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thewalkingdead-imagines · 4 years

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TWD - Negan Imagine ~ “Morning Star”

Imagine about the the 11th episode of season 10.

Summary: While the Reader prepares along with the rest of Hilltop for the upcoming battle, Negan has no idea that his wife is actually inside the community Alpha plans to destroy.

Bright sunbeams shone down on you as the carriage beneath you jerked a little, shaken by the potholes in the old roads that winded through the forest that lead you closer to Hilltop. You hadn’t even thought that you would be able to join the others at first, not with the staff shortage you currently had in the infirmary anyway, but things had turned out in your favor. The last three victims of Dante’s water contamination were doing pretty well again but the whole act had other consequences than just sick patients. Dante’d done a pretty good job on using, even wasting, the majority of Alexandria’s most important meds, had made sure that not much was left after and especially with the Whisperers sitting in your necks, it was more important than ever to stock up again. So that was your job now, getting new meds, judging which ones you needed and which ones you could pass on, and if things worked out, maybe recruit someone from Hilltop to come back with you to the infirmary to have another pair of helping hands. And you were glad about that, you needed to get out of the infirmary and Alexandria in general for some time. In the mostly empty infirmary you had too much time to let your thoughts get the best of you and whirl up new worries about Negan. They wouldn’t be gone now, for sure not, but being distracted in an environment you weren’t as used to as Alexandria was hopefully a good thing. Sighing you leaned back into the small pillow that was protecting your back from pressing directly into the rough wooden backrest and glanced around, watching as the green trees passed by. It was beautiful outside and part of you hoped that it could lift your mood a little. You were close to spiraling deeper into that dark hole with all those worries about your husband, the grief about Siddiq, the frustration about this whole Dante thing pooling within you and mixing with the shock of last night, you knew that, and you didn’t want to hit it’s bottom nor dive just a tiny bit deeper into it. So instead of dwelling more on your thoughts you tried to catch some of the conversation that was going on in the front of the wagon, still circling around the cave like it had a couple moments ago. “It was...”,you could hear Aaron say in his front seat as he leaned back to glimpse at Rosita,”It was Carol. There was some dynamite in the cave, we agreed on not risking it...she took it anyway.” He scoffed slightly, clearly frustrated while you could only think back at what had happened in the night you’d met Alpha at the border and her shot that would have almost resulted the war to break out earlier. She was troubled after Henry’s death, you got that and you didn’t even want to imagine what it was like to lose a child. Hell, you would do anything to get the head of the bitch that took it as well and you wouldn’t judge her on this but anger and grief were a dangerous mix, and it was putting people she cared about in danger, and that’s where shit like that had to be stopped. “We should look forward now though. That’s what’s important”, you heard Aaron quickly add, as if he was trying to not make the mess bigger than it already was before you glanced away from the conversation again and glimpsed back at the green forest around you, hoping that Hilltop wouldn’t be all to far away anymore. About a half day had passed since Beta had come back from his unsuccessful mission to bring the little spy back and in all honesty, in these kinda terms things couldn’t have worked better for Negan. The boss lady was definitely pissed at the weirdo giant for failing his mission which only let Negan rise in the skin freak ranks and just knowing that Gamma was in one of the communities was a whole different kind of jackpot. She’d spill all the secrets for sure, and with that, Beta’s failure wasn’t only a direct advantage to him but hell, also an indirect one to everyone at home. He was a little calmer than last night as well, after eavesdropping on the skin freaks that had accompanied Beta for some of the way and who’d grumbled about the deaths inside the walls. Some poor fuckers had to let their lives that night, he knew that but from everything he had heard and from trying to use the method of elimination, he was sure that Beta hadn’t gotten his hands on his girl. He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, hell, he didn’t even know if she’d actually been in Alexandria that night, but he kept on telling himself that she was fine, that she had known what to do that night. He kept on telling himself that she was okay. And while these were the advantages of Beta’s failure, Negan’s rise in the ranks got him to do a damn task the big ass freak probably usually did, and that was everything else than what Negan was in the mood for now. It was whipping Alpha’s arms with some thin branch for fuck knows which reason, maybe some fucking fetish, maybe because she thought that shit would get her stronger, he didn’t fucking know, all he knew as that he was growing tired of this crap. First that fucking kiss, now this shit. "Does this mean I've graduated to the next level of kinky Whisperer shit?”, he chuckled as he reached towards the branch with furrowed brows, trying to overplay how fucking ridiculous and absurd he actually found this whole situation. “You joke to hide your fear”, she said cooly, eying him for a moment while he let out a small sigh, pushing himself on his feet while she remained seated on one of the rocks that surrounded them. Well, she was sure partly right there, just didn’t he hide his fear, he tried to hide how weirded out he was right now. “You know, seems to me you've been cut up enough”, he grumbled as he watched more scars appear on her arm as she reached it out and pulled her sleeve further up. This shit was fucked up, holy shit was this fucked up. “Begin”, she insisted, closing her eyes as if she’d await the greatest fucking gift in the next moment before Negan furrowed his brows once more at her until he finally lifted the slim branch up and rushed it against her forearm, cutting into her flesh and leaving a red mark. She smiled, she fucking smiled as she glimpsed at her arm before she pushed it forwards again. “Again”, she mumbled, and so he did, not trying to argue anymore. Fuck, if she wanted this, she was gonna get it. The second lash left a brighter red mark on her arm than the first, leaving her looking even more satisfied than before as she stood up from the spot and abruptly took the branch out of his hand, just to nod towards him. “Now you.” Oh what the fuck. What was this crap gonna turn into now? “Ah, does this mean we're bonded for life?”, he joked, trying to somehow process whatever the fuck was actually going on here. “Depends”, she said just as ice-cold as ever, while he slowly began to push the sleeve of his leather jacket up, just trying to get it over with as she rushed the branch in the very next moment against his arm “Aah”, he let out, half in pain, half in a chuckle while a wide grin painted on his face, his body’s odd way to cope with this bullshittery just as another whip rushed against his arm and elicited another flinch and chuckle to mix with one another. Well, at least that crap was done now. “Well done”, she said with a nod, tossing the branch away before she reached to the back pocket of her pants where she usually kept her mask, only with the difference now that she pulled a different one out and held it towards him. “You will need it tonight”, she added as soon as she caught his furrowing brows and the confused look on his face. Hell, was that his reward now for this whipping session? Getting to wear a dead dude’s face? ”For what?”, he asked, glancing down at her while the eerie smile from before started to grow on her lips again. ”Tonight, the enemy will die.”

The sun was already starting to near the skyline of the trees as you finally rolled through Hilltop’s gates and could hop from your crammed position on the wagon onto the ground to shake your legs a little out, glancing around the place you hadn’t visited in god knows how long. It hadn’t changed all too much, there was a whole new field of crops in front of the gates and some more stands and smaller houses in its inside but for the most part if looked pretty similar to the last time you’d walked in here. Mary hopped down the wagon beside you, a little insecure as she started to follow Aaron, before Rosita moved down as just as you grabbed the first empty box that was supposed to be filled with meds when you’d leave again and heft it down the wagon. ”I’ll go to the doc here right away and get some painkillers, want me to tell him you’ll come in later?”, she asked as she stopped beside you, nodding to the wound that was hidden underneath the boasting bandage you’d renewed earlier on your way here. ”Yeah, please. That’d be great”,you said, nodding as she was already starting to walk towards the trailer that had a big red cross painted onto it,”Thank you.” ”All good”, she responded back just as you got back to the wagon, reaching towards the medical bag that was filled with the couple bandages and salves you’d used a few from for Rosita, just as the sound of a familiar motorcycle sounded through the air. A little irritated you glanced up, just in the very moment you caught it rushing past the wagons through the gates, carrying Daryl and Lydia on the back and slowing immediately down before it came to a complete stop in the middle of the road that let to the mansion. For a moment you let the bag go, curious, a little irritated but relieved that your half brother was back and had found Lydia, while you made your way up to them while they attracted Yumiko, Luke and a couple other people who’d been standing on the mansion’s porch to make their way over to them as well. “My mother's coming”, you heard Lydia say just in the moment you reached them, immediately stopping you as an ice-cold shudder washed over you the moment Lydia’s voice hushed. ”The herd’s on its way”,Daryl grumbled, scoffing thickly as he shock his head and glimpsed at the people in front of him while you felt like you were glued to the spot for a moment,”Far away but it’s coming.” Curses sounded through the air, mixing with people starting to ask what they were supposed to do now just before Daryl’s voice sounded again through the air, shutting them down for a moment. ”We’ll meet up in the main room, we can talk it out there.” ”Good idea, I’ll get everyone”, Luke said, quickly nodding before he turned around and quickly hurried up the stairs, and while most eyes were on him in this moment, yours were on your half-brother. He was starting to lead these people and you doubted that he realized what he was doing there nor that he’d ever thought he would. But he was, he was leading them and for a moment you were a little taken aback by how easily the others followed him. “Hey”, you heard him suddenly say as he turned around, glancing a little irritated at you as he nodded towards you while Lydia vanished behind Luke in the mansion, ”Why’re ya here too?” ”We don’t have many meds left back home. Need to get new ones, maybe get someone to help out but I guess I can forget that now”, you gulped, feeling the tension rise within you as you started to realize that probably thousands of dead assholes were on their way to this small community, and you were stuck in its middle. Still, for a moment you got distracted from that as you glanced at Daryl, first noticing how battered he looked now that he stood right in front of you. He had some makeshift bandages wrapped around his hands and his leg, the one on the latter big and partly doubted in a dark red color. ”It’s nothing”, he said before you could even say a word, though he quickly let out a thick sigh as he caught the glance in your eyes. He couldn’t bullshit you, not you. That even counted after all these years. ”Was a fight after the cave...with Alpha, got her good too”, he reluctantly said, just adding onto the tension that was cursing through you before he quickly spoke up again,”Don’t have time to get that treated.” ”We have five minutes for sure”,you mumbled, glimpsing at the stubborn man. The wounds looked bad, especially the one on his leg and you knew him more than well enough that he’d even downplay an injury if his leg was shortly before falling off. ”Will take some time till Luke and the others will get everyone in the meeting room. We could use that time window, I still got some stuff in the wagon”, you added, nodding towards the wagon you’d spent the last hours on before you caught Daryl shifting from foot to foot before he reluctantly started to nod. ”Mhmm okay.” ”Lydia made it”, Daryl grumbled as you found yourself sitting next to him the back of the wagon, cleaning the wound on his hand just to be sure even though it definitely already looked better than you expected, especially knowing that she’d done it in the middle of the muddy woods. ”Did a pretty good job, really”, you said, putting the disinfection liquid and the cloth to the side before you grabbed one of the fresh bandages in the bag,”Is she okay too?” ”Yeah, made sure”, he nodded, though he seemed to tense up for a moment as he gulped thickly, shifting uncomfortably as you reached back for his hand. ”Couldn’t find ‘em”, he mumbled, barely audible as you had to take a moment before you realized that he was talking about Connie and Magna, and judging from how he was looking right now, it was hitting him harder than he lead on, especially because it was Carol who’d caused the cave to collapse. ”I’m sure they’ll make it out. Don’t know them well but they’re survivors...and smart. they’ll find a way”, you said, trying to give him a small but genuine smile as you wrapped the bandage securely around his hand and secured it, before starting to move to his leg. ”Hope so”, he nodded, gulping thickly once more while you decided to not bore further. It was too fresh and if he’d want to tell you, he would, but right now, it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk to anybody about this more than he already had. So instead of speaking you started to unwrap the bandage on his leg, carefully to not hurt him more before a sharp breath fell from your lips the moment you uncovered the wound in its entirety, cleaned but deep and probably caused by a large hunting knife that had dug itself into his thigh. ”Holy shit, Daryl that’s deep-” ”Just get a tight bandage ‘round it...please”, he cut you off, already knowing that you’d tell him what he’d really need with a wound like that before you glanced from the boasting wound to him and realized that he’d already made a decision. His stubborn head had become set on just getting the most necessary for his injury before heading inside to make a plan, you wouldn’t be able to change anything about that. ”Alright...”, you said, sighing slightly as you moved closer and started the procedure you had done on his hand all over again, starting at cleaning the wound carefully from the last bit of any mud before starting to get a bandage around his leg, with just enough pressure to make sure it wouldn’t start bleeding again and judging from its look, it already had done so more than enough. ”There you go”, you said as you finally finished the bandage watching as Daryl looked at it before he moved himself with a push from the wagon, wincing slightly as the foot of his injured leg met the ground before he looked back at you. ”Thank you”,he nodded, shifting a little to get the bandage to sit more comfortably before he nodded towards the mansion,”Now let’s get inside” Shock was still stuck in Negan’s bones as he walked through the forest, still trying to process the news of Alpha’s planned massacre at the communities as he made himself on his way to try to change this whole shitshow into something else. He couldn’t let it come so far, he couldn’t let her nor this fucking herd of dead assholes come close enough to any of the communities his wife could be located in. First and fucking foremost, he couldn’t let that happen to her but he also couldn’t let that happen to anyone she cared about, he wanted to protect her from that pain and that part counted for Judith and any other kid that was stuck in there too. He was in here to work against that whole crap, not to be part of it. Clasping that fucking stinking mask in his hand he slowly moved out of the forest onto a small clearing that was streaked with a small creak, that splashed softly against the rocks Alpha was standing on, almost looking as if she was meditating. “Got a little unsolicited advice...everyone's favorite kind, I know, but I can't help myself. And maybe I thought of an idea that you haven't yet”, he said as he moved closer, though remaining a little behind her as she didn’t even move an inch, only opened her eyes as she heard his voice. “I respect a well-deserved massacre”,he said, clearing his throat as he shifted a little from foot to foot,”Some people they just have it coming. And I get why you want to take out Hilltop and Alexandria. It would just It would feel good.” Still no reaction, so hell, he was just gonna keep going, he had to take this chance. “But you know what might feel goddamn fantastic? Getting those assholes to surrender, bend a knee”, he said, slowly growing a little impatient and nervous, though he sure did everything in his might not to let it shimmer through,”Alpha, we can get them to join us.” Inwardly, he was cursing to himself as he still saw no reaction coming from her, part of him asking himself if he should talk more and add something onto it just before he finally heard her voice sounding through the air. “Explain.” "You heard them out there. We have to go. Even if you took out half the herd in that cave, she's got thousands left. You can't stay here”, Lydia said as she paced around the main room that was filled up with each Alexandrian that had come over to the community and Hilltop’s highest members, discussing what should be done next with the dead army marching closer to you with every moment. “The skins could march straight to Alexandria for all we know”, Earl said as he shifted over his spot on the couch while Daryl stood next to you and gripped the backrest with his hands, leaning a little forward to glance at the group. "Yeah, we're right in their way”, he mumbled, his fingers squeezing the cushion as if he was trying to get rid of the tension that laid over him this way before Earl cleared his throat again. “Maybe she goes around us.” “She doesn't need to go around you. She'll just run through you”, Lydia said, the stress clearly sounding through her voice as you watched Jerry shaking his head vehemently. "I'm not running again - Hell no.” " Lydia's right. We can rebuild anywhere”, you now hear Diane chime in while you could feel yourself growing more uncomfortable the more your mind started to realize how real everything about the growing threat was. “Come on. We can't. How many scouting missions you been on, son? Hundreds? Have you ever seen a place like Hilltop?”, you could hear Earl say, and while the thought of fighting a herd more than just a couple sizes larger than the one that had once broke into Alexandria, there was something right about what he said. There weren’t many places the Hilltopers could go to, Alexandria had its capacities too and every place that might have potential in terms of buildings had fallen victim to nature. Building a place like this one up again, that would take a whole lot of time and effort, and in the current situation, no one in here had that. The only chance they had if they fled was letting the herd pass by and then rebuild of what was left of hilltop, which to you, seemed like the best possibility right now. “ No”, Aaron grumbled before you could think any further. “We have a few dozen able-bodied fighters here. Maybe. You like those odds? - 'Cause I don't”, Yumiko said, standing up from her spot on the bench as she glimpsed around the room, looking at Aaron as he shook his head again. “Neither do I.” “Now, we don't have to die here. We're going to have to fight, and if we die, we die fighting for a place that means something. Can you think of a better way to go?”, Earl nearly cut him off and that’s where you and by the look on everybody’s else's face the entirety of the room disagreed with him. You weren’t gonna die here. You came here to get some new meds and recruits for the infirmary, you weren’t gonna just let Alpha’s herd kill you when there were other ways to get out of this situation, even if this meant that Hilltop was lost. “Yeah. We go with my daughter's life intact. And Judith's and Ezra's and Adam's. You want me to keep going?”, Aaron quickly said, almost snapped, back, the tone in his voice strained and angered while for the first time in a long time, you agreed with him. You had no plans to go on a suicide mission just to play along with the others the big heroes that go down in a fight, especially not on the costs of children. There were times you just had to give in, no matter how bitter it was, and flee, if you wanted to survive, and one of these times had come now. “Alright, let's get the kids out first. Everybody, pack up. We're going to Oceanside”, Daryl said, motioning his fingers to spell Oceanside while his voice calm compared to the others,”Grab weapons, food whatever you can. We'll regroup there.” Hilltop seemed like a bustling beehive as everybody started to pack up, pushing the most important supplies and weapons into the wagons while the first one with the Lydia, Judith, RJ and a couple of other kids had left along with Daryl and Diane about a fifteen minutes ago. You were just about to pack a few light spears into the back of one of the larger wagons as you heard the voices becoming louder for a moment mixing with the sound of Daryl’s motorcycle, enough to make you back away from the wagon’s entrance to see him moving back into the community, closely followed by the wagon with the kids. “What happened?”, you heard Aarons voice call out for them, as the confusion and moreover the thought that this couldn’t mean anything good shot through you as you walked towards the small group of people that started to grow around Aaron and Daryl. “She blocked all the roads. Means they're closing in on us. If we had a window to get out, we just missed it”, he scoffed, and with these few words washed a new wave of tension over you. This was bad, this was fucking bad. “But we can't stay here”, Kelly said, her voice breaking as she tried to suppress the tears that started to pool in her eyes,”You said...you all said we can't stay here.” “We can call Alexandria, right?”, Luke asked, his voice letting it shimmer through that he was rather grasping for straws than actually believing in what he was saying ,”Call Alexandria, and they'll get fresh fighters here, right? And...And it's not just gonna be us. It's not gonna be just us, right?” “Oceanside can't get here. Alexandria, either. Not in time. Not after what happened. We're on our own”, Diane mumbled while you glimpsed at Daryl, meeting his glance for a moment that had an odd glance stuck in him, tensed as before, but there was something else about him you couldn’t quite grasp yet. "Divvy up your arsenals. We got catapults up on the walls. And a damn good militia. This is what you've all been practicing for”, Earl’s stern voice ripped you away from Daryl and lead you glance immediately to him as he stomped towards the group,” Come on, now, people! Do whatever you need to get your heads on straight! This is gonna be the fight of our lives.” This was enough to let the group sprawl out again over the place, while no one, including you, was as pumped up about this fight as Earl seemed to be. Still, there was no way past it now and you had to get through it now, no matter what. For another moment, your eyes laid on Earl before you caught Daryl moving closer to you, still with that odd look on his face as he finally rose his voice again. “The roads, that was your hus-”,Daryl started to say, stopping at the last word as if it tasted like poison in his mouth while his glance and just the beginning of this word washed an ice-cold shudder down your back ,”Negan’s with them now. He’s blocked ‘em.” “What?”, it nearly instinctively slipped out of your lips, even though one part of this whole accusation didn’t come as a giant shock or surprise to you. You’d suspected he’d infiltrated himself into their ranks to destroy them, but that last part rubbed you the wrong way,”How do you know that’s him?” “Trees blocking the road, some guy hanging strangled from a tree, remembers you of something?”, he said, a thicker frown growing over his face as he forced you to remember the hours before the bloody night in the clearing and you couldn’t even completely disagree with Daryl on this. It seemed like the same strategy, but who knew, maybe he’d done it on purpose. “But if that’s him, I’m sure he’s got a plan”,you said, gulping thickly as you looked at him, trying to choose your words right to not anger him to the extent that he’d just storm off without hearing your whole point and putting your relationship back to square one,”He’s probably just trying to earn their trust to take them down from the inside. He’s playing them.” “Nah”, he quickly shook his head,”He’s one of ‘em now.” “No, no he’s not. He might be at their camp but he’s not one of them”, you repeated yourself, while you didn’t even see anger growing over Daryl’s face but rather desperation, maybe even pity while the frustration within you grew. You didn’t want this to start this debate over Negan all over from the beginning, not again. “You’re blind”, he said, glimpsing at you through the brown strands of hair that hung into his face,”You’re so in love with him you don’t see the truth about that asshole.” “That’s not true”,you said, growing more desperate as well while you tried to grasp for straws,” Daryl, You saw the note he left for me.” “Yeah, maybe started out that way”,he grumbled, clenching his jaw as he shook his head again,”But asshole stays asshole. Think he saw that he’s free now...he switched you against freedom.” “He wouldn’t do that”, you tried to urge again while you felt dumb for repeating yourself over and over again as you just didn’t know what else to tell him to believe you on this. “He did”,he grumbled again, stepping a little closer to you as he gulped thickly,”and he doesn’t deserve how much you protect him. He’s scum.” “He’s not and I know him”,you responded quickly, feeling a shot of pain boring through you just having to hear Daryl talk like that about him before you shook your head, trying to keep your cool,”and I know how naive I sound to you. But I’ve been with that man every day for over eight years. I know how he thinks, he’s got a plan, you’ll see.” “Yeah, we’ll see”,he grumbled, while you could tell that he didn’t put one bit of belief or hope into your words as he looked at you one more time before he moved past you towards the mansion ,”Hope you won’t be too disappointed.”

