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leah-lover · 5 months

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Misunderstanding. Nika muhl x reader.

Jealous Nika.

You weren't a starter in your team but the coach knew you were what the team needed. Iowa was down 15 points to UConn and you only had one quarter left to win or your dream of winning march madness would be gone.

You didn't have a good relationship with your coach. You two had your differences. You disagreed often which left you on the bench. But tonight UConn was the better team. They had all their best players on the floor . They were comfortable both offensively and defensively. So when the coach came to you to sub you on you knew exactly what your role was. You were on the floor to make them as uncomfortable as you could. You had to disrupt their flow and help your team.

You were successful in the task you were given. You made UConn uncomfortable which allowed Iowa to score enough points to win the game and advance to the final. Despite your huge and impactful effort that helped your team win the game, you still weren't in your coach’s good graces.

You were again benched on the final which your team won but it didn't feel like a victory to you because you were hardly on the floor. As a result in the postseason you decided to request another School. It didn't matter which one all you cared about was being in a team that valued you.

It took a week for you to get the first offer. You were surprised when you saw that it was UConn who asked to have you. You must have made an impression after your last performance.

UConn’s legacy was mesmerizing, so you agreed to their offer as soon as they made it.

By 2 months you were in your new dorm getting ready to meet your new team.

You were very nervous at the beginning. You didn't want anything to go wrong. Your old relationships with your teammates were so bad you would rather retire than go through that experience again. Luckily, your new team wasn't that bad. You quickly bonded with a lot of your teammates like KK Arnold, Izzi and ice. You felt comfortable in your new home at the start of pre pre-season. The more comfortable you got the more flirtatious you got. You would make jokes about it and your teammates would tease you about it too. The victim of your flirtatious attempt was Izzi. You didn't do it so that you two would end up together, you just found it fun to flirt with her. Your flirtatious attempts were going on all season.

One day after a huge win, the team decided to go out and celebrate in a bar near campus. It was you, Izzi, Paige, nika, and ice. After a few drinks you all decided to head to the dance floor where you danced with Izzi. After a while you looked next to you only to find only you two left on the dance floor. Needing a break you decide to go out for some air.

“ I guess it got all hot for you in there too.” you say to Nika when you meet her outside.

“ No, not all of us were dancing like nobody was there.” she replied with an annoyed tone.

“ What is that supposed to mean?”

“ Nothing, just forget it. I am gonna go back to campus.” she says and leaves. Leaving you puzzled.

You go back inside and brush it off.

The next training sessions were strange. A hostile tension was filling up the atmosphere and it was coming from Nika. flashbacks of your old team were haunting you by the time a month went by. You thought that your future in this team would be just like your past.

At team bonding night, where you decided to watch a movie together. A huge fight started between you and nika. It all started by a snarky comment she made about the main character of the movie.

“ I just don't understand why people don't understand vibes and the right places to do stuff.” she says. You felt that that comment was directed towards you so you replied.

“ well some people don't overthink stuff and just do as they feel.”

“ I don't believe that. I think everybody calculates everything and they only do what is best for them.” she responded.

“ guys i am gonna call it a night i am tired.” said izzi interrupting your bickering with nika.

“ Me too.” says nika and she leaves abruptly.

What nika said was stuck in your throat so you followed her to the hall.

“ what the fuck is wrong with you.” you yell behind her.

“ Excuse me.” she says stopping in her tracks.

“ You have been throwing knives at me all the time. if you have a problem with me just say it and stop dancing around.”

'I don't have a problem with you, I have a problem with the way you act.’

“ And what way is that?”

“ i dont like that you are all flIrty and mushy with izzi if you want her do that in the fucking bedroom away from me.”

“ What the hell are you talking about? Izzi and I are just friends. That whole thing is a plan to annoy paige. We are trying to make her jealous. Plus why do you care ?.”’

After staying quiet for a while she says. “ Is there anything between you two?.”

“ No, there isn't. She likes paige. Why do you care nika?”

She leans her head against the wall and whispers something inaudible.

“ i can't hear you nika.”

“ i like you. Okay . the thought of you and izzi makes me so fucking angry.”

“ You like me.” you repeat in disbelief.

“ ever since you joined i had my eyes on you. So when you started doing your stunt with Izzi, the thought of you being with her angered me.” she says with a defeated tone. “ I never meant to hurt you, I just didn't know how to handle not having you.”

You approach her, lift her head up with your hand and cup her cheeks.

“ You look adorable right now.” you say which makes her smile.

“ Can I kiss you?” she asks

“ You better.” you respond.

You then both kiss. You couldn't believe how soft her lips were and how your bodies moved in sync.

“ Can I take you back to my room. “ she asks with a pout on her face.

“ please do.”

#nika muhl x reader #nika mühl #nika muhl #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #women's basketball #ncaa wbb #wbb

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topazadine · 6 days

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Writing Notes: Seasons

I noticed a few leaves falling from my tree, which means only one thing: it's time.

Time for fall. My favorite, blessed, most beloved season. Pumpkin spice lattes! Candy apples! Cherry pie! Haunted houses! Chilly weather that makes me snuggle up into my hoodie! Candy!

And, of course, it means that I have to share some writing notes with you about seasons.

So today, we're going to share a few different perspectives on seasons. We'll talk about the "traditionally accepted" associations for seasons, but also share other options and how you can infuse them into your work.

Why Use Seasons at All?

You don't have to if you don't want to. Maybe you want to focus entirely on the plot. But, you might add some hints of it for these reasons.

Gives a sense of place. This allows you to show how this place is impacted by particular seasons. Winter in Kampala, Uganda, is going to be wildly different than in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. Offers worldbuilding options. In a fantasy setting, seasons are an element of worldbuilding. (Just look at Game of Thrones.) There may be different dangers according to seasons, or unique holidays that can allow you to demonstrate how people interact with this world. Provides templates for description. You can get a lot of mileage out of showing a nice grassy field in spring or the leaves fluttering down during autumn. Don't go on for ages, but you can certainly add a few little flickers here and there. (just remember to put them in the right places for maximum momentum.) Deepens characterization. How characters feel about and interact with the seasons can tell us a lot about who they are. Someone who loves winter could love it because then they can ski, or because they want to cuddle up and be left alone. Someone who loves summer might like lounging around on the porch eating ice cream, or they might like it because it's time to go surfing! Suggests new challenges. If your character lives in Montana, winter is going to be horribly cruel. "The Hunter's Wife" by Anthony Doerr is all about how the seasons challenge the characters and help them grow. But in your story, it might be summer that's the worst. Or fall, or spring, or all of them but in different ways. Creates subtle symbolism. The season of your story can use certain symbolism depending on what kind of plot you have and what your overall theme is, as we'll discuss now.

So, now that we understand why seasons are important, let's look at each one and consider why it might be the best time for your story.

I will note that I am coming from the perspective as a person in the Midwestern United States. What I associate with the seasons, particularly the descriptions, may be utterly irrelevant to you depending on where you are from. If I made a wholly comprehensive list considering the entire world, we'd be here all day.

Keep that in mind and workshop some options for your setting and personal associations.

I'm not omniscient, so take what seems useful to you and leave the rest.

Spring

Ah, the flowers are blooming, the world is warming up, and we're finally crawling out of doors now that we're not buried in slush. Spring is generally associated with positive emotions, but there could be some dangers here, too.

To get some good symbolism, focus on spring's unique place between two fixed, more stable seasons, where we know what to expect: winter and summer.

There is a fragility and shifting balance in spring that can veer good or bad depending on what you're trying to show. Spring also has a sense of expectation, which can pay off (good summer) or fail (icky bad summer).

Associations

Positive

Warmth

Renewal

Hope

Rebirth

Childhood

Innocence

Potential

Change

New beginnings

Reunions

Optimism

Negative

Fluctuating emotions (spring can be quite unpredictable!)

New challenges on the horizon

Feeling exposed

"Nakedness"

Vulnerability

Growing pains

Feeling underappreciated, like a stepping stone to summer

Ferocity (like intense spring storms)

The fragility of life (not every baby animal will survive)

Descriptions

Positive

Wildflowers pushing through the soil

Baby animals

Trees blooming

New blades of grass

Budding leaves

Sunny skies

Life-affirming rain

Warming breezes

Slightly chilly nights

Weak sunrises

Days growing longer

Richly scented flowers

Negative

Sudden cold snaps

Dreary weather

Grey skies

Hard rain that traps one inside

Snow (a reminder of the past)

Flooding

Melting snow revealing last year's trash

Cold mornings

Shivering

Being too hot or too cold

Hard ground

Mud

Summer

Summer fun! Those lucky enough to live by a beach want to splash in the water or go kayaking above the cool waves. We can drink an ice cold soda as we head to outdoor festivals. Kissing as the summer frogs sing a chorus, or partying late into the night: how beautiful!

But summer can be awful, too. Too much beer at a festival and you throw up everywhere, or too much humidity and you die of heatstroke. There's a reason that gun violence goes up when it's hotter: people are pissy and itching for a fight.

There can be a great push-pull here as characters attempt to moderate themselves while also indulging their sense of adventure.

