actually listened to you as you played. 

You gritted your teeth as you packed away your violin and you prepared yourself to navigate through the drunken nobility. You clutched the instrument case close to your chest as you made a beeline for the door, but your foot suddenly caught on something and you found yourself hurtling to the floor. You closed your eyes and waited for the hard floor to smack you in the face, but it never came. A groan of pain from beneath you caused your eyes to snap open. Yours were met with dark orbs. 

It was Count Orlo. Your breath caught in your throat. 

Count Orlo had cushioned your fall. 

Count Orlo was beneath you. 

A chorus of laughter brought you to your senses. You scrambled off him mortified. There was a mass gathering around the both of you. Their bodies acted as walls around you with no way of escape. 

Orlo tried to offer a reassuring smile, instead, it formed into a grimace. 

You were trying to catch your breath as the collision had knocked the air from your lungs - and the corset you were wearing wasn't helping matters. 

Your heavy dress weighed you down as you tried to pull yourself off the floor. This seemed to spring Orlo into action as he hauled himself off the floor and offered you a hand which received cat calls from those around you. He was surprisingly strong and managed to tug you off the floor. The both of you stood frozen as the wall of bodies constricted around you with Lady Svenska as the ring-leader. 

"Look what we have here - the violinist and the virgin!" The group erupted in a chorus of laughter as each person took their turn to throw jibes. You bit your lip to try and silence the burning words that sorely wanted to leave your lips, but you knew that you must hold your tongue and take what they threw at you. The price to pay in order to walk along the veil. You were trying so hard to block out their words you failed to notice Orlo had yet to let go of your hand. Your grip tightened when you noticed an opening. It was now or never. With the violin case held close to you in one hand and Orlo in the other you bolted through the opening and ran out the door and into the corridor. Your body turned towards Orlo as you readied an apology, but it died on your lips when you saw the blush that dusted his cheeks. It was then you realised you were still holding his hand. You let go and brought your hand to your chest to try and calm your erratic heartbeat. 

"Count Orlo, words cannot express how sorry I am for any distress I may have caused you from my clumsiness."

Orlo swallowed when he heard you use his full title and felt something stir within him. 

"There's no need to apologise." He said earnestly as he straightened out his waistcoat to try and hide how shaky his hands had become. "I do not hold you responsible for what happened back there." 

You both stood there in silence for a few moments as you both tried to come up with something to say to each other. The shouts of "huzzah" and glass breaking made the both of you jump and stare towards the now-closed door warily. 

"Perhaps we should leave." You started.

"Good idea." Orlo opened his mouth to say more but thought better of it. Instead, he gestured for you to follow him. Curiosity guided you as you trailed behind him to the other end of the palace. It was only when he opened the door you realised he had led you to the library. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. A small part of yourself thought you had been led to his apartments. You lingered on the threshold as you debated whether or not to venture inside. Orlo noticed your hesitancy and stumbled over an apology which was enough to coax you inside. 

The room was dark and the smell of musk met your nostrils as you fought the urge to sneeze. It was evident that this place was not often frequented as many of the books were covered with dust and cobwebs. The sound of Orlo striking a match caught your attention as you admired his soft features in the candlelight. 

"I'm sorry about the mess. I don't tend to see anyone else in here apart from the Empress on occasion." He said as he busied himself with clearing the area around a worn armchair. You took a step closer to him and he instinctively tried to distance himself from you which caused him to knock over a large stack of books. 

"Shit." His hands shook as he scrambled to pick them up. You placed your violin case down. 

"Here, let me help." You left no room for arguments as the two of you made quick work of the pile of dusty old paperbacks. 

"Thank you." The Count said quietly as you placed the books in your hands on top of the pile. You smiled and clasped your hands in front of you as you tried to think of something to say. Your eyes were suddenly drawn to a book on a nearby desk. You walked over and ran your hand over the worn binding.

"You know of Jonathan Swift?" Orlo inquired. Surprise was clear in his voice. 

"Why is that such a surprise to you? Do I not look refined enough to know of his work?" 

"Oh god no! That is not what I was implying - I can assure you. It's just that I have never met another person who knows and loves him as much as I do." 

You took the book in your hands and walked over to him. You held it out to him.

"Gulliver's Travels holds a special place in my heart. Would you possibly read for me?" 

Orlo was taken aback by your request, but accepted. Your eyebrows raised as he scurried away and returned with a velvet stool. He placed it down and gestured for you to take a seat on the armchair. You went to protest, but he insisted. 

You sat in awe as you listened to him cite the words to you as if they were written to be declarations of love. The emotion that was wrapped in every word and syllable made your heart race. 

"That was beautiful." You whispered when he finished. He blushed under your gaze. 

"Thank you, but I believe that Mr Swift deserves all the credit." 

"Yes, but you filled his words with such life. It was if a symphony was playing in my ears." 

"On the subject of symphonies - you played beautifully tonight. It was by far my favourite composition you have played so far."

It was your turn to blush. 

"Forgive me, but I did not realise you had been listening to me play so often." 

Orlo fiddled with the book on his lap. 

"I tend to linger at the back of the room." 

You nodded. "It is a wonder you were able to hear me at all. I can barely hear myself think when amongst those animals." You bowed your head. "My apologies for speaking out of term."

Orlo laughed. "Believe me, I have called them far worse things." 

"I could play for you now if you like?" Your hands began to sweat as you waited for him to decline your offer. 

"That - that would be magnificent." He replied with a grin. 

