#If anyone would like to write a wee review even

[montydrawsstuff]

always makes me happy to receive new comments on my comic! Saw some today hehe

Pls enjoy, just because it's complete doesn't mean the story is over, and I love to know people enjoy it. And spread it to people who you think will like it!

[moon-0f-m4rs]

Mercs with a borrower friendo :3

(this is my 1st time writing anything so ummmmm...... hiii)

Scout

Yaps, yaps and yaps more,, and ya gotta bear it. Like, whenever he was annoying anyone else in the team, they'd just walk away or get him to get away. But now,, cant do nothing about it. At first he definitely took advantage of it, but over time i feel like he'd pay a bit more mind to not being too insufferable. Also, therapy sessions every now nd then. Man needs a bit comfort even if he can't admit it. Hes not that bad when it comes to handling, can be gentle, but also sometimes can get a bit too careless. Oh but he teases alot, alooot. Would get u snacks, but never try bonk..... u'll explode 😓😓

Solider

Before even getting found out by him, you had to have a tiny american flag in ur bag whenever you went out. If you didnt, this guy wouldnt adopt you as THE AMERICAN BORROWER YOU ARE!!! And since, say, you did.......... best dad ever. 10/10. Well i mean,, accidents happen quite some timesss.. (racoons.. or his idiocy) He keeps an eye on ya tho, 24/7. Also, youre probably his only voice of good sense that could shush him down whenever he gets a bit dum dum, thats appreciated by everyone.

Pyro

Dress ups, tea parties and some arson on the side since he provides u matches. At first he was way too curious about you to be gentle, but over time he learnt to be carefull. Likes touchin u, prodding and tapping and stuff. Keeps him aware ur real and not am image in his head. He would definitely make crafts for u, like just minature sized objects or something like that. Would get really attached, so, you get scary dog privilege :3

Demoman

Wee lil' friend you are hes rather fond of. Hes caring and protective all the time. When he gets sloshed, he just becomes grabby, clingy nd loud. At times, just cuz hes used to do so, tries to get you to drink sum with him (if you're an adult ofc). This guy stuffs pepole up with granades on a daily, but would never hurt someone smaller than himself. Sometimes u gotta remind him to be quieter, but tbh, if youre living next to an everyday battlefield, your ears should be well used to it by now.

Heavy

A presence he doesn't rrly mind. When hes not in battle hes a quiet man, just going through his day, so having a tiny bud on the shoulder is no issue. He'd be pretty scared of handling said bud tho, ees hard to be careful when being beeg man. But you can always just stay in the pocket or as i said already, shoulder. Guaranteed food around him too. Heavy does not mind sharing sandvich with leetle leetle friend.

Engineer

Workshop assistant :D Every borrower must know how to make tools, atleast the basics, and i feel like he'd be amused by these but in a positive way. He would definitely make tiny functioning thingys for ya. And now if we dont care about the amount of noise, a small wrangler to you and you can shoot with his sentry meanwhile hes occupied with something else on the battlefield. Super fun and caring guy, one of the few that know what personal space means tbh.

Sniper

Rather antisocial typa guy, so if you're around him then its either just sitting in silence or a small talk about either his job or whatever you have to offer. I also dont feel like he'd be overly touchy in any situation. He sometimes can offer you resting somewhere on him; hat, shoulder, pocket, whatever you like. But thats for whenever he's not sniping. He'd rather not get startled by a move and miss the shot.

Medic

It all.. ALL depends on how he found you, what mood he had and overall what was his first thought he had about you. And if it was all somewhat positive, then another assistant you are. He could get a full review of how it is when inside of a human body from u!!!! fun ain't it? :D He wouldnt really go out his way to be careful, at first at least. Later on he might give some respect, if you prove yourself to be productive and entertaining that is. Archimedes would definitely be interested in you, taking you as their own.

Spy

He wouldnt be too invested in you, maybe sometimes taking you on the battlefield as a extra set of eyes or something. Also it would be a pain to even spend time with him since his smoke room would be a literal gas chamber. But maybe he'd let you just ride along in some pocket, as long as you kept it clean, and just.. do spy duties idk. Maybe if he got you some of your own mini gadgets then mini spy???? hhhmmmm??? im outta ideas for him idk

hon hon france

uuhhh... yea (this took me like 2 weeks my god)

[themotherofhorses]

paloma: first meeting

— simon "ghost" riley x oc!silentdove reyes.

summary: he's not annoyed, per se, but ghost is just not really in the mood to chit-chat with the american airman scurrying around the base. at best, he tolerates them.