Associations

Positive

Adventure

Childhood

Freedom

Exploration

Warmth

Togetherness

Community spirit

Serendipitous meetings

Happiness

A sense of endlessness (longer daylight hours)

Puppy love

Negative

Long agonizing waits (again, longer daylight hours)

Exhaustion

Overwhelm

Oppression (sociological or environmental)

Excess

Sloth (if characters like to lounge)

Lack of control

Rage

Frustration

Disappointment

Descriptions

Positive

Droning insects

Fireflies (depending on area)

Warmth

Blue skies

Bright green leaves

Active wildlife

Butterflies

Cool drinks

Unexpected cool breezes

Fresh fruit

Whirring fan

Outdoor music

Sunshine

Beautiful sunsets

Negative

Loud, cramped festivals

High humidity

Extreme heat

Dehydration

Glaring sunlight with no shelter

Tornadoes/summer storms

Mosquitos

Broken fan

Sweating

Baking trash (ugh sorry)

Sore joints from the humidity

Spoiled/soggy food

Flat fizzy drinks

Autumn

Okay, I'll try not to be too biased here, so I'll point out that autumn can be both beautiful and terrible. On one hand, we've got the cooler weather, the gorgeous foliage, and the contentment of harvest time: a job well done, and a time to rest.

Many people feel like this is when they are closest to their past loved ones and can commune with those long gone, which can be a good thing or a bad thing. It's a good time for when someone is putting their demons to rest and moving on.

We can also feel cold, dread, and fear during autumn. The nights are getting longer, and there could be all sorts of scary things in the shadows. They, too, are gearing up for the freezing winter months - and they're hungry.

Associations

Positive

Maturity

Adulthood

Rest

Slowing down

Introspection

Thinning of the veil (Halloween)

Spirituality

Retrospection

Harvest and bounty

Change

Reflection

Negative

Fear

Dread

Decay

Lost opportunities

Dwindling time

Anxiety

Limitations

Closer to the end

Feeling one's age

The unknown

Breaking down

Past coming back to haunt one

Descriptions

Positive

Falling leaves

Brisk wind

Crackling campfires

Warm drinks

Busy animals

Frost sparkling on grass

Seeing your breath in the air

Freshly baked pie

Crisp apples

Decorative pumpkins

Cozy hoodies/cloaks

Mulled wine and spices

Harvested grain

Baked bread

Sudden warm days

Negative

Fog shrouded, isolated roads

Creeping cold

Howling animals

Dark nights

Rotting fruit

Bitter wind through cracks in the house

Cold rain

Spoiled grain

Meager harvest

Insufficient clothing

Dead creatures

Skeletons

Icy mist

Barren trees

Creaking houses

Winter

Winter gets the short end of the stick when it comes to symbolism. People focus on the horrible things (cold, loss, sadness) without considering the positives: family, togetherness, comfy mittens, warm hot chocolate and presents.

After all, humans have developed our very own symbolism just to cheer the time up; winter celebrations happen all around the world. You've got so many options here, both in terms of themes, activities, and descriptions. What you focus on will determine how your story feels.

Associations

Positive

Togetherness

Community

Family

Resilience

Perserverence

Joy and whimsy

Caring for others

Possibilities

Planning

Companionship (or solitude)

Optimism

Pushing one's limits

Quietude

Introspection

Better days ahead

Negative

Cold

Nature's fury

Helplessness

Poverty (in any form)

Feeling trapped

Unpleasant relatives

Death

Old age

Broken relationships

Barrenness

Struggle

Endings

Sorrow

Lack of empathy

Hatred

Descriptions

Positive

Roaring fires

Soft heavy blankets

Thick socks

Cozy mittens

Jams and jellies

Hot drinks

Presents

Winter decorations

Christmas cookies

Candles

Softly drifting snow

Clear night skies

Conversations in another room

Clinking glasses

Mulled cider

The contrast between chilly room and warm blanket

Dead quiet nights

Negative

Freezing cold

Driving snow

Stuck in big snow drifts

Tense muscles

Dry skin

Running nose

Barren cupboards

Tense conversations with distant relatives

Frozen hands

Harsh wind

Stuffy rooms

Cold floors

Animals scratching at the door

Lack of ventilation

Can't get warm

Shivering

So there are my thoughts on the seasons! Hopefully this sparked something for you.

Now, perhaps, you will consider reading my book (now cheaper than ever!)

9 Years Yearning is a whirlwind look at two men growing up and finding themselves - and each other, wink wink. It features Uileac, an orphan determined to protect his little sister and become the best soldier he can be. However, this is complicated by Orrinir, a blustery young man whose bravado hides a surprisingly sensitive heart. In just under 34k words, they experience the whole range of human emotions - and beat a few people up. Ooh la la.

If you do decide to read 9 Years Yearning, don't forget to leave a review!

It can even be a bad review if you want. Amazon uses ratings of all shapes and sizes to determine whether a book is worth getting shown to other potential readers.

Lack of reviews = Jeff Bezos breaks my door down with a baseball bat and drags me to the Hell Sphere.

So please, I have dogs that want their snackies. For $2 and a few nice words, YOU can help buy this small child her favorite treat (bully sticks).

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nobrashfestivity · 2 years

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Ana Mendieta

Cuban-born performance and multi-media visual artist Ana Mendieta died in 1985 at the age of 36, leaving behind a massive collection of un-exhibited works. Now on view at London’s Hayward Gallery is “Traces,” her first UK retrospective, in which slides of these pieces reveal an untold career.

Born in Cuba in 1948, Mendieta was sent to Iowa by her parents at the age of 13 to escape the communist regime of Fidel Castro. In a subsequent search for identity and belonging, Mendieta turned her attention to the Earth and the female body as her core subjects. Though documented across a wide breadth of medums-photography, film, performance, sculpture-they were, in essence, her only tools. Mendieta developed a visual vernacular of feminine forms through experimentation with materials such as blood, wood and stone. In her famous “Siluetas” (Silhouettes) series, created between 1973 and 1981, she left imprints or outlines in the earth with her body, sometimes adding ritualistic adornments of flowers or fire to those markings.

Mendieta died in New York in 1985 after falling from the 34th-floor apartment she shared with her husband, the sculptor Carl Andre. Some suspect Andre of having thrown Mendieta from the window, though he was acquitted after a three-year trial. In the last room of the exhibition, the duality of the show’s title, which references both the marks made by her body in the earth and the work left behind after her death, is drawn out to a haunting degree. Presented alongside notebooks, postcards, and other archival materials, several white pillars are set up as projection screens for old-fashioned slide projectors showing the un-exhibited works. Each pillar is marked with the year in which the works shown there were made.

(text from art in america)

#ana mendieta #performance art #land art #feminism

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spectrewavesllp · 1 year

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Paranormal Activity in Attic Unseen Paranormal Kinect Figure

Don & Laynee of Spectrewaves Paranormal were investigating the attic at the Victorian View in Washington Iowa USA

Laynee & Don of Spectrewaves not only Captured an Unseen Paranormal Figure on the Kinect SLS mapping Camera the unseen figure stayed in Frame as Spectrewaves moved the camera around 360 degrees in the space

Video link here for the Victorian View Kinect Figure that stays in the frame in Washington Iowa USA

https://youtu.be/ZCZaBKdXQkk

#Paranormal #Kinect #ParanormalFigures #HauntedAttic #spiritbox #hauntedlocations #Spirits #VictorianView #hauntedbanquet #TheVictorianView #HauntedBridalstore #ParanormalVideo #hauntings #mappingcamera #LayneeLoy #Don #SpectrewavesParanormal #hauntedhall #haunted #Spectrewaves #Spectrewavesllpparanormal #Spectrewavesllp #ParanormalInvestigation #ghosthunters #ghosthunt #HauntedMansion #ParanormalEncouter #Washington #Iowa #USA #TheVictorianViewVenue #VictorianMansion #ghoststories #HauntedAdventures #ghostadventure #PrivateParanormalInvestigation #Encounters #Paranormalactivity #investigation #Paranormalequipment #Attic #Victorianghost #WashingtonIowaUSA #SpiritBoxSession #paranormalstudy #paranormalresearch #paranormalresearchers #Paranormalcaptured #unseen #Paranormalfigures #hauntedvenue #hauntediowa #ghosthuntiowa #GhosthuntWashington #HauntedJourney #SLSKinectCamera #SLS #Ghoststop #Paranormalevidence #Paranormalsightings #Paranormalinvestigators #paranormalinvestigator #haunts #afterlife #energy #Parapsychology #phenomena #apparitionalexperience #documentedParanormalEvidence #ParanormalVideos #ghostbusters #soul #ghosthuntersequipment #Paranormalunsight #melmeter #spiritbox #franksbox #tempest

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in-death-we-fall · 1 year

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Slipknot

Calculated Carnage: The Numbers Don’t Lie

By Paul Gargano (google drive link)

Ten years ago, the Limelight was a landmark for bands who performed in New York City. Women danced in cages suspended from vaulted ceilings, stained glass surrounded a stage elevated on what used to be an altar and men and women mingled in lines for the unisex bathrooms. Built as a church decades earlier, the site had since been deconsecrated, converted to a nightclub, and angel-shaped disco balls hung where a crucifix was once suspended. It was the perfect–not to mention haunting and eerie–setting for the inspired debauchery of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll that made the late ‘80s and early ‘90s such revered times. And almost a decade later, recently reopened, it was the perfect venue to host the live chaos that is Slipknot.

Had there still been cages, more timid members of the crowd may have fled for them, seeking sanctity from the madness that overwhelmed the mosh pit, a floor previously occupied by rows of pews. In stark contrast to the gothic styling of the stained glass that overlooked them, Slipknot’s red jumpsuits were bright and glaring, punching into the flashing strobes and lights that lit the stage and sold-out crowd. It was a venue far too small for Slipknot–who had made their network television debut only hours earlier on Late Night With Conan O’Brien–but what it lacked in size, it made up for in character, with fans occupying choir lofts that overlooked the insanity.