You breathed out a laugh before jumping from your seat and in your hurry, stumbled over your skirts. A hand wrapped around your arm stabilising you. 

"Are you alright?" 

"Yes, quite. Thank you." You became hyper aware of how close he was to you. How warm his hand felt over your clothed arm. How you were so close you could feel his breath tickling your cheek, and how his eyes seemed to glow like fireflies in the low candlelight. You felt yourself leaning closer to him and expected him to pull away, but he didn't. Instead, he seemed to mirror your actions. His lips felt soft on your own as you hesitantly led the kiss. The hand that was on your arm trailed up and came to rest behind your head; the other gripped your waist and pulled you closer as he gained confidence. You gasped when he bit your bottom lip. 

He pulled away. 

"I'm so sorry - I don't know what came over me - did I hurt you?" 

"Quite the opposite." You said trying to catch your breath. "Where on earth did you learn to kiss like that?" 

"There's more to learn from books than academics." 

"Really? Perhaps you could teach me sometime?" 

"How about right now?" 

He pulled you back into a searing kiss. 

#the great #count orlo #orlo #count orlo x reader #sacha dhawan

[iloveabunchofmovies]

Mars Attacks!

My family rented Mars Attacks! when it came out on video, and I haven't seen it again since then. It has a bit of a cult following, so I hoped it was better than I remembered. It was not.

There are so many scenes that give a glimpse into what could have been a truly great movie, but it tries to do too many things. Is it an homage to old B-movies? A parody? Satire? An anarchic cartoon? Is it smart? Is it dumb? Is it a legitimate action-adventure blockbuster? Is it a studio comedy? Am I supposed to care about any of the characters? Mars Attacks! is packed with hilarious ideas, memorable visuals, and star power, but the script is weak and it was shot without any strong direction.

Looking back after all these years, it is shocking just how similar Mars Attacks! is to Independence Day, which was released less than six months earlier, and which I like significantly more. What makes ID4 work for me is that Roland Emmerich is a dumb guy who thinks he's smart. His confident stupidity is on full display. It's a cocky movie from a cocky idiot at the top of his game.

Tim Burton, on the other hand, is someone who should have been able to put out a perfect Ed Wood-like alien-invasion dark comedy in his sleep, but he seems to have deliberately avoided doing the things you associate with Tim Burton. Or at least the things you would have associated with him prior to Mars Attacks!

- - -

I’m ranking every movie I watch between my 33rd and 34th birthdays right here on Tumblr dot com because I am some kind of idiot person, I guess.

Spider-Man

Moonrise Kingdom

Fatty Drives the Bus

Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion

Thelma & Louise

50 First Dates

Congo

Terminator 2: Judgment Day

Alien

Gulliver’s Travels

I Feel Pretty

TMNT

The Darjeeling Limited

The Orange Years: The Nickelodeon Story

Legally Blonde

Stargate

The Mitchells vs. the Machines

Mars Attacks!

The Adventures of Pluto Nash

Our Idiot Brother

Green Lantern

Brewster’s Millions

Pork Pie

Incredibles 2

Confessions of a Shopaholic

Election

My Fair Lady

Thunder Force

#Mars Attacks! #Movie Review #Tim Burton #Aliens #Martians

[bookscoffeejesus]

2.20.2021

“A traveller’s chief aim should be to make men wiser and better, and to improve their minds by the bad as well as good example of what they deliver concerning foreign places.” (Gulliver’s Travels ~ Jonathan Swift)

Welp. Another day, another book. Gulliver’s Travels is one of those classics that has sat on my shelf for ages, yet I never picked it up to finally read it. 

This book takes us on four separate adventures with Gulliver, the narrator of this classic satire. Each adventure had its up and its downs, as would be expected with any adventure. I like them all for the most part, but had a hard time getting through the last of the adventures, if only because it’s hard for me to picture a world where horses are the superior beings and humans are treated in almost the same way that we treat horses. Or maybe I’m just too tired for much of it to make sense at this point. Maybe watching the movie version of this will help me to understand it better. 🤷🏼‍♀️

I really, really love these Harper Perennial Olive Editions! I think I only have one other, Little Women by Louisa May Alcott which I read in 2019, though it’s hard for me to say as I’m in the process of moving and packing up my books to take to the new house so I don’t remember what all I have at this point. But I love these covers because they’re simple yet beautiful. This one features a hand holding a ship, indicating Gulliver’s main way of traveling on each of his adventures.

ATY: A book with a travel theme

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

#gulliver's travels #jonathan swift #classic #classic book #classic books #classic novel #classic novels #book #books #book review #book blog #blog #around the year in 52 books #books coffee jesus #book quote #book quotes #quote #quotes

[tokiro07]

Voyager Class Ideas

Since Type-Moon has kindly confirmed that Voyager is a real class and not just the name of its current only hero, Voyager 1, so as with every other class, I’m going to speculate on its potential members before Type-Moon even explains what the qualifications are

Going by the name and the one member, I think we can safely assume that it’s a class for heroes who go on voyages, perhaps even designating its members as Heroic Spirits of the Journey (or of the Voyage, but that’s redundant). As a voyage is traditionally defined as a journey taken aboard a ship (across water or through space) I imagine a number of Riders would qualify, specifically those who traveled far from home by sea, such as Jason on the Argo, Captain Nemo on the Nautilus, or the various pirate Servants like Blackbeard on the Queen Anne’s Revenge. 

