#(i’m also halfway through my first novel!! it’s going so well and i’m so excited)

[liketolaugh-writes]

So there’s a video on YouTube that’s a list of mistakes fanfiction writers might make when making the jump to original work. That list is stupid. Those are generically amateur errors, not fanfiction errors.

Here is an (incomplete) list of actual errors that I’m now ironing out of my work:

- You need to describe things. Tell the readers how old your character is. Tell them what they look like, what they’re wearing, what their room is like. Keep the juicy bits for later, but you need all the basics up front.

- You need that setting. You need clothes. You need a house and a precise time period and a societal system. In fic, all of those are provided for you, and your readers know them. But you’re in charge of those nuts-and-bolts details now.

- Your first draft is garbage. Seriously. With fanfiction, you can pull together a reasonably good first draft, because you have a vivid and colorful framework to work with. In original fiction, you need to build that framework before you can write those glowing, emotional scenes that you’re used to.

- You need to work to get readers invested in your characters. In the beginning, you can’t start with the vulnerability and the insecurity. You can allude to it, but not focus on it. They need to see that your character can be strong or clever or kind before their heart can break for that character. (This is also a mistake that many writers make with OCs in fanfiction!)

- If the scene doesn’t achieve something, cut it out. We here in fanfiction love marinating in the feelings of a work, we love our 300k slow-burn stories, we depict everything in loving detail - but original work isn’t like that. You have your plot, your character arcs, and your relationships, and every scene needs to move at least one of those forward in a tangible way. The first Harry Potter book is just under 80k. Keep that figure in mind.

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 44/?

Prev | Next

Two days after Tim left, Jason regretted giving him his phone number. Not because the kid was trying to convince him to return to Gotham but because he would text him at the most random times with the most innate things. Seriously, did he ever sleep? Why was he trying to find out who robbed a store and took only the left socks?

Okay, the last one was interesting, but why was he doing it at 2:42 a.m.? Go to sleep!

Jason rubbed his eyes and continued setting up the snacks for the first book club meeting. Ghost Writer was literally glowing at the prospect of the first meeting. Jason constantly reminded him to stop lighting up if he didn’t want to freak people out. After telling him the sixth time, Jason wondered if meeting in Ghost Writer’s bookstore was a bad idea.

He sighed, “Too late, now.”

Jason had used the bookstore’s website so people who signed up could also vote from six choices. It had been a close call, but most people chose Sense and Sensibility. Jason couldn’t overstate his happiness that the first book would be an Austen novel. Jason might not have read it in a while, but he had it almost memorized and found himself more engrossed than usual in the novel. They only had to read the first five chapters for the first meeting, but Jason couldn’t help but finish it in one sitting while Jazz had had the kids.

Jason looked up as the bell over the door rang. A middle-aged woman entered the bookstore. Jason recognized her from the school and greeted her warmly. Then, an older lady entered. She had curly, short silver hair and thick glasses that made her eyes look huge. Jason greeted her and pointed her toward the snack bar. Next was a couple who bickered with each other. It wasn’t loud, but it felt overwhelming in such an enclosed space. Jason hoped that they wouldn’t continue arguing with each other the whole time.

Next, a young woman who looked to be college-aged showed up. Her hair was in a bun, and she was dressed as if she were going to an interview. Jason looked down at his ratty T-shirt and holey jeans and suddenly felt ragged. A few minutes later, a guy with a bushy beard and covered in tattoos entered. He looked like a biker.

Jason couldn’t help but be excited as he talked to the people who had entered. Barring the couple, everyone seemed happy to be there. Jason heard the bell ring once more. His smile fell when he saw the person who had entered.

Avril fucking Dubois. Fuck.

Jason ignored Avril as much as he could. He refused to let her ruin this for him.

They went around and introduced each other. The couple, Henry and Vanessa, went first. Halfway through introducing themselves, they started bickering. Jason quickly went to the next person.

The older woman was Agnus.

“I’m so glad this book club started. I love literature, and most of the people I used to talk to are gone now. I hope being around you young people will give me new perspectives.”

“Welcome, Agnus,” Jason said. He had a feeling he would get along with her. Next was the college student.

“My name is Charlotte. I’m here to find like-minded people who enjoy reading as much as I do. I can bring new insights and hope to learn from other people’s points of view. I hope to be a good asset to this club.”

“Um,” Jason had no idea what to say in response to that introduction. “Well, welcome; just having you here is awesome.”

“Hello, Jay. I know you know me, but for everyone else, my name is Carrie. I love to read but have very little time to do so with my children. I decided I needed some ‘me’ time, so I joined. I can't wait to discuss literature with other like-minded people.”

“Name’s Jerry,” Biker dude said, “I’m here to broaden my horizons and to see more of the world through books. Happy to be here.”

Jason smiled warmly toward him. He loved that Jerry didn’t fit into the stereotypical bookworm category. It made Jason feel validated somehow. Of course, Avril had to ruin by sniffing at Jerry’s introduction and haughtily introducing herself.

“My name is Avril Dubois. I’m the president of the PTA at my children’s school.”

Why would anyone care about that?

“I studied literature and English in college, so I thought this club would be a good way to continue my love of literature and help spread what I know. It’s certainly nice to meet such a…interesting band of people.”

Jason gritted his teeth at Avril’s blatant insult and decided to introduce himself.

“Hello, my name’s Jay. I started this book club so I can talk and discuss with others the books I read. I am so glad to have so many people here who share my passion for the written word. I would also like to thank Mr. Edwards for letting us use his bookstore for this little club.”

Ghostwriter waved a hand and sat by Jason. Thankfully, he looked like a very pale man and wasn’t glowing.

“I put a little poll online, and Sense and Sensibility won. I’m excited to talk about this book. Austen is one of my favorite authors. So, did everyone read the first five chapters?”

The discussion started, and Jason had to admit (at least to himself and not Roy) that this was a good idea.

Jason couldn’t help but feel joy being in a group of people arguing whether or not it was Mrs. Dashwood’s fault that Elinor had to have sense and had become a parent due to Mrs. Dashwood’s habit of letting her emotions take over.

Even the couple stopped bickering with each other to gang up on Jerry and Agnus. At one point, Jason and Avril were on the same page. Well, weirder things, he guessed.

When the first meeting ended, Jason felt his core humming with happiness.

Jason personally saw everyone out—even Avril.

“Well, I was pleasantly surprised, Jay. Who knew you had some knowledge of Austen? Don’t be late to the PTA meeting tomorrow, if possible.”

Even Avril’s backhanded compliment didn’t bring Jason’s spirits (ha!) down. He couldn’t wait for the next meeting.

Quick disclaimer: I have never read Austen.

I tried to read it for this chapter, but it's not my cup of tea, so I did something I have never done before: I used cliff notes, lol. I kinda wish I could've gotten into it because I see so much of Jason in Marianne. For example, Jason uses his emotions to live his life, and it has caused him problems with his family

Likewise, I see bits of Jazz in Elinor. But since I can't really go into it I decided to put it here on the notes.

anyway, enjoy

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife @randomafterthought @chaos-and-wtv

[intheorangebedroom]

Hi Maddie! I hope you are having a wonderful September and you are enjoying the start of autumn. This might sound obsessed or weird, but PTMY and TYBTM are seriously some of my favorite things I've ever read... ever, like I'm putting it up there with novels I've read. It is insane to me how much talent there is in this fandom. Like the Pedro girlies are literal authors, putting out works of art. For me, you are the best of the best! Obviously, both stories have me very hot and bothered lol, but it's just the way you write intimacy and relationships, the peculiarities of your characters and the world's they inhabit so brilliantly, beautifully. I'm sure you know that at times you write like it is poetry! It is so immersive and I love it deeply. My question (apologies in advance) is about writing. I was wondering if you have any tips on (a) how you have improved as a writer, like in terms of how you've been to find your style? (b) how to overcome perfectionism? I've been wanting to take a crack at some Frankie ideas I've had, but I get so weighed down by self doubt and inertia. And also, I worry it's just not original enough. Okay, sorry for the rant! I will never be as good as you OBVIOUSLY lol, but for you I am grateful. I'm so excited for the next part of TYBTM and sad we are almost halfway to the end. I'm so excited for whatever you have in store for the future. Sending you so much love and hope you're having a great day.

Hey Nonnie 🧡

I apologise in advance for the length of this answer. 

Your kindness, your generosity and your time mean everything to me. I’m the worst at expressing gratitude when I’m paid a compliment. "Compliment" doesn't cut it to qualify what you said about my stories, it’s too much, it’s so incredibly kind. You made me so soft but also so much stronger. Thank you 🧡 My first impulse upon reading your message was to throw away my phone and scream I’VE NO IDEA WHAT THE FUCK I’M DOING but I owe it to you to at least try to answer you. Also do you need some blood? A kidney? I have two. You name it it's yours.

I would like to start with the second part of your question, if you don’t mind. 

I have never ever thought any given piece I wrote to be perfect. At best, I think it’s not that bad, but that’s when I read it again a month after posting, because at the time I post it, it’s more like omfg if I read that shit one more time I’m gonna stab myself in the eye.”��

But life is too short for perfectionism. I’m sorry to be speaking like an old fart, but it is. You blink and it’s over. If you have a milligram of creativity in you, do not hesitate. Channel it. Create what you want, what you like. I’m serious. DO IT. Enjoy doing it. 

Self-doubt is a fucking bag of dicks. I’m riddled with it. In every corner of my existence. Every step of the way. Every word I type (not in my mother tongue…). How many times have I wanted to give up, especially during PTMY. The current tybtm chapter has fucking killed me dead. I hate it. It’s not good. Bad. But I’m forty fucking five years old and I’ll be damned if I let self-doubt and fear prevent me from achieving what I set out to do.

When I came back to tumblr in 2020, I saw numerous posts saying “you write for yourself first,” and I did not really understand what they meant. It’s nice to have an audience! It’s nice to be liked and validated! It’s nice to connect with people over something you’ve created. Musicians play live, and get a hell of a kick out of it, right? Why not us, writers? And one day, I think at the beginning of tybtm, it hit me. I understood. Fuck yeah I’m doing this for me. Because I need it. I need to tell this story. I need the satisfaction of having done it. The entire process makes me both incandescently happy and abysmally miserable, and you know what? That’s the fucking spice of life. I want both. I am alive when I write. Through the pleasure and the pain. So if you need it too, well, go for it. Don't let anyone, including you, tell you you're not good enough. Got for it.

There are 99% of chances that what you’re gonna write has already been written. So what? It hasn’t been written by you. No one sees people, life, or Frankie the way you do. Even if you write an age-old trope, even if you write the same trope over and over again in every story (me!), you’ll still bring your own precious singularity to the story, the characters, and the narration. That’s worth EVERYTHING. Please trust me. Maybe no one will like it. Maybe every one will like it. Whatever. At the end of the day, you still did what you set your heart on. I cannot stress enough how important this is. Carpe diem, baby.

Then, how did I improve as a writer, oh Nonnie, I’ve no idea. I don’t think I’m any good. I don’t think I am legitimate to give you any advice. 49.5% of the time, I think I’m too much (too gothic, too lyrical, too big with the feelings and emotions). 49.5% of the time, I think I’m not enough (not precise, concise, clear, good enough). But alright, I’ll try. For you. But please bear in mind I say all this in the most humble spirit.  

I write. All the time. In my head, in the shower, walking in the street, driving, aaaaaall the time. And then I type it down in a doc. And edit it and revise it again and again and again, until it feels smoother and/or I want to puke at the thought of having to go through it again. 

I try to take my time without panicking. If I’m stuck or in a bad mental place, I try to let it rest a bit.

My first year at uni, I studied screenplay writing. I would be unable to tell you precisely what I learned, but I think some of it is ingrained? In terms of conveying intentions through actions and dialogues (I know I tend to write pages and pages of introspection, and I swear I try to restrain myself, even if it doesn’t always translate to the doc).

Then, I’m an art vampire. I soak up everything I can, especially painting, music, and movies. I let it inspire me. I take notes on my feelings, fleeting emotions that I can’t articulate at first, and reflect and work on them until they become fully formed ideas I can inject in the writing. 

I read. A lot. And sometimes not at all when it feeds the self-doubt (comparison, you bitch!). I wait until I feel better, stronger. It may take time. 

With books/fanfics and movies, I analyse the narrative process employed. What I liked or disliked, what moved me, what didn’t. I take notes. To that effect, you can read reblogs of your favourite fics! Sometimes people reblog with some pretty neat analyses, just soak it up!

My obsession is finding the Right Word. I can spend days on the quest. A thesaurus helps. And sometimes it doesn’t. I also read my stuff out loud, because I like when it has a certain rhythm. And when the meaning of a sentence doesn’t work in a rhythm, I rework it tirelessly until it does. Fun times... 

I want to say that if you take the leap and start writing, after a while, you will feel instinctually what works for you. What feels right in terms of personal style. Maybe at the beginning you'll subconsciously write like someone else, but with practice and patience, your style will come out. If you need someone to cheer you on, I'm here.

Oh yeah because, very important, I whine to the very good angel friends in my phone whenever I’m stuck (they will recognise themselves if they read this)(okay they are @dreamymyrrh and @pedrit0-pascalit0). I forfeit all dignity and beg them for virtual hugs. I don't know what I did to deserve them.

And lastly, I have been privileged to witness the genius of Kelli ( @frannyzooey ) in the works and wow. She's it for me. Everything she writes resonates with me, so I just soak. it. up.  

So yeah. to sum it up: carpe diem and be a vampire 🦇

Hope that helps 🧡

I’m also gonna leave that here: 

Claire ( @just-here-for-the-moment ) is one of the best people I’ve been fortunate enough to meet here. She’s patient, sweet, kind, and SO FUCKING SMART. Don't be afraid to reach out.

Nonnie, again, I'm so sorry this is so long. I sincerely hope you'll find something useful in all this gibberish. If not, come back to my ask box with any question. And again, thank you 🧡 From the bottom of my broken vampire heart, thank you 🧡

[benkyoutobentou]

31 Days of Productivity Reading もう一回！: Day 2

Before: Another day of letting a spinner wheel choose my reads. This is a lot more fun with manga where I can spin nearly once a day compared to novels where I could spin twice a week maybe. Two things about it though; first, to add to the chaos fun, I’ve decided that I’m going to keep series on the options list until I have no more volumes, and second, I think I’ll be changing my goal to read eleven volumes of manga instead of ten because I realized that after that volume of BASARA, I’ve read 190 volumes total in Japanese and I want to get to 200. I track my manga over on my MyAnimeList so if you'd like to see what I'm reading all the time, you can find my profile here.

Anyways, today’s read is オハナホロホロ！I’m really excited to read this one, I heard someone talking about it and asked them to tell me their thoughts after they finished it, but then turned around and bought it before they said anything else. It just sounds so exactly like something I’d love!

Last little non reading tangent- I finally got my laptop back today after an entire week of it being in the shop! The hard drive went out on it, but it works so well in every other way that I decided to just get a new SSD instead of an entirely new laptop. I'm also completely terrible with any kind of technology so I had a professional replace it, which was a good idea because the first SSD I bought ended up being completely unusable. Then, no stores around me carried the right size of SSD, so I had to order another one online. And the best part is that the swap over didn't even log me out of anything (and I can finally catch up with my shows)!

After: My time management was so bad today. By one am I was halfway through today’s read and figured that it would be no problem to finish it tonight. Then I decided to check what time dressage started. I expected it to start at two or three am but it started at one, so I ran to the tv to watch that with half a volume left. Luckily there’s always a lot of time between riders in dressage compared to show jumping or cross country but I definitely felt out of sorts as I like to be pretty much ready to go to sleep when it starts, and I very much wasn’t this time.

Between all the breaks, I did manage to finish volume one of オハナホロホロ！I’m really enjoying it so far, I love the unconventional family dynamic and how flawed all the characters are while still being endearing. I also really like the flowy art style and the way that there’s an air of everyday calmness to the story, even when things start to get chaotic. So in total, today I read 191 pages of manga. Certainly not as impressive as yesterday but I’m still pleased! This was more of a normal manga to me, both in page count and words per page.

[nerdgatehobbit]

2/6/25

It’s the first time I’m doing one of these this year!

I went through most of my gems in Pokémon Masters Ex, as I hit pity before obtaining the Marley & Shaymin sync pair. Shaymin is adorable and the adjacent story showcases Marley being a Mood as the second image proves. I’ll probably only try once for Juliana & Koraidon when they become an option.

I’m still enjoying Static Shock overall, with “Bad Stretch” up next. As a present I got the first reboot comic, which I think might be fun to read once I’m done with the second season to mark effectively the halfway point of the series.

There’s just a few episodes left for me to watch in Leverage’s 4th season. It’s probably become apparent I’m doing a BBC Merlin re-watch this year, with “Lancelot” as my current spot. I’ve flipped through it before, I’m planning to do a read & review of the season 1 guide to cap off my re-watch of it.

Late last month I watched “Legends of Today” and the first half of LOT’s pilot. Hopefully, I’ll get more into a pattern of watching soon. I haven’t gotten around to the 4 movies on my list yet.

I genuinely might end up watching the Decolore Islands arc before the Orange Islands one in regards to the Pokémon anime.

Full disclosure: as far as the final 2 episodes are concerned, I just saw the last several minutes of The Librarians finale. I’m not sure how much of it was me not wanting the show to end, being confused by the series finale being a partial reset, and how much of it was the finale featuring an AU where imagination is banned unsettled me.