It’s been a whirlwind year for Slipknot, and post-show was no exception, where #1 and #2–drummer Joey and bassist Paul, who both founded the band with #6, custom-percussionist Shawn–took some time away from the post-show madness to offer their insight behind the band that has taken the world by storm over the past year. They left the following morning for a European tour that was ultimately cut short by a personal issue at home–says Joey, “When you get a call that brings you back to where your whole mind should be, you’ve gotta take care of that stuff first and foremost”–and in the midst of planning this summer’s anticipated Tattoo The Earth tour with Sevendust and Coal Chamber, are already at work on their sophomore album, which they hope to release early next year. Who knew Des Moines, Iowa could be so inspiring?

METAL EDGE: Looking at what’s going on with today’s hard rock/metal scene, it’s starting to look a bit like the rap industry, with all the separate camps and alliances. #1 (JOEY): Honestly, that type of shit disgust’s (sic) me. #2 (PAUL): We don’t need it. It’s not that we’re going out of our way, we just say what we feel, so either take it or leave it. Korn opened a lot of doors when they came out, and that’s that. Limp Bizkit, well, I’m not going to go there… Wes [Borland] is a good guitar player. It’s scary. I picked up a magazine yesterday with a “Slipknot vs. Limp Bizkit” poll for fans to vote on, and it came out to be Slipknot over Limp Bizkit like 70% to 30%. I don’t know how that happened and I’m very worried about… I mean, you got a magazine that caters to the teenybopper metal crowd, and you’ve got every fucking issue with Korn, Marilyn Manson, Limp Bizkit and Orgy. And now Slipknot’s in every issue–I don’t like that. The thing is, I guess I can’t help it because if it matters that much to the kids, I say, “thank you.” You know how appreciative we all are, you’ve hung out with the band. You know how humble we all are about what’s happening to all of us. But, when the next record comes out, our record label is not going to fucking hear it until it’s done. No one’s going to hear it. No studio reports. There’s not going to be anything done. We’re going back to our old, old, old fucking dingy practice room with my mom coming down and fucking doing laundry in the middle of practice. That’s the way it needs to be done because we’ve accomplished this on writing music that we thought filled our emotional need. Now, the emotional need has been magnified so much because of the experiences we’ve been through, so it’s just gonna be a massively, apocalyptic, totally sick and disgusting record.

ME: Do you realize the impact you’re having on your fans? I was at your instore in New York City and it was more enthusiastic than any I’d seen before. Your fans really seem to connect with you. #1: Yeah, well that’s the thing. People always talk about needing to branch out and try different things, and I’m okay with that. We want to get our music out to different crowds, but I sometimes don’t. I wanna make sure that we please the fans that were there from the beginning and understood every aspect when no one else understood. I wanna make sure that that fan remains happy for every record. We expected to sell maybe 150-200,000 records–And not until after two years of touring. Well, I guess we filled a void in those kids… They needed this band for awhile. That’s the whole thing, I don’t necessarily want to lump myself in with those bands because I feel we have nothing in common with them, but I give total respect to Korn because on their first fucking record they opened up so many doors and they did something completely original. You’ve got the mainstay, bands like Black Sabbath, and they’re got a bunch of imitators, but there’s only one Black Sabbath. I’m not a fan of Limp Bizkit, but there’s only one of them–Even though they came after Korn. You’ve got the Deftones and stuff, they all have very energetic and very, at times, liberating music. Limp Bizkit I can’t get into, I’m not a fan, and I think we’re the total opposite of a lot of that stuff that band stands for. It’s for some people, it’s not for some people, and I don’t want to be liked by everyone–That’s the scary thing. It’s so weird that so many people have identified with what we’re doing now–It’s very scary. #2: Yes! And it’s amazing, too, because we don’t get a lot of help from the radio and MTV like these other bands. We occasionally get our video played, and there are some radio stations, but it just proves that the kids need something different. They’re sick of the same old shit being pumped down their throats.

ME: There’s an extra psychological burden, “We’re not just a band anymore, we’re a cultural force.” Did you ever want that? #1: You know what? Yes, I have, and I love the fact, I’m very fucking fortunate and grateful. I do not want to decrease it in any way. I do want to make it bigger. I wanna make it bigger by keeping the fire real and by keeping the emotion and all that shit real. And not worrying about my record label breathing down my neck like they did last time for rough mixes and fucking, “Can you try and make…” No! Ther’s why the ante has been upped on making such a fucking… You could even say it’s overcompensated and fucking disjointed as far as our personalities are concerned. We were going to record in May, but we’re going to stay out and tour because the demand for the record and the demand for us to tour now is so huge in the States–We haven’t been there, we really haven’t toured since early January and that was only like two-and-a-half weeks. Our shows were sold-out, but now we’re selling 30,000 copies a week and we’re beating the system by being played on MTV–which I’m not a fan of–and radio stations like the L.A. K-Rock and the New York K-Rock. I guess I thank them for playing us–We could have it a lot worse–but the fact is, the next record probably wouldn’t turn out the same because we’ve been through a lot of experiences now. We’re going to work so hard on it and I think it’s going to be so ground-breaking for the fact that when you go through all the things we’ve just gone through, it will never be like this again. That’s why it’s very hard for a lot of bands to copy their first record and I love that people say that. Our first record is that good. It is a very pinnacle-type album. I’m so glad that people say that because I still have that hunger that I had when I was fucking playing in front of three people in Lincoln, Nebraska with a bartender and then a cat outside, grasshoppers and fucking crickets. We are maintaining that type of a focus. #2: When we started this band, I knew it was something kids needed. I didn’t think it would be like this, but I had a feeling. Nothing’s settled in yet. We’re on the road playing shows, and that’s basically all that’s settled in! Get up and play another show! [Laughing]

ME: But it’s not enough to just “play another show” every night, you guys are beating the crap out of each other and takin’ bumps. #2: Who wants to see a band up onstage staring at their shoes? That’s not entertaining. We definitely have our bruises and our sore body parts after shows, but once we get the masks and coveralls on, I could have a broken leg and still go out there. In Australia, I tore cartilage in my knee, I couldn’t bend it, and I just taped it up really well and went out there. Shawn’s played with broken ribs. We just don’t feel the pain.

ME: You need to look into some aspirin endorsements! #2: Advil would be real nice! [Laughing] It hurts, the masks aren’t comfortable at all–it would be awesome to play in shorts and a t-shirts (sic), but that’s not us. After the show we can rest all we want.

ME: There’s a definite sense of surprise in your stage show, you never know what’s happening next. Does anyone ever take it too far and cross the line? #1: No. It can never go too far. Never too over-the-top. For a band like us, that’s the first sign of us not being what we stand for.

ME: Joey, from your vantage point onstage what do you see looking out from behind your kit? What goes through your head? #1: Honestly, I can’t even put that in words. You’re the first person that ever asked me that, but it’s something that I think about every day. I guess I see the other side of when I was in the audience watching Slayer or Metallica. I’m usually the first person out onstage, and everytime I come out there are literally tears. I really can’t explain it, it’s so grand, it’s so bigger than words. Literally, I’m getting cracked up just talking about it.

ME: Did you anticipate this kind of success, this fast? #1: Well, sometimes, but that’s just society’s control. Welcome it. If it happens this fast, welcome it and use it to your advantage and make sure that you… Like I said, I thanks all of our fans so much for fucking supporting what we have done, because it’s made me not wanna fucking destroy myself. Back in Des Moines, I thought I was literally going to die if I didn’t get to do this. I get to do it now. But, the whole thing is, when you climb one mountain, it’s time to make sure the next mountain gets climbed and the next one .And you gotta re-evaluate the goal because we got this many people on our side now. It’s like Guns N’ Roses coming so fucking fast, the next thing you know, the dude hasn’t put out a record in like a decade. Like Mike Patton, probably one of the most fucking insane performers and songwriters of the decade–He is so underrated, went on to sell millions of albums in the early ‘90s, and continually turned around and spit in everyone’s faces by putting out albums with some of the most fucked up shit I’ve ever heard. We always say that if things get too big, too fast, if there’s no room for the band to grow because we’ve already accomplished so much, it’ll be time for the band to stop. Johnny Rotten said that the easiest thing to do is stop being a rock star if you don’t want to be one anymore–I thought that statement had so much integrity, and it’s had such an impact on me. I think about that quote every day. #2: It’s amazing. Just to be able to see the country and play these shows for kids all over the place, it’s the most amazing thing. I can’t believe people get paid to do this. I would pay to do this! It rules, I can’t ask for anything more. I just sit back, smile, and if there’s any bullshit, I just smile and let it go on by without bothering me.

ME: Do you think there’s a need for rock stars in society today? #1: Yes, because I needed them, and if I didn’t have them I wouldn’t be where I’m at. It’s like giving two cents back to the music that meant so much to me growing up–Black Sabbath, Slayer, Venom and Mercyful Fate. I showed up at the Clash of the Titans tour long before anyone else did because I was hoping to catch a glimpse of Tom Araya, and last summer, I got to hang out with him. That’s a weird thing, but I needed it to become who I am today. That’s why I’ll welcome it if it’s happened this fast, because people obviously needed it. When we were practicing for pre-production of our album, we were in the same rehearsal space as KISS. I was drawing their logos all over my books in school, now we were practicing next to them, we were standing outside listening to their whole set. The funny thing was, when they all left the room, we were stealing sticks and stuff! It’s being that fan, because we still are that. On OZZfest, I’d watch Slayer from the front row every day, not like a rock star standing on the side of the stage with a laminate.