I don’t imagine a ship is a hard requirement here, though, and even someone traveling on foot would probably qualify if they went far enough. The journey itself rather than the mode of transportation is most likely the deciding factor here. People who embarked on epic quests like King Arthur and his knights in search of the Holy Grail or Gilgamesh in search of immortality might qualify by this definition, though again it might depend on how far from home they had to travel. I was actually planning to use the Wandering Jew here to fit that concept, but he’s already a canon character in Requiem, so I don’t feel right using him.

Sinbad the Sailor: 

Roc- Sinbad summons a giant bird by removing his turban, which Sinbad wraps around the Roc’s leg to use it for transportation or command it to attack enemies with its talons, beak, or boulders; this qualifies Sinbad for Rider class. 

Aspidochelone- a Reality Marble where both Sinbad and a target are stranded on an island, which is in reality a whale; should either combatant make too much noise, start a fire, damage the island, or otherwise alert it to their presence, the whale will submerge, crushing them under the waves; the Reality Marble can be dissipated by killing Sinbad in time, and the sinking can be survived with flight, Skills or Noble Phantasms related to survival or water, or a sufficient Luck stat. 

By Fortune and Fate- as Sinbad was able to survive the many disasters he attracted and subsequently accumulate so many treasures either by coincidence or the misfortune of others, Sinbad is able to survive in even the unlikeliest of circumstances, and defeated Servants will leave behind their Noble Phantasms (if applicable) for Sinbad to claim as his own, though they will generally be weakened. 

Sinbad’s Armaments include a bow and arrow (Archer), a scimitar (Saber), and the Cyclops’ two iron spits (Lancer).

Thorfinn Karlsefni: 

Vinland- Thorfinn creates a Reality Marble of a tranquil village, wherein he offers food and drink to an enemy Servant in exchange for laying down their arms; should they take the offer, the opposing Servant will gain an increase in their stats in exchange for becoming an ally to Thorfinn until the final battle of the Holy Grail War; should they refuse, the two will commence battle immediately, with the enemy Servant suffering a stat decrease. 

Thor’s Boon- the beached whale that sustained Thorfinn’s crew through the winter, eating its meat heals Thorfinn’s wounds and can even sustain his mana supply should something happen to his Master. The whale has no direct use in combat, though a sufficiently strong Servant may be able to lift it and wield it as a blunt object. As a carcass, it can potentially spread illness to Servants in the form of a stat decrease, which would be especially potent in Christian Servants.

Skraeling Bull- Thorfinn summons a bull that goes on a rampage and instills a strong urge to retreat in enemies without sufficiently strong mental fortitude; natives of the land the bull is summoned in will have much greater difficulty resisting the urge to retreat.

If Thorfinn is summoned on the east coast of Canada, where Vinland is believed to be located, his stats dramatically increase and all of his Noble Phantasms rank up

Ponce de Leon: 

Fountain of Youth- entering the waters of the fountain allows de Leon to recover from any wound so long as he still has mana; drinking the water separately from the fountain allows for healing of any non-fatal wound.

Lemuel Gulliver: 

Adventure- aboard the ship that brought Gulliver to (at least one of) his various destinations, Gulliver can direct or randomly spin the helm to face the ship towards one of them; Lilliput- enemy Servants are swarmed by the tiny Lilliputians; Brobdingnag- enemies are attacked by giants; Balnibarbi- enemies are attacked by stones dropped from the floating island of Laputa or Laputa falls upon them; Glubbdubdrib- Gulliver visits a non-classed necromancer who allows him to consult with spirits, generally for the sake of learning more about other Servants; Houyhnhnm-Land- Servants are trampled by a stampede of talking horses or attacked by a ravenous pack of deformed, human-like Yahoos. 

Yahoos With the Gift of Speech- a passive Noble Phantasm, Gulliver’s disdainful view of humans causes humans and Servants of human origin in his vicinity to begin to lose intelligence and reason (with the exception of his own Master); Servants that are less human, such as being partially or completely of Divine, monstrous, mechanical, or bestial origin, suffer a smaller decrease based on how little humanity they have.

Dorothy Gale: 

Silver Shoes/Ruby Slippers- grants Dorothy the ability to instantly travel wherever she wishes as well as granting protection from harm; though the ruby variant is more well known, the shoes were originally silver in the novels, thus allowing Dorothy to change them to their original silver to hide her identity, though invoking Ruby Slippers as the True Name grants her greater magic on account of their infamy. 

Tin-Man/Scarecrow/Cowardly Lion- Dorothy can summon any of her companions as non-classed Servants. 

Toto- though she generally won’t use him, Dorothy’s dog can exit her basket to engage in combat; he can also speak to Dorothy to give advice.

Chicxulub Impactor (personification of the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs; also qualifies for Foreigner): 

Alvarez Hypothesis- Chicxulub summons an asteroid to crush their target; officially, this is an Anti-Planet Noble Phantasm, but if summoned through the Holy Grail, its power is actually limited to either Anti-Army or Anti-Fortress to prevent global destruction. Fragments of the full impactor can be broken off to be used as Armaments without invoking its True Name, and may be used to change the impactor’s area of effect.

[Note: I also considered Robinson Crusoe, Doctor Dolittle and Don Quixote, but I decided against them because while they are all known for voyages and journey, I felt they were either potentially better suited for other classes or just weren’t as interesting as other options. I may add them in here later, but I generally try to limit these posts to about five or six Heroes. I also considered Phileas Fogg and Dante Alighieri, but I’ve already used both of them in a previous post and I didn’t want to use any repeats if I could help it. All of these Heroes that I ignored are perfectly viable, I just didn’t take the time to put their Noble Phantasms in this post.]