I did read the tie-in graphic novel last month but it was odd. Some of that was the way the characters were drawn as the non-copyrighted versions of themselves. Most of it was the uneasy balance the story tried to strike between having fun with conspiracy theories while also trying to avoid the typical unfortunate implications they entail. Though I do appreciate they even tried to do so.

My current plan is to read the other two tie-in novels before even thinking of going back to watch/listen to episode commentaries for The Librarians. Because Flynn & Gwen are my main fandom blorbos right now, closely followed by Parker & Hardison.

Among recent gifts are A Fellowship of Baking & Magic and another edition of LOTR, one of which will be a quicker read. Hopefully I’ll enjoy the former.

I’m definitely taking this as a sign to do a LOTR re-read once I’m back into the swing of reading. Especially because it’ll mean I will also be reading The Nature of Middle-Earth for the first time.

At this point I think I might as well do a full re-read of Spy x Family rather than try to remember things if I pick up at volume 9. I did learn the hard way a while back (via watching the first episode) that I cannot deal with the violence in motion even though I can handle the still images. That didn’t stop me from reading the anime guide on the first dozen episodes, which was a very cool look into the making of the anime.

Even though I don’t have any real interest in playing Pokémon Sword or Shield, I did enjoy the first few manga based off it so again: time for a reread now I have the first 7 volumes.

There are 2.5 final reading-related projects.

The 0.5 is me doing a re-read of the first DS9 season before resuming the screencaps, which I don’t have a time table on but it’s still in my plans, I promise.

(What has left my plans for the time being is The Dragon Quartet)

Now that I have all five editions, I want to do some comparing & contrasting of the Pokémon Visual Companions. It’ll be fun! For me at the very least.

I haven’t photographed it yet, but I did receive my copy of Wings of Starlight today. Despite my excitement/hopes, I suspect it shouldn’t jump to the top of my to-read list. Still, I’m looking forward to a return to Pixie Hollow!

[betterbooksandthings]

My top 6 dimension 20 shows ranked with little to no context

So all you DnD dropout girlies know dimension 20 has some excellent excellent content. I started my actual play watching with D20 so I am, of course, biased, but I just prefer watching something that well edited with a range of play styles and game familiarity. The fact that some of the tables have players who have played for decades and others who are starting their first game is really great. The diverse, laugh-out-loud but somehow also make-you-want-to-cry game play is just unmatched. So, I decided to be moderately unhinged this Sunday afternoon and rank my favorite dimension 20 shows as of February 2023. 

1. A Court of Fey and Flowers: Listen I was promised Bridgeton in the feywilds and Aabria Iyengar delivered. The epistolary phase! My ace pillar boy really doing the most. The “I’m taking my suitcase out on a walk.” Not to mention the fact that Jeremy Renner is an NPC. 

2. The Seven: I am nothing if not chaotic and I did, in fact, start my D20 watching with this show. The horse-girl energy was giving what it needed to give. The teamwork was excellent. I also love them. So there. 

3. The Neverafter: As a medieval-early modern girly with a hunger for oral tradition and retellings, this show is my catnip. It is at number three because we are only halfway through the season, but I am having a great time. Every time Emily or Siobhan light up at myth recognition, I too am excited. Also, death is everywhere so that’s a nice touch. 

4. Misfits and Magic: If I want to recommend someone watch a manageably small campaign this is what I recommend. All the PCs know how to craft the worst person to go to wizard school, which is glorious. Plus it is non-TERF wizard school content which we always appreciate in fandom spaces. Of course, you should also watch the holiday special, but yes, Aabria is an excellent GM once again.

5. A Starstruck Odyssey: It’s a campaign based on Elaine Lee’s before it’s time graphic novel series. Of course, this is Brennan (give the monster a cookie) Lee Mulligan’s mother and their interviews explain so much about him as a person. The world-building, character, and story arcs are impeccable. See you in the stars forever and always. 

6. Fantasy High: I gotta include an oldie but a goodie. Will never be over watching this group work through teen adventurer problems. But also, unmatched NPCs. Bill Seacaster! Cathilda Ceíli! Wilma and Digby Thistlespring! Sklonda Gukgak! Our yogurt icon Gilear Faeth! Ayda Aguefort! All very good people who live rent-free in my mind. 

So I hope this moderately chaotic list was, if nothing else, fun to read. Stay nerdy intrepid heroes! 

[littlepadika]

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!

[new-sandrafilter]

How Timothée Chalamet Channeled The Blockbuster Pressure of Leading Denis Villeneuve’s ‘Dune’ Back Into His Role – Venice Q&A

DEADLINE: In a few days Dune will premiere at the Venice Film Festival. You first met Denis Villeneuve about the role in May 2018 and started shooting in the early half of 2019. It was always going to be a long journey, but the pandemic stretched it even further. How does it feel to have finally arrived at this moment?

TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET: You know, I like to think that with every film I’ve done, whether it’s Call Me by Your Name or Beautiful Boy, The King, or Little Women, the character you play is almost a piece of your flesh. And that’s always true, but simply from the perspective of how long the shoot for Dune was, and also the arc that Paul Atreides is on, as well as the huge love and almost biblical connection that so many people have for the book and the original film, it really felt… tectonic, if that’s the right word for it. Just getting to this finish line feels like: phew.

And independent of what the film is now, and what it has become, the experience of making it was I was put in such a safe environment, which you can never take for granted as a human, as an actor, but especially when you’re just starting your career, and when this is the first film of this size you’ve ever done.

To get to work with Denis on it, to get to work with someone of his caliber, let alone on a book that he considers the book of his youth and one of the things he has connected to the most… When he would have it in his hands on set, his body language would become that of a fan; of a kid who had fallen in love with the book at home in Montreal. And when all the kids around him were wearing hockey jerseys with their favorite players’ names on the back, this was a kid wearing a jersey that said ‘Spielberg’ on the back.

For it all to come together, especially with the added challenge of the pandemic, it has all combined to make this moment feel especially spicy [laughs].

DEADLINE: The entire ensemble will show up in Venice.

CHALAMET: Right. And I just can’t believe it; Jason Momoa has the number one film on Netflix right now with Sweet Girl, which I just watched. And since we shot, Zendaya has had all this success with Euphoria and Malcolm & Marie. Just to be part of this cast, period, let alone as one of the title characters, it’s really the shit you dream of.

And let me not forget, too—and I know I’ve told you this before—that The Dark Knight was the movie that made me want to act. That movie had a score by Hans Zimmer, and he has done the score for Dune. And it’s almost not what you’d think. It’s totally appropriate and excellent for the movie, but he has somehow managed to do something subversive, in my opinion. It’s a pinch-me moment all over.

DEADLINE: So, take me back to the start. Is it true you had a Google alert set up to track the latest news on this project before you were ever cast?

CHALAMET: Yeah, it’s true [laughs]. Not right away—Legendary had the rights and was developing it—but as soon as Denis got involved, I set up a Google alert and that’s when I got the book.

In total honesty, I think my understanding of Dune at that point was from a graphic novel I’d seen at Midtown Comics when I was shopping for Yu-Gi-Oh! cards when I was about 10. The year you and I first met, when I was there at Deadline Contenders with Call Me by Your Name, that would have been 2017 or early 2018, and Denis was there with Blade Runner. I remember I was trying to put myself in front of him as much as possible and set up a meeting with him. We had a night at the BAFTA where one of my good friends, Stéphane Bak—who’s also an actor—saw Denis across the room and was like, “Hey buddy, he’s right over there.” So, we went over to talk to him. I kept trying to put myself in front of him, but I didn’t really get a sense of the possibility [of working with him].

I was about halfway through the book when I got the call that he was going to be the president of the jury at the Cannes Film Festival, and I was in London prepping The King. He asked me if I could come out there, so I quickly busted through the second half of the book as best I could. So, like, the first half of my copy is properly annotated and full of my thoughts, and then the second half I just raced through. And then I had that meeting with him, and it was such a joy.

I’m struggling with this even now, as I’m working with Paul King [on Wonka], because he’s another guy I have huge respect and admiration for, and it’s hard to feel on a level. Not that you ever are, because as an actor you’re a cog in the machine, and you’ve got to be humble to the vision of the director. But with Denis, he was pacing around the room, throwing ideas around, in some fancy suite in Cannes, and all I could think was that a year before I was just sat on a stoop on 9th Street in the East Village or something.

DEADLINE: Was that your first time in Cannes?

CHALAMET: Yeah. Well, bizarrely, my sister would do dance camps growing up. Ballet intensive programs in a town called Mougins, which is nearby Cannes, so I spent a lot of time there growing up, but never during the festival, and not on the Riviera. To get to be there for the festival was just nuts. I went to see the Romain Gavras movie, I think, and it was just a huge joy.

I got attached [to the role in Dune] a couple of months after that, and it was nerve-wracking from the announcement, because like I said before, the fans of the book, and the fans of David Lynch version, the computer game, and everything, there’s so much love and strength of feeling. And so much of our pop culture and films and books have been derived from Dune, and all the philosophy the book. I’ve been shocked to learn how many people have a next-level connection to the book. I compare it to how our generation grew up with Harry Potter, and that one makes sense to me. But it’s cool to see with Dune also, when you actually sit down and read it… It’s not that it’s a quote-unquote “hard read” or anything, but it’s not made to be consumed easily, I think that’s fair to say.

So, I was grateful to be working on something of this size not only with Denis Villeneuve leading it, who between Polytechnique, Incendies and Prisoners had nailed the smaller indie film across languages, and then had nailed Arrival and Blade Runner, but who, in his own words, he didn’t feel he’d made his greatest film yet. But also, to be working with this cast. I don’t know if there’s some nightmare version of a film where a young lead is not supported by the rest of his cast, where every one of them had been the leads in their own huge projects. But on this, everyone was there to support, and I think it’s because we all wanted to be foot soldiers for Denis, and I think we understood the potential, based on the script by Eric Roth, Jon Spaihts and Denis, that this could be something really special.

DEADLINE: I don’t have a connection to Dune; this movie is really my first experience of the story. What strikes me is this is clearly an enormous universe—a broad canvas being painted with various families and factions and politics and mythos—but that ultimately it comes down to very elemental, human themes, and we feel them through this character you play, Paul Atreides. Did those themes help ground the experience for you?

CHALAMET: Yes, and I would give the credit entirely to Denis. He would constantly say on set that he had some opposing drumbeat or something. In my diminished intellectual standing, I didn’t understand it, but it was like some vision for the movie based on how biblical the book is that tries to tackle so much that it doesn’t tackle anything. I think he felt the need to be close to a character in it, and Paul is that guy in the book. He’s a character that is still in formation, like a lump of clay, which makes him a great figure for the audience to mirror off.

It speaks, I think, to Denis’ premonition and his directing ability that there were times when we’d move on from a shot or move on from a scene, and I swear, literally, we’d go back because Denis wanted to get something over my shoulder, or push in on my reaction, just to make sure [it stayed on Paul].

And again, it’s something where I’m pinching myself. I had the best time on Interstellar, and that was one of my favorite films I’ve ever worked on, but it was very much something where I was aware of when I had the opportunity to do real acting. And on a movie like Dune, again, one could think it would get lost in the scale and scope. But I felt every day like my plate was full.

DEADLINE: One of those themes is fear, and Paul must overcome his to become the person he needs to be. When you are number one on the call sheet on a project of this scale, and the cast list reads like an address book of Hollywood in the 21st century, and Legendary has injected hundreds of millions of dollars into this production, and it’s all falling on your shoulders, I have to imagine fear is a theme you can readily relate to.

CHALAMET: Oh yeah, and they can bleed into each other for sure—not to diminish the other work that goes in. It’s great when your life experience can inform the role. That’s not at all to say I’m on some crusade in the universe or anything, but definitely… And I had that same good fortune with The King I think. My life is not nearly as significant or as exciting as Paul or Prince Hal, but we all share an unwitting needle in the haystack feeling. On The King that feeling was because I was so new to having a career. On Dune it’s because of, as you say, just feeling the pressure of the hugeness of the project in all those different ways. Those things can absolutely inform each other.

And then there are the moments of glee that come, too, like seeing Jason Momoa running at you at a hundred miles an hour, or just getting to shoot the shit with Josh Brolin, or getting to do a scene with Oscar Isaac. I felt so supported, whether it was Rebecca Fergusson or Charlotte Rampling. When Zendaya came, it was a total breath of fresh air, and she’s one of my favorite parts of the movie. I just got really lucky, and I can’t wait to see them all in Venice.

Denis split the book in half, and the hope is a second movie will get a greenlight. That’d expand Zendaya’s role in the story.

CHALAMET: Definitely, Chani will play a huge role in the next film. I don’t know if there’s a script yet, but just based on the book, along with Lady Jessica [Rebecca Fergusson], they have a lot to do together, let’s put it like that. And Zendaya was incredible in this movie; the moment she pulls the mask down, it felt properly showstopping and powerful. I was hiding behind the camera, counting my lucky starts, because I was there in month two of the shoot and here was a total powerhouse just coming in for the first time.

And as I said before, this was before I’d seen Euphoria and Malcolm & Marie. She’s doing such incredible work and is just trailblazing her own path, and she’s so, so cool. She also happens to be in the most-watched trailer of the moment, too, for Spider-Man: No Way Home. I cannot wait for that movie, and I was there, by the way, with everybody else, clicking through the trailer frame by frame looking for clues [laughs].

[mellowswriting]

Settled - A Sequel to The Future

pairing || Din Djarin x fem!Reader

summary || A glimpse into domestic life with Din. 

word count || 4,238

warnings || soft smut, food consumption, pregnant reader, domestic fluff, Din Djarin is the best dad in the universe but we already knew that, Uncle Paz Vizsla bc I’m shameless

a/n ||  Listen... soft domesticity with Din was something I didn’t realized I needed in life until writing this, so I had so much fun. Thank you to the anons who sent the requests that inspired this! ​

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

Translations: riduur - spouse buir - parent mesh’la - beautiful kurshi’ika - little tree cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart

It was the kind of morning people wrote poetry about, line after eloquent line about how the sun broke over the trees in brilliant streaks of orange and pink backed by the symphony of cheerful bird chatter, how the steam from your coffee mug curled through the air in a lazy pirouette, how each sip you took as you read by the open window filled you to the brim with a warm peace that rivaled any other. That kind of tranquility was something you had craved, but never thought you could actually have for yourself.

You were never more glad to be wrong.

Every promise Din made to you, he followed through on. Ma’ira was small but beautiful, covered with lush forests and dotted with turquoise colored lakes, and the second you landed on the planet you just knew. Something about it all felt right. It didn’t take long to find the home you now lived in with your riduur, an almost cottage-like home on the outskirts of town, far enough away that Din felt comfortable enough to strip away his armor more often than not.

It had been a strange adjustment. Din wasn’t used to the possibility of being so open. You weren’t used to the possibility of staying put. But the biggest adjustment of all was the swell of your stomach when you first moved into the house that the two of you had turned into a warm, happy home. Din, being the overachiever of the century, somehow managed to knock you up right on the first try. To say that the both of you were surprised would be an understatement. You expected to have more time, to be able to spend however long it took to find the absolute perfect place to settle down.

In more ways than one, you were beyond glad that your lover was such an overachiever. You would have overthought it all; which planet was the best to settle down on, whether or not the house you chose was the right one, if your town was safe enough. The kiddo growing in your belly like a weed forced you both to make a decision in a timely manner and now you had an incredible husband, a perfect daughter, and another warrior growing strong in your belly.

At two years old, Willow was a bright, vibrant little girl who also managed to create mischief anywhere her little feet could carry her. And with all of that endless bounty of toddler energy? Yeah, you needed those calm mornings as a reprieve from her energy, as much as you loved her

It was the rumble of her bare feet on the wood floors that drew you from the novel in your hands, her wild mess of brown hair the first thing you saw as she clambered in your lap. Her arms wound around your neck as she pulled you into a bear hug, practically choking the life out of you in her excitement.

“Good morning, Willow,” You said as you shifted her weight away from the swell of your belly before brushing her curls out of her face. “How about we go wake up your buir, huh? I think he’s gotten to sleep in enough this morning.”

Willow’s eyes lit up at the mention of her father and she nodded emphatically, already ready to poke at her father until he woke up like she did every morning. You made your way into your bedroom with her on your hip and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight your husband made. Din was still dead asleep, his face buried in the crook of his elbow, the stark contrast of his tan skin against the white sheets made even more striking by the sunlight flooding through the windows. Just like his daughter, his hair was a curly mess atop his head.

You gingerly set Willow down next to Din and she crawled over to kneel at his side and pry his arm away from his face. It woke him up immediately, you could tell by the slight curve of his lips despite his still closed eyes - a game he played almost every morning with his daughter. Next came the poking at his cheeks, then his eyebrows, and then his lips - where Din grabbed her hand and pretended to gobble her up.

“Papa!” Willow squealed, devolving into a fit of giggles as she tried to squirm away. “Mama, help!”

The second you leaned over to try to scoop her up, Din pulled you down onto the bed on top of him and pressed a kiss to your lips, always careful not to put pressure on your stomach. You shifted to lay next to him, propping your baby bump on his side to relieve the tension. Sat there in that bed, your husband rubbing your belly with one warm hand and your toddler jumping and tumbling around the pillows, her peals of laughter echoing off of your bedroom walls… well, it brought you more peace than any early morning sunrise or good book could ever bring you.

“Good morning, mesh’la.” Din murmured against your temple where he pressed a kiss, his voice rumbling low and sleepy. “How’s the book?”