ME: Has being from Des Moines had a lot to do with your development? #1: Absolutely. From day one. Had we come from L.A. or New York, we would not have the band that we have. Honestly, we grasped on to something early on that meant something so much, then you take that and revel in it, building, building and building, practicing, practicing and practicing, and creating, creating and creating. You magnify those three things, you keep it going and you network, and if you can do that coming from where we’ve come from, you can do it anywhere, because it was a virtual black hole that Corey describes as a graveyard with buildings. #2: It’s weird, it’s almost impossible to get A&R people to Iowa. Half the people don’t even know where it is–”Iowa, isn’t that the potato state?” No, it’s corn country. No one wants to go to Des Moines for their weekend! Finally, Ross Robinson came out and said that regardless of the label, he’ll do the record. Now there are people looking all over Iowa for bands, but there’s just the one and only… People were hoping it would be the “new metal Mecca,” but it’s only us! There area (sic) few good blues bands out here, though.

ME: How long was Slipknot in the making? #1: Ten years in the making. From the day I started playing drums, the day I started playing guitar. Me, Paul and Shawn started the band. Paul and I were playing in different side projects, and I met all those other guys because we’d set up shows with friends’ bands and we’d be playing for each other. There was no one in the audience. When you put up a flier you’d get fined $50. There’s no audience. Not a fucking person. And we had no money because we spent it all (sic) drum stands and guitar strings, struggling to buy that shit. There were no newspapers or radio stations that would tell you about the bands. No doubt, man, all this stuff that’s happened to the band? You don’t even hear about it there. We go home and it’s like we never left. A girl that was on Jenny Jones was big news, but Des Moines doesn’t recognize the gold album, selling out all our shows, being on Conan O’Brien, doing OZZfest. They do’t even write about it. You wouldn’t believe it, but it’s the truth. It just goes back to show me why that place is so fucking special, because it’s such an integral part of making music. I’m glad it’s still like that, because when I go back home, the only thing I want to do is get back on tour, work hard on writing music and stay doing that until the album’s finished.

ME: Was there a certain point where you had the vision that would evolve into Slipknot? #2: Well, it wasn’t planned, it definitely evolved. The lack of anything in Des Moines definitely fueled it, and we just went from there. When we got together, we didn’t have any rules about what it would be, we just got together and the nine people made it what it is. All day, every day, that’s what the band is. The band’s my life, it means everything, it’s my family. It’s what I love the most, and it’s what I hate the most.

ME: It sounds like you’ve accomplished more than you ever hoped to, what’s next? #2: For now, just doing our shows and being with my best friends. But in the long term, it’s going to be world domination. That’s what we’re trying to accomplish. #1: Once you climb one mountain you need to reevaluate and climb another one. We’re going to continue to tour and knock it out, all the way through Tattoo. Then we’d like to go into the studio. Then the next step is to take the most anticipated disjointed, apocalyptic, gross-sounding, disgusting type of exorcism you can imagine and put them all on one record. Every song will be twice what every song on the last album was. It’s all about the band maintaining the good attitude and integrity, and the same fire and hunger that we’ve had, and taking that and magnifying it and making a way better album. #2: Our next record is going to be over the fucking top. It’s going to be stupid!

ME: With things blowing up so fast, what are you proudest of as a band? #2: I’m proudest every day of just being in this band. What blows me away most of all is the fact that I get to do it. The fact that I’m in a band with my best friends, playing songs that we wrote in a basement, and seeing all the emotion from people who come out and get it every night. #1: Our middle finger attitude. How we’ve beaten the system in less than a year, all eyes have turned, and we’ve answered to nobody. That’s why I’m glad it happened as fast as it did. Hard work over time? Sure, good things come, but when it happens that fast it’s more poignant and people remember it more. It’s freaky and it’s very surreal, but that’s why I did welcome it. There’s a reason it happened so fast, because those kids need to stand for something. That’s why I think the next record may shun some people. Is it too over the top? No, it can’t be.

ME: Are you afraid of being “too metal”? #1: We’re fully metal, and we’ve always said that. People are afraid of that word because when Pearl jam and Nirvana came they were supposed to make music more open-minded, but they really made it more closed-minded than ever. We’ll always be a metal band.

ME: You were offered OZZfest this year, why not do it again? It’s a big risk headlining your own tour. #1: There are a lot of reasons why we didn’t do it. It was very cool to do it, but I don’t need an encore performance of it. The Tattoo tour wasn’t our concept, someone came up with it and brought it to us and it was something that we were into. We stepped in. It’s cool to start something from the ground up and not know if it’s going to work. I like everything to be very unpredictable, like playing a show.

ME: It seems like you guys have just gone out of your way to defy everyone in any position of power. Is that conscious? #1: No, because we’ve always done it and we still don’t make any money–There are nine people in this band! The stage manager will come up to us before the show and say, “Please don’t burn anything on the stage, don’t throw your drums, don’t break anything…” Well, that’s a bad thing to tell us, because we’re in debt anyway. Break it all, spend all the money! We’re not making any smart fucking business calls! That’s what lawyers and managers are for. It’s all about being in the moment and being in the vibe, and you can’t deny that. If you deny human feelings, you’re a fraud. #2: I think people are drawn to honesty. Who wants smoke blown up their ass? People want to know that we’re for real. People are drawn to it because they’re sick of all the other bullshit.

ME: We’ve heard about a lot of the bands that you don’t get along with, what are some of the bands you really respect? #1: Amen. They’re very good friends of ours and have the same type of fire even though they create a different style of music. I’m a very big fan of Mike Patton’s [Faith No More] projects and the Melvins. I respect all those guys because they don’t care. They make music just for themselves, they don’t let outside influences get to them.

ME: If you could leave your fans with any one message, what would it be? #2: Be yourselves and don’t fuckin’ worry about everyone else. Do your own shit… And, thanks! From the bottom of our hearts, we thank every kid who’s ever bought our album, checked the website out, or given us any support. If it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t be doing this interview, so from the bottom of our hearts, thank you.

#if you want anything else from this scanned lemme know!#slipknot #joey jordison #paul gray #metal edge 46-3 jul 2000 #interview #god i love this one 😭

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blackphanto · 5 months

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Chucky predictions

SPOILER WARNING FOR CHUCKY S3E5!

I wanna make Chucky theories so bad, but I can't think of any! This show is so crazy that I can't even predict or speculate on what could happen next. There are some people teasing on twitter though and all they've been doing is making me even more hyped for how this season is going to end. So here are some of my predictions based on everything that's been teased so far.

Jake will enter the spirit realm:

I don't think he's necessarily going to die, but he's so fixated on ending Chucky for good to the point where he refused to run away from it all like Devon suggested. And we've heard the doctor, the only way you get to the spirit realm is by dying, but what if you didn't need to die? I believe that thanks to all the supernatural shit occurring there, the White House will become some sort of passage between the two realms. Jake will cross it to try and destroy Charles' soul, but if he will fail or succeed is still debatable...

Caroline helps Chucky get young again:

If Jake fails in permanently killing Chucky, Caroline will come to the rescue. We know she'll be back, but what role will she play in this mess? When she'll return, all hell already would've broken loose and she'll just make it worse. Her sudden entrance at the White House will cause quite the emotional reunion for Lexi and her. Yet, Caroline didn't come alone. Armed with the Voodoo for Dummies book, sure, but she brought another friend, who's none other than the Good Guy Doll creator played by John Waters. He came with a new doll, a new vessel for Charles and with Caroline's newfound knowledge of Voodooism, she'll get Damaballa's blessings and give Chucky a new body, a new chance to not disappoint the almighty Iowa and if he plays his cards right, he might even become forever young.

Grant will survive:

I don't have any evidence to back this up, I just like him and think it's unfair that Lexy always has to say goodbye to someone she loves each season and I just don't want it to happen again. From a psychology standpoint it just desensitized her and would lead to her not getting attached to anyone else besides Jake & Devon next season, in fear of someone else always having to die because of her. And from a writing perspective it just gets repetitive, predictable and boring. So please Don Mancini don't kill him, also I love Jackson Kelly.

The past will haunt everyone:

Charles Lee Ray isn't the only ghost the Terror Trio will have to deal with in the newly supernatural possessed White House. We've seen the past of the Collins family haunt them time and time again, we've seen Henry talk about ghosts and fearing what they told him almost every single episode. Why would that stop at Joseph or Charles? Wouldn't it be horrible for our trio to be faced with the lives they lost thanks to a doll they couldn't stop? How would Jake react upon seeing his father again, disappointed at him for being gay. And Lexy, the poor girl, facing Junior, the boy she watched die, trying to save her... Not making at least one ghost of the past come back would be a wasted opportunity.

Tiffany will survive, but Jennifer's body might not:

Tiffany's possible death has been brought up in every interview Jennifer Tilly made following the comeback of Chucky season 3. At this point it even became a ‘will they, won't they’ situation. Does Mancini really have the guts to kill off a cult favorite character and actress he loves so much? Or will we just say goodbye to seeing Tilly on screen and welcome only her voice? I mean the trailer kinda made it clear for me that this isn't the end of Tiffany's story, but maybe that of Jennifer's body.

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reinedeslys-central · 1 month

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"I think you should totally get in the back of my truck, actually," Leo says, linking pinkies with Jason. "What's the line? 'I can show you the world'?"