(or the first exchange between ghost and his montanan woman.)

warnings: none, aside from explicit language.

note: okay, so despite this being an obvious OC-insert series, i invite anyone and everyone to read it :D this is actually my first time tackling an OC-insert fanfic (as well as writing ghost) so im still trying to get the rhythm of things.

dividers by: @saradika

paloma (masterlist) | main masterlist

[2021] 

Simon Riley won’t ever admit it — never aloud, anyway — but every time he steps foot on American soil, he feels more akin to a wolf draped in sheep’s clothing. 

In his mind, he sticks out like a sore thumb. He is not a hero, really; unlike the lot teetering around the military base he is currently stationed at for the next five or so weeks, he is less flesh and blood, and more a phantom. Or something along those lines. Actually, that could explain why there is such little traffic aimed his way. But he doesn’t particularly care. His schedule lacks the room to voice any complaints. 

Right now, his main concern is doing his job, and doing it right. 

Two weeks back, Price had him fishing out his passport tucked away inside his bedside table. “Fancy a two month getaway to the States?” Great Falls, Montana, to be exact. High west, nearing the border of Canada, and surrounded by land he’s only ever seen in those silly ass spaghetti western movies. 

The view is nice, he’ll admit. Beautiful, even. Exhilarating. He now understands why they refer to Montana as “Big Sky Country.” 

Malmstrom is much smaller than he imagined, and homier too. The Air Force base is nestled within the city’s east side, offering its own museum and park. He’s quite grateful for the latter; the trails allow for his nighttime walks when the nightmares prove too shitty to sleep. 

Great Falls is pretty as well. Price would like it, maybe Garrick too. He knows the two are big on history, and almost every inch of the city is drenched with some memory belonging to the old frontier days. 

Upon arriving, the yanks provided him with his own private office, housed in the back of the 341st logistics readiness squadron. It’s nothin’ fancy, really, just a wee room furnished with a dark mahogany desk, two windows, a steel cabinet, the Montana flag to his left, and the American to his right. 

Again, he’s not one to complain. Something’s something. 

Earlier, one of the higher-up airmen, a Staff Sergeant Benson (he believes is the name), had handed him a folder jam-packed with a shit ton of mission statements — logistics, strategic planning, reports of previous global concerns, and reviews of the base’s Minuteman III intercontinental ballistic missile. All the documents are dated in a time range varying between two months ago to 0800 this morning. 

In the back of his mind, he can already hear Price chuckling.

“Have fun, Simon.”

Bloody bastard. 

So now, Ghost sits hunched over the desk, feeling a little too damn big for it. All the paperwork is strewn about messily around him, with sticky notes, a pen, and some other random shit of his. No one has yet to visit him; until that happens, he feels little need to remain organized. 

His boot taps against the floor. “—Initial efforts to clean polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) from launch facilities at Malmstrom AFB are ongoing but seeing success…” Ghost reads under his breath. PCBs? That’s nice to hear.

“...after PCBs were detected on surfaces in launch facilities at all three of the command’s missile wings.” 

PCBs. Polychlorinated biphenyls — man-made and highly toxic, consisting of carbon, hydrogen, and chlorine atoms. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he flips onto the next page.

“We know they’re present on what appears to be otherwise pristine surfaces, due to the survey—” 

—a sudden knock interrupts his reading. 

With a curse on his tongue, Ghost sets down the report. He quicks a sneaking glance at his watch. 1342 hours. He’s due in a meeting at 1700. 

“Come in.” His voice sounds low and raspy, the two words sounding more like a growl than a greeting. He’s not annoyed, per se, but Ghost is just not really in the mood to chit-chat with the American airmen scurrying around the base. At best, he tolerates them.

(In his mind, they’re all little Graves, ready to stir up a headache.) 

The door slowly cracks open.

“Lieutenant Riley?” A female voice calls out — soft and cautious; Ghost’s chin drops against his knuckles. “Apologies for the disruption, sir, but I have some additional paperwork I need to drop off with you, at the request of my superior.” He grunts, and the airman then steps into his office, quickly shutting the door behind her before meeting his eyes. 