“About halfway through, it’s a good one.” You loved the interest he took in your little hobbies. The newest book in particular was the fourth in a series Din had gotten for you. He knew you liked to read while you breastfed and was more than happy to provide you with as many books as possible. “The little one is kicking up a storm, though. He’s killing my bladder.”

Din hummed as he slid down to speak right into your belly. “Be good to your mama, little one.”

He kissed your baby bump, leaned up to kiss your lips, and then stood to stretch his arms high above his head with a strained groan. “Come on, kurshi’ika, let’s get your hair fixed.”

You smiled at the nickname, watching Din carry his little girl to the bathroom. He may be an intimidating Mandalorian, a big and bad ex-bounty hunter, but he was the softest, sweetest dad you had ever seen. With a low groan, you eased yourself onto your feet and busied yourself with preparing breakfast, and by the time Din emerged from the bathroom with Willow, you had yogurt and a pile of sliced strawberries ready for her.

Sitting down to eat meals together was something you cherished. It felt like a completely different life, back when you and Din would have to sit in separate rooms to eat to protect his creed, back when everything was so complicated. Now Din would share small bites of his own meals with Willow, he talked through mouthfuls of food hidden behind his hand, he cleared the table once all of you were finished. Yet another new side of your soulmate that you had the privilege of seeing.

It didn’t take long for Willow to finish her breakfast and ask to be let down to play. It amazed you how much energy such a small kid managed to contain, watching her zip around the living room without pausing to take a breath. You couldn’t help but laugh as Din tried to keep up with her. Not long ago, you would’ve been right there on the floor with them, but now that pregnancy had shifted your center of gravity and had your back and feet aching constantly, it was too damn hard.

While Willow was lucky to have a dad who had no qualms with crawling around on the floor with her, even he couldn’t rival her energy. Din dropped onto the couch next to you with a long drawn out sigh, watching with raised eyebrows as his daughter shot around the room.

“How does she do it?” He chuckled, shaking his head. You hummed in lieu of an answer and leaned your head against his shoulder. Just like with your first pregnancy, you were tired more often than not and Din’s warmth was like a heavy blanket that could only lure you closer to sleep. Din pulled you closer to rub your belly. “How are we going to do it? With two?”

“If we can handle bounty hunting, we can handle two kids, my love.” You murmured, your eyes falling closed as you relaxed against him.

“Bounty hunting was less scary.” Din said with a huffed laugh and yeah, he wasn’t exactly wrong. But as terrifying as parenthood could be, watching Willow grow and learn made everything worth it. You could see pieces of both of you in her; she had Din’s hair and your eyes. She had her father’s attitude and your perfected puppy-dog eyes. She had her father’s grumpy face and your laugh.

Even so, she was becoming her own person the more she grew. Every annoyed huff, every little pout, every time she jumped out from behind the couch or bed to ‘scare’ one of you, it became more glaringly obvious just how lucky you both were. The little one growing strong in your belly would only add to that luck, you just knew it. Even when your bladder was being used as a trampoline, when the exhaustion got so bad you had to nap in the middle of the day, when the nausea overwhelmed you, there was an underlying tone of luckiness.

Three quick knocks had you easing yourself off of the couch despite Din insisting he could get it. If you stayed on that couch curled up next to him any longer, you would fall asleep and you knew it. A warm rush of air flooded against you when you opened the door and you smiled brightly at the man in front of you.

“Paz! It’s good to see you!” You said as you pulled him in for a hug. “Come on in.”

The second Willow saw him, an excited cry of “Uncle Paz!” echoed through the living room as she scrambled to give him a bear hug. Paz was the one who made you realize that your husband wasn’t an anomaly among Mandalorians - you knew they cherished children, that raising them to be strong and healthy was the foundation of their culture, but you hadn’t realized just how gentle they were with the littlest ones. If anyone had told you before all of this that you would see Din Djarin and Paz Vizsla sitting on the floor and happily playing along with a tea party for a two year old and her stuffed bunnies, you would’ve laughed at the very idea.

But now it was a weekly occurrence, one that you would cherish the memories of for the rest of your life, and you couldn’t imagine life any other way.

“Are you sure she’s ready, cyar’ika?” Din murmured as he watched Willow debate which stuffed animal she should bring with her.

“I definitely think she is. Besides, Jaina and Paz are only a few miles away. If she changes her mind, we’ll go pick her up.” You rubbed his arm reassuringly. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Just nervous.” He grunted.

Willow’s first overnight away was something you both agreed on, but that didn’t mean neither of you were anxious about it. Paz and his wife were the only ones you trusted enough and Maker knows that they didn’t mind helping. You were all family, after all.

“She’s going to be with them while I’m in labor, she needs to be comfortable if she has to stay overnight. But we can put this off a bit longer if you want.” You offered, but he shook his head. No matter when Willow went to spend the night with her Uncle, it was going to be nerve wracking and you both knew it.

You knelt next to Willow and helped her zip up the bag she had stuffed full of toys. “Okay, Willow. Are you excited to stay with Uncle Paz and Aunt Jaina?”

Willow nodded emphatically, bouncing on her toes and struggling to keep her attention on you in her excitement, especially when she saw her dad walking over to crouch down next to her as well.

“Be a good listener for Paz, okay kurshi’ika?” Din reminded her gently and Willow nodded again before hugging him tightly. The worry on his face eased as he held her close.

“Bye, Papa.” Willow chirped before turning to hug you as well. “Bye, Mama. Bye, Baby.”

The kiss she popped against your belly choked you up and you almost wanted to wrap her up in your arms and never let her go. Oh, your sweet, precious little girl. So excited to be a big sister, already so loving to a sibling that wasn’t even born yet.

You watched her hop along after Paz and as he strapped her into the seat of his speeder, always overly cautious about the strap placement of her harness, but Paz was a quick learner. All it took was that one time of showing him exactly where the chest clip was meant to be and stressing the importance of it, and the man had it down expertly.

You expected the house to feel smaller, empty without Willow’s high peals of laughter and exhaustive energy, and while that thread of nervousness at being away from your child still held true, the idea of getting to relax with your husband without any real obligations was… nice. Different, but nice. You sat down heavily on the couch, that heavy exhaustion creeping over you to weigh down your eyelids the moment you met the cushions.

It was the feeling of Din’s hands rubbing the tension from your feet that woke you sometime later. His attention was on the television across the room, some rerun of a trashy holodrama playing at a low volume. You smiled sleepily at him. So handsome with his fluffy, unkempt hair and the stubble he hadn’t bothered shaving in the past few days. You reached out to graze his arm with your fingertips and Din smiled before he even looked away from the screen.

“How was your nap?” He asked quietly, a soft fondness on his face.

“Good,” Your voice was rough with sleep. You wiggled your toes against his hand. “This is better, though.”

Din chuckled but complied, those strong fingers of his digging into the arch of your foot and pulling a pleased hum deep from your chest. The man had hands like magic. It was something he loved to do, taking care of your body aches and tense muscles, especially when you were pregnant. He was the one who put you in that state after all. He felt it was his responsibility to take care of you, however you needed.

The tightness of your muscles slowly relaxed with each kneading pass of his fingers, his hands slowly making their way up past your ankles, working through your calves and your knees. He pressed feather light kisses to your calves as he worked his hands, shifting so he could lean over you and slowly work himself up your body. Din knew exactly what he was doing, could tell by the way your contented little hums morphed into pleasured moans.

A grin found your lips when your heady whine was met with a low, needy groan. Din nipped your inner thigh playfully and looked up at you with those bright eyes. “What do you need, Din?”

“You.” He leaned up to press his forehead to yours. “Just you.”

“You have me.” You whispered, your heart pattering faster in your chest. It had been far too long since you could just let loose with him and enjoy each other without having to think about anything other than the feel of each other’s bodies. “You always have me.”

Din kissed you, one hand propping himself up next to you and the other gripping your chin to tip your head back. A shudder rocked through you at the feeling of his tongue dipping to lick at your lips. You pulled away to pat his cheek, a breathless laugh falling from your lips.

“Not on the couch,” You said. “Take me to bed, riduur.”

Your husband helped you to your feet, ushering you ahead of him with one big hand smacking and grabbing at your ass as you laughed at his antics. Before you were showing, Din would’ve had no issue shoving you down on the bed and going to town on you, and while his touch was still firm, he was gentle. Beyond careful.

He had you stripped in no time, your shirt and shorts flung somewhere unknown and uncared for. The warmth of his hand at your waist made you shiver and press closer; the skin on skin of his chest pressed against your back was addictive, left you keening for more, for any other gentle touch he would grace you with. It was a kiss to your neck that came next, followed almost immediately by the drag of his teeth against your pulse. His fingers knotted in your hair, angling your head to give him better access to the corded muscle of your neck that he loved sinking his teeth into.

The stuttered cries he managed to pull from you were like music to Din’s ears. Every single sound you made for him… fuck, they were just as pretty as you. He pressed you forward onto your hands and knees, grinning at the way your fingers immediately curled into the sheets, and ground his clothed cock against your ass in a slow circle, relishing in the desperate cant of your hips in your search for more friction.

“So needy, cyar’ika.” Din murmured as he leaned down to kiss and lick and bite at your shoulder blades, his hand coming down to cradle your belly, feeling his child close and safe inside of you. “Such a good girl, huh? Always so good for me.”

“Please…” You arched against him with a whine, seeking his touch where you really, desperately needed it. The look you tossed at him over your shoulder was almost enough to break him. “I need you.”

Din popped the hems of his briefs with how quickly he ripped them off. He moved to kneel at the edge of the bed, ready to open you up for him, spread you out with his tongue and his fingers and let your pretty little moans soak into his ego and stroke his pride. Your foot shot out to stop him, damn near catching him in the ribs.

“Fuck, Din, I’m ready. I promise, I just need you, please -”

He eased your desperation with a hand at the base of your spine, shuddering at how much you needed him, his touch, his cock buried as deep as possible in your wet little cunt. Din’s fingers brushed your core gently, barely touching you to hear that needy whine one more time, before tracing your clit in practiced circles.

The arch of your hips deepened as you relished in the pleasure your husband sparked through your body, unable to curb the needy sounds you made. Sex with Din was always a good time, but sex with Din while you were pregnant was next fucking level. The doctor had told you it was because of higher blood flow and blah, blah, blah, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he was also just that good. You didn’t even realize you were begging at first, crying out a high, ‘please, please, please’ until you felt Din’s cock notch at your entrance, the hand he had at the base of your spine sliding down to grasp firm at your neck.

He pushed into you in one smooth, devastating stroke, not stopping until his pelvis was flush against. The groan he gave was one you heard time and time again, his voice reverent as if you were the goddess to absolve him of all of his sins, the one to save him and bring him to salvation. It broke you down and built you up in the same second, pride swelling in your chest at the pleasure you brought him, at the pleasure he brought you. Just the full feeling of his cock stretching you was enough to have you trembling beneath him, so that first slow stroke, the roll of his hips as he pulled away only to push back into you, it was devastating.

“Fuck…” Din’s head tipped back, his hips setting a steady, slow pace that still had you almost too full but still needing more. “So fucking wet for me, so ti-ight.”

You wanted to praise him, to tell him how good he felt inside of you, how his thick cock made you quiver around him, but your voice had disappeared, fizzled out with that first thrust. But you could show him. You pushed back against him to meet his thrusts, a cock drunk grin spreading across your face when Din’s pace stuttered at your enthusiasm. The muscles in your thighs and back were starting to ache with the effort of holding yourself up, but before you could find your voice well enough to tell him, he was pulling out of you despite your whined protest.

“Hush, sweet girl,” Din said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he eased you onto your side and settled behind you. “I’ve got you.”

Your leg was lifted to brace against his hip and then Din was thrusting back into you, his bare chest pressed firmly to your back. You leaned your head back against his shoulder as he slid his hand up your thigh and over your hip, desperate for the electric feeling of his practiced fingers against your clit. Instead, those teasing fingers trailed over your belly and up your ribs, leaving goosebumps in their wake to flush across your sensitive skin.

“Din…” You whined, sounding every bit like the needy, debauched little thing you felt. Din’s hand snatched yours up when you reached between your legs, only making you whine more.

“Use your words, cyar’ika.” Din murmured low in your ear. He didn’t miss the way his voice made shivers dance down your spine. “Tell me what you need.”

“T-touch me,” You managed to stutter out as you arched against him, angling your hips so that he hit even deeper and the head of his cock pressed against your g-spot. That tension ratcheted tighter in your belly and drug your desperation higher with it. “Fuck, please!”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Din teased and finally dipped his hand between your thighs, his fingers spreading you open and gathering up your slick to circle your clit.

A loud cry ripped from your chest, your orgasm quickly approaching under Din’s touch, combined with the stuttering breaths coming from your lover. He wasn’t lost on the pleasure he brought you, the feeling of your already tight cunt tensing around him, growing more wet to ease the way for him.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” You huffed, hovering on the edge of ecstasy only driven higher with each stroke.

Din captured your ear lobe between his teeth and hissed one word. “Cum.”

You broke. Keened and trembled and gasped as he rocked you through your orgasm, only shoving his hand away when it became too much for your sensitive nerves. Three more thrusts into you and Din’s pace stuttered, his hand coming up to brace against your hip and hold you in place to bury his seed as deep as your body would allow him. You let out an exhausted, breathless chuckle - if he hadn’t already had knocked you up, that certainly would’ve done it.

The two of you took a moment. Soaked each other in as you caught your breath. Din barely moved, only shifting slightly to pull out as you whined at the loss, but he peppered lazy kisses on your shoulder in apology. In those moments, those hazy post-sex moments where you were both sweaty and sated and beyond in love, your hands wandered as did Din’s. It was almost instinctual, a need to check each other over and soothe any aches, any bites that were a tad too rough.

Din pulled at you with insistent hands, guiding you to roll over and face him so you could use his side to rest your belly on. As much as that helped to ease the ache your growing baby put on your back, it was just as much for him as it was for you. He loved supporting you, feeling you relax against his side, running his palm over your belly and tracing the stretch marks that signified all you did for him, for the children you bore and nurtured both as they grew inside of you and at your breast after their birth.

“Shower?” Din asked after an eternity of peaceful silence.

You hummed your agreement, shivering at the idea of those strong hands massaging your scalp and aching muscles. “In a minute. Just wanna feel you.”

And feel him you did. Din wasn’t the only one who loved to aimlessly trace his lover’s skin. His muscles twitched under your gentle touch, something that never failed to make you smile; he was so strong, so firm, yet a single caress was enough to have him shivering with a small delighted smile on his face.

The shower could wait. The rest of the word could wait. All you needed was Din.

[gwynsazriel]

🚨🚨ACOSF SPOILERS🚨🚨

hey guys!!!

so as you know, the chapters WERE leaked from an italian excerpt! and some of the few who read the book have reviewed it on good reads and answered some questions which i would put here!!

REVIEWS:

“I still don't know how many stars to give, but I have to say I'm pretty surprised. It's not perfect, please, but after leaving Crescent City halfway through I was terrified. Instead, the commitment of Maas is very noticeable. Among the books I have read (and I have read almost all of them except Kingdom of ash) this seems to me the best in terms of style (I REPEAT, it is not perfect, there are always some very ... "Maas-like" things, but they are not annoying, indeed they made me smile). Nesta is a wonderful, realistic character, for me the best written by the author. I saw myself a lot and I don't deny that in some scenes I was also very excited. I still don't know how many stars to give, but I have to say I'm pretty surprised. Ps. every scene where Azriel is present = tears <3 I LOVE IT”

“It's been a week since I finished this book and I still can't get it out of my head. I already know that it will be among the favorites of the year, because the story of Cassian and Nesta has really conquered me * - * The growth path of the two protagonists is crazy, but to be honest, I never doubted that Maas would have made their justice. I'll tell you about it on February 22, but I can't wait for you to read it all, and above all I need to have the next book in the series in my hands (although we don't know who it will be yet) <3”

“Very beautifull! I have to be completely honest, when I read that it was a 720-page brick, it took the anxiety. Could I have finished it in time? And then, would Maas have convinced me? Both responses came quickly. This is a transformative book for Nesta, there is so much inside her (and I had already seen it) that every page of this novel was necessary for her to grow up, to accept, to learn. Cassian is wonderful, as always. His patience, his sweetness, his love are deep and transpire from the paper. As announced by Maas, this book is downright hot, it contains explicit sex scenes and if that bothers you then be prepared. The relationship between Nesta and Cassian grows slowly like a fire which at first is just a flame but in the end burns with passion. I already loved them as secondary characters and now, even more. Maybe there will be flaws, but honestly I can't find them after reading. Get ready for a great book!”

“700 pages (in the italian version) dedicated to the Nessian! Oh, my little heart! :3 I enjoyed the reading so much, there's so much romance (very adult romance) and all my expectations were met. Rhys, forgive me, but I fell completely in love with Cassian. And Nesta, I feel you girl!”



QUESTIONS:

Q1: I am very excited to read this book! Can you tell us something about Elain and Azriel? No spoilers, but do they have any conversations? Don't worry if you can't tell!

ANSWER: I wouldn't say they have a conversation, but there is a moment Elain and Azriel fans are sure to enjoy :)

Q2: Would you say you were satisfied with how Nestas' story went? how did she grow as a character? 😁

ASNWER: Yes, Sarah J. Maas handled Nesta's evolution very well! I'm sure you will all be satisfied;)

Q3: after reading ACOSF, do you think azriel and elain will happen or are we getting a new ship for either of them?