#fate series #fate requiem #fate grand order #voyager #voyager class #fan servants

[skonnaris]

50 books read in High School Worth Revisiting

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald: High school students who go on to college can quite easily nurture a firsthand understanding of the self-serving hedonism found at the center of this beloved classic. And then they’ll either despise it even more or relate all too well.

Beowulf by unknown: Pick up the popular Old English epic after forgetting the seemingly endless lectures and settle in to a thoroughly enjoyable adventure tale.

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger: Depending on one’s circumstances when first picking up The Catcher in the Rye, protagonist Holden Caulfield is either a counterculture revelation or a whiny, pretentious brat. Revisiting him later in life will inevitably shift perceptions to some degree, be it major or minor.

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston: Some high school students may scoff at the soapier elements found on Zora Neale Hurston’s Harlem Renaissance essential, but older adults are more likely to see and admire the strength, courage and resolve of heroine Janie Crawford.

Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare: The real tragedy of Romeo and Juliet isn’t their mistaken, needless deaths. It’s their staggering myopia and selfishness.

One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey: Anyone who has ever personally suffered from a psychiatric disorder — or loves someone who does — might find the marginalization of the mentally ill in this undeniable classic both disturbing and tragically accurate. It may take some time and experience between high school and the next read for such bitter facts to really seize hold.

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo: Les Miserables is huge. When reading it in English class, deadlines might preclude many students from really picking up on the book’s myriad juicy nuances. Revisiting it later offers far more time to sit and ponder everything Hugo wanted audiences to see.

War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy: As with Les Miserables, time constraints and other academic obligations make it difficult to really become absorbed in War and Peace. When picking it up and reading on a more personal schedule, visitors are more likely to forge a far more solid grasp of the material.

Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko: More sensitive high school students may find protagonist Tayo’s spiritual, emotional and physical healing process too intense for their tastes. But as they age and gain more life experience, Ceremony could very well prove exactly what they need one day.

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe: As long as there are nations battling it out over land and squashing indigenous cultures beneath their boots, postcolonial literature will always be relevant. Chances are, anyone reading Things Fall Apartas a high school student will probably be able to apply many of its tenets to current events. When they re-read it as adults, they might find themselves sadly noting how little things have changed.

The Jungle by Upton Sinclair: Both at the turn of the 20th Century and on into today, most readers (even teachers) tend to emphasize Upton Sinclair’s visceral descriptions of unsanitary food production — especially since it directly spawned hefty legislation. In reality, though, he wanted it to shed light on the plight of exploited workers. Give his classic another visit later in life and see how the story changes when reading it with this in mind.

Beloved by Toni Morrison: Toni Morrison deliberately left many elements of her celebrated novel ambiguous, so any subsequent readings will inevitably churn up new perspectives, details and interpretations.

The Joy Luck Club by Amy Tan: Because family stands as this classic’s core theme, The Joy Luck Club never goes out of style. Whenever issues with parents arise, refer back to it for solace and insight.

The Color Purple by Alice Walker: When life grows too overwhelming, timeless heroine Celie provides inspiration to press on — no matter what sort of adversity and cruelty stonewalls happiness and stability.

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain: The sociopolitical elements driving this famous narrative are incredibly important to understanding it as a whole, but focusing too much on them — as one would in an English class — glosses over the comparatively more lighthearted adventure elements.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: Understandably, many first-time Frankensteinreaders dive into the novel expecting a green-skinned simpleton with bolts in his neck — and find themselves shocked when encountering something completely different. Give it a re-read and see what may have been missed when consciously or subconsciously making comparisons with the iconic movie.

The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway: High school students sigh over this leisurely-paced classic, but older adults seeking something more philosophical than frenetic might find it exactly what they want.

Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller: Hopefully, picking up the searing Death of a Salesman at just the right time will prevent many students and adults from falling into the same lifestyle traps as tragic Willy Loman.

The Stranger by Albert Camus: Existentialism probably seems intense and somewhat inaccessible to many high schoolers, but one of the philosophy’s cornerstones warrants further consideration once they pack on more life experiences.

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad: Puncturing through allegory after allegory after allegory grows tiresome after a while, and a fair amount of individuals might enjoy Heart of Darkness far more if they didn’t have to so painstakingly dissect every word.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou: Maya Angelou’s poetic autobiography is at once heartbreaking and inspiring — an ultimately uplifting tale perfect for anyone needing a dash or two of courage.

Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut: An American treasure, Kurt Vonnegut may not necessarily appeal to harried high schoolers lacking the time to really sit and think about his statements regarding society, religion and politics. Approaching him with the proper time frame and mindset will make Slaughterhouse-Five and his other works burst with life and lessons.

The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka: "Monstrous vermin" Gregor Samsa serves as a viable literary outlet for anyone, anywhere feeling as if the world treads all over their stability and happiness. Reading about the horrific abuses his family heaps upon him provides a strange, comforting sense of solidarity.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte-: Though fiction, Wuthering Heights makes for one of the most prominent lessons in how mentally and emotionally abusive relationships operate – something women and men alike absolutely need to know if they hope to keep themselves safe.

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck: Most of Steinbeck’s oeuvre deserves multiple reads, but his story of a developmentally disabled man and his devoted caretaker remains one of the most heart-wrenching American novels ever printed. And one whose tragic ending merits a wealth of conversations.