Jason stares down at where their fingers are curled together, peach on olive. He can't stop looking. "You don't have a truck."

Leo groans. "That was one time. I promise this one's legal. See?" He gently untangles their hands and slips behind the blue Chevy, returning with a slip of wrinkled paper that he triumphantly shoves in Jason's face.

LEO, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU BREAK MY CAR WHILE I'M IN IOWA I WILL HAUNT YOU TO THE END OF TIME.

Your loving cousin, Nyssa (P.S. You can take your boy for a ride. I'll allow it. There's blankets in the back (and please help yourself to the glovebox). Don't tell me.)

Jason's eyes travel down the sparkly purple pen, catching on the note at the bottom before flickering back up. There's something that aches in his chest at the words 'your boy'.

He's not sure what expression takes over his face, but Leo, for his part, sees him and immediately ducks his head down so he can read the paper too, frowning. Jason follows his eyes down to the same line as they widen and Leo turns a raging, glorious red before hastily re-crumpling the note and sticking it into one of the many pockets of his cargo pants.

He clears his throat awkwardly while inspecting the dying grass at their feet. It looks like it could be good grass if it ever rains again this month, nice and long and thick.

..Yeah, nevermind.

He takes his glasses off and cleans them in an attempt to - what, exactly? It's not like he's got the object permanence of a toddler. It's not like looking away will stop him from thinking about red-hot blushes and bouncing curls and sharp smiles and -

Leo claps once, calling Jason's attention back up to him and the pretty blush staining his freckled nose. He looks just as awkward, laughing bashfully.

"Well, that's just Nyssa. Uh, she probably wouldn't actually haunt me, she doesn't believe in ghosts - not, I mean, if you do -" his words trip over each other, diverting the original innuendo that was definitely just meant to tease Leo since Jason's never even met her, not to mention he's not his, finally ending with - "but as you can see, it's clearly perfectly legal. So."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Somehow I doubt that." Leo groans. "Oh, come on, dude, live a little, why dontcha?" He sidles up to him again, draping a warm arm over his shoulders and drawing him over to the car doors. "I know, you know, your dad's in California, your mom's in Paris, and your sister's at a party."

Jason opens his mouth to protest again and -

"- and before you say that you have homework," Leo scoffs, "allow me to remind you that we did our homework together yesterday, and you're already done your math homework for tomorrow, because you're a nerd."

Jason closes his mouth. "It's a school night," he offers weakly.

"Yeah, and every minute you have us waste out here is another minute we're not in the car, ergo another minute we're wasting, on a school night." Leo steps around him and holds his hands out again, eventually latching on to Jason's wrists and tugging him closer so he can peer into his eyes.

Jason may or may not forget how to breathe.

"Are you tired? You don't look tired," Leo frowns. "If you really don't want to go, I won't force you, y'know."

Jason forces his lungs to expand, contract, expand, so he can blurt out, "No, I mean, you got me. I'll go."

Leo grins as bright as the setting sun and twists around, whooping. He not-so-gently pushes Jason towards the car door before jogging over to hop into the driver's seat.

It takes a while, once they're actually on the road and leaving their neighbourhoods behind, that Jason finally goes, "You know, I'm just as concerned with how legal this is as I am with the fact that you still haven't told me where we're going."

Leo glares at him through the mirror. "Hey, if I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?"

Jason hates surprises. "For all I know, you just kidnapped me for a surprise road trip to Toronto, and I didn't even pack my toothbrush."

Laughter bubbles out of the boy sitting at the wheel, quickly escalating into a full guffaw. "You're funny," Leo gasps, wiping away tears at a red light. "How did I not notice that you're funny?"

Jason's definitely never been told that he's funny. He might joke, sure, but being 'funny' is reserved for people like Percy, people like Leo or Cecil, who carry humour on them like sugar on a pastry, baked into their laughs and sprinkled over top with how clever they are.

No matter how hard Jason's tried, he's never been very clever.

Leo's still laughing, now more of a soft giggle as he pulls into the left lane to make a turn. He tries not to let it affect him.

"You should joke more often, dude. Bet all the girls would love that."

Jason looks outside at the trees and farms they're passing. Judging by the position of the sun, they're heading pretty much due south. There's nothing down south for them to be doing, though, especially not this late at night.

Skinny dipping, maybe. He wouldn't put it past Leo to suggest something like that and actually go through with it. But dragging him along? They barely know each other. What's a couple months on all the other people he knows?

"You wanna turn the radio on?" Leo says. Jason looks over to see him watching him with an odd smile. "Shotgun's choice, right? Don't worry, I won't judge. Even though I bet you listen to those 24-hour 'nature recordings' for fun and don't know what real music sounds like."

Jason rolls his eyes and plays with the dial until the 106.1 comes on. Leo groans. "Seriously? They keep playing, like, the same six artists over and over. Sure, Top 40's fine, but show a little variety, you know?"

He shrugs. It's like Leo said - he doesn't really know radio stations. His dad - when he deigns to drive the family places - is much more of a silence-of-doom, or failing that, an ominous-car-conversations person. "You put something on, then, if you're so set on it." He replies.

The warm light from the street plays over Leo's knuckles as he switches the wheel to one hand, blindly flailing the other one towards Jason until he hits the box behind the gear shift. "Pick a CD from here, whatever's fine. Eh, maybe not the Chopin or Metallica though. Might shift the vibe a bit too much."

Obligingly, Jason tugs at the black, faux-leather box until it comes open with a muffled thunk. Inside is a stack of CDs, spanning everything from Katy Perry to Vivaldi to Iron Maiden to Monsta X.

"Your cousin's got quite the music taste," he tosses out, rifling through the stack while giving periodic glances out the window to make sure they're not, like, five seconds away from a crash or something.

If there was anything Beryl Grace taught her kids, it was how to be a responsible passenger.

Almost on autopilot, Jason digs the pink-purple Teenage Dream CD out of the pile and then has to hastily shove the polaroids that spill out from underneath it back between the surrounding paper disc-sleeves (Mamma Mia!, he sees, and ..Heng:garæ? Whatever that means). That can't be safe for the discs, especially in a moving card, but then again who is he to judge. He doesn't even own any CDs.

They've fully left the town behind now, sailing down the open road with nothing but trees, farms, and the occasional streetlight in sight. He leans over and pops the disc into the CD drive, wondering again for the hundredth time where Leo's taking him.

Leo rolls to a stop at a four-way and watches him skip over the first two songs. "Whadya choose?"

Jason smiles. "Is now a good time to tell you I was born in Pasadena?"

The open bars of 'California Gurls' start to play, and Leo's warm, penny-brown eyes widen before he laughs, bright and a touch wild, incredulous.

It's weird. It's so weird. Maybe this is what his father meant when he said not to get any weird ideas in his head so close to finally reaching the decade-long goal of an Ivy League school. Maybe this is what his mother meant when she'd chastised him, saying hormonal teenagers got more impulsive with puberty and he should take care to keep listening to his parents, lest he lose everything he's worked so hard for.

If anyone else had tried this, he thinks, he wouldn't have said yes. He would have stayed at home, studied ahead for bond enthalpy and subjunctive Spanish, made tomorrow's lunch and cleaned his room. Adhering to routine. Acting - being normal.

You have to be normal, Jason. That's how they love you.

I will not tolerate an abnormal son.

Oh, Jason, it's like you just don't understand. What will people say? About you? About our family?

Leo isn't normal. Or maybe he is. Normal doesn't exist, when he's with Leo. He likes that about him.

He takes a risk and rolls the window down halfway so he can lean his head out and watch the sky, crisp wind tousling his hair. Leo smirks at him and switches the wheel to his right hand so he can roll his window down to match.

"Ten minutes," he says. "Look alive, buddy."

"There must be something in the water", Katy Perry croons.

also from 'burning like a glowing star', this valgrace fic I'm writing.

more stuff: Writing Directory

#so here's the thing: Jason is an UNRELIABLE NARRATOR #welcome to my subpar writing everyone #yeah no I don't like this either #gah it's really true what they say about stagnant writing backflow isn't it #writing #my writing #valgrace fic #valgrace #burning like a glowing star #sooo for anyone ACTUALLY reading the tags #this is a senior year first-meeting fic that kinda has right-person-wrong-time vibes to it #I'm still not sure of the plotline and where it'll go so if there's smth you really want to see lmk!#heads up: there will be no jealousy arcs or unrequited love plotlines. this isn't that kind of right-person-wrong-time lol #leo's in a band and jason plays varsity soccer #....piper quits the cheer team she's been discovering herself (she's gonna join model UN and own everyone)#cut line: Not that Jason's a misogynist (comma) but he also sincerely doesn't give a shit about what girls think of him right now.#I need tp reuse that at some point so I'm leaving it there for now #oh hey this is pretty long #i got carried away #get you a ship that makes you smile while writing it #leo valdez #jason grace #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus fanfic

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stillwintering · 3 months

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All's Fair in Love and Politics (a modern Nessian AU - where Rhys is running for president)

Summary: In the ruthless arena of politics, victory demands risking everything, even one's own heart. Rhysand has his eyes on the presidency. Feyre convinces her estranged sister, Nesta, to join the political campaign. Nesta and Cassian find themselves forging an unexpected bond as the campaign intensifies. But can their budding romance survive the treacherous waters of modern political warfare?

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10

Chapter 11

"I have it on good authority," said Azriel slowly. "Kallias is intent on staying in the race through the fall debate cycle."

Rhysand looked up from the papers in front of him. The muscles in his jaw feathered. "Does he have enough funds to sustain him until the Iowa Caucuses?"