It is entirely unlike him, Ghost knows, but his brain almost short-circuits right then and there. Two dark brown eyes, framed by thick lashes, peering up at him. Shit. He’d always thought brown was such a pretty eye color on a woman, but hers stretched further across common compliments. 

Both of  ‘em — they held no animosity, no uneasiness or fear, nothing. 

That, itself, is quite fucking bizarre. He’s not used to that.

Ghost is .... well, Ghost. He knows the mask he is always donning on his face isn't exactly a sign of welcomeness. Just his mere presence is enough to startle the living shit out of rookies, baby recruits, wide-eyed sergeants, and the like. There is something inherently unnerving when you are unable to get a good reading of the person you're standing across from.

She’s brave, he thinks. Or merely oblivious to who he is. 

“Here you go, sir,” the airman says while placing the packet of new documents down on his desk. Her lips are shaped prettily, plump and shining with a fresh layer of gloss, and across her nose is a splatter of faint freckles. Under a different circumstance, maybe he would’ve taken the time to try and count them all.

Ghost swallows hard, incapable (for what feels like the first time in his life) of mustering up an appropriate reply. “Ah, thank you, ma’am.” 

The airman's brow lifts.

“Reyes,” she then corrects him with a kind smile, gesturing to the name badge sitting above her right chest pocket. Sure enough, in bold military lettering, reads Reyes. “My name is Senior Airman SilentDove Reyes. I am actually a cryptologic linguist analyst here on base; but sometimes I run errands for others, when not needed for a translation, of course.”

There is a slight chirp in her voice that Ghost picks up, along with the way she casually rocks back and forth on her feet. She seems awfully young, no older than 22, possibly 23, but even that's cutting it; a kid, compared to him. Maybe 5'7, with dark hair pulled back into two tight braids that fall at her belted waistline.

A stark contrast compared to him.

He's oddly curious now — about her age and first name and those long braids and why she stands before him, calm, collected, and sure — but he knows damn well this is not the time nor place for any questions. Both of them are on the clock, and it is likely she’ll need to report back to her supervisor soon. 

He offers her a curt nod. “Well, thank you again, Reyes,” he states, keeping his voice flat. 

“You are welcome, sir.” She turns to leave, but when her hand latches onto the doorknob, Reyes glances over her shoulder at him, “—oh, and Lieutenant? If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

–

The successful cleaning came after a bioenvironmental team at Malmstrom AFB …. Malmstrom AFB .. consulted with engineers and ….. and medical experts on the cleaning …. cleaning processes and– 

–and agents most likely to effectively remove the chemicals…. 

He knows his mind is wandering off, in desperate search of that pretty senior airman from fifteen minutes ago. “Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost grumbles, leaning back in his chair. His head lolls back as he blinks upward, studying the ceiling overhead. The texture is popcorn, a creamy color, with a simple fan jutting down. One light bulb, probably a recent replacement. 

Fuck. He doesn’t need this shit. Not one bit. 

Five more weeks and he’ll be gone from here. 

Ghost rechecks his watch, feeling a bit peeved at the time. 1411. He has several more hours until he can leave all this work shit behind for the evening, and maybe catch a short walk before hunkering down for the night. He doesn’t like sitting down for too long; it causes him to become restless. Agitated. Overthinking.

He doesn’t want distractions. He doesn’t need ‘em. Distractions ruin work ethic; clouding up the mind while fucking up all sense of responsibility. Price will have his ass if he – somehow – becomes compromised. And he'll never hear the end of it from Johnny. 

Settling back into the paperwork, he decides that he won’t allow himself another second thinking about all that – the American airman and her pretty brown eyes and high cheekbones and first name. 

Something tells him that’s easier said than done. 