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra: Because Don Quixotepossesses such a rich history and left an indelible mark on popular culture, bibliophiles of all ages find themselves coming back again and again to enjoy the adventures of the eponymous dreamer.

The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath: This semi-autobiographical novel sheds considerable light on a life wracked with mental illness — a somber, realistic lesson every adult must understand. The Bell Jar also serves as a reminder that anyone emotionally struggling doesn’t always do so alone.

A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess: Readers who don’t understand Russian or cockney slang (aka most of them) need to read this warped dystopian novel multiple times to understand what in God’s name the characters are even saying.

A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen: Written before the feminist movement rose up and fought for women’s equality, one of Henrik Ibsen’s most popular plays toyed with the scandalous notion that some housewives may pine for a life outside their husbands, homes and kids.

The Awakening by Kate Chopin: Another recommended read for the liberated woman and the men who appreciate them, though many fans of this book find themselves divided over whether or not they fully agree with the central figure’s actions.

Gulliver’s Travels by Jonathan Swift: English classes spend so much time zeroing in on the wealth of social, political and religious commentary found in Gulliver’s Travels, they oftentimes forget to address just how much fun the book actually is.

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison: Dense and intense, Ralph Ellison’s brutal analysis of pre-Civil Rights race relations is required reading for any students and adults hoping to end bigotry in all its twisted, ugly guises.

Maus by Art Spiegelman: Maus currently holds the honor of being the only Pulitzer-winning graphic novel, a status that rightfully earned it a place on many a syllabus. Despite its grim content — Art Spiegelman’s very real talks with his father about his Holocaust experiences — the valuable lessons about family and history remain timeless.

Inferno by Dante Alighieri: All three portions of Dante Alighieri’s epic poetry trilogy The Divine Comedy are required reading, but his bizarre, highly detailed depiction of hell holds the most influence over the literary world today — not to mention pop culture as a whole.

1984 by George Orwell: No literary history aficionados will argue that George Orwell’s terrifying totalitarian dystopia birthed the entire genre, but it certainly left the biggest impact. Political pundits enjoy trotting out parallels to 1984 when discussing administrations they hate. Citizens familiarizing themselves with the novel’s tenets and context can tell whether or not they have a real point or are just resorting to paranoid fearmongering.

Nectar in a Sieve by Kamala Markandaya: Despite the many hardships heaped upon protagonist Rukmani, hers is a story of strength and perseverance that many students and adults may want to consult when seeking comfort in times of trouble.

Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton: Though apartheid may have ended, its legacy of intolerance and discord provides future generations with the tools to identify and stop such practices before they even have a chance to start.

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller: Readers of all ages with a particular affinity for absurdity and political commentary — especially as it relates to wartime — keep coming back to this novel again and again for laughs and truth bombs.

The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros: Bibliophiles looking for a great bildungsroman to read over and over again have plenty to love about and explore with this compelling story about a young Chicana and her life in an impoverished Chicago neighborhood.

A Good Man is Hard to Find and Other Stories by Flannery O’Connor: Though an obviously subjective statement, many consider Flannery O’Connor one of the best American short story writers of all time. In such a confined space, she thrived with some incredibly provocative, influential narratives well worth reconsideration.

Night by Elie Wiesel: In his autobiography, Elie Wiesel recounts his gruesome experiences in Auschwitz and Buchenwald with the hopes of educating the world about the Holocaust’s horrors. Giving Night more than one look helps drive home its major historical themes, imbuing readers with the knowledge needed to better recognize hate and genocide.

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi: This new classic is at once hilarious and heartbreaking. Through deceptively simple art, writer and cartoonist Marjane Satrapi recounts her childhood during the Islamic Revolution in Iran and the different set of prejudices faced as an expatriate in Europe.

Gravity’s Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon: Gravity’s Rainbow necessitates multiple reads because it involves over 400 characters embroiled in increasingly absurdist, surreal situations. Anyone who says they understand everything in one read is probably lying just to seem smart. Punch him or her in the face.

A Separate Peace by John Knowles: The comparatively cushy lives of private school students in New England are juxtaposed with young men forced to the front lines of World War II, with a strange and interesting friendship right in the center.

A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole: Not only is it a provocative read — especially when one factors in author John Kennedy Toole’s tragic life — this posthumous Pulitzer winner also happens to be one of the most hilarious novels ever published.

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens: Charles Dickens attracts such a massive audience, most of his oeuvre could’ve easily made this list. A Tale of Two Cities oftentimes bores high school students, but as they grow older they may come to love its history and memorable characters.

Flatland by Edwin A. Abbott: Aside from the fact that this novel exists as one of the greatest satires ever written in English, it also warrants multiple reads for the sheer originality and imagination.

A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf: In her book-length essay A Room of One’s Own, Virginia Woolf opines on feminism, sexuality (most especially lesbianism) and the importance of financial autonomy and personal space for writers.

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri: Short stories of Indians and Indian-Americans intertwine thematically, raising some excellent questions about multiculturalism, family, relationships and plenty of other subjects bibliophiles delight in discussing.

Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse: Both the spiritually-minded and those adhering to no religious credos at all appreciate this reflective classic and turn to it for meditative advice.

[latitudesunknown]

Day 29 on Tiny Haven

(1) She always knows what to say. 😭🧡

I applied to get a new room yesterday, and in the morning, sure enough, another ominous looking black portal has appeared. I kinda wish they wouldn’t make them so wide; that’s valuable wall-space lost!