Azriel nodded. "It seems his strategy is to split the anti-Thesan block of the party -- prevent us from consolidating the votes."

Rhysand leaned back in his office chair, his head tipped towards the ceiling. "I see," he sighed.

Cassian hummed to himself in the corner of the office, crumpled into a small chair. "You don't suppose..." Cassian's voice trailed off.

"Kallias knows he doesn't have a pathway to victory," Azriel supplied. "It's personal. For him."

Rhysand dragged his hands down his face, looking suddenly more ragged and tired than ever before. "I was afraid that was the case." His violet eyes were dark.

Cassian looked down at the worn carpets. "This is my fault," he whispered, "it was my operation in Herat that killed his men."

Both Azriel and Rhysand bristled immediately.

"Cass, don't --"

"It's really not --"

Cassian stood, pulling himself to his full height. "I made a bad call, Rhys," he said. "Now you are paying the price."

"No, you made a strategic choice," replied Rhysand. "I was the one in the field with Kallias's platoon. It was -- " his voice faltered, "I made the bad call. I am responsible for their deaths. Kallias is right to blame me."

The air in the small office turned thick as if the war had never ended. Cassian let out a shaky breath.

A sharp knock at the door broke the silence.

"Rhys, I need you to look at these polling numbers from -- " Nesta stopped. "Am I interrupting something? I can come back."

Cassian turned towards the door, his posture stiff. He frowned, eyes downcast, a man haunted. Azriel's face was blank, but his skin looked ashen.

Rhys recovered first. "I think we are done here," he said, clearing his throat.

Nesta shifted her weight, eyes bouncing between the three men, the skin on her back tingling as if something terrible had happened. "I can come back," she repeated.

"What about the polling numbers?" Rhys waved her in.

Nesta hesitated. Azriel looked at her blankly. Cassian refused to look at her.

"You would tell me if there is anything for me to know, right?" she asked, steadying her voice.

There was a beat -- she felt it. Azriel blinked. Cassian looked stricken. Rhys clenched his jaw.

She entered the office and placed the new polling numbers on the desk.

Rhys nodded stiffly. "Of course."

---

Tortilla Coast was a Capitol Hill institution -- an unassuming Tex-Mex restaurant just blocks from the Capitol Building and one block from the Cannon House Office. It was possibly the absolute closest restaurant to those seats of power, and everyone, really everyone, went there.

The windows are bedecked with decals promising "MARGARITAS" and "BBQ RIBS"; inside are worn vinyl booths, neon beer signs, and murals of leaping fish on walls of deep red and acid green. The interns showed up in droves every afternoon for cheap drinks and free chips and salsa. Yet, it was the unlikeliest power hub in town, one of Washington’s busiest venues for political fundraisers and power dealings.

During happy hour on a crisp September day, Tortilla Coast was practically bursting at the seams. Nesta begrudgingly followed the Starborn office staff to the promise of mediocre tacos and cheap beer.

Amren surveyed the clientele with a practiced eye.

The Capitol Hill set came here to be seen -- power plays were set in motion, alliances were soft launched, and deals were announced. By the door, Thesan Morgenstern was holding court. A gaggle of eager political underlings around him, holding on to his every word. Nesta immediately recognized the man next to him -- a feature writer from Vanity Fair.

"Looks like Thesan will have a profile in the next issue," she murmured to Amren.

Azriel and Cassian disappeared into a throng of top military brass and foreign policy types -- laughing and smiling like they were amongst old friends. Nesta had never gotten along with the hawkish foreign policy establishment -- The Blob, as they had been derisively termed amongst commentators -- that dominated Washington. They seemed to her like a bunch of outdated dinosaurs championing the old-time gospel of American leadership on the world stage like it was still the 1990s.

Nesta observed Cassian clap the backs of several men in sharp suits and regulation haircuts, reeking of the Pentagon. Their heads bent in hushed conversation. Cassian's face slowly turned stern and resigned, like when she had walked in on them all in Rhys's office last week.

What happened in Afghanistan? The question clanged through her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nesta spotted Eris by the bar -- his red hair clashing against the kitschy decor. As the Chief of Staff to the Speaker of the House -- Eris was, by the transitive property, the third most powerful man in the country. The crowd around him treated him almost reverently, giving him a wide berth while he made his order with the bartender.

"Proximity to power deludes some into thinking they wield it," Amren commented drily into her beer.

Nesta hummed in agreement. Part of what made Tortilla Coast special was how much one can learn by just observing the crowds.

"The first debate is scheduled in Nashua, New Hampshire, next month," Amren said, turning back to her. "I'm going to send you and Cassian a week ahead of time -- advance team. Bring whomever you need."

Nesta nodded, her mind compiling tasks and logistics immediately. "We'll start planning," she acknowledged.

Eris's gaze snagged on her as he turned from the bar. He greeted her with a nod, then walked away into a crowd of Capitol Hill staffers.

Nothing had sat right with her since the Hewn fundraiser. She needed to know.

Nesta frowned. "Excuse me," she muttered to Amren and pushed her way into the crowd where Eris's distinctive red hair could be seen through the gaps between bodies.

The jovial laughter from his companions died as soon as Nesta planted herself in front of Eris. He eyed her intently, a smirk on his lips.

She pulled his head down towards her shoulder -- the cacophony of music and voices buzzed loudly around them. "What's the play, Eris?" she hissed in his ear. "Is Thesan going after Rhys's military record? Not strong enough on defense?"

Eris chuckled, his breath hot against her cheeks. "Why, hello to you too, Nesta." He smelled like limes and cloves and something smokey.

She walked into him, needing answers. She pushed him through the crowd into the wall nearby. His amber eyes glittered, amused and dangerous. He let her into his personal space, the bodies around them shifting and squeezing them closer against the wall. The air between them was hot, sweaty, and tight.

"Now, now," he murmured, "the interns are going to gossip if you manhandle me in public."

Their faces were pressed so close together -- it was the only way they could talk in private with everyone drinking around them.

"Botched missions? Is that it?" She continued, undeterred.

Eris snorted. "Have a little imagination."

"Then it's to embarrass Rhys?"

He clicked his tongue.

"Why Cassian?"

He leaned back against the wall, and his head thudded against the wood. "So," he sneered, looking down at her from the refined ridge of his nose. "You've got a soft spot for the brute?"

Nesta felt a jolt of electricity run down her spine. "Honestly, I didn't think I meant enough to you to make you territorial, Eris."

"Are you fucking him?" he asked baldly.

She swallowed, her face heating with a heady mix of indignation and shock.

"No?" He studied her keenly, roaming from her eyes to her lips and back. "But you want to."

"You don't know anything about what I want," she snapped, indignation winning out.

His hand suddenly rose to cradle her face. He leaned against her ear, all heat and tequila on his breath. "Oh," his voice rumbled deep, "but I do."

Nesta shoved him back -- he went easily. "Don't touch me," she warned.

He lifted his hands, holding his palms up, satisfied that he got under her skin.

There was a version of Nesta who would have let him feel her up in the back of a crowded bar, who would have even taken him home after. Nesta had kissed Eris for the first time at Tortilla Coast, years ago when she had started working on the politics beat at her first newspaper. She had been desperate and reckless and damaged -- Eris seemed right for her back then. She remembered the weight of his body between her thighs, how he'd made her keen, how she'd made him weak.

She never liked that version of herself.

"That part of our relationship is over," said Nesta, her voice firm.

Eris grunted. "I know." Something flashed across his face -- contrition.

He kept his hands raised and away. Nesta decided to press back into him, taking back control. He let her pin him against the wall -- the bar too cramped and boisterous for anyone to notice them.

"What will Beron do with the oppo research on Rhys?" she asked him. "Did you already give it to the Morgenstern campaign?"

Eris relaxed against her. "Thesan doesn't want to get his hands dirty," he replied quietly. He tilted his head, looking over her into the crowd. "He wants a clean primary, save the hard hits for Hybern. He's far enough ahead in the polls to stay above the fray. No sense in getting involved in petty party in-fighting."

She nodded. "So it's Kallias," she said. "The oppo research is for Kallias. He's meant to take down Rhys so Thesan can skate through to the general unscathed."

Eris smiled -- he always appreciated her intellect. It almost bordered on affection.

"The party higher-ups are rigging the primary for Thesan," Nesta concluded.

"You didn't hear it from me," he said as he slipped away.

Nesta watched him go. She could still smell the limes and cloves and smoke he left behind.

---

Cassian was pushing through the drunken masses towards her.

Tortilla Coast was getting rowdier by the minute as Happy Hour drew to a close -- the cheap beers and margaritas loosened everyone up. Laughter pealed over the hum of conversations, punctuated by the occasional shout as someone called for another round. Standing head and shoulders above the crowd, Cassian was striking -- a dark beacon in the dimly lit bar, his eyes locked on her alone.

He was close now, close enough for her to notice the faint stubble along his jaw and the slight upturn of his lips as he leaned in. His words were a deep thrum against the clamor of the bar, "Ready to get out of here?" His body aligned with hers in the small space, pressing solidly against her.

Nesta nodded quickly.

His hand dropped to the small of her back, a commanding pressure guiding her. Together, they began to make their way towards the exit, his presence a shielding force from the jostling bodies around them.

They spilled out onto the street and into the sunset -- it felt like coming up for air.

He stepped away from her. The loss of heat from his hand on her back made her acutely aware of the early evening chill.

"What did Eris want this time?" He pushed his hand through his hair, loose out of its usual neat tie from the workday.