Explaining to Alpha how he thought he could make them bend the knee had been one fucking tricky thing to do. It had taken a whole lot of effort for sure, talking his mouth off on how favorable it would be to have a bigger army while he smeared some more honey around her mouth and eventually, he felt like he might have persuaded her by topping her original plan of closing the roads a little off. He didn’t like what he had to do but it was necessary, the roads would have been closed either way and everything else just wouldn’t have stilled her thirst for blood. So right now, he was standing on a small cemented road that paved its way though the forest. A tree was blocking the street, one dead Hilltoper hanging from a tree beside the fallen one, their undead corpse growling and flailing its arm slightly while the rope cut into its throat. This one and all the others who’d hung on the other streets had been long dead before they’d gone up there, already killed last night when Beta had made his way to Alexandria and had killed another outpost on the way, recruiting new “guardians” for the horde in this night. It had been seven in total, all wearing Hilltop’s armor, and he didn’t enjoy seeing particularly that guy in front of him up in that tree. He didn’t know the others, but the guy who was hanging from the tree there had been a Savior once, not a high ranking one but high enough that Negan have had a couple conversations with him during the time he’d ruled and enough to still remember the nickname he had for him: “Skinny Joe”, the counterpart to “Fat Joe” who’d had met his demise at Daryl’s hands. He wasn’t getting sentimental here, fuck no, but he’d be a liar if he’d say seeing one of his former loyal men in that tree would do nothing at all to him. Still, it was worth it as he glimpsed to his side and saw how Alpha nearly smiled satisfied, looking at the dangling corpse up there and that facilitated the feeling in him that his plan might work. ”This was the last”, she said, the odd grin widening a little as she nodded to the skin freaks behind her and then back to Negan, “It is time to gather.” A half hour later, your mind was still occupied fully by Daryl and Negan as you walked through the wagons and stands within Hilltop, trying to find a way to distract yourself and simultaneously prepare for the battle. Daryl hadn’t shook just an inch on your belief that Negan had a plan, nor on the belief that he was working towards destroying them from the inside, but the fact that Daryl thought he had merged into a full-blown whisperer bothered you unspeakably, not mentioning the side effect that soon, the whole rest of this community would think so as well. You had no idea how this whole thing would go down tonight, if it would just be the herd or them as well, but if the later was true, first thing after Alpha and Beta people would point their weapons at would be him and there was nothing you’d be able to do to persuade them of the opposite. No one of Hilltop’s head members would believe you that he was working against them, that if he was among them even tonight, it would be part of his plan to gather their trust. That’s the way Negan thought, that was his type of strategy and all you could hope for was that Negan would be somewhere in the back, somewhere in safety. But that for sure depended on how deep he was in this whisperer misery as well. Negan was a sly fox, a charmer on top and he for sure knew how to handle people even if they were as fucked up as those skin freaks. Maybe he’d already made his way to the core of its ranks and hell, maybe he had tried to lessen this attack as well. Either way, there was no way you were gonna find that out before tonight, if at all and you first had to concentrate on surviving the next hours if you wanted to just have the chance to see him again. Sighing thickly you made your way into another stand, trying to stop your mind from wrapping itself around new confusing thoughts as you reached towards a sharpening stone. You’d get a machete, spear or whatever else they’d want you to use from hilltop, but if all things failed you’d still need a sharp knife and you couldn’t necessarily give that attribute to yours anymore. Grabbing the stone you made your way back to the mansion, hoping you’d find a free spot on its stairs as you winded yourself through the mass of people who were preparing their weapons as well, or were getting themselves warmed up until you finally got to the mansion’s porch that was filled with a couple of people, including Judith who was bowing over Daryl’s vest, some paint, brushed and a glass of paint daubed water sprawled around her. “Watcha doing?”, you asked as you sat down next to her onto the stairs, glimpsing at the part of the vest you could see from your side. “Painting uncle Daryl’s vest. I’m fixing the wing, I’m almost done”, she said, moving a little to reveal the part she’d been painting in a light blue that got now primped with some small white start at its end. “Looks great, sure he’s gonna love it”, you said, giving her a smile as you shifted a little over the wood, trying to get a little comfortable before you grabbed your knife and started to move the blade over the sharpening stone, just before you could see Judith stirring a little beside you before she moved a bit away from the vest and glanced at you. “Do you think Negan will hurt us?”, she asked, her voice trembling a little at the end, though you could hear that she was trying to keep it calm while a painful sting shot through you just hearing her question and you didn’t want to imagine how Negan would feel if he’d hear this now. “No, no he won’t”, you said, shaking your head softly and trying to keep the small smile on your face though you had a hard time doing so as you could feel the tension within you risking. “But he blocked the roads”, she mumbled, sadness filling her eyes a little more as she sat down next to you, moving the vest that looked finished by now next to her while you let out a small sigh. This was gonna get tricky. “Your uncle Daryl and I disagree on this but-”,you mumbled, halting as you tried to collect your thoughts and explain it to her in the right way,”I think he is trying to make them believe he’s on their side to help us take them down in the end. Like one of those double agents from the book you read some time ago.” “You think?”, she asked, her eyes growing a little more hopeful as she looked at you. “I’m sure”, you nodded, giving her a slightly bigger smile now before you let out a nervous but soft chuckle, trying to loosen yourself up to let that whole tension fall not only from you but her as well. Even if she was a tough kid, she was still a child and she shouldn’t have to worry about this as well beside the whole whisperer shit and tonight’s battle. ”C’mon you know him too, he sometimes has a bit odd ways to get to a goal. Remember his solutions to your math problems?” “Yeah, they were weird sometimes”,she nodded, laughing softly as he fumbled on the brush that was still in her hands. “Yeah”, you said, glimpsing down at her as you could gladly tell that she was looking much more relaxed than a couple moments ago,”See, he’s taking a special way to help us now too, just like he had very special ways to solve your math problems.” She nodded again, responding to the small laugh that left your lips, facilitated by the nervousness and tension that was still stuck within you before she nodded towards the vest, “I’ll give it to him now.” “Yeah, do that. Bet he’s gonna put it right on”, you said, giving her another smile as she stood up and grabbed the vest. “I hope so”, she said, glancing one more time at the painted wing before she headed inside, leaving you to get back to trying to distract yourself with the sharping stone. Dragging the blade along the stone you focused on it's slight twinkling in the evening sun, right before you glanced up as you heard footsteps walking right towards you. “You can shoot, right?”, you heard Diane ask as she got closer, holding a bow in one hand and a quiver with arrows in the other just before she reached you. “Yeah”, you nodded, stopping the dragging movements for a moment. “Good, we need another one in the back, would you join?” “Yes, sure”, you said, nodding once more as you laid the knife and the stone to your side so she could hand you both and just in the moment the wood of the bow smoothed against your palm and you gripped the belt of the quiver, a panicking voice echoed through the air and sent another shot of tension through your body within the matter of seconds. “The herd is coming!” Walking like a fucking dead asshole was harder than Negan had thought, especially when you had much more brain activity than those fuckers going on that allowed him to have thoughts and even worse, worries. He still believed that he might have persuaded Alpha with his tactics, but with her, you could never know for sure. The sky seemed to become darker with every slurfing step he took, looking through the holes of his damn mask to have a little bit of orientation while he tried to keep exactly those thoughts from taking his whole mind over. It was Hilltop. The odds that she was there were as fucking small as a fly’s sack. Hell, the odds that anybody else from Alexandria like Judith or Lydia were there was just as damn small. He shouldn’t try to wrap his head around this shit anymore and just hope that things would work out as he intended, that they’d try to make them bend the knee and they’d use the right moment to attack or what fucking ever, just so this damn massacre wouldn’t start here and move to Alexandria in the end. And just as he tried to ban these thoughts out of his head, he heard the skin freaks starting their whispery chant again as they moved with the dead towards Hilltop. Night had fallen over Hilltop when you found yourself standing before its gates, with the bow in your hand, an arrow loosely clamped into its string while the leatherglove that smoothed against your skin allowed you to hold it securely. It was still pointed downwards for now, waiting for the moment the herd would appear but in these moments, there was an eerie silence, only disrupted by the trembling breath by everyone next to you and the echoes of the thousands of groans that came from the forest. Hilltop was prepared, that was the only thing that made your heart beat calm down a little as you glanced around yourself. At first, about two hundred meter away from your spot, there was an electrical line spanned by Eugene and Rosita this afternoon that would hopefully split the first walkers in two that would try to make their way towards you. Then, if this part would fail, and everybody knew that this moment would come earlier or later, the fence was the next step. It was Hilltops regular fence that protected the crops that were located behind you and in front of the gates, a quite study fence with wood pillars and a whole lot of branches and undergrowth in between that would cushion the walker masses at first and which had been strengthened over the last hours. After that, the melee fighters were located, at first the ones with the medieval looking shields and their swords, directly behind them anyone else with a melee weapon, from spears to machetes, to morning stars like the one in Daryl’s hand right now. And then, there was your line, the ones with bows or slingshots like the one of Kelly, and melee weapons that were put on the ground beside you after the arrows would be gone. After that, only the next cushion zone of the crops followed for about fifty meters, and then the gates. You could feel the ground starting to quiver beneath your feet as the heard started to roll closer and the groans started to grow louder with every second, sending chills through your body as you gripped the wood of the bow tighter. Only a couple more moments. A shivering breath fell from your lips as you saw the first dead appearing in the dark right as the first walker met the electrical line and sparked red sparks through the night as it burned through its throat and cut its rotting head off right from it’s neck. “It works”, you heard Yumiko mumbling beside you as you tried to keep the hope in you controlled as the first full line of dead met the line. More sparks flew, you could see the electricity burning bright yellow lines into their bodies as they pressed against it, more and more while only a few lost their heads, while the taller majority pressed themselves only deeper into it, doing nothing more than burning their torsos. “Fuck”, you mumbled gulping, nearly too quiet for anyone else around you to hear as a load boom made you flinch back, right before you had to watch the electrical line break down into pieces as it sunk to the ground and let the dead march towards you without anything stopping them anymore. “Formation!”, you could hear Aaron scream through the night, immediately followed by the metallic booms of the rising shields clicking against one another while you gulped thickly and grabbed the bow in your hands even tighter, enough for your knuckles to turn pale as your heart beated up into your throat. “On my command, splitting ranks!”, you heard him scream again, cut off for a moment by the loud groans of the dead before his voice echoed once again through the night,”And break!” The first group split on his command, marching towards the fence as the first dead were only a couple feet away from it anymore and you glanced to your side, watching as the others started to nod to each other. “Now”, you heard Yumiko call out beside you, shooting another wave of adrenaline through your body as you pushed the bow forward, adjusted the grip on the string before pulling it back until your leather clad fingers rested against your cheek and the arrow darted into the walker mess, before you let it go and watched it shooting into the ranks of the dead. Grab a new arrow, span it into the string, bow into the front, pull the string back, adjust and release. That’s what you did over and over again, almost mechanically as you watched the others fighting in the front, saw their weapons dive into the rotting heads, smashing skulls while more walkers pushed into the limp bodies that were hanging into the branches. You could feel yourself tensing more with each shot, could feel the pulling of the string tearing on your arm’s muscles while the adrenaline in your body kept you going, forcing you to near the edge to switch into the survival mode. Breathing heavily you reached back into the quiver, feeling sick by the thought that you didn’t even had that many left, especially with the massed of walkers surrounding the fences that wouldn’t be stopped by the couple arrows you had left. And just as you moved the arrow to clip its end into the string, your eyes captured handball sized objects flying through the dark towards the fences, exploding into uncountable splatters as they crashed into the walkers, the fence and the melee fighters. Furrowing your brows you stared for a moment at the scene, at the splatters that looked like water at the first glance but that were something completely different judging from the smell that made its way through to you. It was smelling like freshly cut down trees but stronger, almost as strong as those little tree shaped air freshener you could hang into the front of your car and whose smell wouldn’t even leave your nose until you’d gotten out of the car. “Smells like a Christmas tree!”, you could hear Jerry scream in the front, stabbing another walker while he looked like he was drained in the liquid and before you could hear anybody else saying something else, your eyes caught something bright flying through the night sky, a flaming arrow that suddenly crushed into the walkers in front of the fence. Within a millisecond a ball of fire roared through the dead, nearly exploding part of the fence as a blood freezing scream let you flinch. Your fingers gripped the bow tighter as you suddenly saw one of the fighters tumbling burning away from the fence, his whole body covered in flames as he flailed his arms around himself before he crushed against the ground and let the tension within you to skyrocket once more. “It's like gasoline!”, you heard Jerry scream from the fence as you tried to pull yourself together and drag your glance from the man who started to stop moving back to your bow, before forcing yourself to go back to the old procedure and shoot another arrow into the mass. Even if you could just kill one at a time, it was better than nothing. You could feel your ribcage tightening as you reached for another one over and over again, trying to help the people in the front as best as you could before you suddenly grabbed into emptiness in your quiver and had to realize that you’d just shot your last arrow. ”Fuck”, you cursed underneath your breath as you glanced at the empty quiver, gulping thickly just in the very moment you heard a dangerous cracking coming from the fence. Shooting your glance back up you could see the first Walkers starting to break through, heard screams of Daryl and Aaron for everyone to fall back and stop the fight at the fence, just before the first dead forced their way successfully through the fence. Fuck. Fucking fuckity fuck shit. Negan couldn’t think much more than in curses as groans of the herd sounded loudly through the air while he had to watch the dead and the fences of hilltop blow up in flames from afar. He hadn’t persuaded her, this fuck there, that wasn’t trying to make someone bend the knee, that crap was meant to kill them and nothing else. She’d played him, pretending as if she’d listen to him, that fucking skin freak had played him. Feeling the anger in him rising he tried to keep himself controlled from the outside and tried to get a look at the fight hilltop was fighting in these moments, still trying to persuade himself that his girl wasn’t anywhere in there, trying to tell himself how damn close to zero the odds were over and over again. He couldn’t judge how well they did from his position on the field behind the heard, all he could tell was that they were still fighting and right now, that was a good sign. Fuck, even if none of the people he could worry about were in there, Alexandria still needed Hilltop to fight these skin freaks, losing that community would be a fucking disaster. Uncomfortably he glanced to his side, watching as Alpha gathered a small group of whisperers around a fire before she moved a little away from them to take a look at Hilltop, giving him enough space to approach her. Gulping his anger away the best he could to not let it shimmer through before he walked towards her, putting a slight grin on his face as soon as she caught him. “I thought you wanted them to join us”, he said, his voice calm and not in any way resembling the anger within him as he watched her beginning to smile the fucking oddly again while she slowly stepped closer. “They will”, she said, moving even closer as she nearly bored her glance into his eyes,”As part of my horde.” Fuck. He should’ve known, he should’ve fucking known and done more, he should’ve done more to persuade her. “Holy shit”, he chuckled, overplaying the desperation and frustration that started to make its home in his body, while he knew that right now, it was too late for him to intervene. Everything else would make him look suspicious, everything else could cost him his head. “You are a badass”, he instead added, grinning widely at her in hopes to charm her a little more and cover up what he was actually feeling in these moments, to have the chance to lead her into another direction next chance he got, hopefully with more success. “This is yours”, he heard her say in the next moment, watching as she waved another whisperer over who carried a bow in his hands next to his own, “You will need it now.” This was a test now, wasn't it? He’d asked her again about letting them bend the knee so she tested him if he would question her again or if he would obey, and right now he hadn’t much of option than do the later if he didn’t want to risk to blow his cover just the tiniest bit. So he took the bow into his hands and let her lead him and the other skin freak towards the fire, spanned one of the prepared arrows that had some tree sap soaked cloths attached to its shaft into the string and watched as they passed the flame from one arrow to another, like some STD in a fucking college fraternity. ”Up high, towards the walls”, he heard Alpha say, feeling the tension within him rising with every second as he gulped thickly and moved the bow up, dragging the string back as he could feel his heart pounding against his ripcage and could feel nausea starting to claw at his throat while he tried to get his mind under control. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t there. She was not fucking there. And then, he let go. Screams, groans and desperate calls echoed through the air, mixing into an eerie symphony as you could see the herd starting to further break the fences, forcing the fear and survival instinct in you to skyrocket in the very moment the dead grabbed the first Hilltopers that had been fighting them only seconds ago. “They're already dead! Let's go!”, a voice screamed through the dark, mixing with calls to just let them break through as the first melee fighters started to run towards your line, waving for you all to move towards the gates. ”Move inside!”, you heard Daryl scream, waving towards you as you dropped the bow and the empty quiver from your shoulder before the adrenaline pushed you to start running as fast as your feet could carry you. Panting you found yourself within the others, within the running group that fled like animals from a wildfire before you suddenly saw some bright points shooting through the dark above you, right before the arrows that carried them landed into Hilltops walls, setting them aflame in the matter of seconds while your whole body started to wrench in fear and shock, forcing your heart to pound against your chest as if it tried to escape while a wave of fright induced nausea washed over you and dared to put a relentless tension over your body. Walkers were coming from the back and the sides, flames were eating up Hilltops walls in the front and soared into the sky. There was no way out.

(If you would like to be tagged, just let me know! The gif isn’t mine/ it was originally posted by dancing-at-the-funeralparty)

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ucflibrary · 3 years

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Each December, the UCF Libraries’ Featured Bookshelf celebrates the favorite books of employees of the UCF Libraries. And you know a major thing about librarians and library staff? They love talking about their favorite books. The books listed below are some of the favorite books we read in 2020.

Click on the link below to see the full list, descriptions, and catalog links for our favorite 2020 titles. These 20 books plus favorites from previous years are also on display in the 4th floor Reading Room of the John C. Hitt Library.

And if you find someone has checked the one you’re interested in out before you had a chance, did you know you can place an interlibrary loan and have another copy sent here for you? Click here for instructions on placing an interlibrary loan.

A Furious Sky: the five-hundred-year history of America's hurricanes by Eric Jay Dolin From the moment European colonists laid violent claim to this land, hurricanes have had a profound and visceral impact on American history-yet, no one has attempted to write the definitive account of America's entanglement with these meteorological behemoths. Eric Jay Dolin presents the five-hundred-year story of American hurricanes, from the nameless storms that threatened Columbus' New World voyages, to the devastation wrought by Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico and the escalation of hurricane season as a result of global warming. Populating his narrative with unlikely heroes such as Benito Vines, the nineteenth-century Jesuit priest whose revelatory methods for predicting hurricanes saved countless lives, and journalist Dan Rather, whose coverage of a 1961 hurricane would change broadcasting history, Dolin uncovers the often surprising ways we respond to natural crises. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Children of the Land by Marcelo Hernandez Castillo With beauty, grace, and honesty, Castillo recounts his and his family’s encounters with a system that treats them as criminals for seeking safe, ordinary lives. He writes of the Sunday afternoon when he opened the door to an ICE officer who had one hand on his holster, of the hours he spent making a fake social security card so that he could work to support his family, of his father’s deportation and the decade that he spent waiting to return to his wife and children only to be denied reentry Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Dark Matter: a novel by Blake Crouch A mind-bending, relentlessly paced science-fiction thriller, in which an ordinary man is kidnapped, knocked unconscious--and awakens in a world inexplicably different from the reality he thought he knew. "Are you happy with your life?" Those are the last words Jason Dessen hears before the masked abductor knocks him unconscious. He awakens to find himself strapped to a gurney, surrounded by strangers in hazmat suits. Before him, a man Jason's never met smiles down at him and says, "Welcome back, my friend." In this world he's woken up to, Jason's life is not the one he knows. His wife is not his wife. His son was never born. And Jason is not an ordinary college physics professor but a celebrated genius who has achieved something remarkable. Something impossible. Suggested by Katy Miller, Student Learning & Engagement

Do Nothing: how to break away from overworking, overdoing, and underliving by Celeste Headlee We work feverishly to make ourselves happy. So why are we so miserable? Despite our constant search for new ways to "hack" our bodies and minds for peak performance, human beings are working more instead of less, living harder not smarter, and becoming more lonely and anxious. This manifesto helps us break free of our unhealthy devotion to efficiency and shows us how to reclaim our time and humanity with a little more leisure Suggested by Katy Miller, Student Learning & Engagement

Eleanor Roosevelt by Blanche Wiesen Cook A study of the complex and political figure of Eleanor Roosevelt begins with her harrowing childhood, describes the difficulties of her marriage, and explains how she persuaded Franklin to make the reforms that would make him famous. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

From Here to Eternity: traveling the world to find the good death by Caitlin Doughty Fascinated by our pervasive fear of dead bodies, mortician Caitlin Doughty set out to discover how other cultures care for the dead. In rural Indonesia, she watches a man clean and dress his grandfather's mummified body, which has resided in the family home for two years. In La Paz, she meets Bolivian natitas (cigarette-smoking, wish-granting human skulls), and in Tokyo she encounters the Japanese kotsuage ceremony, in which relatives use chopsticks to pluck their loved-ones' bones from cremation ashes. She introduces deathcare innovators researching body composting and green burial, and examines how varied traditions, from Mexico's Dias de los Muertos to Zoroastrian sky burial help us see our own death customs in a new light. She argues that our expensive, impersonal system fosters a corrosive fear of death that hinders our ability to cope and mourn. By comparing customs, she demonstrates that mourners everywhere respond best when they help care for the deceased and have space to participate in the process. Suggested by Katy Miller, Student Learning & Engagement

Indelicacy by Amina Cain A cleaning woman at a museum of art nurtures aspirations to do more than simply dust the paintings around her. She dreams of having the liberty to explore them in writing, and so must find a way to win herself the time and security to use her mind. She escapes her lot by marrying a rich man, but having gained a husband, a house, high society, and a maid, she finds that her new life of privilege is no less constrained. Not only has she taken up different forms of time-consuming labor - social and erotic - but she is now, however passively, forcing other women to clean up after her. Perhaps another and more drastic solution is necessary Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Interior Chinatown by Charles Yu Every day Willis Wu leaves his tiny room in a Chinatown SRO and enters the Golden Palace restaurant, where Black and White, a procedural cop show, is in perpetual production. He's a bit player here too, but he dreams of being Kung Fu Guy-- and he sees his life as a script. After stumbling into the spotlight, Willis finds himself launched into a wider world than he has ever known, discovering not only the secret history of Chinatown, but the buried legacy of his own family, and what that means for him in today's America. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Outlander by Diana Gabaldon Scottish Highlands, 1945. Claire Randall, a former British combat nurse, is just back from the war and reunited with her husband on a second honeymoon when she walks through a standing stone in one of the ancient circles that dot the British Isles. Suddenly she is a Sassenach—an “outlander”—in a Scotland torn by war and raiding clans in the year of Our Lord . . . 1743. Claire is catapulted into the intrigues of a world that threatens her life, and may shatter her heart. Marooned amid danger, passion, and violence, Claire learns her only chance of safety lies in Jamie Fraser, a gallant young Scots warrior. What begins in compulsion becomes urgent need, and Claire finds herself torn between two very different men, in two irreconcilable lives. Suggested by Katie Kirwan, Acquisitions & Collections

Paradise Lost: a life of F. Scott Fitzgerald by David S. Brown In this comprehensive biography, Brown reexamines Fitzgerald’s childhood, first loves, and difficult marriage to Zelda Sayre. He looks at Fitzgerald’s friendship with Hemingway, the golden years that culminated with Gatsby, and his increasing alcohol abuse and declining fortunes which coincided with Zelda’s institutionalization and the nation’s economic collapse. Suggested by Andrew Hackler, Circulation

Recursion by Blake Crouch Reality is broken. At first, it looks like a disease. An epidemic that spreads through no known means, driving its victims mad with memories of a life they never lived. But the force that’s sweeping the world is no pathogen. It’s just the first shock wave, unleashed by a stunning discovery—and what’s in jeopardy is not our minds but the very fabric of time itself. Suggested by Mary Rubin, Special Collections & University Archives

Solutions and Other Problems by Allie Brosh Brosh’s second book includes humorous stories from her childhood; the adventures of her very bad animals; merciless dissection of her own character flaws; incisive essays on grief, loneliness, and powerlessness; as well as reflections on the absurdity of modern life. Suggested by Sara Duff, Acquisitions & Collections

Spillover: animal infections and the next human pandemic by David Quammen This work examines the emergence and causes of new diseases all over the world, describing a process called "spillover" where illness originates in wild animals before being passed to humans and discusses the potential for the next huge pandemic. The emergence of strange new diseases is a frightening problem that seems to be getting worse. In this age of speedy travel, it threatens a worldwide pandemic. We hear news reports of Ebola, SARS, AIDS, and something called Hendra killing horses and people in Australia; but those reports miss the big truth that such phenomena are part of a single pattern. The bugs that transmit these diseases share one thing: they originate in wild animals and pass to humans by a process called spillover. As globalization spreads and as we destroy the ancient ecosystems, penetrating ever deeper into the furthest reaches of the planet, we encounter strange and dangerous infections that originate in animals but can be transmitted to humans. The author tracks this subject around the world. He recounts adventures in the field, netting bats in China, trapping monkeys in Bangladesh, stalking gorillas in the Congo, with the world's leading disease scientists. He takes the reader along on this quest to learn how, where from, and why these diseases emerge, and he asks the terrifying question: What might the next big one be? Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