ANSWER: Unfortunately in this book it is not clear if Elain and Azriel will be endgame! Maas doesn't give us many clues, so it's possible that they end up together or be with other people. There is another ship that could come true!

Q4: Could you share if there is any heat going on with Azriel and Elain?

ANSWER: they are not very present in the book but there is one scene in particular that I think bodes well, even if it is a few lines.

Q5: can we expect much of Lucien in the book?

ANSWER: No, unfortunately, there will be very little

Q6: Please tell me Azriel finally lets Mor go in this book. Also, is there any character growth for Elain?

ANSWER: Azriel is said not to be as interested in Mor as before; Elain appears very little

Q7: do we get scenes with Lucien and Elain that would show a future romance?

ANSWER: I'm sorry to say that Lucien and Elain are present together in just one scene, with the Inner Circle all around, and they basically ignore each other.

Q8: is Nesta gonna make friends of her own? And does Az teases Cassian and Nesta a lot (like, ''who are you triyng to fool here? we all know you both are crazy about each other'')?

ANSWER: Yes, Nesta'll have new friends, far from the Inner Circle and the characters that we already know.

Yes, he does! ;)

Q9: Is Nesta and Elain's relationship explained in this book? I was always curious what made Nesta so protective towards Elain

ANSWER: Everything about Nesta's life (her family, her relationship with her parents, with Feyre and with Elain) is explained. This book's totally focus on her and Cassian, on their relationship, their past, their present, their future. So, our curiosity'll be satisfied!

SO, that’s it for now! i will update if they answer more questions!

[hattiepins]

Expectations

Zeke Yeager/Reader 18+ Chapter 1/??? Warnings: Alcohol mentions, explicit content a/n: I haven’t posted fic to tumblr in literal years so here’s me christening my new AOT blog with some Zekefucking. This fic will eventually have an actual plot, and I have it mapped out, but for now it’s just smut so have fun with it. I’m also on ao3 w the same @ if you prefer that layout better.

Zeke Yeager was an incredibly imposing man. The warriors were an intimidating group to anyone who had heard of them, but there was something special about him. 

You had “met” several years ago, at work cleaning the imposing Marleyan government building that served as the warrior headquarters in Liberio. Most of the year it was filled with children hopeful that if they worked hard enough, dedicated their hearts firmly enough, and bought into the belief that they too could bring honor to their homeland, they could be worthy of inheriting a titan.

You liked children, and though it hurt to see them pushed into the grim roles they took up at the compound, you would occasionally share excited chats with them in the halls, rooms, or courtyards of the massive complex. You’d scrub the floors of the messes left behind by their muddy boots, or the walls of the grime that accumulated every week, and the candidates, being the chatty little kids that they were, would update you on their days. Who beat who in what race, how fast so and so could disassemble then reassemble a rifle. On a good day of work you were given a run down of everything. 

On special days, though, the Marleyan warriors themselves would show up. A woman with unruly dark hair, a tall and disheveled scruffy man, and a blonde with a slicked back undercut all would often pass you by.

But Zeke Yeager? He always stood out to you the most. Anyone who could spare enough pocket change for a paper would know of the great feats of the beast titan and the man who held it. There had never been quite anything like him before in history, and his accomplishments on the warfront were praised as the ace up Marley’s sleeve in many battles. 

In reality though, Zeke bore no resemblance to his titan, with there being no visual similarity between the terrifying monster printed on the front page of every news story and the warrior who controlled it. 

He was tall, with a laid back posture that stood in stark contrast to his own mythic status. A legend among Eldians, and a fearsome specimen among all men, with his steely grey eyes and furrowed brow. He always looked as if he had something weighing on his mind whenever you spotted him, be it alone, or with his comrades.

You would absentmindedly toy with the hem at the edge of your own grey armband every time your eyes glanced over their red ones, not envying their lives as warriors but wondering what it must be like, being honorary Marleyans. 

None of them ever noticed your presence, and why should they? You were the cleaning girl, a part of the scenery. 

So then it comes as quite the shock when, tonight, as you head to the pub around the corner from the compound, Zeke Yeager recognizes you. 

The place isn’t anything fancy, but it’s halfway between work and the run-down tenement you can afford to rent on a maid’s salary. You go here on your days off, when you want more than anything to just relax, have a drink, and listen to the gramophone at the bar play music that you’d never get to hear otherwise. It’s a surprise enough to even see Zeke here, but the way he reacts to seeing you has your heart seize up a bit in your chest. 

He waves you over with his hand clutching his drink, calling your name with a voice just loud enough to be heard over the scratchy, poorly recorded music of the wax cylinder recording, his face plastered with a smug expression.

You blink slowly, as if closing your eyes will somehow remove him from the table in front of you and confirm that just a few sips of your drink have led to full on hallucinations. But you do not move. 

Catching onto your nervousness, Zeke raises the glass of warm swill this poorly stocked Eldian pub calls drinks, swirling the liquid inside as he motions towards your general direction.

“Come on now, that’s your first drink of the night in your hands. I know you aren’t far gone enough to not recognize the sound of your own name.” 

The volume of his voice is louder than you would like. A necessity, you know, for him to be heard over the sound of the gramophone, but still embarrassing.

You gesture stupidly at yourself with your pointer finger, and he nods, brows raised and mouth smiling with pursed lips as if he’s trying to stifle a laugh at your blatant confusion. 

He, in turn, gestures for you to take a seat next to him at the small booth he holds for himself in the corner. 

“You’re the cleaning girl, right?” He says. 

And for as awkward as that introduction is, it doesn’t stop you from joining him.

“How did you know- where did you learn  my name?” You drum your fingers against the base of your drink, still slightly nervous. 

“I’m observant.” He takes a sip of his own drink. 

“That, and you’re more well known than you’d think. The Grice boys talk about you sometimes. The younger one, Falco, is pretty damn fond of you, actually. Says you’re a good listener. Likes talking to you. His brother’s the one set to inherit my titan.”

You stare at him, a little shocked to hear that the candidates even remember you beyond simple hallway chatter, let alone that a warrior has actually taken note of your reputation with the children. 

“Falco’s a good kid. Colt too.” Your lips quirk up into a small smile, thinking about the two blond boys, always polite and courteous. They even bothered to get to know you by name, and always seem to ask about your day before telling you about their own.

“You’re quite the conversationalist for someone who the government pays to mop floors and dust shelves all day.”

You tense up, and suddenly, for a moment, a sense of sudden clarity and fear grips you. Is this an interrogation? Does Zeke Yeager think you’re a spy because you’re too chatty with the candidates? You knew this felt off, there’s no way that he’d invite you here just to ta-

“If I’m honest, I noticed you first because I was shocked that a pretty face like yours would be working scrubbing dirt. Didn’t put a name to said face until Colt started bringing you up almost just as often as his little brother. But I’m a good listener.”

He smiles, repeating your name with a soft smile as if testing out the sound of it.

“It’s a pretty name. Suits you. I try and keep things professional at the compound. Lots of eyes and ears. Granted there’s definitely a few in this place right now, but we don’t have to worry about them.”

You lift your head with a start, eyes scanning the bar, all a sea of patrons with worn clothes and grey armbands. None of them stand out as being particularly unique. None accept the man with the red around his arm seated across from you. He sticks out like a vibrant wine stain against white cotton, and though the patrons know better than to stare, you catch them sneaking “coincidental” glances his way. 

Their eyes rest on him, then flicker away to observe the much less interesting rest of the bar as if it’s merely chance that they managed to get caught looking.

You let your gaze wander over all the faces in the crowd, trying to see who he might be referring to. To see who could be watching. 

“Shit, could you be a little less obvious, sweetheart?”

The sudden affectionate name has your heart  flutter in your chest in a way you absolutely were not expecting, and as you turn your gaze back to him, an embarrassed flush creeping its way across your cheeks, you see his smirk grow. He’s smug, but you suppose he has all the reason in the world to be, with all his accomplishments.

Zeke, you thankfully come to realize as your conversation progresses, is not here to report you to the higher ups for something or another, nor does it seem that anyone in the bar is particularly interested in your chatter. 

You do, however, find that Zeke Yeager is not only a very powerful presence, but that he’s very handsome. It was something you didn’t particularly notice at the compound, mostly because you tried to avoid being in the way of your superiors in the warrior unit, but also because the stories you’d heard of the beast titan’s strength painted the man as a brute. 

Instead, you find yourself enthralled by him. He has beautiful hair, and his beard is kept very nicely trimmed. The way his grey eyes light up when he learns you two share a similar taste in novels has your breath catching in your throat. 

You list off your recent reads, only to find that he’s also read most everything on the list. He says he’s an avid reader, especially when they ship him out. It helps him keep his mind off of the fighting to think of smaller problems than wars.

“I couldn’t put it down.” 

You find yourself raving about your latest literary obsession. 

“The way the whole town just watched her descent into madness was so painful to read, but I wanted to know why they hated her in the first place so badly.”

You have long since finished your drink, but the conversation with Zeke ensures that you absolutely do not want any more. The last thing you want to do is slur your speech in a conversation about your shared interests, and especially not when those interests are shared by a very handsome man. 

“The reveal of how her daughter was framed had me glued to every word. And the ending!” He leans back in his seat, like he’s processing it all over again just speaking about it. 

“Lighting the whole town on fire… they say revenge is a dish best served cold, but reading about her walking through the burning streets…”

“Brilliant.”

His smile is captivating.

You remind yourself that this man is an honorary Marleyan, and you are just a regular Eldian who is lucky enough to have enough pocket change at the end of the month to even buy those novels. 

But for as much as Zeke insists that you are well known at the compound for being a great conversationalist, you find that the same compliments the Grice boys have paid to you apply tenfold to him. You don’t want to stop talking. 

When the bar closes, you don’t say your goodbyes and head home. Instead, you find yourself continuing your conversation in the streets of Liberio, walking the cobblestone roads at what must be at least two in the morning. Your conversation never has a single slow moment. 

You don’t think the slightly intimidated feeling you get while next to him will ever fully subside. He is, after all, much larger than you, and you feel dwarfed by him as you walk side by side, looking up at his handsome face. You’ve switched conversation topics through nearly a dozen different novels now, and your ideas bounce off one another perfectly. 

He mutters how your theory about a plot twist and it’s possible connection to the yet unreleased next book in the series might be one of the best ideas he’s heard, and his little smile while he does so is captivating. 

“You’d serve better as a critic than a cleaner, you know.” He says with a laugh. 

And you smile, because for a moment, by Zeke’s side, you almost forget it’s Liberio’s streets that you’re walking, and that you can’t hope to aim too high. All that exists for now is the two of you, and the words you share. 

As you walk under the lamplight through deserted streets, you take notice of the way he scratches his ear when he’s thinking, but more specifically your eyes fixate on his hands themselves. They’re big, and you purse your lips imagining how little your hands would be in his. He admittedly dresses like an old man, and while his wardrobe is nothing fancy, it doesn’t hide his impressive stature. 

His broad shoulders and military status imply an impressive body under the loose fitting coat he wears, and you feel like a repressed schoolgirl just looking at the exposed skin of his neck and how the muscles there tense when you bring up some narrative choice or another that you both didn’t enjoy. Your cheeks flush as you watch him take a drag of his cigarette, holding it between two thick fingers. 

He seems to take notice of your stares, but says nothing to discourage you. In return, you catch him eyeing you a few times too, but unlike you, he doesn’t get flustered when you notice him clearly staring. 

It’s still fairly chilly out, and your warm coat doesn’t do your body any favors, but that doesn’t stop his glances. 

When the two of you cross a bridge, you find yourself staring up at the moon and how it’s surface reflects on the wide river below. Zeke leans over the rail, taking yet another drag of his cigarette, and you cautiously reach out a hand to his. He makes no move to shift away from you as you lock your arm in his. 

You continue your walk like that, the feeling of closeness making you far more flustered than you should be. It’s only proper for a man to escort a lady by the hand when it’s so late. But you’re no lady, you’re a maid. And Zeke’s glances are growing far from proper, even as the topic remains firmly on literature. 

When he invites you up to his apartment to see his books, you both know you won’t be doing any actual reading. But you let him lead you through the streets and up countless flights of stairs regardless. 

He turns the key in the lock, and you enter, following his lead in kicking off your boots and hanging up your coat by a hook on the wall. You barely have time to take in how nicely furnished the home of an honorary Marleyan is before he has you pressed against the door, closing it shut with the weight of both of your bodies against it.

You gasp at the impact, and run your fingers through his soft blond locks as he presses his lips to yours in an open mouthed and greedy kiss. His lips are soft, and his breath is hot against you as he pulls away.

“Do you want to-?”

“Yes. God, yes.” You pull at his coat, hoping he’ll get the message, and he does. 

He shrugs it off, and then his lips are against yours again. Your touch traces down along his back, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt until it comes untucked from his pants and you can slide your hands underneath it, feeling the warmth of his skin. 

He fumbles with the buttons of your own blouse, before tearing it off of your shoulders as he unfastens the last one, and you can hear his breath catch in his throat as his hands move to touch you. 

His mouth parts from yours to get an eyeful of your body, his fingers trace the edge of your bra, watching how your chest heaves against the constraints of the lacey garment with every breath. He groans, the sound guttural in his throat, and fuck, you need him. He brings his lips to your neck, kissing and biting his way down to your collarbone.

“Can we please get this thing off?” His thumbs hook at the straps of your bra. 

“Marley’s greatest warrior can’t figure out how to unhook a bra?” You smile as you reach for the clasps. 

“Bigger things on the mind right now, sweetheart.” His tongue runs against a spot at the base of your neck that his teeth just bit at, soothing the skin.

“Oh?” You drop your bra to the ground, and he is quick to grab a handful of your breasts, teasing lightly over your nipples. You moan as he slides his hands down your torso, stopping as he gets a handful of your ass, kneading at it with a grin. 

“You enjoying yourself there?”

He hums as he presses you further against him and lifts. You let out a startled whimper, your legs wrapping around his hips and hiking up your long skirt in the process. He lifts his head from your neck and looks down at you, hunger in his grey eyes. 

“Trying to figure out if I can even get you to the bedroom, or if I’m gonna have to fuck you right here against the wall.”

Zeke grinds his hips against yours, and through your soaked panties you can feel him strain against his trousers. He’s so horny it hurts, and he hisses at the little bit of contact, bucking against you. 

“Fuck, baby, need you to decide.”

“B-bed.” You wrap your arms tighter around him and wiggle your hips just enough to get more of that delicious friction. Zeke doesn’t have to be told twice as he carries you to his bedroom and practically throws you into his mattress. It’s soft as a cloud, and you feel yourself sink into it, pulling your skirt from your hips, letting it fall in a pool at the edge of the bed. 

Still situated at the side of Zeke’s massive king size bed, you spread your legs, your stockings and your panties all that’s left on you. You circle your clit through the fabric, and watch as his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows, his eyes fixed on your clothed pussy like a hungry animal. He makes quick work of his own clothes, undoing the buttons of his shirt and stepping out of his trousers, stripping to his boxers. 

Your cheeks flush as you take in the sight of his bare chest. He’s toned in the way only a warrior could be, and there’s a small dusting of blonde hair that trails from his bellybutton to somewhere below his waistband. He towers over you, imposing and arousing at the same time. He looks like a marble statue, beautiful and powerful and perfect. You can see the outline of his bulge against the grey fabric of his underclothes, and he palms himself lazily, his eyes clouded with lust behind his glasses. 

“Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

You scoff. “Could say the same thing to you.”

He smirks, and you want nothing more than to kiss him. For a moment it looks like he’s about to do just that. Instead, he sinks to his knees between your legs.

“What are you-?”

“Gotta get you ready for me first, babygirl.” He says, hooking his fingers under your panties and pulling them down, letting you kick them off your legs. 

“Are you joking? I’m already soaking, you don’t-“

You’re cut off by the feeling of his hot breath against you.

He runs his fingers against your folds, and you bite your lip before he shoves two thick fingers inside. The noises you make as he hooks them inside you have him painfully hard and straining against his boxers, but he knows what he wants. He pulls his fingers from you, earning him a whimper.

“Fine. I can be transparent here.” He groans as he kisses at your inner thigh. “Just wanna bury my face in your cunt, nothing else to it.”

You whimper as his lips circle your clit, the burn of his beard between your thighs coupled with the feeling of his hot breath against you has him having to hold your hips in place to keep your squirming down.

“Z-Zeke, I-”

“Hm?” He releases your clit from his lips but licks slow stripes up between your folds now. 

“Too much.”

He teases the tip of his tongue against your hole, his moans the only response. You feel his grip on your hips tighten as he pushes it inside of you. His mouth works against you, making you grind against his face. 

“Fuck, baby, you taste so good…”

He’s a madman as he devours your cunt, and you have full confidence that Zeke could make you cum with just his tongue. Instead, he opts to do otherwise, spurred on by the delicious sounds you’re making. You cry out as he circles his lips back around your clit and plunges two thick fingers inside of you. 

You can barely think as he curls them into you, fucking his fingers into your weeping cunt while his tongue laps at your clit. 

“I’m- I can’t-”

“You can.” He adds a third finger, and the stretch is so food, so filling, as he watches you fall apart. “Good girl, my pretty little slut, come on.” 

His tongue never ceases for long, even as he speaks. “Come for me.”

You’re falling apart under his touch, cries and moans spilling out of your mouth as you cum into his. You clamp your thighs down around his head as he keeps fucking his fingers into you, running his tongue desperately against your little bud as you writhe beneath him, only stopping when he feels he’s had his fill of your taste. 