I decide to turn the new room into a bathroom. For the past two days I’ve had my toilets in my bedroom and honestly that was a little weird.

I went for a piraty theme. Aaar! 🦜

I was heartbroken when I realized I couldn’t actually get into the bathtub. I loooove baths, I miss my rl bathtub like crazy, and I would have spent all my virtual time soaking if I’d been able to. Very sad moment. 😢

In a bottle, I find a blueprint for metal shelves, and get VERY excited for about two seconds, until I discover the shelves come pre-filled. 

Thwarted, again.

On the beach, I find Gulliver, who has once again gone overboard.

(2)  He’s getting to be a bit cocky, honestly. I’ll have you know i have MANY things to do and people to see (this is a lie).

I go visit Raymond, eager and a little worried to see what he’s done with his place... and yell in fright.

Dude! What the FUCK! What is the point of moving to a paradise island if you just recreate your Wall Street Office????

To my greatest despair, I apparently still do not know him enough to gift him anything, and must watch, helpless, as he insists on clinging to his old life.

(3) A safe full of gold, and this is where he lives!

I just don’t get this guy. Every time I talk to him, he talks about being a star, an artist, an adventurer, but for now everything from the clothes he wears to the place he’s opted to live in screams “paper is my life”.

Lili, on the other hand, is about to become my second True Friend(tm)

(4) That “everything” with the crappy French pronunciation is wonderful.

Turns out what she really wants to know is which sport I like best (I answer “badminton”, because I don’t want to admit I’m a couch potato just yet). At least that’s enough for the game to finally realize we’re BFFs.

Later on, she blathers on and dithers for ten minutes about something she does not dare to say...

(5) Yes?

(6) C’mon Lil’, you can ask me anything. You asked me if I liked sports, what could be more awkward?

(7) ... aaaand she never actually told me what it was. Tease.

True Friends don’t bait and switch, Lil’.

I then bump into Vanessa, and get a horrible scare.

(8) What do you mean, you’re thinking of leaving?!

(9) 😱😱😱

I can’t believe the game would have actually allowed me to send her packing. Vanessa! My dearest friend Vanessa!

(It’s good to know that if I ever start hating one of my neighbours I might have a way to get rid of them, though)

Obviously, I beg her to stay.

(10) Thank god. Never scare me like that again!

Of course, ever since then I’ve felt a little guilty. What if she’d have been happier traveling?

To change my mind, I visit City Hall, where I get some great sounding news. Now that my house is big enough, I can customize its exterior!

I’ve got stars in my eyes. Will I be able to change the shape of my house so it’s cuter, like the others’? Will I be able to add windows? Repaint the walls?

Turns out all I can do (at least for now) is change the mailbox and the color of the roof. 😑

Talk about underwhelming. I should have known anything coming from Tom couldn’t be that good.

Ah well. At least I have a bathroom now, matey!

.

Subtitles

(1) I know you don’t spare yourselves during the week, but it’s almost time to rest!

(2) Care to keep me company for a bit? I’m just saying... you don’t look like you’re swamped with obligations.

(3) What’s in there? Let’s take a peek...

(4) I’ve got one obsession: I need to know everything about my friends. From A to Z! E-ve-ry-thing!

(5) Maddy, I’d like to know... But I’m not sure you’d want to answer.

(6) Let’s say it’s... I’m embarrassed, it’s super personal.

(7) Ha ha! Now you really want to know, don’t you?

(8) Oh, Maddy. I’ve turned it over and over... and I think I’m going to move out.

(9) Everyone on this island’s great, that’s not the matter. I’ve just got wanderlust. What should I do?

(10) I do like this place, and it’s swell knowing my pals don’t want me to split. Thank you!

#animal crossing #animal crossing new horizons #long post #my post

[noona-clock]

Confusion & Coincidences - Part 4

Genre: Regency!AU

Pairing: Yongguk x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Well, you never imagined you would be sitting in your family’s carriage, clutching a small trunk of all the accessories and toiletry necessities a trip to London demanded, bouncing along the road to the capital city of your fine country. On the way to subtly but very deliberately put yourself in the path of the Earl of Blackman.

But... here you were. Sitting in your family’s carriage. Clutching your small trunk. Bouncing along the road. To London.

Good heavens, you couldn’t believe your mother had coerced you into this. Actually, you could, you just couldn’t believe she’d come up with this plan in the first place!

She must truly be desperate, as she’d exclaimed only yesterday before your call to Mr. Kim.

One thing - one small thing - which awarded you a bit of comfort was your book tucked away in your trunk. You’d packed it with the hopes of re-reading it during your visit, though if your mother continued to blabber on and on as she was doing now, you would have no time for reading.

“--know he seems disagreeable, but you heard Mr. Kim! He’s just shy! And, to be quite frank, you can seem disagreeable sometimes, yourself, and --”

“Mama!” you cried, your brow furrowing. Of course, you’d tuned in at just the right moment. Or maybe the wrong moment. Either way, you’d heard what she’d just said about you, and you didn’t appreciate it.

“Well!” she rebutted. “It’s true! Like right now, for instance. You’re barely listening to a word I say, and you’re not even talking to me at all. Some carriage companion you are!”

“If you wanted a social butterfly for a daughter, you shouldn’t have married Papa,” you pointed out with pursed lips. You took after him in almost every way, lest she forget.

“I didn’t want to,” she admitted, much to your surprise. “But my heart wouldn’t let me do otherwise.”