Squeeze Me by Carl Hiaasen It's the height of the Palm Beach charity ball season: for every disease or cause, there's a reason for the local luminaries to eat (minimally), drink (maximally), and be seen. But when a prominent high-society dowager suddenly vanishes during a swank gala, and is later found dead in a concrete grave, panic and chaos erupt. Kiki Pew was notable not just for her wealth and her jewels--she was an ardent fan of the Winter White House resident just down the road, and a founding member of the POTUSSIES, a group of women dedicated to supporting their President. Never one to miss an opportunity to play to his base, the President immediately declares that Kiki was the victim of rampaging immigrant hordes. This, it turns out, is far from the truth. Suggested by Richard Harrison, Research & Information Services

The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy by Mackenzi Lee A year after a whirlwind grand tour with her brother Monty, Felicity Montague has returned to England with two goals in mind: avoid the marriage proposal of a lovestruck suitor from Edinburgh and enroll in medical school. But the administrators see men as the sole guardians of science. When a doctor she idolizes marries a friend of hers in Germany, Felicity believes he could change her future. A mysterious young woman will pay Felicity's way, if Felicity will let her travel along-- as her maid. Soon they're on a perilous quest that leads them across the promenades of Zurich to secrets lurking beneath the Atlantic. Suggested by Megan Haught, Student Learning & Engagement/Research & Information Services

The Power of Now: a guide to spiritual enlightenment by Eckhart Tolle Much more than simple principles and platitudes, this book takes readers on an inspiring spiritual journey to find their true and deepest self and reach the ultimate in personal growth and spirituality: the discovery of truth and light. In the first chapter, Tolle introduces readers to enlightenment and its natural enemy, the mind. He awakens readers to their role as a creator of pain and shows them how to have a pain-free identity by living fully in the present. The journey is thrilling, and along the way, the author shows how to connect to the indestructible essence of our Being. Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

The Scarlet Sisters: sex, suffrage, and scandal in the gilded age by Myra MacPherson A fresh look at the life and times of Victoria Woodhull and Tennie Claflin, two sisters whose radical views on sex, love, politics, and business threatened the white male power structure of the nineteenth century and shocked the world. Here award-winning author Myra MacPherson deconstructs and lays bare the manners and mores of Victorian America, remarkably illuminating the struggle for equality that women are still fighting today. Suggested by Dawn Tripp, Research & Information Services

The Shifting Realities of Philip K. Dick: selected literary and philosophical writings by Philip K. Dick Philip K. Dick has established himself as a major figure in American literature. The landscape of his imagination features a wealth of concepts and fictional worlds: Nazi-rule in a postwar nightmare; androids and the unification of man and machine; and an existence that no longer follows the logic of reality. This first-time collection assembles his nonfiction writings essays, journals, speeches, and interviews. In these writings he explores issues ranging from the merging of physics and metaphysics to the potential influences of "virtual" reality and its consequences to a plot-scenario for a potential episode of "Mission: Impossible," to the challenge that fundamental "human" values face in the age of technology and spiritual decline.". Suggested by Sandy Avila, Research & Information Services

The Wild Heart of Florida: Florida writers on Florida's wildlands selected and edited by Jeff Ripple and Susan Cerulean Coming from a variety of backgrounds--fiction, journalism, poetry, and environmental writing--the writers turn their talent to one thing they have in common--a love for Florida’s natural beauty and a commitment to preserve it. Their essays--some old favorites, most appearing here for the first time--are both a celebration and a pointed reminder of what we stand to lose. Suggested by Rebecca Hawk, Circulation

There Will Come a Darkness by Katy Rose Pool The Age of Darkness approaches. Who will stop it... or unleash it? For generations, the Seven Prophets guided humanity. Using their visions of the future, they ended wars and united nations-- until they disappeared a hundred years ago. All they left behind was one final prophecy, foretelling an Age of Darkness and the birth of a new Prophet who could be the world's salvation-- or the cause of its destruction. Will it be a prince exiled from his kingdom? A ruthless killer known as the Pale Hand? A once-faithful leader torn between his duty and his heart? A reckless gambler with the power to find anything or anyone? Or a dying girl on the verge of giving up? Suggested by Pam Jaggernauth, Curriculum Materials Center

#featured bookshelf #ucf library #ucf #suggested reading #staff favorites #booklr

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

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Globe, November 9

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Prince Andrew fails lie detector -- new crisis rocks the palace

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Bruno Toniolo shirtless, Heidi Pratt at a pumpkin patch in L.A., Jacqueline Bisset catches some rays in L.A.

Page 3: Larry David leaves an L.A. office, Ellen Pompeo, Pete Wentz

Page 4: Kathie Lee Gifford is talking to NBC bigwigs about coming back to Today and they’re hot over the idea but Hoda Kotb is not pleased and Jenna Bush Hager is feeling threatened because Jenna never really grabbed the audience like Kathie Lee did, Martha Stewart and Gwyneth Paltrow are heading into the holidays trash-talking each other even more than usual and their pals have nowhere to hide -- they’re snippier than ever and can’t get through the week without saying something crass but the trouble is they have the same friends and they use some of the same chefs and caterers and crew -- all their friends in the Hamptons including the Seinfelds and Beyonce and Jay-Z and Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley and Rachael Ray are trying to keep out of it but it’s impossible because Martha and Gwyneth are both screaming for loyalty

Page 5: Legal hotshot and writer Jeffrey Toobin has been shelved by the New Yorker magazine for showing off his willie to co-workers during a Zoom conference call -- witnesses say Toobin was masturbating but he insists it was a blooper

Page 6: Dolly Parton was so lovestruck when she met Elvis Presley that she nearly chucked her marriage and career to shack up with Elvis -- Dolly is ready to tell all about Elvis after decades of protecting her husband Carl Dean and Elvis’ only child Lisa Marie Presley -- Dolly was in her late 20s and Elvis was in his late 30s when they had their sizzling encounter where she got dolled up to meet Elvis in a Nashville office and discuss working together and he wanted to do a duet but she didn’t trust herself to work with him and she didn’t even let Elvis do a cover of her song I Will Always Love You -- even though Dolly didn’t actually cheat on Carl she sure was tempted and she’s felt guilty about it ever since

Page 8: Just two weeks after splitting with his wife of 14 years former Home Improvement kid Zachery Ty Bryan was arrested and jailed on charges of trying to strangle a terrified galpal -- after a night of partying where he was photographed surrounded by four gals with an iced bottle of vodka at the table Zachery reportedly got into a heated clash with his galpal and she claims Zachery grabbed her by the throat and squeezed then tried to snatch her phone when she attempted to call 911 so she ran to a neighbor’s home where she hid while cops were called

Page 9: Distressed Kelly Clarkson and her two toddlers are in therapy to help cope with the anguish brought on by her divorce from Brandon Blackstock -- the talk show host is especially struggling because the split is playing out so publicly and the kids are seeing things about their mom on TV and she feels immense guilt about the divorce but knows it was the best decision because she wasn’t happy married to Brandon though she did try but staying in a marriage just for the kids wasn’t an option for her -- Kelly was deeply wounded when her father-in-law Narvel Blackstock’s management company recently sued her for $1.4 million in alleged unpaid commissions but she’s speaking with her ex privately in an effort to resolve the issue out of court but Kelly suspects he’s using it as a bargaining chip for a bigger settlement and also feels he’s using the kids against her as a weapon

Page 10: Showbiz legend Michelle Phillips has become a shut-in who sits home alone tippling wine while watching movies on TV and listening to her hits from The Mamas & the Papas where she is the last surviving member of the band -- she’s sad the rest are all gone and she’ll put on a record and sit in the dark; she misses them and so many other people -- she’s become a shut-in due to the pandemic and can’t bear for people to see her so old and haggard and overweight and all those years of partying have done their damage to her once-beautiful face -- she also hasn’t been able to see her young grandson and she’s grieving the loss of her longtime lover who died in 2017

Page 11: Baywatch hunk Jeremy Jackson’s cover girl ex-wife has been found homeless wandering California’s mean streets in worn and shabby clothes -- lost for two years Loni Willison is now virtually unrecognizable with missing teeth and her long blond tresses cropped short -- she was found pushing a grocery cart filled with her battered possessions in Venice -- despite her tragic situation she insists she’d doing fine and doesn’t want help despite reportedly having drug and mental health issues

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Rita Ora in a see-through frock (picture), Lily James got caught brazenly canoodling with the very much married Dominic West who plays her father in the BBC miniseries The Pursuit of Love, just weeks after Cardi B filed to dissolve her marriage to Offset she’s put the split on hold and all it took was Offset to spend bucks on a heart-tugging Sunset Strip billboard and a Rolls-Royce and a Hermes Birkin bag, Kate Hudson’s getting loose-lipped about gross snotty smooches with her leading man Matthew McConaughey

Page 13: Vinny Guadagnino eating in Beverly Hills (picture), Kaitlyn Bristowe has a puffy trout pout (picture), Shia LaBeouf doesn’t let an apparent injury keep him from getting out and about in Pasadena (picture), Alanis Morissette says the fame that came with her 1995 revenge song You Oughta Know wasn’t so sweet but instead was an isolating experience

Page 14: Nicole Kidman is starring opposite Hugh Grant in the thriller series The Undoing but she really wanted to plays Hugh’s love interest in Notting Hill except she wasn’t well-known enough, Reba McEntire has landed herself a brand new TV show which is a modernized Fried Green Tomatoes drama series in which she’ll play the present-day Idgie Threadgoode, Fashion Verdict -- Regina King 8/10, Isabelle Huppert 2/10, Queen Maxima 5/10, Tracee Ellis Ross 9/10, Cher 4/10

Page 16: How John F. Kennedy stole the White House from Richard Nixon -- Chicago mob rigged the 1960 vote and cheated Nixon out of the presidency

Page 19: True Crime

Page 21: Parkinson’s patient Alan Alda is refusing to slow down at age 84 and friends fear the fragile M*A*S*H legend is headed for a devastating health crisis and he’s busier now than he ever was even during his sitcom days and he bravely says he lives with it by staying active but medication can only do so much and his friends and family including wife Arlene are worried he’s pushing himself too hard, teary-eyed Ringo Starr confesses his last conversation with dying Beatles bandmate George Harrison was heartbreaking and unforgettable -- Ringo wanted to stay with George until the end but his daughter Lee had been diagnosed with a brain tumor and Ringo had to rush to Boston to see her and when Ringo told George he had to go to Boston George said D’ya want me to come wit’ ya? so even on his death bed George made his best buddy smile while both faced unspeakable grief

Page 22: 10 Things You Don’t Know About S. Epatha Merkerson, Today show host Hoda Kotb reveals Frank Sinatra Jr. was the show’s worst guest because he clammed up instead of touting a book about his famous dad in 2015, Khloe Kardashian confesses she once worked as Nicole Richie’s personal assistant because she just needed a job and they went to school together -- Nicole’s reality career crashed in 2007 which was the same year Khloe’s series started

Page 24: Cover Story -- Disgraced Prince Andrew has flunked a lie detector test on his close relationship with murdered American pedophile Jeffrey Epstein and now the rogue royal insists he’ll never cooperate with the FBI for fear his testimony will land him behind bars but Queen Elizabeth’s favorite son has his back against the wall as new evidence surfaces on both sides of the Atlantic -- Andrew is terrified newly released secret testimony from Epstein’s accused madam Ghislaine Maxwell is just the tip of the iceberg of what she��s prepared to reveal and Maxwell’s revelations detailing her twisted sex life come on the heels of an explosive new British book accusing Andrew of attending debauched events with Epstein where teenage girls were parading around topless -- even though friends close to Andrew say he did nothing wrong and has no reason to fear the prince may not have a choice about spilling his guts because the fed-up royal family is threatening to cut off the cash-strapped rogue unless he plays ball

Page 25: Prince Andrew has been banished from the gift shop at his mother’s Balmoral Castle -- tourists can still purchase postcards her Her Majesty’s kids Prince Charles and Princess Anne and Prince Edward but Prince Andrew has disappeared which is a sure sign that Andrew is in the doghouse since items featuring Elizabeth’s beloved corgis are still up for sale

Page 26: Health Report

Page 27: Dirtiest places on planes exposed

Page 30: Serial sleaze Matt Lauer’s ready to pop the question to girlfriend Shamin Abas over the holidays and he hopes for a brighter future with her a year after his 20-year marriage to Annette Roque ended in divorce -- Matt showers Shamin her with gifts and wants to buy a house on the East Coast where they can make new memories and Matt’s hinted he’s already bought the ring and plans to propose by New Year’s and he hopes to have a celeb-studded wedding at their new home, Kathleen Turner will be back at Michael Douglas’ throat as his acid ex in The Kominsky Method to fill the hole left by Alan Arkin who abruptly pulled out of the third and final season of the show

Page 35: Matthew McConaughey’s father predicted he’d die while making love to his wife and he did, desperate to turn back time Marie Osmond is going whole hog on a head-to-toe makeover -- Marie is no stranger to cosmetic fixes and she is considering a slew of procedures to get a new look that’ll knock ‘em out including everything from Botox and fillers to face-lift to boob job and lipo-sculpting to enhance her waistline -- the makeover is motivated by revenge because she’s bitter over recently being pushed off her co-host gig on The Talk and now she’s counting on a younger look to land her a plum new TV gig

Page 38: Real Life Monsters

Page 39: Kris Jenner blames social media for ending the 14-year run of Keeping Up with the Kardashians because when the show started there was no Instagram or Snapchat or other social media platforms but now she gripes that now there are so many the viewer doesn’t have to wait three or four months to see an episode but instead information spreads online in real time, Phil Collins’ ex-wife has traded him in for a 31-year-old guitarist who never managed to make much noise in the music industry -- Phil was furious when he heard Orianne Cevey married Tom Bates in Las Vegas, Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman died without a will according to his widow -- Taylor Simone Ledward filed a probate case in L.A. asking a judge to name her administrator of Boseman’s estimated $938,500 estate with limited authority

Page 44: Straight Talk -- Bruce Willis and Demi Moore’s daughter Rumer Willis claims posing for raunchy bondage shots proves she’s a liberated woman free from sexual stereotypes but it’s not that simple

Page 45: Jeff Bridges is battling non-Hodgkin lymphoma which is a rampaging cancer that often spreads through the body to the liver and bone marrow and lungs -- while the cancer can be deadly experts say the five-year survival rate is 73 percent

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estdevium · 3 years

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[ ⤜ meta topics !! *:･ﾟ✧ ]

they deleted ╱ meta: childhood

the main issue with answering this ask is that to get into my thoughts on dean’s childhood revolves around a lot of topics people don’t want to see on their feeds. because the fact of the matter is, genuinely, dean did not have a childhood & what he experienced during his formative years absolutely left traumas you see in his character throughout the course of the show ( some which seem to get better with some help & some of which never go addressed, even more so some of which are still leaving unmitigated severe repercussions on who he is as a person ). now some of this is direct canon & others is based on conjecture from things dean has alluded to in canon, so I will explain to the best of my abilities; I could talk on this topic for ages & never actually reach a point where I feel as if I properly explained it all please bear with me ( pretty sure this was just supposed to be a throwaway topic I’m sorry for the fact it turned into a monster answer lmao ).

trigger warnings for talk about death / trauma, child abuse, prostitution, & self harm ( starvation, etc ). also warnings for mentions of weapons ( guns ), fire, alcohol, ableism & a multitude of illegal activities ( stealing, fraud, etc ). please do not read this if you are not going to take note of the warnings I tried to make sure I got even the little things.

for starters anyone who knows the basics of the show knows this much: dean, his father ( john ) & his younger brother ( sam ) became hunters due to the death of his mother ( mary ) when dean was four years old ( sam, at the time, was four months ). this is not only the driving force behind the “why” of the series but is also a pivotal moment in what was to become dean's life.

dean saw his mother burning alive in his brother’s room. he saw it. this isn’t a debate & he was four years old as his home burned & his father goes off the rails & he’s holding his younger brother & now home is the back of his father’s car as they travel from motel to motel & john is finding out about all the monsters out there & he's learning to be a hunter ( putting his training from the marines as a vietnam war vet to use ) while chasing down the thing that killed his wife. this means leaving his sons alone in motel rooms across the country ( because most other hunters are also not fully right & john doesn't trust people ). dean, a child himself, is now no longer such. he is now a mother & a father to his younger brother ( learning to cook & clean & change diapers & keep a child entertained ) while also being a tool for his father ( intense training from the moment john learned about monsters to also be a hunter, to protect his brother always first & foremost. “daddy’s little soldier” ). it is impossible to talk about his childhood without acknowledging these two things, specifically, & where they originate: sam will always come first & to john, dean was a means to an end before he was a son.

mary —

as stated above it's kind of incredibly important to take into consideration the effect mary's death had on dean as a whole. for starters we know that dean, when experiencing severe trauma, falls back on selective mutism ( as a recurring theme ) & that he is often ( forced ) to push past it for those around him ( john would not tolerate such behavior & sam needed dean to “function” in order to survive ). the phrase “broken” comes up a lot in regards to dean, both in what he has done & what people need from him. we never experience a moment where people are tolerant of the ways dean closes in on himself & deals with traumas ( often he is berated for coping methods whether they are good or bad, which leads to the real belief dean forces himself through not talking because his father made sure dean understood it was behavior he would not stand for ). this in & of itself is enough to push the understanding that mary's memory is also a drive for dean, but in a different sense then it was for john. we know that dean had told himself numerous times “she would be proud of me” or “I am making her proud” / etc in order to work through the horrible situations he was put in growing up ( which has its own horrifying conclusion that is irrelevant to this meta so I digress ) — she was often the memory that got him through. john was a furious force of nature working under the drive of “avenge mary” “find her killer” & so on enough to not only neglect his sons but also ban the topic of her from their “home” ( if you can call the backseat of the impala & motel rooms “home” ). dean was not allowed to speak of her around their father, but sam’s memories of his mother all come from what his brother told him & we know dean fought with himself constantly to “properly” remember her ( but god, bit by bit he lost her ) in the process. which of course leads into the second part of this all —

john —

the easiest way to depict the vast difference in john as a father & john as the man dean grew up following is the fact it's not “dad” to john’s face, it’s “sir” — many people have talked at length ( both in canon & real people online ) about dean's relationship with his father. the general consensus seems to be “john did his best” in a crappy situation because he loves his sons & that “dean knows that” with no one ever touching on “dean was a child who experienced severe trauma at a young age” which resulted in him latching onto the only parent he had left when that same person, at the same moment, stopped choosing to be a parent. instead of his father treating dean like the child he was, john needed someone to “step up & back him up” & dean was a ( tragically ) convenient presence to fulfill that need; both the fact sam needed watching & john needed a “second” he could trust. I am by no means saying john didn't love his sons — I fully believe he did — but that doesn't excuse the actions he took “raising” them ( & i say that lightly because john did barely any raising it was mostly conditioning, dean raised himself & his brother alone ). it is not a healthy or solid foundation for a relationship.

john was the equivalent of a drill sergeant dean's whole life who never thought dean met his standards ( as shown from the multiple instances we see of john berating a young dean to be better be faster be smarter “you would have gotten your brother killed” “always listen to me” ). from the moment john became aware of all that goes bump in the night so, too, did dean. I cannot reiterate this enough: dean was a child & his father raised him as a soldier to fight monsters & never, never question his commands — I would argue it is a form of non purposeful brainwashing but that’s a larger argument for later. this training, though, isn't just physical weapons ( dean has scarily accurate marksmanship & is incredibly proficient with a blade, ignoring skills in hand to hand combat ) but also in illegal activities such as credit card fraud, hustling pool, & the like. dean is good at faking it because that's what was required of him & he has it ingrained to appear the way his father demanded. & that doesn't even touch on the other issues including ( known ) child abuse ( punishment when dean didn't meet his fathers standards or messed up in the many ways a child will mess up, especially with all this ) to round out deans ( trauma based ) idolization of his father. the same father who, once, left dean in a boys home with the phrase “I’m not coming for him, he can rot there” ( what it's like to be a teenager whose father threw you away for following orders, caught stealing to feed his brother ).

while dean certainly understands the issues with his father ( & is shown, occasionally, to speak about them to himself & acknowledge john was a shitty parent who put him in a bad position all his life ) that doesn’t change the mentality dean grew up with due to his father’s treatment, which circles back to the third point —

sam —

sam will, no matter what, always be dean’s first priority. the lengths dean has gone to to always put sam before anything else are massive & hard to place into the word limit. this is in part based on the responsibilities john placed on dean his whole life — it is always “take care of sam” ( never has it ever been expected that dean is to take care of himself, because in this he is unimportant ). the way deans young mind latched onto that, then the ways john punished him when he did not follow that, made sure even into his old age dean kept true to the statement “take care of sam” ( because sam is, again, what is important ).

now dean was a child taking care of and raising a child ( beyond himself ). there are things a child needs: food, shelter, clothing, etc. these things require money, which is not something a child has abundant amounts of to throw around & fulfill these needs. john used to leave them in motel rooms with not enough money to last because he would be gone longer than expected ( just one example of how resourceful dean can be from how far he learned to stretch that money ). we know from this that dean has ( often ) chosen to starve himself so that sam has something to eat, unable to afford food for them both past what john left for them. we also know when the money would run out he would find other ways in which to get more ( for things like the motel room, school, ect ) by ( as alluded to ) prostituting himself, lying about his age to get into bars ( to hustle pool mostly though we also know he can play a number of card games ), & just generally stealing. it was stealing food, specifically, that has gotten him caught in the past ( & reprimanded by john when john found out ); all of which is on top of, should john come home early while dean was out finding food or money, he would be reprimanded for leaving sam alone. every failure in raising sam was punishable.

but dean also worked to make sure sam had options. he made sure sam spent as many years growing up “normal” as possible ( hiding the monsters & the hunting until sam learned the truth from poking around ), going on field trips & making friends ( going to school with the right supplies, doing his homework, etc ). all of these are things dean, himself, is not allowed to have & never seeks out for himself ( as he sees it as “selfish” since it would take away from sam ). starting to get the picture ? it is in part why sam leaving for college both hit as hard as it did ( “sam no longer needs me the same way I need him” since sam is, often, the driving force behind dean’s push to keep going ) & proud ( “sam will have opportunities” & that's what dean has always wanted for him, as essentially sam real parental figure ). only now sam is gone & john doesn’t need dean anymore, now does he ?

while not entirely related here we know this mentality is also why dean was willing to sell his soul in exchange for sam's life.

other —

something about the fact dean was never put first by either of them both, lived with the expectation he did things because they are used to him doing those things ( john expected them & sam never knew better, dean was good at hiding who he was / is ), is important to note. we know his childhood has left him with rather severe self worth issues. he does not think himself intelligent ( even though we know he is which I will not get into here, but between his father & co. calling him a grunt & the teachers in school writing him off + dean dropping out once he could to work to keep sam fed / housed / ect while helping their father did not help fix that perception ). he does not think himself worth peoples time ( everyone is always leaving him behind, so he is clearly only worth what he can offer them in return ). he is also suicidal ( building off previous points ) & will purposefully punish himself for perceived wrongs ( we often see him pick a fight, drink, starve himself, refuse sleep, amongst other more bloody options ).

dean had an absent ( often drunk ) abusive father, a younger brother who thinks he knows best ( &, while I think this is not intentional on sam’s part, he takes a lot of advantage of dean because of this ), no real friends ( he grew up alone without any help outside an occasional visit to bobby's scrap yard or pastor jim’s church; john chased away most people in the hunting community ) because he stopped trying to at school. we know he started sleeping around & drinking before he was of age ( the sex seemingly a coping mechanism over the fact dean is both touch starved & has never really experienced someone loving / caring for him but that’s a meta for another day. the alcohol because it was what everyone around him was doing ie: other hunters ).

here I could talk about how dean doesn’t have people who stay, in his experience. I could talk about how all of this has led to his sense of responsibility & lack of understanding of “love” as a concept. I could go into his codependency on sam ( that is NOT reciprocated in the same sense, because sam will always be dean's kid while dean will always be sam’s caregiver. their relationship is not on even footing but again something for later ). I think what is most important to talk about, in conclusion, is that with everything dean has experienced he learned at a really young age the importance of a lie. because a lie is what keeps cps from taking sam away ( & dean, too, but again he doesn't see himself as anything worth noting ), lying is what kept food in sams belly & a roof over sams head & people off their backs. dean is a disarming smile on a pretty face that he learned to weaponize as a means of survival. none of his childhood is anything he sees as worth noting so, most of the time, everyone around him doesn’t know ( it is not like john treated him as enough to seemingly even understand the weight he placed on dean's shoulders ) because he learned the best ways to hide it. a bruise is dropping a book on his face, a broken arm is tripping down the stairs, his father missing is “for work” ( even if it's the bar down the street ). he is proficient at forging signatures not to make fake ids but to sign report cards. he is light on his feet & has fast reflexes because stealing a loaf of bread is just as important as dodging the swipe of a werewolf. it's a terrible childhood, really ( no wonder he suppresses it ).