He lifts himself up and pushes you further into the bed, letting your head rest on the pillows as he leans on his side next to you.

“You’re a quiet little thing whenever I pass you in the compound. Never knew you could be that loud.”

You’re panting, still coming down from your orgasm.

“Never been fucked in the compound.”

“We can change that.”

Your pussy clenches around nothing and you whine. “Can we start with here first?”

His beard is wet with your slick as he grips your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and you moan as you tug at the waistband of his boxers. 

You remove your lips from his to look down at the shape of him, still straining against the fabric. 

“Zeke, please…”

He sits up on his knees at the end of the bed, hovering over you, thumbs toying at the elastic. 

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you?”

Your little nod is all he needs, pulling his boxers off. You watch as his hard cock springs free of confinement and slaps itself against his stomach. It’s big, and you’re practically drooling at the sight. He crawls over you, lining himself up with your hole, rubbing the tip over your clit. He smirks, watching how you whine and writhe at his teasing. 

“You have to beg for it, sweetheart. Let me know how much you want it.”

He fists his cock, leaking precum all over your slit as he drags the head up and down your folds. 

“Fuck, Zeke, please fuck me. Need you so bad, just please...”

He grips your hips hard, lines himself up with your hole, and bottoms out in one quick thrust. 

You moan and he curses under his breath. It’s so much, all at once. The stretch is much more than his fingers prepared you for, and it’s overwhelming, even with how wet you are. It’s a little painful, but it hurts so good. 

“F-fuck, move, fuck me, please. Please, please, please, please.”

He pants into your shoulder as he follows your request. Zeke grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head, kissing and sucking at your neck, leaving little purple marks. 

“So pretty like this, letting me fill you up so good. Gonna leave my mark everywhere I can on you. You gonna come to work with your neck all marked up from me? Huh?”

You pant and grind your hips against his as he pistons in and out of you. “Y-yes.”

“Gonna advertise to every soldier there that you’re mine? My little whore? You like being fucked like this?” He pulls back out all the way, only to thrust back in at just the right angle that has you seeing stars.

“Yes!”

“You know how long I’ve thought about this? Wanted to just p-pull you into a supply closet and fuck you til you forgot your own name, ‘cuz hell, I didn’t even know it back then, but now…”

He traces his hand down to your clit, and starts to rub circles against it.

“You’re perfect, you know that? F-Fuck... Perfect for me. Fit me so good, god, you’re so tight.”

“Zeke, s’too good, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby, I know. Me too. Come for me, it’s ok.”

He captures your lips in a hungry kiss, and the closeness is not enough and too much all at once. You can’t tell where he begins and you end and suddenly your orgasm is washing over you in waves as you scream his name. Your arms struggle against his grip and he relents as you cream around his cock. You grab at his back, nails sinking hard into the skin, and you swear he’s letting off steam as your fingers scratch down his back in ecstasy. 

Zeke fucks you through it, thumb still playing with your clit as he hammers into you, hips snapping against yours at a rhythm much less even than before.

“Beautiful. So fucking beautiful with my name on your lips and my cock in your cunt.”

You whine, still barely coherent and too fuckdrunk to think as he pounds you hard enough to make the bedframe creak and the headboard slam against the wall. 

“G-good girl, you like being a good little-fuck- good little cocksleeve for me?”

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck.” 

You’re so overstimulated it hurts. He keeps hitting just the right spot, and while he’s still toying with your sensitive nub, you can tell he can barely hold his focus. He removes his fingers from you and buries his head in your shoulder. His beard is rough against your skin as he lets out a few last thrusts into your cunt, his grip on your hips enough to bruise. 

Zeke pulls out and fists himself a few more times, panting before he empties his load on top of you, white ropes of cum shooting out of him as he finishes onto your stomach. Zeke collapses, panting, by your side. He pulls you against him and kisses the top of your head.

You practically purr at the affectionate gesture, and lean into his touch. 

He sighs, removes his glasses, and carefully places them on the bedside table, relaxing into the comfort of the bed. 

His eyes are closed, and as you snuggle closer to him, you can feel his heartbeat slowly start to return to normal along with your own. 

“I think now’s the time I should ask where your bathroom is so I can clean off?” You breathe out, tracing figure eights lazily against the muscles of his chest. 

He lets out a tired laugh. “You’re not at work. No cleaning right now. You can afford to be a little messy for a while.”

You hum, unwilling to admit you’re fine either way. You guiltily realize you enjoy the feeling of his cum on your skin, and, instead of admitting that embarrassing thought, you kiss him again. 

You whisper against his jaw. “I should go home soon, just-”

He claims your lips in his again to shut you up. “Stay.”

You lay by his side on the same pillow, faces inches from eachother. 

That night, you stay. You fall asleep in his arms, and everything somehow feels right. He feels right. 

You hate going home to your shitty apartment after that. And Zeke hates seeing you go. 

Every week you repeat it all like routine. 

Zeke is always there at the pub. You always end up in an endless conversation before following him home, and leaving the next morning to prepare for your afternoon shift. 

It only takes one month of this torture for him to ask you to move in.

“Would make it easier. Better than me pretending it’s a coincidence I’m there almost every time you have a day off.” He mutters into your shoulder, as he holds you close. 

It’s the easiest decision you’ve ever made. 

You laugh at how his beard tickles your skin, pressing yourself further into him, to which he responds by wrapping an arm around you tighter and smiling that smug grin against your skin as you card your fingers through his blond locks and whisper “I figured it wasn’t a coincidence by the third time it happened.”

He kisses you, and cradles your cheek in the palm of his hand. For what feels like the hundredth and the first time, you drift off to sleep in his arms.

You never return to your old apartment, even to grab your things. Zeke has the same books as you, and his bed always was nicer. He buys you much better clothes to make up for what little loss of wardrobe you went through. 

You can’t aim too high in Liberio. But with him, you feel like you’ve started over on a clean slate. 

And for a time, though you never put a name on it, Zeke Yeager is yours.

[hxlyhead-harpies]

The Last Dream of My Soul part 1. (R.L.)

hello everyone! This is the first part of the Remus Lupin series that i’m starting and i am soooo excited. i am still new at this so any feedback is appreciated!! i hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: The very bookish (Y/n) has spent most of her life alone, aside from her best friends Lily and her beloved books. But when the infamous Marauders get thrust into her life, how could she resist the beautiful and unattainable Remus.

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 3.1k

The yellowing and rough pages of old books had always felt like home to you. The smell of the aging parchment and the worn and weathered covers had always offered you more comfort than any real person ever had. On a bad day, you’d be able to curl up in your bed, lulled to sleep by your favorite characters, and adventures more exciting than your own life. As the years pushed forward this was how your life was. You didn’t have many friends but that was okay because you had your books. Who needed a best friend when you could spend your afternoons in Narnia with the Pevensie siblings or tumble through rabbit holes with Alice? For the early years of your childhood, you were content with the reality that you wished you could be in any world than your own. Your boring, magicless, and unmysterious world.

But that all changed the year you turned eleven. You remember the day as if it were yesterday. You were laying on your bed, your legs tangled in the quilt your mother had made. A Nancy Drew book sat in front of you, the plot of which now escapes you but at this point, you had already solved the mystery yourself. It was a perfect summer afternoon. The sun was out and you could hear the other neighborhood kids shouting from outside your window. They never invited you out to play but you were okay with that; you had far more exciting things to read. You were turning a page, nearly halfway through the book, when you heard tapping from your window. Your head shot up- your reading induced trance was now broken- only to be met with the sight of a snowy owl. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You had never seen that type of bird around here. And you had certainly never seen one clutching a letter between its talons. You carefully marked your page in your book and quickly hopped out of bed. You made your way to the window and attempted to open it, a task that proved difficult for your small eleven-year-old body. After a few moments of a struggle, you finally pried it open. The owl dropped the letter inside your room and flew off. You bent down to pick up the parchment from the floor to see that the letter was addressed to you, and was from someplace called Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

From that moment on your world had been flipped upsidedown, at least in the sense that everything now had to change. But to you, if anything, the world had finally been made right. Magic was real- and you had the pleasure of possessing it. It was like some part of you had always known that magic existed beyond the pages of your favorite books. It was as if everything finally made sense.

You dragged your family down the streets of Diagon Alley, absorbing every bit of magic culture that you could. You reveled in the lights and the feeling of warmth that coursed through your veins when you finally picked up the right wand at Ollivanders. You squealed with delight when your parents purchased you an owl and you nearly died of excitement when you realized that pictures plastered on posters in the alleys moved. And when you ran through the seemingly solid barrier at Kingscross station you thought you would pass out from the thrill. And when you got on the train you curled up by yourself in a compartment, hurriedly reading through your History of Magic textbook, attempting to soak up every bit of knowledge that you could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

During your first year at Hogwarts, you came to the slow realization that you might actually need friends. Now that you knew that magic was real you wanted to experience as much of it as you could, and it felt rather lonely to experience it all on your own. The characters in your books had always had sidekicks and best friends on their grand adventures, and being accepted into Hogwarts marked the beginning of yours. Now you just needed someone to share it with. Luckily, the pretty girl with brilliant green eyes and glowing red hair that shared your dorm had the same idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

By your fourth year, you and Lily Evans were attached at the hip. You spent nearly all your time together, inside and outside of class, and told each other absolutely everything. She knew everything about you, every detail and every secret, and you knew the same about her. Sure you had other friends, Marlene and Alice were nice and you hung around them quite often, but it was nothing like your relationship with Lily. She was the Elizabeth Bennet to your Charlotte Collins. Nobody understood you as she did, and you didn’t think you’d ever find anyone else who did.

But despite your closeness, you always felt a tinge of jealousy towards her. She was everything you weren’t: she was strong and outgoing, she felt no fear when talking to strangers, and it seemed that everyone instantly took a liking to her. Everyone loved her. She had flocks of friends, granted she wasn’t as close to any of them as she was to you, but it occasionally made you feel unimportant. It also seemed as if half of the year was in love with her. James Potter was evidence of that, constantly making a fool of himself to impress her. Lily always scoffed at him, not finding any of his antics even slightly attractive. And out loud you agreed with her that he was just a silly boy, but deep down you wished someone would give you at least a fraction of the attention that he gave her. But that was how it always went. Lily was the type of girl that boys would fall in love with. You, on the other hand, her quiet and shy sidekick, went largely unnoticed. But everything was fine. Because in moments when you felt lonely or inadequate you could turn to your books just as you did when you were young. Fingers tracing over the words of Mr. Darcy’s declaration of love or Romeo and Juliet’s final moments. And at the time, it was enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was your seventh year when things really started to change. After years of begging, Lily finally said yes to James. You were happy for her of course, she seemed to really like him. And he obviously really liked her. The way that James looked at her could only be described in the words of your favorite novels. But with her new relationship came uncharted territory: Lily now sat with him at most meals, though every few breakfasts she’d make a point to sit with you, and the spot you usually occupied next to her in the common room was now occupied by James. And the worst part was that you were now alone on Hogsmeade weekends, a time that was usually reserved for you and Lily to walk arm and arm around the small village. But despite all of this you couldn’t be mad at her. You saw how happy she was- and her happiness made you happy as well. But you couldn’t help but feel a tad jealous that she got to feel an emotion that you yearned to feel with your entire being. Love.

“(Y/n) come on!” Lily exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. You groaned, looking up at her from the book in front of you. You were currently rereading A Tale of Two Cities, a favorite of yours that was littered with dogeared pages and underlined phrases. You made eye contact with your best friends, noticing the frustration in her eyes.

“Can you please just come eat breakfast with us?” she asked, rubbing her temple with her fingertips.

“Lils you know I want to eat breakfast with you but I don’t want to interrupt your time with James,” you replied, starting to look back down at your book.

“You’re not interrupting anything! All of his friends sit with us too!” she said desperately. When you didn’t respond to her exclamation she reached down and snatched the book from your hands.

“Lily!” you cried, sitting up and attempting to steal back your book.

“No (Y/n) I’m not giving this back until you come eat with me! I feel like I never see you anymore,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re always with James,” you responded while making another sad attempt to reclaim your novel. Lily’s face fell.

“Do you think I’m spending too much time with him? I swear I don’t mean to ignore you, I’ll stop eating meals with him and we can go to Hogsm-” she rambled, practically shoving the old book back into your hands.

“No Lily!” you shouted, cutting her off. “You’re not spending to much time with him! It seems like a perfectly acceptable time to spend around your boyfriend. I just miss you that’s all,” you said quietly. Lily’s face softened.

“Then come eat breakfast with me. I want you to get to know James better. You two are my favorite people I want you to get along,” she once again urged.

“Lily I’m not sure… I don’t really know anyone else there and you don’t have to worry I already like James plenty,” you replied.

“Just come, please! I promise that you’ll like his friends!” she practically begged. You sighed in defeat, finally giving in.

“Fine Lily,” you grumbled, standing up to gather your things.

“Yay!” Lily exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“But, I can only promise today. If his friends suck I won’t come back,” you exclaimed sternly. Lily nodded solemnly.

“Understood.”

The two of you made your way down to the Great Hall for breakfast as Lily attempted to give you a rundown on the group of boys that you were about to meet.

“Ok so obviously you know James, he plays quidditch and is studying to become an Auror. His best friend is Sirius who, I know, has a reputation but I swear he’s no that ba-”

“Lily I know who they all are! We’ve been in the same house for the last seven years,” you said, interrupting her with a laugh. Lily rolled her eyes at you.

“Yes I know you know them but you don’t know them,” Lily replied.

“Fine fine,” you said, throwing your hands up in surrender. “Continue.”

“Thank you,” Lily smiled. “As I was saying, Sirius is not as bad as everyone makes him out to seem. Yes, he hooks up with quite a few girls but he’s actually very funny and is secretly a sweetheart. Then there’s Peter, who I’ll admit is a little odd, but he’s harmless. And finally, there’s Remus. He honestly reminds me of you: he’s quiet and he reads a lot like you do. But he’s kind of a smartass sometimes so watch out for that,” she said, finished with her rundown. By this point, the two of you had reached the great hall. Breakfast was already in full swing and the room was swarming with students. Lily grabbed your arm and led you to a spot about midway down the table. She plopped down next to James, kissing him quickly on the cheek, causing Sirius to make a fake gagging face, before pulling you down to sit next to her.

“Boys,” she said, attempting to catch the attention of all four boys.

“This is (Y/n), my best mate in the entire world, so you all better be nice to her,” Lily stated matter-o-factly. You looked up to give a meek smile to all the boys. James greeted you warmly, Sirius gave you a small nod, Peter waved excitedly, and Remus didn’t even look up at you. You frowned for a moment before Sirius smacked Remus’s arm from his spot next to him.

“Hey Moony, pay attention we have a guest,” he said jokingly before shooting you a smile. Remus’s head shot up quickly, looking from Sirius to you, locking his eyes with yours. Once he seemingly realized what was happening he shot you a quick smile. You smiled back, attempting to hide the blush that the momentary eye contact had caused. You had always found Remus attractive, but you had never been so near him before. Something about the proximity made you jittery and made your palms sweat.

“Sorry about that,” he said, lifting a book from underneath the table. He flashed the cover of the book towards you. The title, Crime and Punishment, was sprawled across the worn cover. You felt your nose crinkle, reminded of how much you disliked the book. Remus’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Not a fan of Dostoevsky?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I guess the plot was interesting enough but oh my Godric was it dense,” you replied with a groan. You heard Remus chuckle from his spot across from you.

“Yeah, I suppose I can see where you’re coming from. I am enjoying it so far though,” he replied. You hummed in understanding before reaching for a piece of toast.

“Oh come on Lily,” Sirius said with a grin. “I can’t believe you would bring another nerd along. We already have Remus, we don’t need another one,” he continued. You felt your face heat up, ducking your head as you bit into the piece of toast. Lily narrowed her eyes at Sirius.

“Sirius I told you to be nice,” she said before throwing a piece of her roll at him. He laughed before throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry (Y/n),” he apologized. You sent him a quick nod to let him know that it was okay, before pulling out your own book. As you stared down at the pages in front of you, you missed Remus perking up in interest.

“What are you reading?” he asked, setting his book down. You looked up quickly, showing him the cover.

“A Tale of Two Cities. It’s one of my favorites,” you answered shyly. You felt Lily shift beside you before speaking.

“She’s read that book probably a million times,” she said. You rolled your eyes.

“I wouldn’t say a million times, but yes I’ve read it quite a few times,” you replied before shifting your eyes back to Remus. He let out a soft laugh.

“I’ve never read it before. I’ll have to pick a copy up when we go to Hogsmeade. One of the shops sells muggle books,” he said with a small smile.

“You can borrow mine!” you said too quickly, causing yourself to blush. He looked at you, surprised.

“Oh, uh sure. I’ll borrow it when I’m done with this,” he replied, once again holding up Crime and Punishment. You heard Lily snicker from beside you.

“Good luck trying to read one of her books,” Lily said. “There’s so much writing in the margins it’s nearly impossible to get through.” You turned to her and smacked her lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey! It’s not that bad,” you said with a slight pout.

“I don’t mind,” Remus said, causing your eyes to turn back to him. “I’ll be interested in reading your thoughts as well as the book,” he said earnestly. You felt yourself smile involuntarily. You were about to reply when James stood up suddenly.

“Damnit we’re going to be late to potions,” he exclaimed. And with that, you all gathered your things and left.