Your first instinct was to sigh dreamily because it was rather romantic. You knew your parents dearly and truly loved each other. But the words you found rising up in your throat were not anything to do with them.

“Then why will you not let me decide with my heart?” you asked softly but firmly. “Do I not deserve a chance to fall in love like you and Papa?”

Your mother’s head jerked up, her brow furrowing deeply at your questions. “But, my darling, that is the reason why we’re going to London!”

“No, the reason why we’re going to London is to hope that we see the Earl.”

“And the Earl could be the man you fall in love with. How will you know if you don’t pursue it? You can’t fall in love by staying in your room all day, writing letters and reading novels.”

You opened your mouth to reply but almost immediately closed it. And then again. And again. And again until your mother pronounced you looked like a fish, so either say something or don’t!

That snapped your mouth shut straight away. You were not going to say anything.

Because... as frustrating and embarrassing as it was to admit...

She was right.

You and your mother were staying with your maiden aunt, your mother’s older sister. You know, the one she said you would end up like if you didn’t find a husband soon.

Your mother judged her for being single but she still jumped at any chance she got to stay in her residence when visiting London. Yes, it is very eye-roll worthy.

Once the two of you arrived and got settled into your rooms, your aunt suggested what you expected almost any other aunt would suggest upon two of her female relatives arriving in the bustling city of London: Shopping.

You didn’t mind shopping, of course, but you were certainly not on the same level as your mother and aunt. Trying on two or three gowns was enough for you, so by the time your mother had picked out a seventh one for you, you’d had enough.

“Mama, there’s a bookstore just a few shops down,” you mentioned sweetly. “Might I look around in there while you and Aunt Catherine continue to shop?”

You were hoping your mother would answer distractedly, telling you to ‘yes, yes, go right ahead, my dear.’ But, to your surprise, she paused and turned toward you.

“A bookstore?”

“Yes, Mama,” you grinned. “Not far away at all.”

She pursed her lips but eventually nodded. “You do have my two pounds to spend, after all.”

“Thank you!” You rose up on your toes and pecked her cheek in gratitude before nearly skipping out of the dress shop and down the sidewalk to the bookstore.

The smell of paper and leather accosted you when you opened the door, and you couldn’t stop yourself from taking a very deep breath in. It smelled like comfort. Like home, even though this is definitely not what your home smelled like.

The shopkeeper mumbled a greeting to you before you lost yourself among the shelves of books.

Truly, you could spend hours in here. There were so many titles you had heard of and hoped to read, but there were so many more you hadn’t. You silently cursed all the everyday, mundane things you had to do - like eat and sleep - because think of how many books you could read if you did nothing else?!

You ran your fingers delicately along the book spines as you walked through the aisles, a small smile tugging your lips feeling the soft leather underneath your fingertips.

You perused the whole store twice before getting started on selecting which titles you would purchase; you wanted to be absolutely sure because you actually very rarely got to buy books for yourself. Your father had a very well-stocked library, so you’d kept yourself entertained with those books, only buying a few here and there - like Sense & Sensibility and Pride & Prejudice. So to have a whole two pounds to buy whatever books you wanted?

You picked out Gulliver’s Travels first, clutching it to your chest as if it were a life jacket. And then Robinson Crusoe joined the family. Probably much to the dismay of your mother, the scandalous Dangerous Liaisons was next. You very decidedly pulled Mary Wollstonecraft’s The Vindication of the Rights of Woman from the shelf and added it to your small pile. 

And now you figured one more book would round things out perfectly.

There was one specifically you had in mind, but it was quite high up on a shelf. If you weren’t holding four other books, you probably could have reached it, but you weren’t so sure. You still tried, though, standing up on your toes and reaching your unhindered arm up as far as it would stretch.

Your fingertips brushed the bottom edge of the spine, and you tried desperately to grab onto it somehow.

“Oh, blast these wretched tall shelves,” you muttered under your breath, trying to rise up even higher on your toes.

All of a sudden, an arm came out from behind you. It reached up to the shelf and easily slid the book out before lowering and handing it to you.

“Oh, thank you --” You turned to properly address your savior, your eyes landing on none other than the Earl of Blackman. “Oh! M--my Lord.”

The Earl nodded solemnly, his pillowy lips just barely pulled up into a half-smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Y/N.”

Oh goodness, this was embarrassing. You’d just been exerting yourself too much trying to reach the book that you were now somewhat breathless. (At least, that’s what you told yourself.)

“Th--thank you,” you stammered with a slightly awkward, rasping chuckle. “I guess I should’ve worn my heeled shoes.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” the Earl murmured. “The Mysteries of Udolpho?”

Your brow furrowed and you kind of stared at him. “...What?”

“The Mysteries of Udolpho. The book you were just reaching for.”

“Oh! Yes, yes, of course.” ...Duh. “Yes, The Mysteries of Udolpho. I’ve heard wonderful things.”

“Yes, it was quite entertaining to read.”

Your head snapped up. “You’ve read it?”

He nodded again. “I have. I believe you will enjoy it immensely. It’s got everything a good novel should: suspense, humor, complex characters, a diverting plot, and romance.”

...Somehow you just couldn’t imagine the Earl of Blackman reading a romantic story. You knew he’d read Sense & Sensibility, but still. It was just... a bit odd to think about.

You simply hummed in response, averting your gaze to study the book and add it to your collection.

“May I?” he asked, holding his hands out in an offer to hold your books.