#long post //#child abuse //#self harm //#prostitution //#death //#🜃 *.｡ ╱ ❛ headcanons.#meta tag.#answering this ask was like a triple dog dare #& i have 3 more like it still to attempt answers to in my ask box #rip me #i dont rly mind answering them its just the content #m i n e f i e l d #og wasnt going to actually post this cause obvious reasons #but in light of the finale i got annoyed with some comments #this has been sitting around for a while now for me to post lmao #whatever

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speaksfel · 4 years

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OSCAR ISAAC? No, that’s actually FELIX SPEAKMAN JR. from universe 2. You know, the child of FELIX SPEAKMAN SR. and MARY ROSE TORRES ? Only 34 years old, this GRYFFINDOR alumni works as a REPORTER FOR THE DAILY PROPHET. HE identifies as CIS-MAN and is a HALFBLOOD who is known to be BRASH, DOGMATIC, and CYNICAL but also ENERGETIC, ETHICAL, and METICULOUS. — &&. ( CAMI, GMT+1, SHE/HER, 20. )

“ this is why you should never, ever, get your hopes up. this is why you should see the glass as half empty. so when the whole thing spills, you aren’t as devastated. “

death tw, parental death tw, alcohol tw

BEFORE

felix speakman sr. didn’t come from wealth, nor from a strictly “pure” bloodline, but he used to take pride in his status anyway. an hogwarts drop out, he had nothing to show but a few poor OWL results and a knack for trouble, something he claims he inherited from his father before him. when luck didn’t seem to come by him in the wizarding world, he set his eyes on the muggles, spending most of his fast-ending youth doing odd jobs to stay afloat and learning bits about the world he found so alien. everything changed when he, at age nineteen, met mary rose in a run down club he’d been bartending at.

a perfectly normal girl from town. mary rose finished school and took up a job at a supermarket in the city centre, unaware that the following year her life would look completely different. she met a funny guy with a loud mouth and a tendency to pick fights, and decided to give him a shot for a few months. felix would have been just a shitty short-lived boyfriend buried deep in her memories, had she not discovered she was pregnant shortly after the breakup.

the wizard was never meant for a structured life, a child and wife and a stable job. they were on and off throughout the pregnancy, speakman doing more harm then good with the stress he put her under and the emotional and financial instability. a week and a half after the birth, it was clear that he did not wish to raise a kid or get his act together so mary rose made it clear she’d do her damned best to do it instead. anticipating the storm that might come later, he gave her one final surprise by showing her magic ( she always repeated that story - she had to be shown, because felix speakman telling her he was a wizard was so preposterous it must certainly be one of his ploys for attention ). armed with nothing but some kernels of knowledge she shook out of the man, mary rose started the task of raising a boy just as fiery and just as destructive as his namesake, and with little understand of how to control his own magic.

mary rose didn’t want to name him felix, anything but that really. her first choice, benjamin, became his middle name as the father pleaded with her over some tradition given how he come from a “very important and ancient family of wizards”. it was all an exaggeration, she later suspected, and after enrolling at hogwarts, her son certainly confirmed to her that the speakman were not of any relevance at all. not good and not bad, purely existent. alas, named after his father and his father before him, felix speakman was brought into a very muggle world at the heart of manchester.

magic only really paid a part when his father came to pick him up for the occasional weekend or when something broke without reason, although rambunctious as he was, magic wasn’t necessary for chaos.

when his father appeared and dragged him along for a few days, the boy took that as an opportunity to analyse the world around him, absorbing every bit of knowledge he could and asking too many questions. sitting on a bar stool at the leaky cauldron. wandering through the corridors of a broom factory. trying to finish maths homework inside a moving knight bus. his father came and left often, and when he was present he was usually busy with the many jobs he couldn’t seem to keep, or fully unaware of what to do with a child or teen, let alone what to do with felix himself - what did he like? what was he up to? half hearted attempts at small talk made for very dull weekends if it wasn’t for felix’s inquisitive mind and his ease at starting conversations with strangers. “your boy’s got a big mouth!” they’d say as he drilled them with questions and began chatting up a storm, trying carefully to blend in to a world he was half foreign to.

going to hogwarts was like whiplash, the warm and epic castle worlds away from his barely livable life in a crummy manchester neighborhood. it was there that he found quite a lot of happiness though - hogwarts was the bit of stability he was missing in his life, something constant he could hold onto - especially his beloved house, GRYFFINDOR. it was there that he learned of the unimaginable prejudice within that magical society though, and it was there that a higher sense of justice developed in him. felix had lived through injustice, watching his mother cry at the notion that their rent was once again overdue, watching kids in his neighbourhood go to school with holed backpacks, watching more and more of his peers give into pointless futures they had been aimed at. but the philosophy that his mother was part of an epidemic, that he had tainted blood, that his muggle-born friends had somehow warranted exile or death? felix wanted to do something about it. it was appalling to him when he questioned his peers on the sources of their beliefs and no one answer with logic he deemed acceptable.

while hogwarts as a location was one of happiness, the school came hand in hand with a formal education, something he’d rebelled against even in muggle school. felix is smart and ambitious, but not a studious person and in the middle of fourth year decided to drop out. his plan was paper thin, as he didn’t really expect to return to muggle education either, just get any job and be done with it. for a fourteen year old, there was quite a lot of bitterness in his tone when he claimed that it had worked for his father. however, teachers convinced him to stay, reminding him that he could go further than anyone in his family ever had at hogwarts, and that there was potential in him. felix tried to leave a few more times before graduation, but they always pulled him back, his head of house especially, and he is incredibly grateful for it. having people who’d accomplished something say he could do the same, and caring so damn much truly changed the course of his life, and even at the time, felix knew he owed an awful lot to them.

after graduating with some reasonable to good NEWTs, he got an internship at the daily prophet, and soon a proper job offer. REPORTER. his defense against the dark arts professor had suggested it after reading an essay by felix and for the rest of 7th year, felix paid closer attention to the way he formulated questions in class, to every word he wrote, to the newspapers that laid on the tables during breakfast. soon after scoring the job he moved out, all the way to london - impossibly far for his mother but a wave of a wand for him. every morning he stopped by with a copy of the confusing newspaper in which pictures moved and pieces spoke of events and people she did not know, but she’d read it carefully anyway. he did it to show her that he was doing something REAL, even when his pieces didn’t make it into the print. he had something solid. he’d gotten so much further than what any of them expected.

although he began studying at hogwarts after the death eaters had been run out of the ministry, he went to a school that was in many ways still rebuilding. the injustices that made his blood boil in first year were very much alive and had deadly consequences as he was growing up. all of his life in the wizarding world was tainted by conflict, or the threat of conflict, or the aftermath of conflict - an uncertainty that made wizards all over hold their breaths. one of his first assignments for the daily prophet was to report of a burned down shop and its missing owners, common place in the times he lived. but the on and off tragedy came with other angry souls who demanded change and were ready to take it by their own hands - shortly after leaving hogwarts, felix was recruited into the order of the phoenix. he came armed with the fresh knowledge of a reporter and a big mouth ready to ask questions until he gets answers. and, above all, a lot of fight left in him.

NOW

felix was always very sure of every word he said, even when he shouldn’t. that certainty spilled into his actions, and he always made sure that whatever he was about to do, he could back it up in the future too, and thus his moral compass became rather strict. he knows what he believes in, he knows what for him are accepted plans of action and just how much he’s willing to sacrifice, and he doesn’t allow anything to try and move the lines that delimitate him. he adheres to this conduct to this day at the order, despite how much on and off war has jaded them all, and his reluctance about crossing his lines has cost him leadership roles many times.

he had his big break in 2019 after cornering a minister assistant into confessing collusion with notoriously death-eater assigned families, confirming bits of evidence he’d dug up, and uncovering how they’d been slowly attempting to make their way into power once more. for weeks, updates on the massive story with his name on it were on the first page as one by one he unveiled cases of such corruption within the ministry. ever since then, he’s been trying to achieve that level of notoriety again. he’s the up and coming man who burned very fast and has yet to prove that wasn’t just luck, even if just to himself.

DEATH TW, PARENTAL DEATH TW

that was also the year his mother passed away. after a few weeks of being bedridden at the hospital, which came as the climax of months of health issues surrounding faulty kidneys, mary rose was celebrated in a nearly empty funeral. felix’s coping method ranges from pretending like it didn’t happen and drinking to forget that it did.

TW OVER

ever since he was a teenager, felix had found a companion in a good drink. as he started working and living on his own, what used to be a purely social activity started happening behind closed doors as well, as a way to loosen up after work or after a hard day with the order. he grew to have favourite bars, bars with his face in drunken pictures on the walls, bars where he was no longer allowed to come in. his struggles with alcohol abuse have grown over the years and his body, no longer of a 22 year old, is barely managing to keep up. however, it’s not something he’s ready to admit to anyone for now, and that is possibly the only lie ever honest felix is able to tell with a straight face.

his father has come and gone, in and out of his life. lately he’s been somewhat of a leech, aware of his son’s stable employment, constantly visiting just to ask for money. which felix has given, despite his best judgement - he is indeed known to give everyone far more than what he can give.

felix has no real concept of boundaries. or of the notions that others might be a bit too much for him, or a bit too demanding, or a burden. if he believes he might be needed, he won’t wait for a call, he’ll be banging at your door. no concept of giving someone any space. what’s the point of having any closeness if he can’t pour himself at your feet, let you pick apart what you need for your fixing and then help you put it together?

the joining of realities was met with much skepticism by felix at first and a sense of urgency that belongs to those at war: they did not have time to fool around with this (he very quickly started showing up at spots that in v2 are order hq or safehouses in hopes that they are locations of interest for versions of the order in other realities and that they’ll all fuse together). a certain bitterness rolled around too, not just due to having to apartment hunt ONCE AGAIN but the thought that maybe everyone else had it easy, peaceful, and his reality was doomed to on and off conflict. however, the more he dug in and discovered about other existences, felix took hope from it too. he simply didn’t know a reality in which the wizarding world around him wasn’t at war and yet it came with such ease to many others - would he believe in the future better if he’d always pictured himself having one?

felix truly believes that he can change the world if he pushes for more ethical and honest reporting. his goal is to be the editor-in-chief of the daily prophet! but at this point he might even just try to start something new tbh

when felix started earning a proper salary, he had no clue what to do with it. he’d been brought up with so little and expected to have so little in the future as well, that even a modest salary like his was a shock and you bet he bought his mum a nice dinner and himself a good tie.

after breaking the big exposé on the ministry, felix was offered a book deal to cash in on his notoriety, which he turned down REALLY fast with a lot of confusion. ‘what am i, oscar wilde?’

while he prides himself in having held down this job rather well, the same cannot be said for other aspects of his life. felix is of an argumentative LOUD nature, and enjoys fleeing from his problems, all ingredients that turn friendships and relationships into disasters. his drinking became a problem in some too, but he won’t mention that.

he is incredibly persistent, to the point of EXTREME annoyance, like a dog with a bone

there’s a lot of 20 something left in felix that he’s yet to shake off. he has a lot of maturing to do.

loves powerpoint so much?? will use it for anything. even at work, he WILL force his editor to let him show a powerpoint presentation on his laptop. will use it casually too to prove a point.

has so much energy. can jump off from place to place at all times. you can feel it radiating from him. speaks absurdly fast and LOUD, is always fidgety - he’s that dude at the order HQ throwing a tennis ball at the wall and back to him. starts conversations with “catch this”. twirls his wand between his fingers. probably plays with knives while drunk, way too close to his own fingers, because why not

walks the line between charming and nuisance

texts with ALL the abbreviations and might even make some up. he has better shit to do than text long properly written texts!!

doesn’t really care about what others think of him, as he thinks very poorly of himself most of the time anyway

if he believes he’s right, he’ll be mean and cynical and brutal. felix speaks his mind and often that comes with lots of hard edges

dresses in lots of layers and long jackets, but always with a tie on because that’s his professional attire. ALWAYS has a satchell on him, filled with notepads and muggle pens ( and a little flask ).

always looks like he needs both a haircut and a comb. maybe a beard trim too.

big communist, no joke, fuck yeah

felix, leaning a bit too far on a chair at hq, throwing a tennis ball at the wall: we are all doomed u guys

really wishes he could be more optimistic most days :/

replies to way too many things with “hot.” and sometimes doesn’t cathc himself before throwing it as a reply to shit like ‘yeah and then we went to check the witnesses on that broom accident, awful’

he’s a very gestural person. speaking for felix means moving around, big physical gestures, arms flailing, a proper demonstration at times

has the messiest desk in the history of messy desks, and his colleagues just have to deal with it.

some stats, which you can find HERE.

click HERE for a bad pinterest board.

some character parallels: steven crain (thohh), karen page (marvel), greg serrano (cegf), elijah bradley (marvel), jake peralta (b99), alexander hamilton (musical), mike ross (suits), luke banjole (handmaid’s tale), rose tyler (doctor who), theodora crain (thohh), wes gibbins (htgawm), jessica jones (marvel), diego hargreeves (umbrella academy), lois lane (dv), jeff winger (community), meredith grey (grey's anatomy), shane madej (buzzfeed unsolved), nick miller (new girl), mike warren (graceland), clint barton (marvel COMICS pls), terry jeffords (b99), siobhan sadler (orphan black), poe dameron (star wars).

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

class of 2009/2010: or not! felix was very noticeable at hogwarts. he didn’t do any extracurriculars or play quidditch, got average to bad grades, tried to keep his head down and avoid trouble, but had a big mouth! once there was a single opening, he just started rolling and good luck shutting him up! vaguely gossipy even oops. so from 2003 to 2010 he was around being a nuisance, which could have been taken very nicely or not

and they were roommates: after graduating, felix moved out to london but he was certainly too broke to live by himself. some poor people had to put up with him for a few years before he finally started living alone - his early twenties were times of real intense going out and partying; and odd hours working in the living room; and also going back home with freshly healed injuries from warring with the order. he was certainly not a tidy or quiet roommate, but he’d always offer a glass of whatever he was having

the recruiter: felix joined the order as soon as he was out of hogwarts. not only did he have skin in the game, but he’s never known the wizard world properly without war and he’d do anything to many sure he and many others felt safer. there’s something that truly disgusts him in a visceral away about pureblood violence and bigotry, has since age eleven, and he has enough fight in him to get out there, hand and fists ready. since it didn’t take much convincing and he probably sought them out himself, this is someone who vouched for him and due to that, someone he always came back to whenever he had personal issues with how things were being ran, which was OFTEN.

family in arms: he joined the order very young, as did many, and in a way they finished growing up there. for over a decade he’s fought with these people on and off, lost a few as well - this sort of shared trauma shared experience sort of thing :(

someone kick him out: being annoying around hq and loudly argumentative at meetings definitely lead to some people being done with him, even if they all fight for the same cause. who in the order is truly over his face??

spent youth: who partied hard with him during their late teens/early 20s and now is like wtf man why are u still going this hard why are u up drinking gin stop

drinking buddies: felix is a loyal man and can often be found at the same bar, so who’s chilling there with him? could be with good intentions, just pals,,,,, or Using Him in a drunker state to get some info he’d probably not divulge sober @ de

exiting: felix is notoriously bad at holding down relationships, do who dumped him??

dog with a bone: once felix feels like there’s something to dig, he will keep on digging and there’s little that can stop him. dangerously annoying, he can be up on multiple people’s businesses and this whole cat and mouse dynamic is what he lives off of

you again?: there’s certain people that, due to their jobs or connections, would be very alluring sources for him so catch him being a common nuisance

main contact: someone let him break news. someone call him first.

potential enemies: based off the DE he knows or suspects in his own reality, he’s got an eye out for people from other verses. he follows ‘innocent until proven guilty’ but that doesn’t mean lack of caution and there’s just so much distrust for people whose names or surnames he recognizes. rightful or not!

investigation buddy: who is with him trying to find out who is wrong and who’s right in all these worlds combined!! a very much on the down low sort of investigation into potential DE or war criminals but also into whatever the fuck is going on and who they can place blame onto. who’s sleuthing?

#❛ iv . | when i’m facing death i’ll grab its throat — “ how does it hurt ? “ ; headcanons .#icb how short this one is tbh he's the oldest and has the shortest intro?? sounds fake i must correct this some day #felix vc: im a simple man #clonesintro

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yogaadvise · 5 years

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Top yoga book recommendations

Esther Ekhart

Your body Your Yoga by Bernie Clark - So much greater than makeup publication. It's composed from the viewpoint that we are as different on the inside as we are on the outside as well as the value of practising yoga exercise from an useful technique, according to the range of movement provided by our very own distinct body.

Living Dharma, the flavour of freedom, Quantity 4 by Burgs - Bringing the Buddha's teachings to life, revealing that they are just as relevant today as they were 2500 years ago.

I am that by Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj - an old standard that every serious yogi interested in achieving knowledge ought to read.

Julie Martin

What is Fascia as well as Why it Matters by David Lesondak - The initial publication to truly give a clear picture for everybody concerning fascia and its properties and also why we really require to start collaborating with this knowledge. You don't need to be a researcher or composition nerd to understand this publication as David has a fantastic, casual design of composing as well as clarifies what he's discussing really clearly. A must-read if you educate yoga!

Awakening the Back by Vanda Scaravelli - A lovely publication created by a leader in the yoga exercise globe. Her job wasn't really fashionable in the early years of the yoga exercise boom, but numerous even more individuals are headed in that direction now. Vanda is accountable for the quote, 'We require to deal with the body, not versus it'.

Healing the Core Injury of Unworthiness by Adyashanti - An amazing book for everyone, as our culture is plagued with the concept that we are not 'worthy'. Adyashanti is a spiritual non-dualistic educator who brings an obtainable high quality to how we can regard as well as ultimately stay in the suggestion of oneness.

James Reeves

Tantra Lit Up by Christopher Wallis - An extremely comprehensive explanation of how Tantra educates most of our modern techniques of yoga

Finding Quality by Jeru Kabbal - Clear, verbalize and stunning. This is the instructor of Esther's initially instructor [Taetske Kleijn] and it's a publication that touched my heart deeply.

Yoga and the Quest for real Self by Stephen Cope - A great read and a terrific tale of the trip right into the globe of yoga

I Touch by John Prendergast - A truly charming review inviting and also being totally attached with our internal globe of thoughts and feelings.

Anat Geiger

Yoga related: God talks with Arjuna, Yogananda's discourse of the Bhagavad Gita. The job he has actually done is astonishing and there is sufficient motivation below for lots of life times. An additional Gita variation I like is Eknath Easwaran's translation. Beautiful.

Also, anything by Vivekananda. He is incredibly straightforward and also extremely motivating. Whenever I read something by him I feel he eliminates some coat of justifications as well as reasons I indulge in as well as reaches me ideal where it most matters. Raja Yoga - his own commentary on the Sutras of Patanjali - leaves me inspired and also amazed every time.

Poetry: Kabir! Stunning as well as informed. There is so much surprise meaning, delicacy as well as beauty in his words. I obtained a publication with 44 of his thrilled poems from my instructors and I prize it deeply. Here's one of my favourites: Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat. My shoulder is pushed against yours. You will not discover me in stupas, not in Indian shrine rooms, neither in synagogues, neither in basilicas: not in masses, neither kirtans, not in legs winding around your own neck, nor in consuming only vegetables. When you actually search for me, you will certainly see me quickly - you will find me in the smallest home of time. Kabir claims: Trainee, tell me, what is God? He is the breath inside the breath.

How awesome is that?

Buddhism I enjoy the works of Pema Chodron. She is an American Buddhist religious woman with enormous concern, a scrumptious sense of humour as well as a talent with words.

Fiction: I was deeply relocated as well as impressed by Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell. It spans numerous lives and lifetimes (in my view) as well as for me it was everything about Karma. It's an intricate book and also worth every effort. Every from time to time I indulge in well-written fantasy stories - excellent v. wicked kind of fights and also challenges!

Marlene Henny

Moving right into Tranquility by Erich Schiffmann - Wonderfully created as well as quickly reaches the heart of what practising yoga exercise has to do with in easy to understand terms (without all the fluffy brand-new age things). The photographs as well as descriptions of the asanas are clear as well as understandable. I reference it regularly for my own practice as well as for teaching. Get it, read it, like it!

Yoga Spandakarika - The Sacred Texts at the Beginnings of Tantra by Daniel Odier Daniel Odier is a great author as well as his take on the Spandakarika is a lot easier to recognize than several various other translations. What I such as concerning this publication that it that provides an interesting viewpoint and enough info about the actual philosophy of Tantra and also leaves enough location for self-interpretation of the sacred text.

Awakening Shakti: The Transformative Power of the Goddesses of Yoga by Sally Kempton - I discovered SO much concerning Hindu sirens, as well as the writer offers the information in an available and compelling way. Each phase, which follows the very same layout, is centred around a specific goddess and consists of reflections to help the reader materialize the goddess as well as her energy. The feminine powers of the world are so interesting. Even assuming regarding them just a tiny little bit as well as taking advantage of them at all can be profound. Certainly recommended!

David Lurey

The Gleam Sutras, translation and discourse by Loren Roche - A heavy poetic present of consciousness and also living a liberated life.