Potions was generally a subject that you were good at. You often found yourself shooting your hand up during class to answer questions and Professor Slughorn had taken a liking to you. However, you found yourself unable to pay attention to the lesson. From your seat on the far side of the room, you had caught yourself staring at Remus. He was joking around with Peter, his potions partner, and had a wide smile spread across his face. He had scars running down his face, though they didn’t make him less attractive. In fact, they only seemed to add to the allure. His hair was messy and fell into his eyes. You felt yourself sigh when he ran his finger through his hair to get it out of his face.

“(Y/n)? Are you all right?” Lily asked, startling you. You nearly jumped from your seat, hand pressed to your chest.

“Merlin Lils! You scared me,” you replied. She squinted her eyes at you.

“(Y/n)? What’s going on with you?” she asked, scanning your face.

“Nothing!” you swore, stealing another quick glance at Remus. That was when the realization hit her. A teasing smile quickly spread it’s way across Lily’s face.

“Oh my goodness you fancy Remus don’t you?” she inquired, making your eyes widen and face flush. You pushed her shoulder lightly.

“Lily hush! And no I don’t!” you exclaimed as you glanced around the room to make sure that no one had heard her.

“Oh, you totally do! All that book talk this morning must’ve really got to you huh,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at you. You put your head in your hands and groaned.

“Shut up Lily!”

“Only when you admit it,” she responded.

“Fine! But you can’t tell anybody! Not even James,” you warned. Lily grinned from beside you.

“Oh, this is perfect! The two of you are perfect for each other!” she exclaimed.

“Lily! Just be quiet. It’s not like it’s ever going to happen,” you said. Lily looked at you, confusion was written all over her face.

“What do you mean it’s never going to happen?” she asked. You sighed, glancing at Remus once again. He was stirring the potion in front of him, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Lily why would he ever like me?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” she replied, clearly exasperated. You turned to her, giving her an incredulous look.

“We have seven years of evidence that boys don’t like me,” you respond. Lily rolled her eyes beside you.

“Well, this is different trust me,” Lily responded. You stare at her.

“How could this possibly be any different?”

“Because you could actually talk to Remus, get to know him He’ll obviously fancy you once he learns more about you.” Then it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Lily, it’s never going to happen so just drop it,” you responded. You picked up the recipe for the potion that you were assigned to make that day.

“Now, can you please hand me the adder’s fork,” you said, listing off the first ingredient. Lily sighed.

“Fine. But we’ll be talking about this later.”

[agentaletha]

Raybearer

Tarisai has always longed for the warmth of a family. She was raised in isolation by a mysterious, often absent mother known only as The Lady. The Lady sends her to the capital of the global empire of Aritsar to compete with other children to be chosen as one of the Crown Prince’s Council of 11. If she’s picked, she’ll be joined with the other Council members through the Ray, a bond deeper than blood. That closeness is irresistible to Tarisai, who has always wanted to belong somewhere. But The Lady has other ideas, including a magical wish that Tarisai is compelled to obey: Kill the Crown Prince once she gains his trust. Tarisai won’t stand by and become someone’s pawn—but is she strong enough to choose a different path for herself? - Goodreads

Raybearer by Jordan Ifeuko, 2020 Amulet Books

Raybearer is a lovely young adult fantasy novel, the first in a two book series. I read a fair amount of YA, and a good amount of speculative fiction and still Raybearer felt new and exciting. In fact I’d say it’s probably my favorite YA I’ve read so far this year. The world building is unique with a wide variety of cultures (obviously influenced by certain real world countries but with enough departure to not feel just relabeled with fantasy names), interesting magic abilities, a sense of history, and an unusual system of government.

While stories of youths rebelling against oppressive regimes are YA’s bread and butter, this takes a deeper look at justice and inequality. I love that Tarisai’s goal for most of this first book is just to protect her friends and chosen family. There are so many that we don't really get to know all of them, but the ones we do know are perfect. While Tarisai has a strong sense of right and wrong (literally, she gets physical symptoms from injustice) the entire time, the book covers her journey from ignoring it, then trying to save individuals, to trying to affect the whole empire. But even when her purpose is to protect, she still sees systemic injustices and comes up with systemic solutions, wanting to fulfill her role as more than keeper of the status quo. This is a story that questions why things are the way they are and how the status quo is maintained, but also looks seriously at what can be done better in the future. The problem isn’t one bad person abusing their power, the problem is the system that supports and maintains inequalities. I appreciated that there are no scenery chewing villains here - everyone has understandable motives, from lashing out to hurt because they were hurt, to fear, and to how easy it is to dismiss injustices that happen to other people, in other places and justify that that’s just how it is, no point in trying to make a difference. Everyone is treated with compassion, even when they make bad decisions or react from their emotions, which they sometimes do.

I’m really looking forward to the second book! In the words of George Washington from Hamilton,”Winning is easy young man, governing’s harder.” I love seeing what happens next and I’m going to leave it there to not give any more away.

Spoilers ahead as I talk about representation

As for LGBTQIA representation, it’s there but fairly background. Same sex relationships aren’t stigmatized and it seems there’s a bit of an “everyone is bi” default, although all the main on-page romantic relationships are male/female. Gender roles vary by culture but don’t seem to be strictly delineated in the palace although gender does seem to be considered strictly binary. One of the 11 is gay and fairly flamboyant about it - he’s described as a “bleeding-heart poet” dreaming of handsome swains, but that’s about it. However, there is an asexual character and while he’s not the protagonist, he is one of the key players. A little less than halfway through the book, when she is an anointed member of his council, Tarisai asks the Prince to meet her privately at a known lovers’ meeting spot. He’s afraid she has the wrong idea and this is what he tells her:

 “There’s something I should tell you. I don’t...I don’t think I want sex. Ever. And I don’t mean with you, I mean - with anyone. Girls, boys. Anyone.” He stared at the leaves on the ground, smooth brow furrowing. “I mean, I’ve had crushes before. On you, on Jeet, and some of the others. I’ve just … never been interested in the sex part. Sometimes I wonder if I’m broken.”

You aren’t broken, protested the voice inside me. You’re the kindest, most loving person I know. Run. Live.

“But I’m crown prince,” he continued, grimacing, “and I have to have heirs someday, so… I guess - if I could choose anyone-”

The conversation ends there because Tarisai stabs him.

Ekundayo, or Dayo for short, is described as happy, naive, trusting, and having a “big fragile heart”. He is the Crown Prince, but he believes in the best of everyone. He’s well meaning but doesn’t always get it. They don’t have a word for asexual, but the author makes it clear by indicating that it’s all genders he’s not interested in and that he’s not aromantic as well. And the author includes the classic, “I wonder if I’m broken.” On the one hand, broken would go on my ace characters bingo sheet, but on the other, it’s a classic for a reason. Asexuality is already so much more visible than when I finally encountered it over ten years ago that maybe in another ten private wonderings about our brokenness will no longer resonate with the younger generations. I hope so. In the meantime, I already liked him as the soft-hearted prince and this made my heart go out to him. I love that Tarisai’s immediate reaction is “you’re not broken” although she doesn’t get the chance to say that out loud or even finish the conversation. I assume it will come up again in the next and final book. I really don’t know what’s going to happen next and I love that.

In summary, I loved Raybearer and I think it’s a good representation of an ace character that doesn’t fall prey to stereotypes (although I am keeping an eye on how often naive tends to show up) and I highly recommend it as a diverse thoughtful YA fantasy.

[fuanteinasekai]

Time to talk volumes 25 and 26! I said I would translate the afterwords for both volumes together, and I have regrets. So, it’s a week late, but I finally finished.

Why did I put volumes 25 and 26 together? Because each contains about half of the 5 chapter long “Village of the Sleeping Vessel” arc, and because they were treated as two halves of a whole. As you can see above, both the cover illustrations and the afterword illustrations are part of a set: complementary Natori/Matoba covers and complementary Natsume/Tanuma illustrations. Because I’ve never compared these two pairings or anything.

The covers are interesting for the way they seem to reflect Natori and Matoba’s contrasting points of view. But I’m most personally interested in the afterword illustrations because they seem rather optimistic to me, and because they tell a story. While the first half was melancholy, and seemed to suggest that Natsume and Tanuma would be drawn to each other even if Natsume were hopelessly cut off from the human world, the second half seems to show Tanuma being able to cross that line and come see him anyway.

Anyway, author’s notes translation ahead!

Volume 25

お疲れ様でした。

この先ネタバルとなりますので最後に読んでいただけるち嬉しいです。

２５巻目となり夏目たちの関係性も変わりつつある中、夏目友人長を描き始めた頃にいつかやってみたいなと思っていたお話もやっと描けるようになってきました。話を思いつきつつも初期の頃の夏目やニャンコ先生でほうまくビジョンが浮かばずやれなかったものが少しづつ描き取れるようになってきました。

反対に初期これがやりたいと思いつつ、今の関係性ではもうそこはクリアしてしまったから描くことは出来なくなったなという話がいくつかあります。簡単には寄り添えなかった頃の夏目でしか表現出来ないような話が使えなくなった事が寂しいような、それもまた良いかと思えるような不思議な気持ちです。そんな描くには時期を外してしまった話も形や方向を変えてちゃんと育てていつかまた見えたらぜひ描いていってみたいと思っています。

Thank you for reading.

Spoilers follow, so please read this last.

With volume 25 and relationships between Natsume and others changing, I’m finally able to draw the stories I wanted to draw when I first began Natsume Yuujinchou. As I think up stories, I’ve been able to gradually write down things that I couldn’t draw in the beginning, when I didn’t have a clear vision for Natsume or Nyanko-Sensei.

On the other hand, there are things I wanted to draw in the beginning but can no longer do because that issue is already settled in the current relationship. To put it simply, it’s sad* that I can no longer use the kind of story that can only be expressed by a Natsume who doesn’t get close to others, but I have a funny feeling it’s also a good thing.** In order to draw that kind of story, I’d like to change the form and direction of the stories for which I missed the time period and develop them properly, and if I see a chance again I’d definitely like to draw one someday.

“Sad” here is sabishii, which is commonly translated as lonely or desolate, but can also refer to the melancholy of something no longer existing. ** Fun fact: she used this same “funny/strange feeling” expression when she said Tanuma was the reason for the “characteristic distance” between him and Natsume.

—

{Note: in addition to the afterword illustrations, Volume 25’s afterword background is illustrated with silhouettes of the Mid-rank yokai on their mission, as well as what appears to be Nishimura, Kitamoto, and Taki. Also the kitty brigade. Also Sensei in a suit for the anniversary bit. Volume 26 is arranged differently and does not have background illustrations. Additionally, the only mini illustration in 26 is this at the very beginning:

}

特別編21

16ページという事で何が入るか悩んだのですが中級達の得体の知れなさも出せるものを描いてみたいなとやってみました。連載が長いので時々、自分にこっそりお題を出して描く事があるのですが（例えば『つきひぐい』の回はモノローグ禁止とか）せっかく小ページの回なので「主人公を描かない」を。けれど描いてみて夏目が出ていないとなんとなく���鎖的な感じもして、そこが新鮮でもあり反面、異種間の緩衝材的な存在は大事だなと再確認した回でした。

Special 21

I was worried about what I could fit into 16 pages, but I wanted to try to draw something that would display the mysteriousness of the Mid-Rank yokai. As the series is so long, I sometimes draw something where a secret problem for myself appears (for example, in “Tsukihigui” monologues were forbidden). For these rare few pages, it was “the protagonist can’t appear.” But when I started drawing it, it somehow felt closed off without Natsume appearing, and while that was novel on the one hand, it also reaffirmed that some kind of buffer between species was important.

—

第百·百一·百ニ話～　依代*の眠る里

百回記念日という事で担当さんと話し合って久しぶりに長めのお話を描かせていただけることになり感激でした。いつもなら登場したらすぐ帰ってしまうキャラ達をもう少しじっくり描けるのは本当に嬉しくて。

初期から描いてみたい話だったのでワクワクしつつも、アレと同じ形がいっぱいいたと言う事にジョックを受ける方もいるのではと気を引き締めながら描きました。田沼やタキといる時は自然でいられるようになってきた夏目ですが、祓い屋としての名取や的場といる時は強くあろうとする面があるのか、かえってそういうものが意外に脆さになるのかも知れないなと描いていて感じました。

成長したから出てくる不安定なものも描きとっていけたらなと思っています。

Chapter 100, 101, 102: Village of the Sleeping Vessel

I was moved when, after talking with my editor about commemorating the 100th chapter, I was given a chance to write the first long story in a long time. I was really happy to be able to put a little more care into characters that normally leave as soon as they appear.

At the same time as I was excited to be able to do a story I’ve wanted to draw since the beginning, I was also bracing myself that some people would be shocked by so many of the same shape. Natsume has gotten to the point where he can be natural around Tanuma or Taki, but with exorcists like Natori or Matoba, there’s a side where he tries to be strong, and I felt while drawing like that sort of thing might, all the more, unexpectedly turn fragile.

I think it would be nice if I could keep drawing uncertain** things that appear as a result of growing up.

* “Vessel” here explicitly refers to vessels designed to be occupied by kami, known as yorishiro.

** This “uncertain” is actually the same “unstable” that she used when talking about Natsume and Tanuma’s “unstable worlds,” (aka my blog title) so I was a little startled to see it here! It’s also super-vague, which always makes me Suspicious.

—

特別編22 ８ページという事で悩みました。小ページだからいっそいっぱい描きたいキャラを出そうと言う事でみんなに話を聞いてまわる話にしてみたいなと。パトロールは大事ですよね。

Special 22

I was worried about there being [only] 8 pages. Since there are so few pages, I thought of filling it with characters I wanted to draw, and I wanted to go around talking to everyone. The patrol is very important, isn’t it?

—

Special Anniversary Notes:

こんにちは、緑川です。 夏目友人帳、２５冊目となりました。 何度目であろうと　こうして一冊にしていただく度、緊張と嬉しさを噛み締めております。 相変わらず漫画を描く楽しさや難しさと格闘しておりますが面白く読んでいただけるものが描けるよう頑張っていきたいと思っております。どうぞよろしくお願い致します。

Hello, This is Midorikawa. We’ve reached Volume 25 of Natsume Yuujinchou. No matter how many times it happens, whenever I get a new volume like this, I enjoy the tension and happiness. As usual, I’m still grappling with the enjoyment and the difficulty of drawing manga, but I’d like to do my best to be able to draw something that’s fun to read. Thank you very much.

長い間、コミックスでお馴染みだった、 左端の1/4コーナーですが、この巻からなくなっております。 雑誌では広告が入る場所で、ネームの時は展開やシーンのタイミングを見ながらどこへ入れるか悩ましいスペースだったのですが、コミックス化の際にはなかなかお伝えする機会がないご挨拶やお礼を書き込めた思い出深いスペースでした。

The 1/4 space on the left side of the page has been familiar in comics for a long time, but it’s missing from this volume. It’s a space for advertisements in a magazine, but when I’m captioning, I worry about where to place it while looking at development and scene timing. But it was a space full of memories for me, where I was able to writing greetings and acknowledgments I hadn’t really had a chance for when it was turned into a comic.

夏目100回記念

長く続けさせていただき連載100回目を迎えることが出来ました。 本当にありがとうございました。 「依代の眠る里（第一回）」が丁度百回目となり、掲載号ではLaLaの先生方がご協力くださりそれぞれの作品のどこかにこっそりと隠れニャンコ先生を描いてくださいました。とても可愛いニャンコ先生をたくさん描いてただけて、ご協力いただいた先生方や企画を考えてくださった編集部様方や読んでくださってきた読者様方に感謝で胸がいっぱいになりました。大事に致します。

Natsume’s 100th Anniversary

After a long run, the 100th chapter of the series has arrived. Thank you very much. When the exact 100th chapter (Village of the Sleeping Vessel Chapter 1) went to print, the LaLa senseis [mangakas] cooperated to secretly hide Nyanko-sensei in each of their works. I am full of gratitude to those who drew so many super cute Nyanko-senseis, to the editorial staff who planned it, and to the readers. Take care.

お手紙

お手紙とても励みになります。 可愛いイラストを描いてくださったり、素敵なお話をきかせてくださったり、思いを込めて感想を書いてくださったり、とても嬉しく大切に読ませていただいています。 なかなかお返しできませんがまた楽しんでいただけるよう頑張っていきたいと思っています。

Letters

Letters are very encouraging. I’m very happy to carefully read your letters: the cute illustrations, lovely stories, and thoughtful impressions. I can’t really answer them, but I want to do my best to keep appreciating them.