“Hmm? Oh! Oh, no, they’re not that heavy, I can manage,” you replied with another awkward chuckle.

The Earl took his hands back, clasping them behind his back. “Very well.”

...Oh. A... a man who actually listens? Who doesn’t insist he do something?

Well. That was something new.

“What brings you to London?” he asked, interrupting your revelatory thoughts.

Truly, you almost answered with ‘You,’ but you stopped yourself. He must never know you were here because your mother wanted to marry you off to him.

“Ah,” you began. “My Mama and I are visiting my Aunt. Just -- just a family visit. And to get some shopping done. Mama gave me two pounds to buy books, so obviously, I must spend it all now.”

“That’s quite an allowance.”

“It was more of a bribe, actually,” you admitted with a smirk.

“A bribe? For what did you need bribing?”

“A social call. To your cousin, in fact!” 

Oh, great. Why had you said that?!

“I mean, not that I don’t like him! He is a very agreeable man!” you added hastily. “I just meant --”

“I understand,” the Earl interrupted with a barely there chuckle. “I don’t like to pay social calls to my cousin either. Or anyone, for that matter.”

A soft sigh of relief escaped your lips. “Yes, he did mention that you’re rather shy.”

You thought you could detect a very soft pink flush appearing on the Earl’s cheeks, and you mentally scolded yourself yet again.

“But so am I!” you assured him in hopes to ease his embarrassment. “I mean, I’m not necessarily shy. I’m not scared of meeting people, I just don’t like to. Or talk to people I don’t know very well.”

“I suppose I should leave you, then?” he asked with a quirked brow.

“No!” you cried, your voice a bit louder than you’d intended. You immediately lifted your shoulders in slight mortification before lowering your voice. “No. I didn’t mean you. I mean, I don’t know you very well, but I -- I mean, you -- this isn’t --”

...You honestly had no idea what you were saying. So you took a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily and completely missing how the Earl had to tamp down a smile.

“You may leave if you like,” you said mindfully. “But please do not leave on my account.”

The Earl simply nodded for a third time before eyeing your stack of books. “May I see?”

You nodded, turning the books in your hold to show him the titles. He remarked on each one, even raising his eyebrows and shifting his gaze to yours to ask “Dangerous Liaisons? You’re -- that one? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I am sure,” you answered with a smirk.

You anticipated a judgemental shake of his head, but instead, he looked impressed. The corners of his mouth turned down and he nodded slowly.

“Might you have room for one more?” he murmured.

“I might... depending on which one it is. If it is worthy enough to join my family.”

The Earl held up one finger before leading you over to the next shelf. He bit the inside of his cheek as he searched, letting out a soft ‘aha’ when he finally found it.

“Grimms’ Fairy Tales?” you asked when he held the book out for you. “You’re... recommending a book of fairy tales?”

“It’s fairly new, not very well-known. But... I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“All right, then. Add it to the stack, if you will.”

The Earl set it carefully on top of The Mysteries of Udolpho, and you declared you had better buy these books now before either you run out of money or your arm falls off.

After exchanging your two pounds for the six books, the Earl accompanied you out of the store.

“May I escort you home?” he asked politely.

Your eyebrows rose instantly, and you turned to glance down the street toward the dress shop where you’d left your mother and aunt. You had no idea if they were still there, though you had spent quite a long time in the bookstore.

Should you go back and see if they’re there? Or let the Earl walk you?

It would be incredibly impolite of you to refuse him, so... you nodded. “Yes, you may.”

The Earl then reached for your stack of books, taking three of the six and carrying them in one arm. He then held the other arm out for you, and you timidly slipped your hand into the crook of his elbow.

To be honest, you expected some painful small talk as you walked. He would probably ask more about your hobbies or your childhood or your brother or something. And you would answer automatically and ask the same about him.

A very unpleasant process, I assure you.

But you passed at least a dozen shops and were now entering the residential streets of London and... he hadn’t said a thing.

And neither had you.

It was glorious.

The two of you walked on for almost ten minutes in silence before you nodded up ahead. “My Aunt’s house,” you said.

The Earl simply hummed, slowing his pace and eventually stopping in front of the stately brick townhome.

“Here is the rest of your family,” he murmured as he set his three books on top of yours.

“Thank you,” you grinned. “And thank you for the company.”

Just like you had expected painful small talk on your walk home, you expected the Earl to invite you to dine with him. He would probably say, “If you would care for some more company, I would be happy to receive you at my residence for dinner tomorrow night.”

That’s just the way things worked in this day and age.

But the Earl nodded, bowing slightly toward you before... turning on his heel and leaving.

To be honest... you weren’t sure what to think.

Your brow furrowed as you slowly made your way up the front steps to your aunt’s door. The butler opened it for you and received your books.

“Y/N!” your mother shrieked when she saw you. 

Okay, well, she wasn’t just now seeing you for the first time. She had already seen you through the drawing-room window.

Meaning she’d seen you with the Earl.

“What quick work you’ve made!” she praised, scurrying up to you and framing your face in her palms. “Did he issue an invitation of some sort? Dinner? A party? Social call? Anything?”

You knew you were going to disappoint her. Or, if anything, confuse her. You were still a bit confused yourself.

“No.”

Your mother did frown, but only for a few moments. “No need to worry, my dear. Your lovely, darling Aunt knows someone who knows someone who dines with him quite regularly, so he shall have the pleasure of your company again in no time.”

But now you were wondering... did he want the pleasure of your company again?

Part 5

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