Dying to be Me by Anita Moorjani - A real 'life after death' story that brings a beautiful point of view on the gift of life as well as exactly how to maintain points basic. This publication also offers attractive insights on just how to make challenging choices and also how to keep those we absolutely love in our hearts

A Brief Background of Nearly Whatever by Expense Bryson - Exactly as the title claims ... Fantastic for those who enjoy facts, insights on evolution and also amazing stories of just how we got below as a human race on this one-of-a-kind planet.

Down the Freeway: The Life of Bob Dylan by Howard Sounes - The tale of the best singer/songwriter of contemporary times (in my viewpoint). I am a big Dylan follower as well as this publication lit up many dark edges of the life of among my idolizers. I highly suggest reading a couple of chapters, after that most likely to YouTube for video clips of that time duration to see him and what was taking place. As well as likewise, much more notably, listen to the songs that are explained in the chapters you read.

Gulp by Mary Roach - A lovely as well as detailed story of our digestive system ... yes, seriously! It's amazing and also you'll never ask yourself once more what they are discussing when somebody states 'fecal transplant' at an alcoholic drink party.

Helen Noakes

Life on Land by Emilie Conrad - enthusiastic, dramatic, deep and also discusses breath motion as well as fascia beautifully.

Awakening the Spine by Vanda Scaravelli - Lovely images, poetic radical and also rebellious.

The Initial Body - Primitive Movement for Yoga Teachers by John Stirk - Totally initial, artistic, deep and also imaginative. A publication for life.

Jennilee Toner

Yoga and the Course of the Urban Mystic by Darren Key - Darren Main's book has actually been required reading for all my 200-hour educator trainees because 2010. It is such an enjoyable and easy means to study the practice and viewpoint of yoga exercise. The light and also fresh way Darren Main authentically explains his own way of dealing with the 8 Limbs of Yoga exercise is delightful.

How Yoga Works by Michael Cockroach and Christie McNally - This publication actually changed the means I came close to practising and teaching yoga. My personal technique and also teaching grew unbelievably after my very initial analysis of this Sutra-inspired tale. It came to be more intimate, a lot more intentional, more deliberate and extra soulful. I have actually needed it ever because in my 300-hour teacher trainings and each re-reading has actually even more assisted to advance my method and also training to new degrees of affection and service.

Katy Appleton

One Soul as well as Entering as well as in by Danna Faulds - Danna Faulds' verse publications are expressions and understandings to the internal landscape people as humans. I utilize them to supply deepness in the practice and open the area within.

The Diamond in Your Pocket - Gangaji - this book has to do with spiritual awakening in this life time. The common in the extraordinary!

Tracey Uber Cook

Light on Life by BKS Iyengar - This is a fantastic publication to have in one's collection. It is the culmination of Mr Iyengar's understanding from years of practise as well as teaching, weaving with each other Patanjali's 8 Arm or legs of Yoga exercise as well as the 5 Koshas from the Taittriya Upanishad. I have read this book numerous, often times, though never from cover to cover! I always pick it up and look to a page or phase which calls to me as well as each time it speaks something brand-new and profound to me. I have actually utilized it as a resource in teacher trainings and very suggest it to any person wanting to inquire much deeper right into the method and philosophy of yoga.

The Brilliance Sutras, translation as well as commentary by Loren Roche, PhD - Dr Roche has actually invested decades studying and also equating this luminous translation of the ancient Vijnana Bhairava Tantra message. Its 162 knowledgeables sing the tune of Life and Love in between the Devi (Shakti), the innovative power of deep space, and also Bhairava (Shiva), the boundless awareness which embraces Her and also from which She occurs. The verses define the enigma as well as wonder of Life within every thing, assumed and task. Bringing light to the loving understanding which makes all existence possible.

The Heart of Awareness (Ashtavakra Gita) - translation by Thomas Byrom - Referred to in numerous Vedanta circles as 'the highest training following to silence', this is the tune of understanding in all of its boundless types. I like to take it to the coastline as the sun increases, check out a few lines, and also rest in the quiet of the morning.

Marlene Smits

The Absolutely Nothing that Is by Robert Kaplan - more a metaphysical philosophical publication than a yoga exercise publication, 'taking us from Archimedes to Einstein and making fascinating connections between mathematical insights from every age and culture'.

Living in the Heart by Drunvalo Melchizedek - for a description of how to move from the brain-centred experience of truth to that which originates from the heart.

Irina Verwer

The Course Of Technique by Maya Tiwari - A stunning book on Ayurveda for women. Inspiring as well as heartwarming.

After the Euphoria, the Washing by Jack Kornfield - Quick, succinct, funny, and always informing stories.

Feeding Your Demons by Tsultrim Allione - Clearly created, sensible, and thorough instruction.

Nichi Green

Yoga and also the Quest for the True Self by Stephen Cope - I've simply finished reading this as well as definitely enjoyed it. Written much more like a novel, Stephen is a psychotherapist as well as yoga educator. His insight and experiences of yoga exercise are phenomenal and also he associates a great deal of it to spiritual technique as well as the restorative influence that yoga exercise has when you immerse on your own in it for enough time. Among my leading 10 yoga books!

Gilda Goharian

The Subtle Body by Stefanie Syman - This book is concerning the growth of yoga in the United States as well as exactly how it progressed from an old spiritual technique to a practice that countless Americans position at the centre of their lifestyle. Guide is entertaining and also simple to read.

... Unlike virtually everything by the late Georg Feuerstein, who dedicated his life to the understanding and also technique of yoga exercise! Every one of his publications are thick and scholastic however I can still advise him for his substantial knowledge as well as knowledge. If you ask me to select one I would certainly select Yoga Custom: Its History, Literary Works, Ideology as well as Method. The book supplies a full introduction of every yogic tradition, from the familiar to the lesser-known types. Not always a web page turner however it may be whatever you need if you're interested in yoga exercise viewpoint and background. And also once you begin checking out and get utilized to the design it can be entertaining too.

George Langenberg

Kriya Yoga: 4 Spiritual Masters as well as a Novice - If you have checked out Autobiography of a Yogi by Yogananda then you learn about the sages who acquired the highest degree through reflection in the Kriya Yoga family tree. Yoga is a course of Self Realisation as well as through Kriya Yoga exercise you can walk this path.

I read Autobiography of a Yogi in 1998 and also at the time wished that I might fulfill an educator that would show me 'the way' and show me a lot more regarding Raja yoga, reflection and also Pranayama. In 2001 this wish came to life: I satisfied my Guruji (spiritual teacher) in India and obtained Kriya Yoga exercise initiation in 2002. This book is concerning the Kriya Yoga family tree I comply with and also concerning being devout to a living Master. I have found out so a lot under his assistance over the previous 16 years. The lessons and reflections that I share on EkhartYoga are simply an understanding of the depth of the Kriya Yoga method where breath, embodied awareness and dedication collaborated in greater realms of the mind.

#ashtanga yoga #healing #iyengar yoga #kriya yoga #pranayama #prenatal yoga #raja yoga #spiritual #spiritual awakening #types of yoga #yin yoga #yoga #yoga alliance #yoga music #yoga nidra #yoga works

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themadvigilantist · 4 years

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things about time lords that was new to me and/or i forgot about that i’m now going to consider canon for basically every time lord in a fight:

Time Lords' physical forms are only fragments of much vaster multi-dimensional ones existing in a realm invisible to humans; this aspect is able to create coincidences around a Time Lord. (and everyone is so surprised by how strong they are. gallifreyans are (possibly) stronger than the hulk and captain marvel full force. k bye)

While the human eye was just a dish of light-sensitive cells, leaving the brain to do all of the processing, the Time Lord retina was capable of thinking on its own. As a result, on Gallifrey, the retina replaced fingers as the main method of communicating with machines. (a brain for the skull and a brain for each eye and just holy shit. they can feel people with their eyesssssss.) Gallifreyan eyes were better at seeing in general, as well as in the dark, as they could gather and enhance available light. They could notice incredible amount of detail from distances of at least one hundred yards away, as well as people that were well beyond the human line of sight. Gallifreyans had incredibly precise control of their eyes (which explains a shit ton on why the doctor’s eyes just get bigger when they can’t find a companion and have to resort to yelling their name. it’s like that meme about yelling something to get them to respond but extreme sports edition. like extreme marco polo or waldo like holy shit).

Gallifreyans could survive some falls which would shatter the bones of humans.

If pushed from a height into a liquid, a Time Lord body was capable of protecting them, sealing up the lungs to conserve air for a short period (see Hell Bent and 12′s constant diving)

Gallifreyans could survive extreme cold, due to having a "souped-up metabolism"; they could even withstand exposure to a vacuum for a few minutes with the only consequence being blindness rather than death. They could also survive extreme heat. They could even survive the subzero temperatures and extremely low pressure of vacuum for around six minutes, and survive electric shocks that would be fatal to humans.

Röntgen radiation affected Gallifreyans so minimally that Gallifreyan children were routinely given radioactive toys in the nursery. They could, at will, absorb very high doses of Röntgen radiation, transform it into a form harmless to humans, and expel it from their bodies. Radiation of other kinds could be fatal, but even then a Gallifreyan could handle much higher doses than a normal human could, and could hold out much longer than even most terrestrial life-forms, although a unique form of radiation around the Lakertyan System was only fatal to Time Lords while being harmless to humans.

Gallifreyans needed less sleep than humans, and could make do with as little as an hour.

A Gallifreyan who was severely injured without actually needing to regenerate to heal the damage would generally slip into a healing coma, and devote all his or her energy to healing the injury. While in the coma, they would appear to be dead.

Time Lords also seem to have an increased resilience to higher frequencies of sound.

Gallifreyans could be disabled by a blow to the left shoulder, which possessed a vulnerable nerve cluster.

Gallifreyans were capable of resisting attempts to disintegrate their bodies, despite being shown capable of disintegrating other organisms.

Early Gallifreyans deliberately infected themselves with the Yssgaroth taint to give themselves a biological advantage.

Time Lords occasionally displayed, or referred to, the ability to fly. (cough cough mary poppins, saxon, missy, that time lord messenger, tenth doctor when he got back to normal and cradled the master and cried after lucy shot him cough cough)

Even without regeneration, Gallifreyans had considerable lifespans. Within one regeneration, Gallifreyans could live for hundreds of years, yet look much younger than a human of equivalent age. (which means the curator in the 50th Anniversary of Doctor Who is 500 yrs old in that face so like imagine young tom baker but with just the short curly cut like wow)

Physical stress could cause Gallifreyans to age.

the Time Destructor may have contributed to ageing

Gallifreyan children grew at about the same rate as humans of the same age. After this point, ageing would slow, with the Gallifreyan looking like a teenager for decades. ( @girl-in-the-tardis @gallifreylegacy so basically those kids end up being like twilight minus the disco ball vampirism when they graduate college and get the highest occupation of their job. like they could be considered both the youngest president but also the oldest being visually a teenager but actually 90 yrs old. like No. 5 from Umbrella Academy)

90 is teens, 750 is middle-aged and senility age when one time lord gets over 12,000 years old (depending on the regeneration i guess???)

Gallifreyans had all the senses possessed by humans, and to generally superior degrees. Gallifreyans also had extraordinary reflexes and precision timing, literally superhuman.

In the space of four nanoseconds, a Time Lord can move fast enough to dodge shots fired at them whilst devising a plan to escape. (so that trailer where 13 is like a speedster? fucking canon y’all)

Gallifreyans showed great hand-eye coordination and dexterity with a wide variety of tool and weapons.

Gallifreyans (in "younger" bodies) were, consequently, very physically able and highly athletic

A time lord perceived sounds from the TARDIS, while located several sections away in a larger spacecraft or planet.

Gallifreyans were capable of identification by taste. (see all of tenth doctor) The Gallifreyan sense of smell was equal to their sense of taste. They could do a chemical analysis of the air using their sense of smell. On some occasions Time Lords were also able to judge what time period and location they were in by the smell of the air. (this explains that comic where rose was possessed by the ninth doctor and she basically became the ninth doctor for that strip while also talking to him out loud as he responded in her head: basically 9 was remy the rat and rose was linguini the hair-controlled human k thanks. so that’s a thing)

Gallifreyans were better at coping with sudden changes in position than humans and were harder to disorient.

As well as the senses shared with humans, Gallifreyans had further senses, with at least a sixth sense. Gallifreyans had time- and spatial-related senses and physical attributes; they were able to resist fields of slow time, notice distortions and jumps in time, retain perception of local time flow, including a secondary "backwards" consciousness during jumps back in time that could overwrite the one prescribed by forward time, directly perceive the interstellar motions of cosmological bodies or their inhabitants — including sensing the "shape" of the world to the extent that they were aware when trapped in pocket dimensions — and perceive all possible timelines. Due to their time sensitive nature, Gallifreyans could retain memories of negate or alternative timelines. (so basically the whole ‘i won’t remember this’ schtick from 50th was a sham. which explains why tenth doctor was looking for rose the second he heard bad wolf but he was on gallifrey and not earth. this boy was looking for the moment but like she just didn’t appear and then the button changed into a rose shaped one like wow ok bye) The form of eidetic short-term memory, able to recall every insignificant detail of even the most moments in time (holy shit there’s no way you can win an argument with them. that’s fucking sad...for any human anYWAY). on a quantum level, their brain could receive information from possible futures, possibly without even realising it consciously. (ahaha do you mean that the tenth doctor saw different futures where he saw all outcomes of doomsday which makes all those edits where he’s living life with rose and donna as his sister fucking true but it’s also true that canonically he went, ‘nah, have tentoo im gonna skidaddle’ and left THEM OKAY BYE AGAIN). Time Lords shared a special mental connection to the structure of history. The chakras of the Time Lord nervous system could detect contours in the Time Vortex and also felt an instinctive gut revulsion towards fixed points in time.

The Time Lord brain was much larger and more complex than the human brain. The size differences effectively ruled out brain transplants from a Gallifreyan to a human, having one, two or three brainstems (so basically that whole plot in Get Out would have backfired so fucking hard. now that would have been a wild movie.) Time Lords could also separate the hemispheres of their brain, allowing them to multitask easily. Records on some planets indicated isolated cerebral hemispheres as a characteristic of Time Lords. Time Lords had an additional brain lobe dedicated to mechanical and other bodily functions, freeing the other lobes for intellectual endeavours. The autonomic functions could be artificially supplanted with a special device, allowing the Gallifreyan to think with their autonomic brain.

Gallifreyans could sense the presence of others of their own species, with the sense being specific enough to allow identification of one another just by sight, regardless of potential recent regeneration. (v and vin tend to turn this off because they like being surprised. surprises are fun.)

Body temperature of Gallifreyans are fucking Arctic or near Pluto levels, hence the layered clothing in the most hottest climate possible like what the fuck. it explains so much on why tenth doctor still donned that luau necklace thing because that was just a nice warm spring to him okay. which means if they get sick, you need oven gloves and a heat resistant suit. that’s what im gonna assume. like holy shit. no wonder that ice didn’t do shit for 10 in the 42 ep. good to know

Time Lords displayed the ability of touch-enabled mental manipulation; this manifested itself in a number of different ways, including hypnosis, mind-reading, thought sharing, the ability to relieve dementia, putting others to sleep, influence on others' dreams, memory erasure and could also transfer knowledge quickly to another person by headbutting them. In addition, they were telepathically linked to one another and could join the entire Time Lord intelligence as one. They could hold telepathic conversations over distances, but this was more difficult. They could converse with each over the astral plane, although this ability required intense concentration, and an interruption might have fatal consequences for the Time Lord. Their telepathy extended to less intelligent animals. Perhaps because of this, they had an innate ability to understand any language. In ancient times, Gallifreyans who were capable of blocking out the telepathic thoughts of other Gallifreyans were called Individuals. They usually had red-gold hair and often went on to become Young Heroes. (THAT’S 👏🏾WHY 👏🏾THE 👏🏾DOCTOR 👏🏾WANTS RED 👏🏾HAIR 👏🏾👏🏾 THEY 👏🏾 WANT 👏🏾 TO 👏🏾BE 👏🏾A 👏🏾INDIVIDUAL 👏🏾👏🏾) They were highly resistant against, if not immune to, other forms of mind control. However, they were vulnerable to more powerful forms of mind control. (so basically Jessica Jones episodes 1 thru whatever episode Kilgrave doesn’t find out about Hogarth trying to inject herself with his DNA, they are immune but, episode where kilgrave injects himself with it and becomes powerful might be vulnerable to it if that same kilgrave did what cartoon kilgrave did with tony stark and used the stark tower to boost and spread his control over everyone...or you know, maybe can withstand wanda vision’s control. maybe. i have to consider pythia and the karn so, it’s a good 50 - 50 chance on kilgrave and wanda being able to mind control a time lord. like properly. so jot that down)

Gallifreyans (Time Lords) don’t have prostates.

#mv: decretum #mv: longpost #mv: reference #ooc #doctor who #egyptroyal #c: 10 #vc: 11 1/2 #oc: the scientist #c: 0 #oc: allura #oc: the technician #oc: the sargeant

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scriptsandlattes · 5 years

Text

Sherlock Holmes and Fanfiction: A Study in the Development of Humanity

August 17, 2019

Along with having a Zygoma that would make a cheese knife jealous, Benedict Cumberbatch marvelously portrays the fictitious, and often socially blind, detective created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and is brought up as one of the many iterations of Sherlock Holmes. Whether you prefer the serious only-time-for-fun-when-I-drank-to-much, Cumberbatch and Freeman as Sherlock and Watson respectively, or favor Robert Downey Jr. and his Watson, Jude Law’s more comical approach, you have seen at least one version of the duo represented on-screen that is different from their literary counterparts; Which is anything but surprising, as it is a series of shorts that were written in the 1880s. Some laugh at the idea that fan-made fiction is an artifact of pop culture, but every story is inspired by another story. Even the original stories are often based loosely, stiffly, or satirically around witnessed events. Fanfiction is a study in humanity, and it's social and historical developments. It also brings out creative thinking, individually and collectively.

What makes writing stories using Sir Arthur Doyle’s characters on a platform such as Wattpad (or Tumblr) less accepted than a BBC or Hollywood production? It does not matter where the source material comes from; the original idea will be spun into someone's inspiration. The amount of research and work that goes into a good fanfiction should be commended as well, as writers can spend hours researching methods or mental incapacities. Then again, "good" is a subjective term, and you can often tell when something isn’t thoroughly researched. Even with films, tv shows, and big, commercially marketed books, there is an argument over whether the story is good or bad. While some consider fan-written fiction lower than kitsch, being a mimic is a skill. Yes, some of the characters are already established, but the writer still created an original character- or characters- and plot ideas, which means the story already has a new element added and they now must create interactions with the pre-established characters without disrespecting the constitution of the original characters or their creator. Whether the original creator would accept the fans version of the story matters little, as both versions are the author’s head canon. As with any form of art, kitsch or not, it will enviably cause controversy.

Cumberbatch's portrayal of Sherlock Holmes is the updated inspiration presented by Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat. To be more relatable to a broader audience, Holmes, Watson, and Moriarty are younger, and electronically inclined but still clever enough to keep the “old-timers” interested. As times change, more ideas are allowed. The mental health of it all has developed as well; the more scientists learn about mental wellness and the human psyche, the more we can be algorithmic with how characters will or won’t react to different disorders. Sally Donovan calls Sherlock a freak, John Watson rolls with it, and Detective Lestrade sees Sherlock’s potential.

While there is little exploration as to why Downey Jr’s Sherlock Holmes is the way he is, looking at it from a psychological point of view, we can identify the adolescent issues that caused Cumberbatch’s Sherlock to have grown into the man he is. Nothing sums up young Sherlock’s development more than “the mind is inherently designed to understand life as a narrative.” (Borges, 1962) Even Sigmund Freud agrees that the psyche reshapes the conflicts revisited in narratives as a way to cope (Danesi, 2019). In Gatiss’ version, the Holmes brothers have a younger sister. She was closer to Sherlock’s age and began to feel ignored and jealous of Sherlock’s relationship with his best friend Victor, so she shoved Victor down a well and refused to tell them where he was. It is not until after she burned down the family home and is sent away that Sherlock rewrites his memories, forgetting his younger sister and making his childhood friend his childhood dog, (that never existed), Redbeard. At one-point, Mycroft tells Sherlock he is the man he is because of the memory of his sister.

The same events also lay the foundation for understanding Mycroft as well. The human psyche is a precious thing. Where Sherlock forgot his trauma, and his brain seems to have rewritten the way he reacts completely, Mycroft lives with the guilt of knowing what he did. He knew the Eurus was locked away and did not die in the house fire she set, as he told his family. Perhaps his internalization of emotions is how he lives with the guilt, like a self-inflicted punishment. The more you pay attention to Gatiss as Mycroft, the more you can tell he truly cares about his little brother, but he is afraid to look weak, so he instead acts like he does not and allows the hostility.

Inspirations grow with the times. More ideas are accepted, and technology is upgraded. While Cumberbatch’s Sherlock Holmes occasionally falls back into archaic tendencies, he uses modern technology such as keeping a blog and texting. Downey Jr. offers us the closer to the original version with telegram communications. Setting aside the Abominable Bride episode which is meant to take place in 1895- it is likely that if the two versions were to switch places, they would not be able to do their job as efficiently, if at all. They wouldn’t have the technology they know how to use; one would have the advanced tech while the other would think waiting for, or writing, a telegram is tedious.

When studying Pop Culture, we must recognize that linguistics and logistics have changed to sate modern speech and society. “The game is afoot” becomes “the game is on.” Texting and calling someone on their mobile phone became the new telegram and messenger correspondence. Phrases like “brother mine” and “blud” are granted between the Holmes brothers to show affection, even if it is sarcastic. There is a scene between Detective Inspector Lestrade and John Watson where Lestrade tells John that Sherlock is a great man and that maybe one day he will be a good one. (Moffat et al. 2010) Which implies that Sherlock is good at what he does, but not the kindest person. It is this scene that tells the viewers that if Sherlock were less talented but compassionate, he would be a good person.

The good man speech is alluded to in the third episode in the fourth series when Sherlock shows genuine concern for his brother and even addresses Lestrade by his correct first name, indicating character growth. That humanizing character growth is what gives Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock an appeal that Robert Downey Jr.’s version does not have. It also suggests that Cumberbatch’s Sherlock pays attention but chooses to goad their disdain deliberately, thereby making moments like that more precious.

What was it Carl Jung said about mischief? “In every person, there exists a predilection for puerile mischief.” (Dansei, 2019) So In a way, this incarnation of Sherlock Holmes is The Hero and The Trickster. He also has more than one form of the shadow he is dealing with- the shadow within himself, and the shadow that takes the form of cases and enemies. When considering Sherlock, a “trickster,” we must look past the usual villainy that is partnered with the mythology. His trickery comes from his lack or denial of social skills. In the second episode of the first series, The Blind Banker, Sherlock allows himself to be contradicted to move his case along. He also tends to use physically harmless manipulation when a case is involved. In that same episode, there is a scene with Molly Hooper that illustrates this action. Though non-cannon to Sir Conan Doyle’s original work, she is a specialist registrar, (intern), in the morgue at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital that Sherlock flirts with Molly to gain access to bodies in the morgue without having to go through official channels. He recognizes her affection for him and manipulates that. However, he has never intentionally been cruel to his tolerable affiliates. That is where he differs from the usual trickster mythologies.