Volume 26

{Note: Volume 26 does not have an overall commentary, just the usual “thanks for reading, please save this for last.” Also both volumes have an acknowledgements section I did not translate. Please spare me.}

第百三·百四話 依代の眠る里

久しぶりに長めのお話を描けて本当に嬉しかったです。読切形式だといつも途中でもう次は何をと頭がいっぱいになりますが、こうしてすぐに締めずに展開できるととてもワクワクして漫画家になりたかった頃の気持ちが思い出されました。短く切ってしまいたくない話も沢山あるのでまた機会がありましたら読んでいただけると幸せです。ずっとやりたかった依代の里のお話でしたが今の心境になれた夏目だから帰れた話でもあるのかなと感じました。同業だからの連帯認識とその時の考えで会う度に変化していく名取と的場の微妙な立場も描き取っていきたいです。絆ある友人を人事ている夏目、祓い屋である事でも力になれるはずだと信じている名取、おおくを知り見る事は出来ている故動く事が出来ない事もある的場、きっと力になれるはずなのに同行できない田沼、秘密を見守る猫達、ニャンコ先生、描きたいものがいっぱい描けて楽しかったです。そしてもっとこの話で描きたかったなと思っている事もあるのでまたしっかり練って描いていきたいです。

Chapters 103, 104: Village of the Sleeping Vessel

I was really happy to write a long story for the first time in a while. With standalone stories, my head is always already full of what I’m going to do next when I’m halfway through, but this time I was really excited to be able to develop the story without immediately bringing it to a close. It reminded me of how I felt when I first became a mangaka. There are many other stories I don’t want to cut short, so if I get another chance I’d be happy for them to be read. I’ve wanted to do the Yorishiro Village story for a long time, but with Natsume’s current state of mind I feel like there are probably other stories I could return to. I also want to keep drawing Natori and Matoba’s delicate position, which changes whenever they meet because of the sense of solidarity as colleagues, and because of their thoughts in the moment. I was happy to be able to draw so many of the things I wanted to draw: Natsume who believes in his close friend[s], Natori who believes he should be able to support [Natsume] even though he’s an exorcist, Matoba who sometimes can’t act because he is able to know and see so much, Tanuma who surely should have been able to support [Natsume] but couldn’t accompany him, the cats who keep a secret, and Nyanko-sensei. Also, sometimes I think about how I wanted to draw this story even more, so I want to keep polishing it up properly.*

* A little confused by present tense here. Maybe she wrote this note while they were still editing between magazine and tankobon?

—

第百五話　クッキーと森の入り口

里から帰った夏目は田沼に色々報告せねばならないのではと思い出来たお話です。ニャンコ先生について、妖絡みで仕事をしている人達について。けれど隣あってみると話すというより一緒に何かやっているうちに気持ちの整理がついていき、夏目なりに田沼への報告が出来たのではと感じました。アニメグッズで担いだ風呂敷に穴が空いていてみかんを落としているニャンコ先生を描いてくださった絵があるのですが、ああいう可愛いお話も描きたいと思っていたのを思い出しました。

Chapter 105 Cookies and The Forest Entrance

This is a story that developed out of the thought that Natsume had a lot he needed to tell Tanuma when he came back from the village. About Nyanko-Sensei, about people who work with yokai issues. But when I saw them side by side, I felt that rather than talking, Natsume would sort out his feelings while they did something together, and that he would be able to report to Tanuma in his own way. There’s an anime merchandise illustration of Nyanko-Sensei dropping satsumas from a hole in the furoshiki slung over his shoulders,* and it reminded me that I wanted to draw a story with something cute like that.

*Good news! I found the merch:

—

第百六·百七話　亡き友を訪ねて

依島さんは２０巻目の「とおかんや」といお話で夏目と先生と名取が会いに行った元祓い屋です。２４＋３２ページでは入らないかなとも思ったのですが、ずっと描きたかった話で、依代の里をやった今描いておきたいと入れさせていただきました。依島さんを描く時は時代を少し離れて描けるような気がして楽しいです。夏目と対等の妖力を持つ相手との行動も描けて新鮮でした。そんな力ある先輩が事情があるにしろ辞めて引き篭もっている現状は後輩達には少し複雑なのではと思っています。賑やかな娘達、広いお屋敷、キラキラしていた空間に透けてくる侘しさのようなものに気付いてしまう瞬間の様なものも描いていけたらと思います。

Chapter 106-107 Visiting a Late Friend

Yorishima-san is a former exorcist who Natsume, Sensei, and Natori met in Volume 20, “Ten Days.” I was worried that it wouldn’t fit into 24+32 pages, but I’ve been wanting to draw this story for a long time, and now that the Yorishiro Village arc is done, I got to fit it in. When Yorishima-san appears, I feel like I get to draw something a little out of time, which is fun. It’s also refreshing to be able to draw Natsume doing something with someone who holds the same level of spiritual power. I wonder if it’s not a little complicated for the juniors when that kind of powerful senior goes into seclusion without regard for circumstances. I got caught up with the cheerful daughters, spacious mansion, and sense of refinement that sparkles through the space, and the time spent drawing seemed to pass in a flash. I wish I could have kept going.

[jaz-xedarix]

The Return of the Star

So here we are. Finally after sooo many years of hiatus, I am able to go back to the action by translating this amazing work from our beloved Mr. Yoshida. 

I want to thank to the proof readers that helped me checking this English version. As you know, English is not my mother tongue and plus it is not perfect at all, less in this late times that I haven’t talk at all with English speakers as before, as you see I manage to comunicate with you quite well but it is different when one need to comunicate someone else’s ideas XD So there might be some little mistakes in this text, feel free to tell me if there’s something wrong with it. 

As for some words, one of them that is still making some noise in my head is “Hansom”. Usually I use google translate to help me with the job and usually it gives me some words that I have never seen before and that’s why I depend on you guys to help me correct XD So mr.G.Translate said “hansom” is “a two-wheeled horse-drawn carriage accommodating two inside, with the driver seated behind.”. And you can find this word a couple of times in this text, and reading the novel I think this is the best word for it, if there’s another word for it, please tell me. 

Maybe this is the only word I had trouble with. Anyways I hope you enjoy this as I did translating this for you guys. 

Thanks so much to Buffalo Borgine and Lamy for helping me correcting the text.  ❤ Part II is in process, so wait for it soon ❤ So, with no more to say, here it is: 

                                                                                                         ----------------

And I have given to them

knowledge of your name, and will give it,

so that the love which you have for me

may be in them and I in them.

JOHN 17.26

                                                              I

 “Aaahh, I can't take it anymore!”

“Why are you whining again, father?” Esther Blanchett asked, in an annoyed tone to her companion, who was putting on a face like a man condemned to death.

 Surrounded by the steam from the train, halfway down the ladder, she turned her slightly tanned face towards her interlocutor.

 “Don't waste your time and come down immediately. If you stay there, you will disturb the other passengers.”

“Esther... couldn't it be possible for me to go straight back on this train?”

 The evening light that was filtering through the stained-glass ceiling of the international arrivals platform had a reddish hue. In the wintry air, hard as a witch's kiss, the station passengers and employees moved busily.

 The one who continued to complain stubbornly was the tall priest with the rebellious silver hair who accompanied Esther. If he had been quiet, it could be said that he was attractive, but he did not leave his miserable expression as he descended from the train with a suitcase in each hand.

 “What is this so urgent that the Cardinal wants? If it's a report, we could have done it in Rome. Coming just here... I have very bad omens. I know something horrible will happen to me again.”

“Father, isn't it a common thing for Her Eminence to scold you? I thought you were used to it.”

 Father Abel Nightroad nodded, still murmuring as Esther shook her long red hair theatrically. After a year of working together, she had already learned that there was no point in reasoning with this complainer. Lifting her suitcase with both hands, the nun started down the platform, expressionless.

 The international arrivals area was packed with people. The participants of the ceremony that was to be held three days later must have been arriving. All the travelers carried large suitcases, and the air was filled with incomprehensible conversation. In the midst of the confusion, the nun began with a steady pace...

“Ahhh...!”

Feeling the night air in her lungs, Esther heaved a little sigh. As if finally realizing where she was, she stopped dead and looked out of one of the station windows.

“Sure... I'm back...”

 The landscape that unfolded before her eyes was not that of Rome, where she has spent the year before. It was neither the one in Byzantium, where they had been until a few days ago, nor the one in Skopje, where they had stopped that day. The city surrounded by gentle hills and crossed by a meandering river was certainly like Byzantium or Rome. However, the twisted capitals and ceramic tiles gave the panorama a personality of its own, it was the landscape that had surrounded Esther for as long as she could remember.

  The city of Istvan, protectorate of the Vatican.

It was the easternmost of the cities controlled by mankind… and the place where Esther had grown up.

“Nothing has changed... nothing...”

 Facing the city that she saw again a year later, Esther heaved another sigh.

She had changed a lot, but her city remained the same. The running of the Danube, the cracks in the cobblestones... The sweet evening light embraced the same landscape that Esther had left back a year before.

 However, even if you thought your city was still the same, could you feel at ease? There she had sad and painful experiences, the memory of which made her suffer. Maybe that was inevitable when one returned to one’s homeland...

“Aaaaah, what did they get me this time?”

 The young woman was now absorbed in her warm memories but she came to herself as a rumbling voice rose like coming from the depths of Hell. Annoyed, she turned, and was met by a long figure who was sighing wistfully. The spectacled priest stroked his hair like a bad actor of tragedy who wanted to convey the idea of ​​bearing all the pain in the world.

 “Have they heard that I've set up a garden at the seminary? Or have they discovered those peaks that I added to the invoices...? Aaaah, Lord, protect your servant! Can't get them to turn a blind eye?”

“I have the feeling that before you became religious you were already a failure as a human being...”

 Lord! That she could not even have a moment of peace being with that companion! Esther sighed deeply, feeling sorry for herself. Come to think of it, it was precisely in that place where she had seen the father for the first time, a year ago. That meeting had been the beginning of the person she had become. Under normal circumstances, it would be a very important memory. Why was she unable to get excited?

 “But the truth is that you have some reason, father…” Esther continued speaking, being careful not to meet her eyes with her companion’s. “Why did Her Eminence make us come to Istvan? Even if they do the ceremony for the fallen, we don't have to attend ourselves… Do she want to hear the report about the Empire as soon as possible?”

“If that's just it, we'll be in luck... To get back to Rome from Skopje, going through here doesn't mean much of a change in route in terms of distance either. But the Cardinal does not like to change plans. That she had given a counter order is extremely rare... Aaaah, they must have caught me on something!”

 At the surprised look of the nun, the priest squatted and clutched his head.

 Two days before, once their mission was completed in Byzantium, they had reached Skopje, capital of the Marquisate of Macedonia. According to the original instructions, from there they were to take the road that go straight to west, to Rome. However, he had received an encrypted message ordering them to change their plans: «Instead of going back to Rome, go to Istvan to participate in the ceremony for the fallen. Report your mission when we meet».

 The ceremony to which the message referred was in honor of the fallen in the battle of Istvan the previous year. It was promoted by the Archbishop of the city, the Vatican's Public Relations Minister, Antonio Borgia, and Pope Alessandro himself were going to be present. As Secretary of State, Cardinal Caterina Sforza was also going to participate, and that is why she was in the city at the time. In that regard, meeting in Istvan to present the mission report made sense.

 What Esther did not understand was something else...

 «Participate in the ceremony for the fallen.» Why had she explicitly summoned them to participate in the ceremony? Those who organized it were the Archbishopric and the Ministry of Vatican Public Relations. Esther, who worked for the Secretary of State, had nothing to do with them. Could it be that there was a new mission? Telling the truth, it looks a little strange

“Well, the easiest thing will be to ask the Duchess of Milan directly… Hurry, father.”

  The agglomeration was considerable. If they didn't hurry out of the station and take a hansom, they would have to walk to the hotel the Secretary of State had reserved for them. To try to avoid it, Esther forcibly lifted her partner. Taking the tickets from the two of them, she headed purposefully toward the checkpoint.

“Staying here raving doesn't help much either. We have to meet with the Cardinal at once and make your report.”

 For security reasons, the international arrivals platform was separated from the outside by revolving doors. Esther showed the officer her passport, which identified her as an employee of the Holy See, and quickly went through the doors to go outside. While the priest went through the same process, she turned to look for a hansom.

 “Sister Esther!!!”

 A brutal, deafening scream rose around her.

 At the same time, her eyes were filled with white lights. She didn't even have time to realize that it was the flashes of a multitude of daguerreotypes. The nun turned her face away as a wave of voices washed over her.

��“Sister Esther! Finally, you are here! A few statements, please!”

 The chorus of voices followed by a crowd of men and women armed with notepads and fountain pens. Dazed by the flashes, Esther couldn't make out their facial expressions, but it didn't seem like those violent voices were directed at her by mistake or that it was all an elaborated joke. Among the mass crowded around the nun and the priest, the flashes continued to shine.

 “Eh, eh?”

But what was happening?

 Esther was stunned, surrounded by the sparkles.

 All those people seemed to be reporters and journalists. Those who carried that heavy tape recorder, were they from the radio? They were of all ages and aspects, but they all wore press passes issued by the Ministry of Vatican Public Relations on their chests. But why would the media be so interested in her?

 Stunned by events, Esther could do nothing but stand there. It was then that a laughter rang out behind them.

 “Heh, heh, heh! Finally, my time has come! At last, the world recognizes my charisma!”

 Abel, who had been just as surprised as she, began to show off with a boastful air, turning so quickly it looked like he was about to break a bone, he offered the cameras the profile he thought suited him best.

 “Hello everyooone! As I see that you are so interested, I am going to tell you some secrets about myself. My full name is Abel Nightroad. I am an itinerant priest of the Vatican. I am Virgo and my lucky number is 13. Regarding my career, I am precisely considering writing some memoirs that… Eh !?”

 With a cry like a toad, the priest was swallowed up by the mass of journalists who huddled mercilessly. Ignoring his painful moans, the reporters began bombarding Esther with questions, who remained motionless in the center of the crowd.

 “Sister Esther, what impressions do you have when you return to your homeland?”

“It's been a year since you finished with Gyula, how do you feel now?”

 Screaming echoed through the clicking sound of the flashes. Unconsciously, Esther recoiled from the throng of journalists and cameras.

 “What... what do you want?”

 When her brain began to function normally again, she realized that the goal of all this was her. But why? What did all those journalists expect of her!?  She was just a simple nun!

 Esther's questions were immediately answered when a middle-aged journalist, dressed in a dirty coat, showed her a piece of paper.

 “Sister Esther, have you had a chance to see the script for this new opera? Do you have any comments about it?”

“Eh... huh...!? I do not have any idea of what is happening... An opera...? What opera!?”

Looking at the paper, Esther stood with her mouth open with the surprise.

 It was a flier printed in high quality paper. One couldn't say that the colorful design or the propaganda phrases were the best taste, but whatever. More than that, what stunned Esther was the central illustration.

 Against the background of a striking cross, a beautiful nun struck down a man with a sword blow, dressed in aristocratic clothes, the fallen one twisted his monstrous face and showed two long fangs between his lips. And the legend of the drawing said:

 «The Star of Sorrow. Next release. Saint Esther and the devil Gyula: An apocalyptic fight!!! ». But what does this mean?!

 “It is a commemorative work for the liberation of Istvan, Sister Esther. It represents your fight against the vampire... Didn't you know anything about it?”

 The journalists looked at her, puzzled, but Esther didn't realize it. She was not for those things. Squeezing the paper in her hands, she tried to put the chaos of her thoughts in order.

“Saint Esther?”

 But where did that come from?!

 “Well, it's a very important work...” continued the journalist, with a certain pride in his voice, as if he were the scriptwriter himself. “Not only the casting, but also the production has had the support of the Ministry of Vatican Public Relations. The script was written by the Archbishop of Istvan himself and a budget of one million dinars has been invested. Tonight is the premiere... Ah! Is it for that why you've come today?”

“Eh? Well, no…”

 At the question, Esther only had the strength to shake her head.

 What was happening before her eyes seemed so unreal that it would be said that she was dreaming it. She wanted to return to her hometown to walk quietly through the streets again, visit the bishop's tomb, go to greet the families of her fellow partisans one by one... As she remembered her plans, a distant noise made her come to her senses.

 “Sister Esther Blanchett,” a monotonous voice sounded over the sound of a horn.

Looking for that familiar voice, she saw that, beyond the mass of journalists, there was a car parked. The face staring at her from the driver's seat was one she knew all too well.

“Father Iqus!?”

“The Duchess of Milan has ordered me to come and find you. Get in the vehicle, please” explained Tres Iqus, Ax Gunslinger's agent, with his hands on the wheel. “Ignore the media and present yourself immediately. Those have been the words of her eminence. Get up at once. The Duchess awaits you at the Opera House.”

“Agree!”

 What was all the fuss about? And what was the Duchess doing at the Opera House?

She had many questions in mind, but she nodded and followed the instructions she had been given. Her superior's orders were clear and Caterina herself would surely know how to explain something more about that bad taste joke.

 “Father Nightroad, get up, we're going!”

“I ... it's my moment... I'm so charismatic...”

 Dragging Abel, as if he were another suitcase since he was still semi-conscious, Esther ran with all her might amidst the rain of flashes and questions from journalists. Without turning to the chasing mass, Esther yelled as she approached the car:

 “Father Iqus, open the opposite door!”

 They had not seen each other for three months, but now was not the time for long greetings.

 “Who they're chasing is me… I'll meet you later, but decoy me now, please.”

“Understood. Request fulfilled.”

The short priest did not hesitate for a moment. Probably, thinking about the possible courses of action, his circuits had reached the same conclusion as Esther. Quickly opening the other door, he added:

“Current time: eighteen-zero-zero. The Duchess of Milan is in the Opera House. Head there as soon as you can. I will mislead the media.”

 Nodding firmly at the cold but confident voice, Esther let her luggage into the back seat and ran out the other side of the vehicle. Just when she had finished hiding behind some construction materials there, she adjusted the bonnet around her head, the car started.

 “Wait, Sister Esther! Some statements!”

The plan worked and the journalists came out in droves after the vehicle that had left behind only the smell of the tires burned. Those who had been so sufficiently farsighted were set up in their own cars, and the other took hansoms. Between the whirlwind of yells and engines, no one noticed the place where the nun had hidden.

“They've already left...”