She looked up at him, momentarily taken aback by his rugged features. He had taken off his necktie, too, collar open. The one drink she had earlier had worked through her system, loosening up her usual defenses.

She needed to know.

"Do you trust me?" asked Nesta.

His brow furrowed. "Of course," replied Cassian immediately.

"I know I'm crashing your little inner circle," Nesta began, unable to keep the bite out of her voice after months of feeling like she was on the outside. "You don't have to tell me everything. But I need to know -- I need to be able to do my job."

"You know everything, Nes." He was staring at her -- hazel eyes burning into her, completely open and all-consuming. Has anyone ever looked at her like that before?

"I swear I would never keep anything from you."

She felt like her skin was on fire.

"What happened in Afghanistan?" She whispered the question.

He blinked. "What -- " Then, his face twisted at the non sequitur. "Afghanistan? What does that have to do with -- "

"I don't care if -- "

"Rhys's service record is exemplary. You have access to his service record, his commendations."

Nesta steeled herself. "What did you do in Afghanistan?"

"Me?" Cassian eyebrows shot up. "What -- ? How is that -- ?"

"Eris pulled your FBI file."

She watched Cassian's entire demeanor change. His body went rigid, his expression closed. "That's classified," he said carefully.

"Eris mentioned that most of your personnel file was redacted," said Nesta, letting out a long exhale. "I need to know if there is anything in there that could be damaging to the candidate."

"Damaging?" Cassian startled. "Where is this coming from? I don't understand how this is relevant to -- "

"You can tell me what happened," she cut in, her heart beating hard against her ribcage.

Please tell me what happened.

Suddenly, he was bending down close to her, his hazel eyes intense, glowing like bronze in the low evening light. "Nes," he breathed. "I want to -- believe me -- but I need you to -- "

She felt goosebumps all over her arms; she couldn't look away from his beautiful face, frozen in place.

"Cassian," she inhaled. "I won't -- " She didn't know how to finish that thought -- tell? care? judge him? She couldn't promise him anything.

His face was only a few inches from hers, and his eyes dipped to her lips.

"My missions were top secret." His voice was low and pleading. "I can neither deny nor confirm anything he's told you. I would do anything, Nes, just ask me -- "

"There you two are! Ready for our run?"

They both snapped to attention at the door behind them, where Azriel had just stumbled out of Tortilla Coast. He observed the scant distance between their bodies and immediately pivoted.

"Nevermind, Amren said she was buying the next round -- "

Nesta took a step back, breathing hard.

"It's fine, Az," she said, surprised her voice was steady. "I need to get a run in."

Cassian looked away -- even in the disappearing light, his face was luminous -- and nodded.

---

First, they had to stop by the Congressional Staff Wellness Center to change out of their work clothes and into athletic wear. Then, the three of them took their usual 8-mile route around the National Mall. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, but the sky was still bright. The yellow September dusk made the monuments glow otherwordly.

This evening's post-work run was uncharacteristically silent. Usually, Cassian teased her. The three of them frequently talked about campaign strategy or upcoming legislation while they warmed up or paused at stoplights.

Tonight, Cassian was particularly solemn. Azriel was silent in his own unique way -- hyperaware, assessing. Nesta focused on her body, feeling her muscles work as they passed the Reflection Pool and then on to the Washington Monument. She pushed herself especially hard, needing to resolve all the tension that had built up in her body from her talk with Eris and then Cassian.

She had meant what she said to Eris, that the sexual part of their relationship had ended. After the spring charity gala at the Hewn Mansion, she felt a kind of finality to their intimacy. They used each other and for a long time, Nesta thought that it was enough. It took leaving DC and coming back years later -- older and only marginally wiser -- for her to finally be ready to let him go completely. Eris made every decision based on a calculus of power -- always looking for the upper hand in every interaction. He could never be what she needed.

But what did she need?

Nesta was a stranger to herself.

She had spent the entirety of her adult life closing herself off to her needs. She left home at 18 -- after her mother died and her father disappeared in all but name -- and never looked back. Her departure was as much self-preservation as it was an act of retaliation.

She was barely a teenager when her mother wasted away in front of her eyes. Her sisters were too young, too soft. Her father... he couldn't bear it. Nesta held a 10-day vigil over her mother's deathbed. She didn't have a good relationship with her mother, but she also couldn't leave her alone in that sterile hospital room.

Those last days were a cruel torture.

Her mother drifted in and out of consciousness -- cancer and morphine consumed everything that had made Elinor Archeron the formidable woman she had been in her wakeful life. She had asked for her sisters, for her father -- each time, all Nesta could do was shake her head, unable to speak, until finally, Elinor had stopped saying anything at all and just stared at Nesta like she wasn't there either.

Nesta would never forget her mother's last words to her. In a rare moment of lucidity, Elinor had whispered, with a ragged breath, "It's better if he loves you a little bit more."

Those words imprinted themselves on her like a tattoo across her heart. Nesta had resented her father's weakness, his absence, his failures. But she resented him, most of all, for not loving them enough to stay.

It's better if he loves you a little bit more.

Eris never loved her. She wasn't sure he could -- not with her, at least. And Nesta needed -- no.

She needed more than what she'd allowed herself to hope for.

---

Azriel peeled off from them at the last mile, making some vague excuse about needing to take a detour on the way home. He gave Cassian a meaningful squeeze on the shoulder and Nesta a soft smile before heading in the opposite direction.

Nesta followed Cassian toward the Lincoln Memorial, where they usually started or ended their evening workouts. They slowed at the far side of the steps, finding a private spot and avoiding the few tourists coming through.

The sun had set entirely now. The white marble edifice was bathed in spotlights, its magnificent columns rising like ancient sentinels into the starless sky.

Cassian turned to face her, his chest rising and falling from their run, breath heavy. His eyes were clear and intent, the exercise seeming to focus his mind.

"I trust you, Nesta," he said, using her full name for the first time in weeks.

She considered, eyes searching his handsome face, then slowly nodded.

"Do you trust me?" Cassian asked.

She could feel her heart beating hard against her ribcage -- adrenaline and endorphins flooding her senses.

When she did not reply, he asked again, "Nesta, do you trust me?"

She felt light-headed, but her words felt right as she spoke them, "I trust you, Cassian."

He stepped towards her, their chests inches apart. His hands reached out to gently grip her biceps, the contact grounding her. The professional boundary between them suddenly felt permeable. She felt a tug towards him, like falling into gravity.

"I served on Delta Force for 15 years," he began softly, his voice tinged with resigned anguish. "I was deployed with the United States Central Command and Southern Command. My focus was on unconventional warfare and counterinsurgency. I've been through hundreds of missions… done things that haunt me every day. The war was brutal. I have scars -- " his right hand moved from her bicep to her wrist, guiding her hand to rest against his right hipbone, "shrapnel wounds here -- "

He gently pushed her hand down the length of his muscled thigh, tracing the wound. Her breath hitched at the intimacy of the gesture and the horror it represented.

"I fractured my femur in three places," Cassian continued his voice a hushed murmur as she explored the outlines of his quadriceps through the thin fabric of his gym shorts.

"And here -- " he placed her left hand over the center of his chest " -- a bullet just missed my heart." His voice was low, and Nesta imagined the tattoo across his skin there, camouflaging the puckered scar. His chest was hot and solid beneath her palm -- she could feel his pounding heart.

"I've had to make impossible choices, ones that I can never take back." The intensity of his attention on her was overwhelming. Nesta listened silently, rapt. "The guilt, the weight of it all… it’s always there, like a shadow I can’t outrun. But I don't want to hide any of that from you."

"Stop," she murmured, removing her hands from his thigh and chest before she did something she would regret. "You don't have to -- "

"I do," he interrupted. "I want you to know everything about me."

She took a deep breath, letting the cool evening air fill her lungs. He smelled like black truffles, bergamot, and something distinctly Cassian.

Feeling bold from touching him earlier, she reached out and cradled his face in her hands. His eyes fell immediately, nuzzling into her touch.

"How many people have you killed?" she asked in a whisper.

Cassian's eyes remained closed, but his brows furrowed immediately, and he frowned. She traced the notched scar along his eyebrow with her thumb, wondering how that particular wound came to be.

She needed to know if she could bear it.

"I don't know," he finally said, opening his eyes -- hazel and pained. "I stopped keeping track. I don't know how many enemy combatants I have killed. There are always unintentional consequences of war. The civilians, I -- " His voice broke, looking like he was on the edge of tears.

Nesta softened. It was like she could finally see him in his totality for once -- all the jagged edges and the aching tenderness underneath. "That's why you left the military," she supplied for him.

He nodded, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. "Nesta, my ledger is red as sin," he said. "And I'll try to rebalance it for the rest of my life if I have to. When I first enlisted, I believed in the mission, in the idea of fighting for the greater good. But war changes you. It strips away the illusions... There were times when I had to prioritize the strategic objectives over my conscience. The faces of those I've lost, of those I've hurt, they never leave me. I live with the consequences."

His voice wavered, and Nesta could see the pain etched deeply in his features. "I've tried to make amends in whatever ways I can. I work with veterans, advocate for survivors of armed conflicts, help get Rhys elected -- I'll do anything to give back, tip the scales... but it'll never be enough, I know."

He paused, his confession hanging between them, suspended in the autumn night. Nesta felt his sorrow, his regret -- a raw, untamed thing that resonated within her own soul.

"Cassian," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her hand gently brushed away a tear that escaped down his cheek. "You are a good man."