When Mark Gatiss and Stephen Moffat created their version of Sherlock Holmes, it was not your twelve-year-old-girl-who-doesn’t-understand-the-dimensions-of-the-characters, fantasy. They cared about the characters and enjoyed the adventures of the detective so much growing up they wanted to create their own version., and that admiration demanded the creation of a beautifully magical world that transcends the archaic and challenges the archetypes. There are even liberties taken with John’s wife, Mary. As she does not have a detailed back story in the original work, she is probably the most natural character to build around. She could have been a ‘villain’ or ‘the wise old Oak’ that helps John in ways Sherlock can’t. Which takes us back to the role’s women play throughout history and anthropology.

Pop Culture can be considered an experiment and expression of postmodern democracy, and as with any other viewpoint, it is not shared universally (Dansei, 2019). This democracy and societal growth are evident in the way BBC’s Sherlock portrays Mary Watson as a strong, independent, and charismatic woman who enjoys the eccentricities of Sherlock Holmes. She even understood why he faked his death. Since the beginning, she has been in his corner and pushed the relationship between John and Sherlock to stay the same. It was not until later in the series that we find out why she is so accommodating. Where Guy Ritchie’s Sherlock Holmes shows us Mary Watson as ‘John’s soon-to-be-wife, who happens to be a governess,’ Sherlock shoves the progression in our faces.

Historically, women have been submissive; to be seen and not heard. 2009’s Sherlock Holmes movies played by Robert Downey Jr, there is the implication that women are second-class citizens and not often taken seriously, which allows the deception between Ms. Adler and Mr. Holmes. While she was using him for information, he was using her for creature comforts. It was not proper to openly discuss sexuality or lack thereof. The audience doesn’t even know how or when Sherlock Holmes met Irene Adler in this ideation. However, Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat challenge their audiences with a polar opposite character in their version of Irene Adler. She is an open and marketed Dominatrix, which accepts that women can take charge of their own life. In the wake of movements like #HeforShe and #Mettoo, Laura Pulver gives us the power to challenge inequality and harassment.

As previously mentioned, Molly Hooper is a character of merit in the BBC world of Sherlock Holmes. However, there is no place for her in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s works. The idea of women being in a power position like that was outside of comprehension in the 1880s. There is some subjugation with Molly accepting the way Sherlock treats her, but she is smart and influential and respected. Her education in the medical field illustrates how society has grown. Women can study more than the necessities for being “Susie Homemaker.” Molly is Sherlock’s access point to bodies and labs in the hospital. Her allowing him access to the hospital helps him solve the crimes without breaking more laws himself by breaking into the morgue. He will never admit it, but she helps keep him human and occasionally inspires ideas with her medical perspective. It also helps that she is not “a complete idiot.”

While the drug use seems to be a staple in the Sherlock Holmes lore, Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock doesn’t drink eye drops to get high when he can’t find substance. He also isn’t trapping flies under a glass container and plucking the violin to observe their reactions. This version of Sherlock Holmes also portrays scientific advancement outside of women now contributing. It is mentioned in the show the Sherlock is a graduate chemist, and he is often seen appropriately using a microscope and slides when testing drops of blood and chemical compositions. There will always be new scientific methods and discoveries. The microscope and sterile slides are scientific improvements that were needed to help science move forward. The best science starts with a sterile environment. Sherlock even enjoys experiments with microwaves and refrigeration, implying that he is monitoring the viability of a subject in various temperatures, and the bacterial reactions as well. Though there were refrigeration units, the microwave experiments would not exist unless he was to first invent a unit to conduct and control microwaves.

Some of the experiments are used to solve current cases, while others are entertainment because he is bored. He is meticulous with his work and can even identify 140 different types of tobacco ash. Another thing that has grown with over the years is the knowledge of chemical reactions. The scientific advancements shown to audiences with any Sherlock Holmes variation seem to live with the memories of Sir Conan Doyle’s own growing up in the era of scientific change. Some, such as BBC’s version, highlight the advancements, some stay stagnant, but the impact is still there, whether it is a history in science lesson or scientific progress that inspires new ideas. Each version of Sherlock Holmes has a certain cleverness to it. New ideas in science, intelligent women, even annoyingly clever criminals. Every release is another piece of the puzzle, a collaborative art form that feeds on societal growth, innovation, and invention while somehow keeping our history present.

In general, Sherlock on the BBC gives more humanity and dimensions to the characters. Character building is a skill that many take for granted. World-building is two steps beyond that. But to take old-fashioned characters and throw them forward in history is taking that challenge and upping the ante. Both versions illustrate how much humankind has changed over the years, but also how we stayed the same. We’ve always been creative beings, and while Robert Downey Jr. was not afraid to don a dress and bonnet (which offered him anonymity as a woman), Cumberbatch takes a different approach to the “hide in plain sight” idea. Creative difference, but just as effective. Whether our creativity comes from something manmade or our own ingenuity, we never grow out of it, just develop it.

#cumbercollective #cumberbatch #downeyjr #sherlockholmes #fanfiction #fanculture #humangrowth #humanity #popcultureandhumanity

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

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Hi! So I’m rewatching TAB atm and it’s giving me feeeels. Do you have recs for after the get off the plane where John deals with Sherlock and specifically his overdose? I wish we’d had a part 2 where the show went into it, but I’m hoping you can give me some amazing fanfic instead! And Johnlock as friends is good as well as slash!

HI NONNY!!!

AHHHH I love TAB SO MUCH. It’s my favourite Sherlock Ep, and I wish I had more fics related to it :( I don’t have anything new since then, but all these fics are from my S3 / TAB / S4 [FIX IT] Fics list from last March, but because I love y’all, I’ll separate it on its own because it’s pretty far down and hidden, and I know other people would like to read some separate, so here you are!

And friends, if y’all have any TABlock, PLEASE give them to me!! I need more!!

THE ABOMINABLE BRIDE (TABlock) (APR. 2020)

See also:

S3 / TAB / S4 [FIX IT] Fics (March 2019)

Victorianlock

ACD Canon

The Two of Us Against the World by slashscribe (T, 1,617 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Addiction, Anxious Sherlock, Angsty Fluff) – John is there to take care of Sherlock as he comes down from his overdose in The Abominable Bride. Set immediately after the tarmac, back in 221B.

Loudly Unspoken by Mount_Seleya (M, 1,871 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Love Confessions, Vulnerable Sherlock, Frottage) – John confronts Sherlock about the words he left unsaid on the tarmac. Set immediately after TAB.

Stay by sussexbound (M, 2,067 w., 1 Ch. || Post TAB, Suicidal Ideation Mention, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Kissing, Love Confessions, Frottage, Coming in Pants) – “Why? Why did you do it? Hmm…?” He takes a deep breath, waits, lets it out again. “Look at me.” There’s no denying him when he takes this tone. “Why did you kill him? Hmm…? For her? After…” A muscle twitches in the corner of John’s eye, and he clamps his jaw down tightly, swallows and sniffs a little before continuing. “For her? After everything she’s done?” “For you.” Before he can even stop himself. Just like that.

Journal of Truths by Goddess_of_the_Night (T, 2,317 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV / TAB, Pining, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Declarations of Love) – When John escorts Sherlock back to Baker Street from the tarmac, he discovers a journal that Sherlock has kept secret...that he has kept secrets in.

Green Carnation by glenien (T, 2,616 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Meta-Fic, Angst and Fluff, Communication, Post-TAB) – John takes Sherlock home. Part 1 of It’s No Longer Eighteen Ninety-Five

The Trial of Sherlock Holmes by jenna221b (G, 3,015 w. across 3 works || TAB!lock, Metafic / TJLC, Victorian AU / 1895, Christmas, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Oscar Wilde) – Scripts based on speculation that Sherlock will be put on trial in The Abominable Bride to parallel the Oscar Wilde Trials of 1895.

I Love You (Is All That You Can't Say) by theSeventhStranger (T, 3,147 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Post-Tarmac Scene, Fix-It, Dev. Rel., Retrospective, Angst and Fluff) – “Sherlock. On the tarmac. I got the feeling that you were going to, um. To say something else.”

five times sherlock holmes lied to john watson (and one time he finally told the truth) by miss_frankenstein (G, 5,948 w., 1 Ch. || TAB Compliant || Homophobia, Pining Sherlock, Oscar Wilde Trials, Happy Ending) – Set in "The Abominable Bride" universe, this piece adopts a familiar format to chronicle Sherlock's quiet suffering in the wake of the 1895 Oscar Wilde trials and the particular way they affect his relationship with (and feelings for) John.

Drawstring by May_Shepard (E, 7,412 w., 1 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, UST/RST, Fluff and Smut, Post-TAB, John POV) – John is bothered by Sherlock’s slowly-falling jim-jams… as in hot and bothered and he is trying to deal with a sexy dishevelled Sherlock while also keeping his pining in check.

Never Been This Swept Away by estalita11 (T, 8,531 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TAB, Mary is Not Nice, Drug Use, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – Set immediately after TAB, Sherlock visits his brother to definitely not apologize about earlier and ends up finally learning a few things that would have been nice knowing about months ago. Mycroft never wants to deal with lovestruck idiots ever again.

Out of the Darkness by Irrevocably_Sherlocked (M, 12,165+ w., 2 Ch. || WIP || Death, Overdose, Heavy Angst, Whump, Mary is Not Nice, Post S3/TAB Compliant) – John Watson has long assumed Sherlock Holmes is immune to sentiment, “doesn’t feel things that way.” Sherlock, however, would do anything for the person he loves most in the world, including putting himself in danger while keeping John in the dark in hopes of keeping him safe. Tired of being left behind, John is running a strategy of his own. Unfortunately things do not go as planned for either of them. And as John lays bleeding, Sherlock finally allows himself to say the things he’s always meant to… This is the story of love, forgiveness and finally making right all the wrongs in these two men’s lives.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) – Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

MARKED FOR LATER

Stay for Me by Itsallfine (M, 17,310 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TAB, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss/Time, Bed Sharing, Mental Health Issues, Not-Nice Mary, Divorce, Angst with Happy Ending, Parentlock) – 221B was packed into boxes and bins, and that was when John knew, really knew—Sherlock had planned to be gone forever.

Crimson Hymns by brilliantlyburning (E, 48,982 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S3/TAB, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction, Unhealthy Coping Methods, Demisexual Sherlock, Boxing, Pining, Sensory Processing Issues, Drug Use, First Kiss / Time, BDSM, Mary is Not Good, Parentlock, Proposal, Happy Ending, Beekeeping, Violence, References to Addiction, Poetry) – He laid his head over John’s heart, eyes level with his silver-rough scar, and listened to the crimson hymns beating beneath the surface. He imagined flowers blooming in his own chest: veins weaving intricate patterns on petals of thin muscle engorged with blood, sinew for stems and tendons for roots—the flowers would be poppies, maybe (addictive) or foxglove (deadly yet useful)—twining gleaming blood-red around the porcelain bone of his ribs. In his mind’s eye the gruesome bouquet all tied together on the left side of his chest, the stems bound together in heartstrings and the flowers fed by the rhythmic contraction of ventricles. It’s yours, he imagined saying to John—from the vena cava to the mitral valve to the arteries it is yours.— Or, the Love Song of W. Sherlock S. Holmes.

NO! by Tildathings (M, 50,043 w., 36 Ch. || Homophobia, Bed Sharing, Military Uniforms, Past Abuse, Jealous John, Stalking, Violence, First Kiss/Time, Fluff, Pillow Talk, Coming Out, Sherlock’s Past, Shower, Cuddling, Grief and Sorrow, Hugs, Character Death) – Sherlock has been in a coma in over 8 months after he overdosed on the plane at TAB, during which time Mary and Rosie were killed by Vivian Norbury. This story starts 3 weeks after Sherlock has woken up. John is asking to move back to Baker Street.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

#steph replies #the abominable bride #tablock #tab fics #my fic recs #Anonymous #fic rec wednesday

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semirahrose · 6 years

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There was a torturing scene in 13x22. Cas and Dean was torturing a soldire. Many viewers thought that was “cool”. I recalled another torturing scene from 10x03, which was Sam torturing a crossroad demon. At least I couldn’t find anyone who thinks that scene was cool. What would be the difference? Those are the same torturing scene, but one is accused, and the other is okay like it’s no big deal. Sam was in a desperate position. (1/3)

Why would Sam’s motive was ignored and only his brutal action was emphasized? This show chose to accuse Sam. I wonder why they don’t put the same standard to other characters. There are also some dramaturgic difference between demon Dean and soulless Sam. When demon Dean hits someone, they put lively rock music behind and make the scene very thrilling.(10x02) When it comes to soulless Sam, it was never like that.(6x13) (2/3)

Wouldn’t this be a double standard? How come Dean could be a badass while Sam is only ruthless, despite the same violence? Would it be only me who have this inquiry? I would like to listen to your opinion. (3/3)

You are, of course, absolutely correct. The way the show handles Sam’s premeditated violence is completely different from the way it handles Dean’s, or, in some cases, even Castiel’s.

On one hand, it’s absolutely a horrible double standard, and it disgusts me. We saw something very similar in season 13 when it came to Sam and Dean’s expressions of grief. Dean started the season belittling, threatening, and overall being absolutely terrifying to Jack. His accusations and cruelty were significant factors in Jack taking a kitchen knife and attempting to kill himself.

Then again, the show has spent literally 13 whole seasons showing us how unhealthily Dean reacts to loss. He lashed out physically at Sam in season 2 after John’s death. This is not entirely unexpected, and the show doesn’t really hold Dean accountable for his actions. After all, he is grieving. Dean is hurting, too. In fact, fans often see such violence and jump straight to, “Dean must be suffering. Poor Dean!” And while they’re likely correct that Dean is dealing with some sort of emotional turmoil or loss, the way the show deals with his violence means that viewers thoughtlessly excuse it. I’m not saying that fans are not allowed to feel bad for Dean or love him despite his hurtful and unhealthy coping mechanisms. I would, however, appreciate if the show had a more nuanced handling of it. It’s entirely okay to feel sympathy for a character’s bereavement while understanding that the way they react to it is Not Good At All™.

Unfortunately, the way the show deals with violence doesn’t work well for Sam. Where, for Dean, the handling of violence or emotional outbursts has historically been permissive and sympathetic, it’s the exact opposite for Sam. The writers made sure we were worried for Sam’s humanity in the early seasons. We viewed every action with suspicion, even his kindness. Sam is a gentle, caring person, so it was very, very easy for the show to make us suspicious. From the beginning, Sam cared. He was so kind and so emotionally invested in things that he literally only had to do something a tinge less than saintly and we’d be cautious. Oh, wow! Sam did a thing that Dean does every day? Must be going evil.

Soulless!Sam is such a good example of this, and I’m so glad you brought him up. Rewatching season six with a critical eye, it’s hard not to notice that…. objectively, Soulless!Sam was still miles more principled than almost any other hunter in the early seasons. He was pragmatic and direct, but not actively malicious, yet his personality was such a huge departure from his usual self that it set all the alarm bells ringing. (By god, Sam gave his brother a hug but didn’t express enough emotion while doing so?! MUST BE E V I L.)

Sam has good, cheerful, consensual sex with a sex worker who enjoyed the experience so much she forgets she’s working? BUT BY GOLLY Sam didn’t profess his undying love and put a ring on her finger?!

MUST BE E V I L.

If Dean did almost anything Soulless!Sam did, viewers would either excuse it or wouldn’t even think twice. But because it was so unthinkable for Sam to do those things, viewers sat up and took notice of even the slightest indication of apathy or lack of consideration.

So I mean… part of it is just Sam’s natural goodness working against him.

He’s so kind, principled, and serious about his moral code that any departure, no matter how small, is alarming. In contrast, Dean started out as the “unprincipled rogue” who had more or less adopted John’s credo and methods without critically examining them. Sam was the show’s conscience, and viewers held him to a much higher standard because of it.

Part of it, of course, was that the early seasons were actively vilifying Sam. Sam bleeds a nurse to get the juice to take on Lilith? Absolutely horrible, a literal point of no return. Dean is also killing human vessels without a care in the very same season and helps drain possessed humans a season later? Perfectly all right, if the way the show handled it is any indication.

It’s partly understandable (it’s clear that having that tension about the state of Sam’s soul was important to the writers, and the stronger reactions to Sam’s violence are understandable because it takes a lot more for Sam to act out in anger than it takes for Dean to do the same), but as the seasons go on, and especially as they go on without any balance or nuanced portrayal of the brothers’ violence, it just becomes lazy writing. It got so bad during the MoC arc that it was literally painful to watch the show week by week. I think anyone who lived through it can share horror stories. The Sam hate was unimaginable.

So in season 10, when Sam tortured the demon, it was a shock because he isn’t the type to do that. (Except, if we look back at any time Sam has lost Dean, desperation, suicidal action, and ruthlessness are par for the course.) Meanwhile, Demon!Dean murdered gleefully and people cheered that Dean was finally getting to let go. And in season 13, when Dean’s thoughtless cruelty over the course of several episodes made Jack question his worth and attempt to end his own life, there was little backlash.

In contrast, when Sam, overcome with emotion, said to a grief counselor that he felt that Dean had more of a relationship with Mary, I can’t even tell you how many posts I saw belittling Sam for that single, 15-second expression of his pain.

It’s a double standard, yes, but it’s a double standard the show has nurtured since its inception, either accidentally or on purpose.

#wank for ts #bittersamgirlclub #spn meta #sam winchester #spnsamwinchester #gonna tag #dean negative #though not really?#and #fandom critical #double standards #narrative bias #my meta #my stuff #anonymous #semirah replies #THANK YOU anon you are absolutely amazing thanks for sharing your analysis!

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mrsspidermanmaryjanewatsonparker · 6 years

Video

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Let’s debunk this shit.

First off...why should we, on the topic of Spider-Man, actually place stock by the guy who has in the past argued Sins Past is as, if not more, bad than One More Day when anyone with an ounce of knowledge of how writing craft works would realize this is abjectly false. As a story the flaws in Sins Past amount to it inserting something into the past that doesn’t fit at all. One More Day by contrast not only does this but needs to violently ignore 45 yrs of established characterization to even function and even then it fails since it needs to contradict its own narrative.

Oh and you know MovieBob is the guy who said ‘That Spec cartoon wasn’t as good as people make it out to be. People like it more for what it could be than what it was.’...WTF was he even watching.

But let’s dive into some more specifics of Bob’s argument.

“OMD ‘needed’ to happen.”

This is objectively untrue.

Let’s give the benefit of the doubt and say what Bob meant wasn’t so much that Spider-Man needed to make a deal with the Devil but rather it was necessary to get rid of Spider-Man’s marriage.

I can’t bring myself to do a 3000 word essay on why the latter alone is idiotic, sexist, myopic and utterly false but here is a cliffnotes version.

There are 2 fundamental problems with Bob’s line of thinking.

The 1st is that to end the marriage you needed to outright alter Spider-Man’s history via a soft DC style continuity reboot thus creating in a literal sense an alternate universe version of Spider-Man who’d just never been married in the first place.

Put simply Spider-Man’s marital status could’ve been ended in universe through numerous methods that avoided that. He could’ve gotten divorced. The US government as some kind of petty revenge upon Spider-Man turning on the Registration Act could’ve legally annulled his marriage along with certain other legal aspects of his life. There could’ve been a reveal that due to a legal loophole nobody realized at the time technically speaking Peter and MJ had never been married in the first place despite believing they were.

None of this would’ve fixed the most egregious contrivance of OMD and OMIT, that by simply never having been married magically this = Peter and MJ would break up. You still need to justify THAT separately which OMD didn’t even attempt to do. OMD in isolation erases their marriage but it doesn’t explain or justify why doing this would mean they are now no longer in a relationship. OMIT tried and miserably failed to do that because once again it required the abject ignoring of decades of established (and logical) characterization.

But what should we expect from the guy who in another video once said Superman would be a jerk if he married Lois Lane because of the stress and dangers it’d expose her to, specifically comparing it to real life people who’s jobs offer comparable examples. ‘Superman would never put Lois Lane through that’ said Bob (though I am paraphrasing I admit.

Why?

If REAL people do that then why WOULDN’T Superman OR Spider-Man do so?

It’s a line of thought which amounts to Bob saying those people shouldn’t have marital relationships. And that is gross.

The 2nd problem with Bob’s ‘it needed to happen’ assertion is the notion that CREATIVELY it was necessary for the health of Spider-Man.

Let’s ignore how creatively (and financially) Superman has been on the up and up since 2016 when he got his marriage BACK.

Instead let’s consider for a moment...why?

Why CREATIVLY does Spider-Man need to not be married to work? Why does he need to be single for his long term creative/financial health?

There is no answer because the truth is he isn’t. Spider-Man’s love life is relevant only in so far as the series follows his life and not being asexual romance is a part of that. At which point if you are arguing for his long term creative health he needs to be able to swap out the women he’s going to be romantically/sexually involved with why then does that not also apply to literally every other character connected to every other part of his life?

It doesn’t.

It’s a bullshit argument born of an ignorant lack of questioning. It’s born of “Well it’s got to be this way because it’s always been this way and it’s worked that way.” Ignoring how it doesn’t and how you know...Marvel comics itself exists off the back of saying “Maybe it doesn’t have to just be this way. I don’t like that way in fact, I like the idea of trying it this other way.”

Spider-Man being single keeps Spider-Man stunted and in a state of doomed to failure. It literally renders his love life redundant because every reader (and this applied before 1987 when he got married, but applies a thousand times more now) knows his romances will never amount to anything and that they are glorified Bond girls. And I’ll be honest the substance (such as there is) in the Bond movies NEVER lies with the Bond girls with the sole exceptions of those few movies where they tease you with the idea that he has deeper feelings for them.

Then you have the fact that marriage as a part of most people’s lives and a responsibility is outright tailor made for the character who’s core concept is entwined around the interconnected idea of responsibility and being a (relatively) normal person. It’s not different to him graduating from High school or moving out of Aunt May’s house or getting a job.

But let’s look at the franchise in the wake of OMD creatively and financially has it been doing better than before?

LOL NOPE!

In 2016 we had the Power Play arc. This arc was THE Spider-Man event of the year. It tied into the previous Spider event of 2015, Renew Your Vows by introducing the incredibly powerful villain Regent who’s powers were that he had the powers of EVERY other hero virtually and in RYV took over all of NYC following killing the X-Men and Avengers on his own. It guest starred fan favourite Miles Morales, the first substantial appearance of the character in Amazing Spider-Man since his migration into the 616 universe. It also guest starred lead character of the MCU and (then) Marvel comics poster boy Iron Man fresh from his hyped up run under Bendis, the biggest name in comics of the previous 20 years. It also teased the appearance of the newest team of Avengers, a brand that has been huge since 2012 for obvious reasons. Oh and it featured the return of another fan favourite Mary Jane who was once more being used to tease the possibility of her and Spider-Man’s romantic reunion which had been a surefire way of raising hype for a story since 2008 onwards. Oh and it was clearly a tie-in to the international blockbuster and critically acclaimed movie, Captain America: Civil War.

And of course you had much promotion from the Marvel hype machine, Dan Slott interviews and the usual variant cover artificial sales inflation gimmick that had become common to Marvel.

Safe to say that this story was a big, big deal and sure to sell well right?

Well....it actually sold less than a barely promoted, run-of-the-mill ASM arc from 2005 by J. Michael Straczynski that featured in the first issue Tony Stark sitting on a chair sans armour and beyond that no guest stars....oh and there were no variant covers....and btw Spider-Man was married in it

. ...Oh....