After checking that everyone had moved away, Esther got up and dusted herself off.

“What did it all mean?” Looking at the flier again, the young woman bit her lip.

«Commemoration of the first anniversary of the liberation of Istvan».

«Saint Esther».

«Devil Gyula.»

 Esther crumpled the paper into a ball and put it in her pocket. Those sensational expressions had left a very unpleasant impression on her chest.

 She had to speak to the Cardinal as soon as possible. She had to talk to her and hear from her own lips the truth about all this charade...

 “Wait, Sister Esther, I still have a question for you”, a hoarse voice stopped her just as she was about to walk.  

 Turning around, she found a man in a soot-stained coat. It was the same journalist who had given her the flier earlier, so he was the only one who had noticed her ploy.

 “I expected no less from the young woman who defeated the Marquis of Hungary. You are very clever. And thanks to that I have my exclusive… Ah, but I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Clement from the Picadilly Gazette in Albion.”

 The man handed her a yellowish business card. Although he was smiling politely, he did not miss the opportunity to scan the young nun with his eyes.

 “I've told you before that I don't know what you're talking about,” Esther replied, somewhat frightened, instinctively turning her face away from that penetrating gaze. “If you want to know more about the ceremony, I recommend that you go directly to the cathedral, Mr. Clement. I don't know anything...”

“No, no, what interests me is your personal circumstances, sister.”

 So the one who smiled slightly mockingly at her on the deserted street was one of those famous paparazzi from the gossip press.

 “I've been investigating your family... I know you were abandoned as a child and that the bishop raised you... Vitez, was her name? Therefore, do you not know who your real parents are?”

“I... I know something about my father...”

What right this man have to intrude like this in her private life? Lifting her face decisively, she snapped:

 “But I only know he was from Albion. Are we finished with the questions, Mr. Clement? I'm in a hurry. We will talk another time.”

“Well, well, you don't have to be like that either.”

 However, the journalist did not seem to be affected by her serious tone. Still smiling, he took a few yellowed sheets from his pocket. They were official documents of the city council, as indicated by the seals with the emblem of the city.

“What do you think this is? It's a copy of your birth certificate, which was filed at the town hall. According to these documents your father was Edward Blanchett, knight bachelor of Albion. The lowest rank of the nobility...”

“But how did you…?!”

 Seeing the documents the journalist had, Esther flushed with anger and her breathing began quickening. She stood up to face him and said:

"Give me that! You have no right to snoop there!”

“If you tell me what I want, I will give it to you soon. It costs me a lot of money to get this copy. I cannot give it to you just like that. So... back to what we were talking about...”

 Clement laughed, satisfied, as if enjoying the fact that he was once again in charge of the conversation. Waving the paper in the air, like a lure, the journalist continued:

“Well, your father was Edward Blanchett, but do you know what kind of person he was?”

“Didn't I tell you that I don't know anything else about him!?”

“Oh yeah? Well, me neither. And I am not the only one. In fact, absolutely no one knows anything about him. Because the truth is that he never existed…”

“Eh?”

 Esther had reached out to grasp the document, but stopped short. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared at the reporter. What did he mean by “never existed”?

 As if enjoying his interlocutor's confusion, Clement continued to speak slowly.

“According to our investigations, there is no trace in Albion of an aristocrat named Edward Blanchett. We have examined the noble records, the files of appointments, even the secret documents of the Institute of Heraldry, but there is no trace of anyone named that.”

“Uh... huh... But that...”

 Hesitantly, Esther tried to find a way to answer him.

The truth was, she had consciously avoided investigating her father. Because of her work, she wouldn't have had a difficult time if she wanted to know more about him, but she was afraid of what she might find.

 However, Clement's words were too impressive to ignore. Had there never been a nobleman named Edward Blanchett?

 “Of course, identity theft or falsification of one's own past are not so rare things either. He would not be the first to arrive in the provinces and say that he is an aristocrat from a distant country... But there is one thing that intrigues me: that he used the name Edward Blanchett eighteen years ago...

“??”

It was clear that it was a trap. Even she is aware that the verbiage of her interlocutor was captivating her, Esther tried not to escape. In fact, she even encouraged him to keep talking with a fearful question:

“What puzzles you, Mr. Clement?”

“Well, now is when you and I can do business, sister.”

 Seeing that his prey had swallowed the hook, the journalist shook the documents again and continued to speak slowly, showing nicotine-stained teeth.

 “Why don't you join me for a moment? It would be better to go to a quiet place, where we can talk without being disturbed by anyone.”

“B... but now I don't have time...”

“Are you not interested in the deal?”

 Clement's gaze narrowed like a reptile locating its prey. With a theatrical sigh, he put the document back in his pocket.

 “Then there is nothing to do. I will publish the results of my research in my next article. «The secret of the origin of the Saint»... Ah, I'll send you a copy when it comes out. Do I send it here, or better to your office in Rome?”

 Esther tensed her face and, instinctively taking her arms to her chest, moaned:

“Are you trying to threaten me!?”

“Ah, I see you have understood perfectly, sister,” replied the journalist, as if enjoying the young woman's reaction. And he added in a threatening tone: “You come with me now and you grant me the exclusive, or your father's secret...?”

“Threatening others using family secrets is not a very respectable hobby, sir.”

The voice that echoed in the twilight was contrasted with Clement's in its serenity. Turning quickly, the veteran journalist encountered a man who was slowly shaking his head.

“And more in the case of an innocent sister like this… Is it that those of your profession don't know the meaning of the word moderation?

“And who are you?”

 Looking up, Esther saw the dark shape of a man.

He looked to be in his early thirties. His shapely face and the black Inverness coat that wrapped him were impeccable. Under his dark hair, intelligent black eyes shone through silver glasses.

 “I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself. My name is Isaac Butler. I am a steward of one of the aristocratic houses of Londinium.”

 The young gentleman lifted his top hat with his cane as he bowed gracefully.

 “I did not mean to meddle in your affairs, but I was waiting for someone and by chance I overheard your conversation. Sir… Clement, right? The truth is that I cannot praise your professional ethics too much. Thus violating people's privacy and using it as a tool to threaten others… You should be ashamed.”

 “What does it matter to you!?” The journalist snapped, looking at him with hyena eyes, in a tone that sounded more like a bully than anything else. “If you go where they don't call you, you can get scalded… Besides, I'm not threatening anyone. Here we are just talking without any coercion. I have not done anything bad.”

“Taking unauthorized copies of someone else's birth certificates is a crime,” Butler muttered, raising his hand. Seeing what was in it, Clement was dumbfounded.

“B... but when did you...?”

 The butler showed him a paper stamped with the city hall letterhead.

 Clement reached into his pocket, but… Esther's birth certificate was missing!

“Y… you're a thief! Give me those documents back immediately!”

 The paparazzi paled for a moment and then turned red. Showing the teeth in a horrible grin, he reached for the man to try to forcibly get back the paper... but did not even touch it. There was a thud, and the journalist rolled on the ground.

“Good work, Guderian” whispered Butler to the man who had appeared like a wall between him and the reporter.

He was a somber man with gray hair. He was not too tall, but his body was athletic, and his pupils had a flash of predator gleaming. He made a move to approach the paparazzi, but Butler stopped him with a gesture and politely addressed the fallen man:

 “Good, Mr. Clement. My companion, Mr. Guderian, is, unlike you, a gentleman, but he is also very ruthless. I do not recommend that you face him hand to hand...”

 The butler lit a pipe and began to smoke while he continued speaking indolently.

 “Besides, don't you have anything more important to investigate than disturbing the young lady? For example ... Oh yes! They say that this year the damage caused by the wolves has been extraordinary, after feeding on the corpses of the war last year, it seems that the wolves have begun to attack the cattle and the inhabitants of the place. Isn't that interesting news?”

“...”

Clement sat up, eyes full of hatred, but careful to take enough distance.

“Okay, I'll go... But sir... Butler was it? I never forget a face. We will meet again. You'll see what it means to antagonize with the media...”

“I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again. Until next time, Mr. Clement.”

 As if he had instantly forgotten the reporter who had cursed him, the man quickly turned to Esther. Slightly bending his waist with a smile, he respectfully offered the document which the journalist had used as a bait.

“What a bad night you’ve had, sister!”

“T... thank you very much, sir...”

    Did they know each other before?

 With a strange feeling of having seen the man somewhere, Esther lowered her head as she thanked him and took the document he offered her.

“Lucky you have appeared. I will never forget what you have done for me”.

“It was nothing. Helping a lady in distress is the duty of any gentleman. Oh, and please don't think now that in Albion we are all like that journalist. Most of us are true gentlemen.”

“Are you from Albion?”

 At the hearing the name of the country of his father, the expression of Esther softened for a moment, but at once recovered the tension before. The man had claimed to be an aristocrat's butler, but what was someone like him doing there? Wouldn't that be another trick to gain her trust?

Suspicion was probably written on her face, because Butler gave a sheepish smile and proceeded to introduce himself in detail.

 “You are probably wondering what a poor butler like me is doing here. The truth is that I am looking for someone. He is a friend of my lord, who disappeared a long time ago… Someone who had some problems… He caused a scandal in his youth and had to flee the country. My lord has found out that he arrived in this region and has sent me to search for clues as to his whereabouts.”

“It seems like very hard work...”

Butler's words made sense and he had explained without hesitation. He was probably telling the truth. Esther decided to believe that the man was who he claimed to be.

Butler's partner jerked his pocket watch to him, and the butler snapped his fingers. After putting out the pipe, he respectfully took Esther by the hand.

“What a disappointment! Seems that it is late! Sister, if you do not need us at all, we will withdraw, with your permission.”

“Oh, sure! I'm in a bit of a hurry too... Thank you very much for your help; really, Mr. Butler.”

“Oh, please, I don't deserve that much respect.”

Bringing the nun's hand slightly to his lips, the man smiled and whispered in Albion's language:

“It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you again soon…”

As the young woman flushed, the butler bowed politely and turned. The man named Guderian followed half a second later.

Esther was lost in her thoughts, watching the two figures move away down the dark street.

 When she came back to reality, she realized that the streetlights had come on.

“Ah, I have to hurry!”

 She had no time to waste. Clicking her tongue, the young woman ran to the opposite side of the street.

                                               ---------------------------

So this is it, Stay tunned for next part, we’re having a nice coloring next time. Love you guys! ❤

[twh-news]

To land ‘Loki,’ Kate Herron had to pull out all the stops. How she won over Marvel

As a teenager, Kate Herron was obsessed with the “Lord of the Rings” films.

In particular, she recalls heading to theaters repeatedly with friends who shared her passion to see “The Two Towers” (2002), the second installment in director Peter Jackson’s trilogy based on J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic fantasy novel. She even wrote “Lord of the Rings” fan fiction.

“It was very silly,” the British filmmaker insists, revealing that one of her stories saw the heroic Fellowship traveling through a magical fountain and getting trapped in New York. “Honestly, I was just writing the stories to make my friends laugh. I guess it was kind of that first foray for me: ‘How do I tell a story?’”

Years later, Herron is again involved in telling a story about a protagonist displaced from the world he knows. But this time, her audience is much bigger.

Herron, 33, is the director of “Loki,” the Marvel Studios series that follows the adventures of the titular god of mischief after he has been plucked out of time by an agency charged with maintaining the sanctity of the timeline. Thus, the six-episode series, which premiered earlier this month on Disney+, features a slightly different version of Loki than the fans of the Marvel Cinematic Universe have grown to love since his first appearance in “Thor” (2011) through “Avengers: Endgame” (2019).

“I love villains,” says Herron during a recent video call from Atlanta, where she is putting the final touches on “Loki.” “I think that if a villain’s done right, you don’t necessarily have to like their actions, but you have to understand them. And I think that Tom [Hiddleston], in the last decade, has brought such empathy and wit and pain to a very real character for so many people. I just wanted to be part of whatever [Loki’s] next chapter was going to be.”

The series, on which the self-described Loki fan also serves as an executive producer, is Herron’s highest-profile project to date. Her previous credits include directing on Netflix’s “Sex Education,” as well as “Five by Five,” a series of short films executive produced by Idris Elba.

While growing up in South East London, Herron never considered filmmaking as a career. Her love of movies manifested as the aspiration to become an actor, and she often goaded her peers into putting on plays or making movies using a friend’s father’s camcorder. It wasn’t until some astute and encouraging teachers at Herron’s secondary school pointed out that she seemed more interested in storytelling that she changed course.

By introducing Herron to new texts, these teachers — as well as a film studies class that covered films directed by Stanley Kubrick and Akira Kurosawa — helped expand her perspective.

“I just didn’t know that you could have a voice and an authorship over a film, which probably sounds a bit silly. But I just hadn’t really thought about films in that way,” says Herron. Soon enough, she was on the path to film school at the University for the Creative Arts in Farnham, England, where she graduated with a degree in film production.

Herron laughs as she remembers how she believed she would just go off and find work in film straight out of school. “Obviously that did not happen,” she says.

With no post-graduate roadmap (or job offer) to help her break into the industry, Herron eventually started writing and directing short films with “no money” while juggling a day job as a temp. Both experiences provided Herron with material for “Loki,” which introduces a new bureaucratic agency called the Time Variance Authority to the MCU.

“I’ve worked at a lot of random places, which weirdly has influenced ‘Loki’ in some ways because we have this office culture kind of running through it,” says Herron. “I’ve worked in a lot of offices.”

In order to give the retro-futuristic offices of the TVA “a real lived-[in], breathed-in office” feel, Herron incorporated details that viewers could recognize from the real world — from paper files to the posters on the walls — and gave them a fantastical twist befitting the superhero series.

“One of the most exciting things to me about Kate is she has this amazing attention to detail,” says “Loki” co-executive producer Kevin Wright. “That was something that we saw on her very first pitch [and] it works its way into every frame of the show. Every monitor, every piece of paper in the TVA … she has looked over and approved everything you see.”

In an email, “Loki” star Hiddleston described Herron as “a dream collaborator” who possesses “a unique combination of extraordinary diligence, stamina, energy, respect and kindness.”

“Her affection for and understanding of Loki was so deep, profound and wide-ranging,” Hiddleston wrote. “She built a new world for these characters to play in with incredible precision, but she was also acutely sensitive to their emotional journey.”

Herron’s affinity for outsiders is apparent throughout the course of our conversation. There is of course her love for Loki — the heir to the king of Frost Giants raised as the prince of Asgard who has become one of the MCU’s most beloved villain-turned-antiheroes. Herron’s first introduction to the world of Marvel as a kid was through “X-Men: The Animated Series,” about the superhero team with mutant powers that set them apart from average humans. Herron cites Lisa Simpson — the overachieving, opinionated middle child from the animated sitcom “The Simpsons” — as the reason she is a vegetarian who can play the saxophone.

And although Herron describes herself as shy, it’s no match for the passion she brings to discussing film and television.

She calls Wes Anderson’s 2001 film “The Royal Tenenbaums,” co-written by “Loki” actor Owen Wilson, “a perfect movie.” In addition to being obsessed with “The Simpsons,” Herron gravitated toward genre shows such as “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” the updated “Battlestar Galactica” and “The X-Files” when growing up.

As Herron enthusiastically dives into “Loki’s” influences — which include “Alien” (1979), “Blade Runner” (1982), “Brazil” (1985), “Metropolis” (1927) and, yes, even “Teletubbies” — it’s easy to see why Wright knew she was the right person to bring “Loki” to life from their very first meeting.

Upon learning that Marvel was developing a show about Loki, Herron tasked her agents with calling Marvel every day until they would meet with her. And it worked.

“I was just so excited that somebody was chasing the project,” says Wright. “Which sounds crazy, that Marvel would be excited somebody’s chasing us. But it was the early days of us trying to get this Disney+ streaming stuff off the ground, so people were very hesitant … they didn’t know what it was yet.”

Herron’s enthusiasm for the show landed her a video meeting with Wright and executive producer Stephen Broussard. Believing it might be her only shot at the project, Herron came armed with so many stills and clips to illustrate her discussion of the scripts she’d been sent that a simple meet-and-greet turned into a four-hour conversation.

“Over the course of the next week or so,” Wright explains, “it was really figuring out how to set Kate up to succeed when we got her in front of Kevin Feige to pitch this.”

Herron put together a 60-page bible of ideas for the characters, the story, the visual references and more. The rest is Marvel history.

She learned not to wait for permission, she says, after graduating from film school and becoming involved with improv and stand-up to both develop her comedy chops and to meet funny collaborators to be in her short films.

“I think I’d always find excuses, almost, [to not do it],” says Herron. “It was that thing of being like, ‘Oh, well, I’m not ready. So I’ll wait. I’ll wait until I’m perfect at it and then I’ll go do it.’”

Taking inspiration from Robert Rodriguez’s “Rebel Without a Crew” and a SXSW keynote speech by Mark Duplass, Herron realized that she just needed to start making things. She told herself it was OK if the films were messy. If a short was bad, nobody had to see it. If a short was “halfway to good,” she would submit them to festivals.

It’s this tenacious creativity that connects the dots between her early fan fiction, her short films, her pitch presentations — and now “Loki” itself. It’s a trait that has helped her navigate the industry to her current success, even during the periods it’s been most frustrating. As a female director, “I got asked crazy stuff in interviews sometimes,” she says of life on the festival circuit. “I remember being asked, ‘Are you sure you’re ready? Are you sure you’re ready?’ And male colleagues of mine were never asked that in interviews. I think that’s probably why I was so driven to just go out and make stuff.”