[13docwriting]

NOTE: this post was made on November 26th, 2023, before the 60th specials aired. I wasn't going to post it but due to the recent episodes, I feel it really fits. It's me, more than a year after the Power of the Doctor! As time moves on and more spoilers / interviews / trailers / content comes out for the 60th (and then some), my already limited hope continues to dwindle for human kindness. Why? Here's my twenty page essay down below! (I'm not kidding, it's 20 pages)

The Thirteenth Doctor has been a life changer for me, as many could tell from my username. Chibnall's series came to me in the midst of the pandemic and a very hard time in my life. Ironically, my motivation for watching DW once again after more than a four year hiatus of the show was actually the idea of the Doctor being a woman. My reason to stay, however, was the stories we received. I've lived through the Chibnall and Jodie bashing on this hell-site in real time. I've read downright nasty comments on any/all of Doctor Who's social media posts about thirteen's series. I've seen people call each other horrible names for simply liking one of the Thirteenth Doctor's episodes... And now, as her series has ended a year ago, I'm even more saddened to see her era get pushed to the side as if to be forgotten. Nobody came at me with the whole "it's not because of Chibnall/Jodie's era! DW just needed a reboot!" I would have agreed! I would have agreed that a fresh coat of paint would have helped DW gain some more traction, especially in the states! The more people who watch DW, the better! But the change RTD is presenting and the continued changes come at the cost of dealing with bullies online and defending something I love with all my heart.

I'd like to remind everyone that Chris Chibnall did not just barge his way into Doctor Who. He has written episodes for DW for a while before he took over as showrunner. Tenth Doctor: 42 Eleventh Doctor: The Hunger Earth, Cold Blood, Pond Life, Dinosaurs in a Spaceship, the Power of Three. Recognize some of those titles? Yeah, even when I was a wee lass, those were some of the best episodes DW had ever done. "42" scared the crap out of me in the best way, "Dinosaurs in Spaceship" had me smiling ear to ear, etc. etc.

Don't just take my word for it, read some of the reviews for those episodes. They are highly positive if not still mid-range.

That being said, I have a hard time believing that every single one of Jodie's episodes have been awful. And, if not outright stated as awful, certainly below every single nuwho Doctor.

Was there some not-so-great episodes? Yeah, of course! But every Doctor has had some questionable episodes. With a show that has a new plot nearly every episode, you're going to have some misses! My point being... Chibnall CAN write good episodes and, with that being said... Why HAS Thirteen's era been considered one of the worsts? Well, I think it's because, as always, people hate change. We've just come off of Twelve's era which was rooted in deep and meaningful conversations with a underlying of, dare I say it, Time Lord Victorious. Twelve holds a special place in my heart for the amount of care he showed through his era. From the Twelve's darkest moments, Thirteen is born. Thirteen is a ray of sunshine that holds hope in the palm of her hand. She's happy, bubbly, and ready to smile. She wants the universe and everything it has to offer and she's ready to travel the stars again.

Chibnall introduces a series of stories that are rooted in that hope. There's kindness at every turn, there's compassion, there's empathy... Is that the reason people hate her era? No. A new Doctor has never stopped anyone from getting back into the show. So, it's the writing, you say? I have one thing to say to that: Prove it. Point me in the direction of bad writing without ONCE mentioning the word "woke". If you found Jodie's era to be preachy, perhaps there's a reason that you take offense to it. DW has always been a progressive show and it will forever stay that way. And I am the first one to admit that, again, there are weak episodes. There IS some bad writing, but the hate that Jodie's ENTIRE era gets, I feel, is unjustified. So, if not writing, must be the acting! Where? When? I had no problem watching Jodie Whittaker be the Doctor. She's quirky and fun and eccentric... She has a thousand different emotions on her face at one time. Any actor that knows how much a smile can hide is a talented one. Besides that, her work on Broadchurch and her newer works (One Night, Time) have some raving reviews. She clearly has talent. So, not the acting or writing... Companions, then? Why? "The fam" had all of their moments to shine. I won't say their character arcs were perfect, especially for Ryan and Graham, but they did have their own arcs. Was it the fact that there were three totally separate companions at once? Was it just too big a job? I can't answer that one. I personally felt that they all got a good ending, one that makes sense and that isn't tragic for the sake of tragedy. This my be my opinion piece, but I liked having multiple companions that had their own little storyline, but that's MY opinion and I'm fine with someone calling me out on that. Let's go really basic... It's because the Doctor isn't meant to be woman, right? Oh, so, the Master can be a woman and that's totally fine, but when it's the Doctor... Woman can be villains but they can't be the main protagonist, right? I didn't see people up and arms over Missy, why was Thirteen so different? I remember seeing her very first introduction trailer and having people immediately be upset by the gender change. Well, forget my opinions, let's look at the statistics and viewings numbers, right?