But hey what about some OTHER Spider-Man stories since OMD. Haven’t THEY been creatively enriching?

I mean we had classics like:

The Lizard ruins the interesting humanizing aspects of his character when he becomes a cannibalistic monster who eats his own son and maybe rapes someone

Black Cat’s characterization gets flushed down the toilet so she can be an indulgent juvenile sexual fantasy for Joe Kelly who believes Spider-Man is fundamentally a man child Black Cat’s characterization gets shot to shit again by her ripping off Catwoman by becoming a gangster, something she has never held aspiration for before and seems to want to get involved in now for no reason at all beyond being angry that Spider-Man imprisoned her and exposed her identity that wasn’t even secret in the first place

Dan Slott who likes Doc Ock more than he likes Peter Parker decides to say screw it and make Doc Ock Spider-Man thus invalidating the entire reason he was hired, which is to write about Peter Parker. He proceeds to make Doc Ock a villain sue and cause readers to wonder if he’s this smart and this dangerous he lost so many times in the past at all? Also he tries to rape Mary Jane in issue 2 and then succeeds in maybe raping Spider-Man himself in the same issue and definitely succeeds in raping the only dwarf character in Spider-Man’s canon.

Spider-Man becomes like Iron Man thus invalidating the entire point of his character and reasons people like to read about him.

A mystery surrounding the Green Goblin’s identity that turns out to be the twist that he was Norman Osborn all along meaning this was a pointless mystery the whole time.

Ben Reilly finally comes back after 20 years but doesn’t act even a little bit like the character people knew and loved causing people to wish he’d stayed dead

Betty Brant is physically assaulted and Spider-Man tracks down the assailant but when he finds him lets him go (thus enabling him to assault other innocent women) because Aunt May guilt tripped him by saying he was a jerk at age 15 for allowing her, a 50+ year old adult and his parental guardian, to cope with Uncle Ben’s death alone on the night of his death.

Fan favourite Mayday Parker has her character now defined by the death of her father invalidating the entire point of her character which was the ongoing relationship between herself and her Dad

Every spider person ever fights a bunch of one note cosmic vampires across alternate niverses who are variant action figures of another one note cosmic vampire villain. The story is utterly reparative and makes Spider-Man play second fiddle to all the other characters cramming for panel time.

I could go on but I won’t.

To count the creative successful and enriching Slott and the post-OMD Spider-Man stories is a far easier task than to count the ones which are for the most part mediocre-God forsakenly terrible and miss the whole point of the various characters involved (most of all you know SPIDER-MAN himself!) because the latter is the norm post-OMD.

Tellingly both volume 1 and volume 2 of Renew Your Vows a book BUILT around the concept of a married Spider-Man have (when judged appropriately given their out of continuity status) garnered perfectly respectable sales (especially in volume 1) prior to their recent time skip (an ill advised move regardless of what the series was about) and critical acclaim. And critical acclaim from people besides Marvel/Spider-Man sycophants like CBR who have vested financial interests in positively reviewing the stories.

In fact there is a very strong argument in favour of Slott being the single most creatively damaging Spider-Man writer in history. The list of things that need to be FIXED because of his idiocy and incompetence is vast.

Moving on to Bob’s other points:

“Peter and MJ being together was a dumb stunt when the did it in the first place”

If Bob had you know READ the stories leading into the wedding he’d know

a) That relationship and marriage was being built up since 1984 albeit with the initial intention being Peter stranded at the altar.

b) A stunt isn’t rendered invalid merely because it is a stunt. A Stunt can make sense and with the build up the wedding had this was one such example

“The marriage generated very few decent stories that wouldn’t have worked just as well without it”

Here is a list of a FEW decent or above stories which in some significant way make use of the Spider marriage between 1987-2007

Kraven’s Last Hunt

Venom

ASM #400

Revenge of the Green Goblin

A Death in the Family

ASM volume 2 #49-50

ASM volume 2 #51-54

Sensational Spider-Man volume 2 #32

Sensational Spider-Man Annual 2007, the only Eisner nominated Spider-Man story ever

Spider-Man unlimited volume 3 #2 Story 2: Making Contributions

Eleven Angry Men and One angry Woman

Parallel lives

Spider-Man: the Final Adventure

Web of Death

Revelations the end of the Clone Saga

Spectacular Spider-Man #241

Spectacular Spider-Man #242-245

ASM vol 2 #39

Ultimate Spider-Man Anthology book: Five Minutes

I Heart Marvel Web of Romance #1

Spectacular Spider-Man #199-200

Spectacular Spider-Man #250

The Tombstone arc

Peter Parker Spider-Man volume 2 #14

Marvel Knights Spider-Man #1-12

Hmmm...it’s almost like Bob sucks at mathematics and story evaluation or something. Then again he did say there was no problem with Luke Skywalker in Last Jedi so you know...I should know better.

Oh and btw the whole ‘those would’ve worked JUST as well without the marriage’ argument is a double edged sword since there are literally less than 20 Spider-Man stories post-OMD that WOULDN’T have worked with a married Spider-Man and only one of them is good...and only if you also take entirely in isolation of Spider-Man’s wider history. Every other story with tweaks could work AS if not MORE effectively with a married Spider-Man.

If the argument is there should be no elements in a story that do not actively contribute to it then shit....why should Spider-Man’s SINGLE status be in a book? Why should Aunt May, Jameson or shitton else be multiple stories across the decades of Spider-Man? Hell by this logic Aunt May or Betty Brant are superfluous to ASM annual #1 which inspired part of Spider-Man 2.

“The Spider Marriage left the franchise spinning it’s wheel for a very long time.”

This is another lie. After Peter and MJ got married there was precious little wheel spinning. Almost immediately we jumped into ongoing stories involving Betty Brant, Joe Robertson, Peter going to school again, MJ and Peter’s finances taking a hit when MJ lost her job, Jameson being impersonated by Chameleon, Black Cat dating Flash, Peter’s parents returning and THEN you got the Clone Saga FFS.

Following that we got Norman Osborn running the Daily Bugle followed by the true wheel spinning garbage of the Mackie/Byrne run which was bad BECAUSE they axed the marriage. Following that when JMS took over his wheel spun for maybe 5 months tops? The rest of the time he reconstructed Peter and MJ and Aunt May’s characters, thrust forward with his Spider totem storyline and then began the slow build up to OMD starting with Peter becoming and Avenger.

There were few months were NOTHING was really happening and the number of issues where that was the case owed much more to the fact that the writers needed to pad out FOUR monthly titles each month!

“By contrast BND and Slott’s run has been good”

By objective writing standards this is a fallacy and Bob is offering no proof to this. He just says ‘it’s been good’. Except Bob’s word isn’t proof unto itself despite how much he must like to think so.

“Peter and MJ are more interesting now”

This is the proof Bob is not a...I don’t want to say he isn’t true fan. I rarely use that term. It’s more that he...isn’t an informed fan.

Anyone who knows any legit shit about Spider-Man could tell you Spider-Man is far from more interesting now than he was prior to BND.

Pre-OMD Spider-Man was the sum of 45 years of experiences. A 30ish average guy who’d been through Hell and a lot of battles and survived them and coped with that pain. He was a competent hero and a flawed human being who was just trying to look out for the little guy and take care of his family.

MJ meanwhile was a woman who’d also lived through Hell but demonstrated sheer steel by surviving it in spite of having no powers to fall back on. She’d gone from a carefree party animal who was seemingly selfish, to a hero in her own right who had an endless well of inner strength.

In contrast post-OMD Peter Parker is a man-child fuck up who illegally invades foreign nations with his giant G.I. Joe action figures whilst often playing second fiddle in his own fucking book to whatever guest stars want to steal the limelight. And he’s not believable anymore. He isn’t a grounded guy who copes with the shit thrown at him. He’s the guy who just shrugs off being killed, having his body stolen and his life upended by his enemy and then losing a year of his life.

That isn’t more interesting unless you are arguing being a Saturday morning cartoon character is inherently more interesting than being....welll actually inherently more interesting than being a certain character Stan Lee and Steve Ditko invented in 1962.

Which Bob plainly isn’t arguing because he’s also listing MJ as ‘more interesting’....how?

MJ isn’t even IN the book regularly any more so HOW could she be more interesting. Worse when she WAS in the book she had 2 roles. Ship tease the fans by being Peter’s friend and confidant (i.e. something she used to do BEFORE BND) or being a blind idiot in Superior which is NOT more interesting.

So what the fuck is he talking about?

I don’t know WHAT he’s talking about. But when you make a statement like: ‘on balance this story that eviscerated and betrayed everything about who Spider-Man is and invalidates his motivation from now on because he sold out in the biggest way possible, was on balance worth it because we got t see Doc Ock as Spider-Man try to rape people’ I certainly from WHERE he is talking from.

And the sun don’t shine there son.

#moviebob #bob chipman #Spider-Man #peter Parker #One More Day #Brand New Day #MJ Watson #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker

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maevefiction · 6 years

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 23

When we arrived at Estelle J Wilson, there wasn’t a parking spot to be had. Even those earmarked for funeral attendees were taken, and as we drove past the main entrance to head around the block in search of one for ourselves, there they were…news vans from local affiliate stations WWL, WDSU and WGNO. A few feet down I spotted the paparazzi, four or so as best I could tell, lurking and waiting.

I turned to Tom, smirking. “Weh-hel, THIS is going to be a lot more interesting that I anticipated. Apparently.”

He pulled into an open space two blocks down from the funeral home and put the car in park. His right arm rose, then settled on my shoulder, hand grasping the back of my neck, massaging gently. “You okay to do this?”

I shrugged, enjoying the way the fabric of my dress seemed to float around my arms. His massaging continued in spite of my movement. “I’d like to tell you to turn around and go back to the hotel, but somehow I don’t think me not showing up for my mother’s funeral would improve upon the situation. And I know I’ll have to talk, because, hey-o, I can’t even run past them. But, on the bright side, at least I had the sense to wear my yoga shorts underneath the dress so there’s no chance of a wardrobe malfunction during any of this.”

Tom laughed, lines appearing around his eyes, relaying the story of a man who enjoyed doing so and had for his entire life. “Thank god for small favors. If I happened to get a look under there at this point they’d all be in for far more of a show than they’re equipped to handle.”

“Dude. Was that supposed to help? Because…not helping.” I leaned over and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips, then opened my door. The ibuprofen I’d taken had helped immensely, and I was fully capable of walking without crutches, albeit slowly. Chances were that using them, though, might garner some sympathy from the press. Tom watched me pull them out of the car, eyebrows raised. “One, I can move faster if I use them. Two, I want everyone to feel sorry for me. Sorrier. Don’t ruin my moment, Hiddleston.”

“Perhaps I should carry you instead if it’s attention you’re seeking.”

“Not attention. SYMPATHY. If you carry me, people will feel LESS sorry for me. Not part of the plan. Plus, it’s like, two blocks and you’d fucking keel over. Also not part of the plan.”

He got out of the vehicle and came round to the passenger side, my messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Thomas, you are a god among men, unashamedly carrying your woman’s purse.”

His eyes lit up, and he pointed at it. “This? This is NOT a purse, darling. THIS is a EUROPEAN CARRYALL.”

I raised my forearm up as far as the crutch would allow. “Nice. Second Seinfeld reference of the day. High-five.”

The palm of his hand connected with mine, tenderly, and our fingers twined together. “Remember, I’m going to be right there with you. And if you don’t wish to say anything, simply don’t say anything.”

“Um, I’m sorry…I’m supposed to be the one telling YOU that, yes?”

He grinned impishly. “Tables, Maude. Oh how they turn.”

As we reached the news vans, the noise began, seven people shouting out questions all at once, cameras and mics pointed in my direction. The cacophony caused my brain to shift into crisis management mode, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Tom stood at my side, transferring his weight from one foot to the other. My gaze moved from one reporter to the next, looking them straight in the eye. The noise died down, then out. I took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Hello there. How’s everyone doing today?” They turned to one another, shoulders shrugging, faces contorting into expressions of puzzlement, unsure as how to proceed. “Under normal circumstances, I’d be happy to give you all the time you need, but I’m running behind as it is and have in inkling that it would be just a wee bit disrespectful if I were to be late for my mother’s funeral service. That being said, I think I DO have enough time for one question from each of you.” I pointed to the young, dark-haired woman in the floral print dress holding a WWL microphone.

She cleared her throat, then motioned to her cameraman to begin recording. The other two crews followed suit, and I assumed the paps were recording as well. “Ms. Gallagher, do you have anything to say regarding your ex-husband’s arrest?”

I had plenty to say. So, so much to say…ninety-nine percent of it unsuitable for television. “First, allow me to mention that the Winchester family has been in my thoughts ever since I heard the news. I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to have someone invade the sanctity of your home, where you’re supposed to feel safest. And someone armed…it must be terrifying. Mr. Bonaventura’s actions were deplorable, and I trust that the Louisiana justice system will dole out the appropriate punishment when the time comes. Next question, the gentleman from WDSU. And please, call me Maude.”

He was short, chubby and dressed in a tweed jacket that I was certain made him feel like he was in the ninth circle of hell. “Maude, is it true that he intended to break into your mother’s home but chose the wrong house in error?”

Suppressing the smile that fought to spread across my face was a daunting task. “That’s my understanding, yes.”

The reporter from WGNO didn’t wait his turn, and exceeded his inquiry limit within seconds. “Why would he need to break into her home? I’ve seen a copy of the will…it was to go to him, without question. Are you contesting it? Have you taken possession illegally? Did you lock him out? Is that why he did it?”

What a total douche canoe. I wanted to slap him, but stared him down instead as I prepared my reply. “Gosh, I think that was five questions, not one. I know, I know…math is hard, right? Anyway. My mother died intestate, which means the entire contents of her estate passes to me according to Louisiana law. The will that was in Mr. Bonaventura’s possession was revoked, and another was not created. You can contact her attorney, Bartholomew Stevens, if you have additional questions regarding the matter. As to why he did it, my guess is he came back to New Orleans expecting something, and when it turned out that something was actually nothing, he grew rather malcontented. Next question, you in the red T-shirt.”

He held out his phone to better capture our exchange, sun creating a halo around his blonde, curly hair. “Maude, is it true that Mr. Bonaventura cheated on you with your own mother, and that your father killed himself because of it?”

Tom muttered something under his breath, and I hoped I was the only one who’d heard. The inner calm I felt in the face of a question that would have caused a breakdown just days earlier made me feel damn near invincible. “Absolutely correct.” I pointed at the young Asian woman dressed in a bright purple track suit and pink Converse Hi-Tops. “You’re next, please.”

Her face was an expressionless mask. “According to Passages Hospice, you never visited your mother there prior to her death. Is that accurate, and if so, why?”

“Yes. That’s correct. As to why…my mother suffered from alcoholism and Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Though, in actuality, it was everyone close to her who did the majority of the suffering. Her cause of death was alcoholic cirrhosis of the liver. The last time I saw her was in 1998, when I walked in on her and Mr. Bonaventura during an intimate encounter. No-contact is a widely accepted method for dealing with toxic people in order to facilitate recovery. I was contacted by the hospice when she passed as I’m the only next of kin. Gal in the tank top…your turn.”

The tank top was an old-school wife beater, paired with khaki shorts that reached her knees. Her white- blond hair was short on one side, long on the other, with pink tips. “My sources tell me that you’re an alcoholic too. True or false?”

My jaw tightened. They’d obviously been speaking with ‘mourners’ in spades, and it was no surprise that a good number of people here still thought of me as drunkard Mary’s drunkard daughter. “In September of 1996, my boyfriend was killed in a car accident. Shortly after his funeral, I discovered I was pregnant. Soon after THAT, I miscarried. I found myself unable to cope with such profound loss and used alcohol to self-medicate. Since I honestly can’t say whether I wasn’t capable of stopping or just chose not to during the time I was drinking, alcoholic is probably an applicable term. I’ve been sober for seventeen years, though. Last question, gentleman with the man bun.”

He laughed briefly, then frowned slightly, as if he was reconsidering asking what he’d planned to. “Hello, Maude. I spoke with Mr. Bonaventura’s current wife, Anna Beth, this morning via phone. When I asked her how she felt regarding his arrest, she expressed relief and indicated that he abused her verbally and physically. Is that something you experienced during your marriage to him?”

I gave a curt nod. “Yes. It was. Unfortunately, it was something I’d endured for years in my own home prior to marrying Mr. Bonaventura, so it didn’t seem abnormal to me until after I removed myself from the situation. If my sources are correct, Anna Beth was very young when she met and married him, as was I. It is my hope that this incident will allow her to move on with her life, heal and find the peace she deserves. Okay, folks. Apologies, but that’s all I have time for. Thanks so very much for your cooperation.”

Man bun raised his hand, then pointed to my walking boot. “Maude, I’m pretty sure we’re all wondering how that happened. Would you mind…”

My eyes rolled skyward. “Damn, and here I thought you wouldn’t notice.” Laughter rang out. “I wore heels to dinner last night, and they got the best of me. Right down on my ass in the middle of the Palm Court Café. It’s just a sprain, two weeks and I should be good. Seriously, though…gotta go. You all enjoy the rest of the day.”

They stepped back and to the side, allowing us to pass. Four crutch swings later Tom appeared in front of me, the admiration in his eyes flooring me completely and freezing me in place. Two steps brought him close enough to lean in to kiss me, admiration replaced by ardor and fire, grasping the back of my neck with one hand, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth so forcefully that I came. It was a tiny orgasm, over and done in two seconds, but an orgasm nevertheless. His grip on my neck tightened, and I knew he must have felt me shudder. He deepened the kiss, and as our tongues met I heard camera clicks, faint, as if they were down at the end of a tunnel, far away. A distant repetition of ‘Excuse me, Ms. Gallagher?’ grew ever louder, finally snapping me back to reality. I pulled back, looked past Tom to discern the source, and was mildly humiliated upon seeing Reverend Thompson standing there. His face was as red as a cherry tomato, the flush extending down his neck and, I assumed, beneath his clerical collar.

He cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back. “Ms. Gallagher, we’re about to begin. Follow me, please.”

Tom remained in front of me, a look of astonishment on his face as he mouthed the words ‘Did you…?’ I plastered a polite smile on my countenance, nodding at him as I addressed the reverend.

“Apologies, Reverend Thompson. Thank you for your patience. Lead the way.”

As we walked toward the entrance Tom fell into step beside me, whispering in my ear. “An orgasm. From a kiss. MY kiss. Man alive, I feel like a fucking rock star right now.”

My head spun in his direction, ponytail swishing back and forth across my neck in its wake, eyes narrowed. His mouth dropped open, then closed again as he reached out to touch my bare shoulder.

“Maude, I’m sorry, that was a dreadfully self-centered thing to…”

I grinned and shook my head, speaking softly as he removed his hand. “I’m just screwing with you, Thomas. That lip thing…it…DID something to me. Anyway. Allow me to assure you that you are a fucking rock star. MY rock star. And as an added bonus, it would have REALLY pissed my mother off to know that I was making out with the sexiest man alive at her funeral.”

“That’s not a title People magazine has bestowed upon me as yet, Maude.”

“I’m well aware of their prior woefully inadequate choices. But I just did.”

“And that’s infinitely more meaningful, of course.”

“Nice save, Hiddleston. If they don’t put you on the cover soon, though, they’re going to be getting some…calls.”

We’d reached the front door, and Reverend Thompson held it open for us. The service was being held in the same room as the viewing, and as we approached I could see it was packed well beyond its limit. After pausing for a moment to prepare myself to walk the gauntlet, I opted to do so without the crutches, resting them against the wall to the right of the doorway. Reverend Thompson motioned for us to enter before him, and Tom offered his arm. I gratefully accepted, and as we crossed the threshold all heads turned, row by row, gazes fixed upon us. Tom’s face was expressionless, the dark blue of his button down shirt reflecting in his eyes, black trousers sitting low on his hips, black leather tie perfectly knotted at his neck. Even less graceful than normal due to the height difference of my walking boot and my black Birki, I kept myself in check by counting the number of steps it took to reach the front of the room where the closed casket rested, covered in a blanket of pink roses. Two seats were vacant in the front row, on the aisle and next to Anne. The whispers began when we were halfway there, fifteen steps in. My head remained high, jaw firmly set, as I passed by the throng of people who’d decided attending the funeral of someone they hadn’t given the remotest shit about in order to obtain a firsthand account of the event so they could later spread any juicy gossip they managed to gather was an ideal way to spend a summer afternoon.

Tom continued to hold my arm until I was comfortably seated next to Anne, then took his place at my side. Anne patted my knee as Reverend Thompson half-jogged to the front and began. I put my right hand over hers and squeezed, and Tom reached out to take my left one in his. After the introductory portion of the service, I zoned out, Reverend Thompson’s voice becoming very similar to that of the adults in a Charlie Brown cartoon. All I heard was ‘wah wah, wah wah wah wah wah, wah wah’, and eventually even that faded away into nothing. Man bun’s words haunted me, and my thoughts turned to Anna Beth. I’d been strong enough to get away from Will on my own, but I’d actually had somewhere to get away TO, the funds to get there, AND enough to start over with. Those were luxuries she did not possess, and there were three children she’d need to support on her own going forward as well, another hurdle I hadn’t had to clear. Marrying at such a young age had more than likely put her in a position wherein she had little to no employment experience, and few marketable job skills…or none whatsoever. Though I’d intended to donate the proceeds of the estate sale to the Metropolitan Center for Women and Children, I found myself seriously considering sending them her way instead. It would have to be done anonymously, of course, and Barty already had a way to contact her. Part of me felt as if I’d be slighting the many to help the few, but in this instance it was personal. We had an ill-fated kinship, Anna Beth and I, born of lies emanating from a man who’d used us for his own nefarious purposes, violence and mental abuse his means of controlling us so we’d never dare to question a single blessed thing as he fulfilled his unscrupulous objectives.

The sound of the crowd around me rising to their feet derailed my train of thought, and I left my seat as fast as I possibly could, not wanting anyone to have the slightest indication that I hadn’t been paying any attention to the service. At all. Tom’s arm slipped around my waist, and we remained where we were until the rest of the room cleared. Anne offered to join us at the cemetery, asking to hitch a ride in our rental car as she’d taken a cab to the funeral. I was pleased to discover that the news trucks had departed, but the paps remained, photographing and filming Anne and I as we waited for Tom to bring the car round for us. At Greenwood it was just the three of us, the hearse driver, and the folks responsible for the interment procedures. I remained back at least fifteen feet from the crypt, silent the entire time, having already said my final goodbyes to the people who’d brought me into this world. We left for as soon as they began the closing process, and I looked back over my shoulder one last time as we made our way out of the garden, wanting this moment to be my last memory of my mother. Dead. Gone. Sealed inside a coffin, inside a mausoleum, never to speak new words that could hurt me ever again. And that was enough to shift the specter of the past from translucent to transparent…what used to only allow light to pass through while masking the details was now completely clear, entirely visible. The thing about the past is this…it’s always present. There’s no escape from it. You can run, you can hide, but it will inevitably find you. There is, of course, a better solution, one I’d finally been brave enough to attempt. Face it. Embrace it. Remember it. Learn from it. And, most importantly, try your best to not let it fuck your life up too badly along the way as you moved further and further beyond it.