His eyes snapped to hers, searching, hopeful. The evening lights caught the edges of his irises, gilding them with a golden hue that made them appear almost like a painting. Cassian’s hand reached up to touch hers, his fingers trembling slightly as they interlocked with her own. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles softly. It was one of the most erotic moments of her life.

"That’s more than I ever hoped to be," he said against her skin, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine.

Nesta felt time slow down, the world narrowing down to just the two of them, their faces inches apart.

He moved first, a slow and deliberate motion that closed the remaining distance between them. His lips met hers with an unexpected gentleness. Nesta responded instinctively, her lips parting slightly as she melted into the kiss.

Cassian's hands, callous from so much destruction, now held her with a careful reverence, fingertips tracing the lines of her jaw, then behind her ear, down her back as if memorizing the map of her body. Nesta's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening their kiss. The taste of him -- spicy with a hint of something darker, more primal -- was intoxicating, driving her to explore further, her tongue seeking his with a boldness that matched his own.

As the kiss went on, Nesta moaned against his mouth, hands roaming over the hard planes of his back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if she could somehow pull him even closer. Cassian reacted with equal fervor, his lips trailing burning kisses down her neck, finding the tender spot that made her gasp, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Cassian’s mouth found hers again, this time his kiss demanding, consuming, as if trying to drink her in, to drown in the very essence of her. His teeth grazed her lower lip, coaxing a gasp from her that he swallowed with a deep, throaty groan.

Nesta's heart raced, her senses overwhelmed by the wet heat of his mouth and the hot press of his body against hers -- every inch of her tingled like lightning was about to strike. It was like getting everything she wanted and everything she feared at the same time. She desperately wanted to lose herself in what it might feel like to fully let go of the past.

She never wanted the kiss to end.

#nesta and cassian are working on a political campaign #nesta x cassian #nessian #fanfic #a court of silver flames #cassian #nesta archeron #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar #nesta #all's fair in love and politcs #political au #nesta and cassian #archive of our own

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myhauntedsalem · 8 months

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The unsolved mystery of the Van Meter Visitor – a winged creature!

A bizarre legend and unsolved mystery which has haunted a small Iowa town for more than 100 years is the subject of a new book called The Van Meter Visitor.

For several nights in 1903, the small town of Van Meter, Iowa was terrorized by a giant bat-like creature that emerged from an old abandoned mine.

The identity of this mysterious monster has never been discovered, but over 100 years later a new book is retelling the amazing tale and hoping to shed some light on what happened all those years ago.

The legend dates back to the fall of 1903, when several of Van Meter’s most well respected citizens reported a half human, half animal with enormous, smooth bat wings flying about.

The creature is described as moving at speeds the townsfolk had never witnessed before, plus it let off a powerful stench and shot a blinding light from its horned head.

Each time the townsfolk encountered the creature they fired their guns at it, but this appeared to have no impact on the creature.

On the first night it was first spotted flying across the building tops. The next evening it was spotted by both the town doctor and bank cashier Peter Dunn who took a plaster cast of its ‘great three-toed tracks.’

On the third night, a man spotted it perched atop a telephone pole. Another resident who saw it, described the monster as hopping like a kangaroo, while the local high school teacher likened it to a devil.

Scared and angered by what they had witnessed, the townsfolk followed the creature to an abandoned coal mine near an old brickyard where they heard a noise from the mine.

‘Presently the noise opened up again, as though Satan and a regiment of imps were coming forth for battle,’ reads an article in the Des Moines Daily News from Oct. 3, 1903.

#The unsolved mystery of the Van Meter Visitor #van meter visitor #ghost and hauntings #paranormal #ghost and spirits #haunted locations #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem #unsolved mystery #spirits #ghosts #paranormal phenomena #unsolved mysteries

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bluecatwriter · 3 months

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⭐

Thank you, dear anon! I decided on "Angels Unawares" because I want to gush about my OCs. ;) "Five times people helped Jonathan Harker reach safety between Castle Dracula and Buda-Pesth."

(Major spoilers, discussion of Christianity)

-I was inspired to write this fic based on the gigantic gap between Jonathan lizard-fashioning down Castle Dracula's walls and showing up in Buda-Pesth, and began to think about who might have encountered him along the way. From my days backpacking the Pacific Crest Trail, I am very aware of how difficult it is to travel large distances without good supplies (just finding enough water is a huge headache!), and I kept thinking that he had to have people helping him along the way.

-This fic was very inspired by my solo travels around the U.S. (and a bit in Europe) when I was in my early 20s— I was never in dire circumstances, but the way that people went far out of their way to help me made a huge impact on me. I wanted to explore the themes of the kindness of strangers, and how doing one little useful thing can help set things in motion for bigger good to be done.

-The title is a reference to a verse in the New Testament book of Hebrews, which one of the characters quotes in the first chapter: "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." This verse was used in my immediate and extended family quite often, to encourage us to be kind to strangers and do what we could to help (my paternal grandmother swore that her family gave food and shelter to a pair of angels who showed up at their farm in Iowa when she was a kid). Someone in the comments show that in some sense Jonathan is an angel— an avenging angel who will return to destroy the foe who is haunting this part of the world.

-In each of the chapters, Jonathan encounters a different person or group of people who help him get a little closer to his destination, told from the outsider's perspective. I didn't have any strong themes or motifs in mind when I started out, but after a couple chapters, I noticed some running threads emerging: 1) Jonathan receiving a gift from each of the strangers, such as shoes or a handkerchief, and 2) the viewpoint characters helping him because they were able to see someone they already knew/loved in Jonathan. After I noticed it emerging I emphasized it intentionally, and I think it gives the story a good kind of structure.

-Chapter 1, set in Romania fairly close to Castle Dracula, is told from the viewpoint of Pavel, who lives with his son and his grandma and is grieving the death of his wife from a vampire. This one was one of the most difficult to write, because of a language barrier (it didn't make sense for them to speak English, and I decided that Jonathan was in no state to remember much of the German he knows) and because of the overwhelming fear that the characters are facing: at first thinking Jonathan is a vampire, then learning he's a victim instead.

-This chapter features some herbal remedies that I pulled from a book my brother got for me called "Russian Folk Remedies." Grandma uses herbs for dressing wounds and treating rabies (and in a rare burst of doing actual research, I made sure the herbs would be able to grow that far south).

-Jonathan reminds Pavel of the wife he lost, and Jonathan is sent on his way with shoes, a pack, and food.

-In Chapter 2, we meet Cristian, an old man with an estranged son. I actually made myself pretty emotional writing this chapter, drawing from my parents' stories about how difficult it is to let go of the childhood stage and accept your children as adults.

-It was important to me that Cristian is kind of a grumpy guy, and was initially going to chase Jonathan away. I didn't want everyone to be sunshine and rainbows— just ordinary people of various personality types who learn to have empathy, anyway.

-Jonathan reminds Cristian of his son, and is given Cristian's coat.

-Chapter 3 introduces Nicolae, the station-master at Klausenburg. I decided to make him young for some contrast to Cristian, and eager to do his job correctly. Meanwhile, I had to figure out how to show Jonathan's "violent demeanor" in a believable way.

-I decided to give Nicolae a seizure disorder to make him sympathetic to Jonathan having a meltdown in public. One of my family members has seizures, and even in the modern day, handling people's reactions when a seizure happens in a crowd is… not fun. There would have been even more social stigma back then, so I thought it was a good way to show that Nicolae is more open to Jonathan than other people might be because he knows what it's like to have people be afraid of him.

-I looked up some pictures of the Klausenburg station, but few of those details made it into the story.

-Nicolae gives Jonathan a sandwich with pickled garlic paste on it (yum!) and Jonathan can barely eat it; at this point it becomes a bit clearer that Jonathan is just a lil vamped right now.

-Jonathan reminds Nicolae of himself, and takes Nicolae's handkerchief with him.

-Chapter 4 introduces a retired nurse from the Romanian War of Independence, Maria. She's my favorite character! I based her no-nonsense personality on one of my sibling's in-laws, who was an ICU nurse for many years.

-Originally Maria was traveling with her niece, who translated for her, but the logistics got ridiculously complicated, so I left out the niece and just made Maria fluent in English.

-This is definitely the most gory chapter as we see the full extent of Jonathan's wounds. Fortunately he has someone to patch him up…

-Jonathan reminds Maria of the soldiers she tended during the war, and she gives him one of her spare shirts to replace his raggedy one.

-In Chapter 5 we finally get to Sister Agatha! I decided to make her one of the younger nuns working at the hospital, thinking that she probably wrote the letter not because she was the person in charge but because she was the one who spoke/wrote English most fluently.

-At the time I wrote this, my spouse and I were watching the show Call the Midwife, and that vibe informed the way I wrote the nuns.

-Once I figured out that each viewpoint character would see someone they loved/knew in Jonathan, I was champing at the bit to get to this chapter, because I knew Sister Agatha would looked at bedraggled Jonathan and be like, "Yeah, that's Jesus." She also gives him a rosary, which burns his hand, but he doesn't want to relinquish.

-I liked the little epilogue with Jonathan, still disoriented, waking up and taking stock of all the gifts he's been given along his journey, even if he can't really remember what is happening. Although the story doesn't necessarily "resolve" in that he hasn't found Mina yet, he's left with a feeling that people will continue to help him along his journey… and they do!

Well, this got a bit rambly, but thanks for the opportunity to gush. :D

(Ask game here)

#ask games #answered #director's cut game #dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #my writing #jonathan harker #sister agatha

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