Tom and I bid Anne adieu as we dropped her off at Café du Monde, then hurried back to the hotel so we’d have enough time to change, pack, check out, and arrive at the airport by four. Our flight was scheduled to leave Louis Armstrong International at five-thirty and arrive in New York at nine-thirty, and if the gods were feeling generous we’d be settled into my apartment an hour or so later. Or, I should say, our apartment. A foreign concept as far as I was concerned, but one that made me deliriously happy. And that was something I could totally get used to.

**************************************** The duration of our first-class flight was primarily spent sending each other naughty text messages, each one filthier than the last. Afterward there was much debate as to who started it, but I refused to confess even though I was guilty as sin. He was just sitting there, in his cargo shorts and white V-neck T-shirt, up against the window with the sun reflecting on his pretty fucking face, driving me insane.

The hollow at the base of your neck, right above your collarbones. My tongue needs to be there. Like, now. – M

Go ahead. No one will notice. We’re in the last row. – T

Hmm…is it me or did that make your nipples hard, Thomas? I can see them right through your shirt. Guess they’ll be the next stop for my tongue. – M

The first stop for MY tongue is going to be your mouth, Maude. Running it over your lips, your teeth, then thrusting it in and out over and over until your moaning alerts the passengers in front of us. –T

Back and forth we went, until the final exchange.

I’m going to work my cock into your ass, inch by inch, until I’m buried inside you. Then I’m going to slip three fingers into your pussy and fuck you with them as well, so I can feel my cock from the INSIDE through the oh-so-thin wall that gives both of us so much pleasure as I pound your ass relentlessly, my thumb massaging your clit until you want to scream…but since you can’t, I’ll be forced to cover your mouth with my hand in order to keep you quiet. – T

And just as you’re about to come, I’ll invite you to fuck my mouth. As soon as you pull out of me, I’m going to drop to my knees and suck your cock so hard you’ll see stars. I’ll sneak my index finger in my beside it at some point, get it nice and wet, then run it between your ass cheeks until I find that glorious pucker. My finger will keep moving round and round the rim as I keep licking at and sucking on your cock, loosening you up, stretching, until you’re ready…then in it goes. Then out, then in. Again and again. I’ll wait until I feel your rhythm start to falter, then I’ll press my finger down on that magical spot inside you and swallow you whole as your come shoots down my throat, hot and sticky. You’ll have bruises on your knuckles for a week from biting down on them so hard. – M

That broke him. He stood, put his hands in his pockets to hide his raging hard on as best he could, pushed past me and locked himself in the bathroom. When he returned he was smirking, and I’d thought I wouldn’t need to, but he kissed me, long and slow, and I found myself in the loo a few moments later, pants around my ankles as I attempted to rub one out so I could make it home without fucking him in the back of the car that would be waiting for us. Or on the plane. In front of everyone. My phone dinged, and I bent to pull it out of my pants pocket. He’d sent me a video he’d made during his turn, hand on his cock, jerking himself off, standing right in the same spot I was in now. That was all the inspiration I required, and then some. I deleted it as soon as I finished, then texted him to remind him to do the same. Even though his face wasn’t visible, it still wasn’t something that should be kept around. Despite the fact that I wanted to watch it a thousand more times.

As we circled LaGuardia, I began singing Frank Sinatra’s ‘New York, New York’. Quietly, I might add, until Tom joined in, then a good number of the other passengers in first class, turning it into an impromptu sing-along that grew loud enough as we reached the final chorus to warrant a shushing from the flight attendant. We disembarked, picked up our luggage, and found the driver holding a sign with GALLAGHER written on it. Tom had given the company my name in an attempt to avoid any unnecessary scrutiny, but it turned out to not make a difference as this was New York, where no one gave much of a fuck about how famous you were. I’d seen Madonna try to cut line at a bagel shop once, only to be rebuked none too gently by everyone already waiting, resulting in her taking her place at the back of the queue, laughing and saying she should have known better than to do such a thing on her home turf. There was not a single soul standing still as we followed the driver to the curb, everyone looking down and walking quickly as they sought to fulfill their own personal missions.

Forty-five minutes later we arrived at 250 Mercer Street in Greenwich Village/NoHo, a wide smile spreading across my face at the prospect of being home, growing ever wider when I turned to Tom and it hit me that for the first time since college, someone I loved was coming home with me.

He leaned over me, peering out my open window, craning his neck to see how high it went despite the fact that it was dark.

My hand found his thigh and settled there. “It’s 16 floors in some spots. Building was erected in 1888, renovated in 1979 and remained rental apartments until 1986 when it went co-op. My dad bought it in 1995, for exactly how much I don’t know. He signed it over to me for a dollar a few months later, and I didn’t pay any attention at all to the paperwork. Surprising, right? I’d have to pull the deed to find out the amount. Now it’s worth around eight hundred thousand or so, but I don’t care, because I am NEVER selling it. I’m on the 5th floor. And yes, there are elevators. Thank god.” I opened the door, stepping on my right foot gingerly. The pain was back, mainly because I was a fucking moron and not only forgot to take my ibuprofen but had packed it away in my suitcase instead of my carry on. The crutches were in the trunk, and the driver brought them around first for me, the followed with our luggage.

Tom came out on the curb side as well, stretching, arms up over his head, T-shirt riding up just enough to reveal his belly button and the start of his happy trail as he glanced around at the street signs and location. “The Village, yes?”

“Technically it’s right on the border of Greenwich Village and NoHo. Best of both worlds and all that. Washington Square Park is right over that way…” I pointed in the correct direction, but it looked like I was pointing at air since it wasn’t visible. “You can totally see it from my window.”

Tom tipped the driver, who’d brought the luggage right to the door for us when he realized it was way too much for one person to carry. The glass door opened towards us, and out stepped Murray Goldberg, my favorite doorman. His uniform was black, with gold trim and buttons, exactly the same as it had been when I’d moved in, and, according to him, as it was when he started back in 1987. He was in his mid-sixties, not much taller than I was, with thinning white hair and gold-framed John Lennon glasses.

“Well, well, well…look what the cat dragged in. If it’s isn’t Miss Maude Gallagher. You were supposed to be back for the July 4th weekend…how I worried and worried!” He chuckled as I half-embraced him, crutches tucked to my side with my elbows.

“Oh please. You are so full of shit, old man. You didn’t even notice I was gone. And besides, look what I brought back with me!” I released him and gestured to Tom. “Murray, this is Tom Hiddleston. Tom, Murray Goldberg.”

Murray glanced at Tom, then rolled his eyes at me. “So THIS is why you went AWOL.” He held his hand out to Tom, who shook it vigorously. “Nice to meet you, Tom. Welcome to 250 Mercer.”

Tom grinned. “Thank you, Murray. Pleasure to meet you as well.”

Murray looked puzzled for a moment, and I knew it had dawned on him that Tom was an actor, but he shrugged it off and poked my arm, suddenly switching to a thick Brooklyn accent. “Englishman, eh? Whatsamatta, New York guys not good enough for ya anymore?”

I snorted. “Nice. Offend him before he even has a chance to see the place.” We all laughed, and I pointed to my walking boot. “I’m injured. I don’t suppose you can dig us up a luggage dolly from somewhere?”

He shook his head at Tom. “Been back less than five minutes and she’s already a giant pain in my ass. Wait here.”

They loaded the cart while I watched, and Murray wished us a good night as we headed for the elevator. Tom wheeled it inside and I punched the 5 button quickly, hoping to avoid company. My strategy was successful, and less than a minute later the stainless steel sliders opened, my white apartment door visible from where we stood. It turned out that crutches were useful for holding elevators, but I felt completely useless as I watched Tom struggling to drag the cart up over the lip and onto the grey carpet.

I pointed to the left. “C503. That’s us, right over there.” Grabbing my messenger bag off the pile of luggage, I fished out my keys, put the correct one in the deadbolt, then pushed down on the handle. The door swung inward, and I reached in and flipped the light switch. I turned around to see Tom, his eyes wide and slightly misty. I grinned, leaned my crutches against the sideboard and threw myself at him, arms wrapping around his waist. “Welcome home, Thomas.”

****************************************

To the right of the door, behind the bathroom, was a metal staircase that led to the loft. Tom unloaded all the luggage there, then brought the cart back downstairs to Murray. I fumbled around in the sideboard drawers, looking for my spare apartment key. It was way in the back, buried under entirely too many takeout menus…all of which reminded me that I was starving. The stove clock said it was 10:55. Most of the Thai and Chinese places would be closing soon, but The Bagel Café/Ray’s Pizza was open, and they had a huge menu to choose from.

“New York, I have missed you so very much. Where else can I get breakfast delivered to my door in the middle of the night if I want? And cannolis. And cake. And…”

My musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. I opened it just a crack, peeking out and pretending to be wary. “Yes?”

Tom raised a brow and grinned.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

He feigned exasperation, arms crossed, frowning and tapping his foot.

“Oh, right. You’re that totally hot guy who followed me home from Hawaii.” I opened the door fully. “Well, come on in, I guess.”

Tom grabbed my waist, bending down to kiss my neck. “Totally hot guy wants to drag his totally hot woman to bed, but he’s suffering the effects of food deprivation and fears his performance will suffer unless calories are consumed forthwith.”

I passed him the extensive Ray’s menu, pulled my phone from my pocket and hefted myself onto one of the kitchen bar chairs, mentally noting that finding the ibuprofen should be next on my to do list. “Let me know what you want. I’m going to add my stuff to the order while you’re deciding.”

I ordered a Meat Lover’s Omelet with bacon, home fries and toast, an everything bagel with scallion cream cheese, a slice of strawberry cheesecake, a large orange juice and a large black tea with cream and sugar. Tom was still perusing the menu. I managed to be patient for a bit, but then leaned forward, putting my face between him and the paper.

He laughed. “Someone’s nearing hangry level orange.”

“Mmm, not quite yet but if you don’t make up your mind soon things may get ugly before the delivery guy gets here.”

“Well, no one wants that, do they? I’d like a large Irish Crème coffee, a cranberry scone, a Gone Bananas smoothie, a Greek salad and a deluxe cheeseburger with bacon, please.”

“Dude, your order is even weirder than mine. I’m impressed.” I entered his items and my credit card info, then pressed the submit order button. Forty minutes according to the website, which was unusually fast. I slid off the chair and stood on my left foot as I reached for the crutches. “It’ll probably be an hour before it gets here. There should be some water and soda in the fridge, though, in case you’re thirsty. I’m going to go scare up some ibuprofen so I can maybe walk upstairs at some point this evening.”

Tom shook his head. “No, stay. I’ll get it for you. Where is it?”

“In one of my suitcases. I think. All I really know is that I packed it.”

“Do you keep any here in the house?”

My mouth dropped open. “Well, shit. Yeah. The bathroom, cabinet under the sink. Wonder how long it would have taken me to come up with that? Oy. It’s the door behind you, on the right.”

He came back, shaking the bottle, then went around the corner into the kitchen, opening the stainless-steel refrigerator door and letting out a low whistle. “Soda, water, basic condiments and some whipped butter. Toss in some ancient moldy leftovers and a few bottles of beer and it would be identical to mine. Though mine’s just white. Not fancy and shiny like this one.”

He passed me a bottle of water across the counter, and I quickly swallowed two tiny red pills and stuck my tongue out at him. “It used to be much shittier, trust me. Back in 2011 everything was in such bad shape I said fuck it and decided to put the money into renovating it. Plus, I needed more storage options. For books. Want the official downstairs tour?”

“Indeed I do.”

I pointed at the kitchen. “Where you’re at…that’s the kitchen.” He smacked my hand gently and rolled his eyes. “Countertops are concrete, back splash is glass tile. Gas stove over yonder, mainly used for boiling water and reheating takeout food. Next to the fridge is a Fisher & Paykel DishDrawer. It’s a dishwasher, but it pulls out like a drawer and takes up a lot less space. We won’t talk about how much it cost. It’s embarrassing, and I didn’t really NEED it but damn, it’s really fucking cool. Don’t open it, though. I think I may have forgotten to do them before I left. After seeing my mother’s house I don’t like the cabinets as much as I used to, but at least they have stainless pulls instead of gold. Bathroom next.”

Tom rounded the corner and followed me the seven steps to the washroom. “You’ve already seen this. And you’ve looked in the cabinet under the sink. Hopefully there’s nothing too embarrassing in there, though I tend to keep most of that stuff in the loft. Floor is teeny tiny marble tiles, walls are subway tile, because, New York, and the shower is black glass tile. I love glass tile. I have no idea why, but I do. The overhead light in there is awesome…I abhor showering in low light. Can’t see shit. The fixture is a Grohe, and it’s got a rain head AND a massager. In retrospect, I would have gone with just the massager because the rain head gets water in my eyes constantly. And here we have a sink, and the excrement receptacle. Very exciting, no?”

He chuckled. “Excrement receptacle. I’m stealing that one, if you don’t mind.”

I waved my hand. “Sure, fine, why not. Now, let’s adjourn to the living area. To your left is the sideboard, where I keep all the crap I don’t have another place for. The mirror above is handy for making sure there are no boogers hanging from my nose before I leave the house AND for watching myself burn things in the kitchen. Up next are these very cool metal lockers that function as my coatroom and general storage. They all have a different combinations and I don’t know the two on the far end so please don’t turn the dials. To your right is a dining set that is not anywhere within the scope of my usual taste, but it was a gift from Anne when I first moved in and part of her parent’s estate so it remains. Recovering the seats in black leather made them more palatable. There’s a matching hutch on the wall behind it, which I use for books instead of dishes. The rug is from her, too. Sorry, am I rambling? Just let me know if you want me to shut up.”

He shook his head. “No, I’m enjoying this immensely. This…this is the place you call home. I want to know every detail, the how, the why, the significance of each and every thing and what it means to you.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, well, we’re only going to be here for three days and I did plan on leaving the house to do stuff so…anyway.” I gestured to the windows. “Those are eight feet high, the ceilings are twelve. There’s a remote on the coffee table that opens and closes the shades. Some people don’t mind parading around in the buff in front of the entire city, but I try to avoid it. Emphasis on TRY.” He laughed. “The bookshelves are custom…I designed them myself. Underneath are storage cabinets, which hold more books, my speakers, and some DVDs and CDs. The rug under the coffee table is also from Anne, and the white sofa…I have no explanation for it other than it had clean lines and metal feet. How it’s remained unscathed in light of my clumsiness is a mystery. The chaise part is pretty cool, though, and the TV’s on a swivel so I can turn it in that direction. Both pieces of art are things I found while traveling. The one by the windows was at an estate sale in Boston, and the big one is from a gallery in San Francisco.” I held my hands out to the side at shoulder level. “So, that’s it, I guess. If you turn around you’ll see the loft, and as soon as my meds kick in we can go up and unpack. Oh, wait. One more thing. Here’s your key.” I reached into my pocket, then held it out to him, allowing it to lay flat on my palm.

He lifted it slowly, the pads of his fingers brushing delicately against my hand, the connection creating a current of what felt like a thousand volts. It surged through me, and when I met his gaze he burst into tears. I wound my arms around him, crutches falling to the floor with a metallic whump, kissing each wet cheek in turn as my own eyes began streaming.

Wiping at his eyes with the back of one hand, his other arm around my waist, he smiled softly. “Wow. Sorry about that…I just…I…not even seven days ago I was certain I’d lost you forever and here we are, actually, finally in New York and you’ve welcomed me into your home…into your LIFE…and I’m just…I’m…so…so…GRATEFUL, Maude. And thankful. All that we’ve learned about each other, how much closer we’ve grown…which, honestly, I wouldn’t have believed to be possible, given how close we already were…I feel…unburdened. Lighter. Freer. I feel…ALIVE. So very much alive.”

His mouth was on mine before I had a chance to speak, and when he did the lip thing again I lost my mind completely. One hand was up my shirt, caressing my breasts first over then under my bra, the other down my shorts, inside my underwear, two fingers abruptly thrust inside me, pumping in and out. I glanced at the stove clock as I undid his zipper and wrapped my hand around his throbbing cock. It read 11:25. At least fifteen more minutes before dinner arrived. Plenty of time.

He whimpered pitifully as I began stroking him, voice breaking when he managed to speak. “Oh…Maude…I wanted to wait and take my time but…ohhhhh, GOD…I’m afraid I’m more than a little desperate for you, my love. May I have you, please? Now?”

I walked him backward toward the coffee table, fumbled for the remote and hit the button to close the shades, then grabbed waist of his shorts and pushed them down over his hips until they fell unceremoniously to the floor. He did the same with mine, dragging my panties with them, pausing to allow me to lean on him as he lifted my right leg to pull them over the boot. Our mouths met again, mine open and waiting for his tongue. His kiss was at first gruff, then yielding, gasping as I sought to imitate the forcefulness he’d displayed when sucking on my lip, pulling his into my mouth with a ferocity I hadn’t known I possessed. I felt myself being lowered onto a surface, which I assumed was the chaise portion of the couch, but wouldn’t have cared if it was a bed of nails.

Suddenly his weight was upon me, cock hard and leaking against my entrance. He broke the kiss to hold my head in his hands, our foreheads almost touching, gazes locked. “I love you, Maude. I will love you all of this life, and in each and every one that follows. I will love you as the world turns to ash around us. I will love you as the universe collapses into itself, and in the blackness of the eternity that awaits, I will remain, with you, at your side, holding your hand, never to let go. This love…it knows no bounds. It is forever. Two souls made one, together unto infinity. I love you. I love you.”

He shifted his hips, pushing himself inside me, slowly, stilling when he hit bottom, and I wept against his shoulder, hands at his waist under his shirt and grasping his hips. He wrapped his arms around me, hands in my hair, his lips on my neck, kissing every spot over and over.

“I love you, Thomas. Never let me go. Please. Never let me go.”

We began moving together, all gentleness cast aside as we raced at breakneck speed to feel the completeness that resulted only when the physical and the spiritual combined. His hips slammed against mine so savagely I knew I’d wake tomorrow to bruises, and my hands moved further up and under his shirt, fingernails digging in, then raking down his back as the head of his cock nudged my cervix and I came, pleasure and pain intermingling, a chasm opening and suspending us in a single instance of time and space as I felt his cock pulsing in tempo with my walls, then erupting its liquid fire inside me, like a volcano buried deep in the ocean floor.

The only sound in the apartment was our breathing, both of us panting and gasping. Tom rose up on his elbows, conducting a visual inspection to determine if I’d incurred any damage.

“Fuck, Maude…I’m so sorry…that was positively barbarous of me…are you all right? And your ankle…I forgot about THAT altogether…”

I placed my palms on his chest. “Barbarous is a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’d go with delightfully uncivilized. Either way, it was electrifying. And I’m fine. How’s your back, though? Let me see.”

“My back? Why?” He whipped his shirt off and slipped it under me as he pulled out and turned around. Eight welts stretched from his shoulders to his waist, four of them bleeding in spots.

My hand flew to my mouth, dampening a loud gasp. “Now that there, THAT’S barbarous. You. Are. Bleeding.”

He craned his neck to see behind him, then got up and went to look in the sideboard mirror. I got up, and hobbled over to stand next to him, clad only in my T-shirt.

“Tom…shit…I’m like…SO sorry. Yikes. I’ll go get some peroxide…”

He started at his reflection, head tilted, puzzled. “I didn’t feel that. At all.” As he turned around to face me, his hands reached for mine, grasping them. “What I DID feel was you. Us. I want you to know, Maude, I meant every word of what I said. Every word.”

“I know. Thank you. I…I…I’m not sure if I can formulate a reply that would convey my own feelings adequately…”

A kiss cut me off, his tongue forcing its way past my lips and teeth to reach mine, and when he pulled away he pointed at the couch. “You already did, my love.”

The blush began in my already flushed cheeks and spread all the way down to my breasts. My gaze shifted from his face to the floor. “Oh.”

Tom chuckled. “Suddenly modest, are we?”

I let go of his hands in order to cover my face. “Oh. My. GOD. Shut. UP.”

He roared with laughter, the sound echoing in the open space that surrounded us. I turned on my heel as quickly as my injury would allow and opened the bathroom door, looking back at him over my shoulder.

“I’m still going to get you some peroxide, in spite of the fact that you’re a complete and total asshole.”

The laughter continued as I searched the drawer, then abruptly ceased as someone knocked on the door and loudly announced ‘delivery for Gallagher’.

I took off my T-shirt and tossed it to Tom. “Here, put this on. And don’t forget your shorts. I’ll hide in here. There’s tip money in the dish on top of the sideboard.”

Figuring I might as well pee while I was in there, I giggled as I sat down on the seat. “Excrement receptacle. Damn, I’m fucking hilarious.” I could hear Tom thanking the delivery guy as I finished up and washed my hands, followed by the sound of the door closing. He was in the kitchen when I came out, removing the food from the bags and placing it on the counter, sorting it into two piles. I put my underwear back on and dug a T-shirt out of my luggage. There was no way to be sure whether it was clean or dirty, but it passed the sniff test so I deemed it wearable.

We ate at the dining table, him snatching half my bagel and a good sized chunk of my omelet. The cheesecake and the scone went in the fridge so we’d have something on hand that passed for breakfast, and as he loaded the silverware into the dishdrawer (which had been empty, thankfully) a yawn escaped him, so powerful he dropped the fork he’d been holding.

I bent to pick it up, remembering he’d been up hours before I had. It seemed a physical impossibility that the press encounter and funeral had occurred earlier that same day, and suddenly all I wanted to do was lie down with him snuggled against me. He closed the drawer and pushed the start button, and I reached for his hand.

“Come on, you. Time for sleep.”

He let go, shaking his head. “We haven’t unpacked, nor have we texted Luke and Simon to let them know we arrived safely and to find out if they have as well, and we still have to call Norman…”

I grabbed my phone from my shorts, which were still on the floor where he’d dropped them. “There. Luke and Simon texted. Where’s your phone? Let’s text Norman, too.” He passed it to me. I typed quickly.

Hey – just wanted to say thank you for reaching out, and no worries. The internet, as they say, is forever. Appreciate you noticing and providing clarity as to the source. Hope filming the rest of the season is going well. Best, Gallagher & Hiddleston

I turned the screen so Tom could read what I’d written.

He nodded. “That’s perfect. Thank you.”

I hit send, set my phone on the sideboard and turned off the downstairs lights. “Let’s go. Move that ass.”

He snorted and followed me up the stairs. It felt like it took forever with the stupid boot, and I dreaded having to pee during the night. I turned back the covers, then stood by the dresser at the bottom of the bed and removed my shirt and panties, Tom’s arms winding around my waist from behind, holding me in place so I didn’t fall over as I wrangled the underwear over the boot.

His voice rumbled in my ear. “So, this is where the magic happens…”

“Ummm…if you’re referring to solo magic, yes. Lots of it. But other than that, no. Not in a long, long time, anyway.”

His grip loosened and he stepped back, silent until I turned around.

“Maude, I’d forgotten he lived here with you…I’m…”

I raised my hand to stop him. “Shush. There’s no longer room in my heart, or my head, for anything other than what’s right in front of me. What happened can’t be changed, nor would I want it to be. Life is meant to be experienced in the moment. If you dwell on the past or focus on the future, you miss everything in between. Trust me. I know. And I’m so very, very done with missing out. Now get those clothes off.” I held out my right arm, palm up, towards the platform that held a queen size mattress. “This way to my bed, sir.”

#your light in the mist #chapter 23

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