HOW ABOUT NO. Remember the writing strike that just ended? Remember how regular cable has been nearly done with? Remember how writers are fighting to earn something for streaming services? We can't rely on normal/live views while a literal pandemic was happening, while streaming has become the norm, while watching online for free has existed for so long... Views have CHANGED. The way people consume media has changed, especially during the pandemic. Now, for an excuse... The pandemic happened. It changed how people were filming, it changed how close people could get to one another in terms of acting, it changed filming times and locations. I can't confirm, but I know that the Flux storyline was cut by two whole episodes, which could be the reason a lot of people felt disappointed by the end of the Flux. Chibnall and Thirteen's era had so many real-life obstacles to overcome that past era's did not have to deal with.

I'm tired, alright? I'm tired of defending my love for a character. And to have that love be spat out in the form of a different writer by.... 1. Discarding the Thirteenth Doctor's iconic outfit after a regeneration for the first time ever (under the guise of calling it "drag" if Tennant was to wear her outfit even after a male co-star had just worn it.) 2. Introducing a very popular Doctor back into the show ("to gain views") 3. Doing a soft reboot by calling the new season "season 1" (could be Disney's fault, but I'm not entirely sure of that fact) Every day I read another article about how RTD is "saving" Doctor who when I myself have been saved by the Doctor already. I didn't ever need to justify my love of a character until today.

[nostalgia-tblr]

Books What I Have Read

I read two books about the Princes in the Tower, one after the other like a normal person, and this is not really a review.

Alison Weir's book on them was pretty standard in terms of not having a strange theory about how they didn't die. She thinks they did get murdered by Uncle Rick, and she is very annoyed at people thinking otherwise but also on several occasions she argues that Thomas More must be right because of ~the truthy vibes~. I mean because "it has the ring of authenticity." And this does not seem like a great argument to me, even if More was in fact right about everything (I assume he got at least some of it wrong, he didn't have access to a decent internet search engine. Or to the internet. Or elecricity for that matter).

So it was fine and I'd say it's probably a good starting point for this shit. People tend to complain about the confusing number of 'characters' and the fact they all keep changing titles and half of them are called Richard, the other half Edward, and the third half Henry (plus the woman half all being called Margaret or Elizabeth), but that's kind of unavoidable. You can't keep calling the Duke of Gloucester 'the Duke of Gloucester' when he's King of England, and as just mentioned, calling him 'Richard' doesn't help that much either. (Strangely the name Richard seems to have become a bit less popular after his untimely death at B*sw*rth F**ld. Not sure why. Maybe I should look into that? There's probably a book about it.)

Anyway, then I read Josephine Wilkinson's book on Le Princes de Tour (as the French might call them) and she reckons they didn't even die! Well, one of them died - of natural causes (and/or sweet sweet regicide?) - and the other went off to Flanders (Perkin?! Is that you?!). There's a very good point there that we don't know they both died/didn't-die of the same thing, even if I am not convinced by the Flanderisation of Richard of York (see what I mean about the names?).

The reasoning for this non-death theory is that the Dead Princes story, if you put the sources chronologically

starts out with mere uncertainty about what's happened to them (are they just resting in their uncle's fortress? or something more sinister?) and picks up details over time until it gets to the tale we all know (well, known to those of us who have this very normal interest. and to some historians too, I suppose.) and so this means it might just all be gossip, rumour, and a wee bit of (wait for it...) Tudor Propaganda.

And I can see where she's coming from, it does all seem to start neatly repeating itself until the plot is decided upon by consensus, but is this not also what would happen if information were becoming available in bits and pieces? So it could be either, right?

I still have two questions that gnaw at my liver like angry tapeworms after reading all these books about Rick & The York Boys. You may note that they probably share Not Being About Rich Men as the reason that 1) nobody seems to have written down the answers and 2) remarkably few books even raise the questions.

The princes must have been eating while they were alive. Aside from personal attendants (noted as being replaced at one point) there had to be a number of Tower employees who would know whether or not anyone was still bothering to send food to the royal apartments, and whether that just stopped happening at some point. Were I Henry the 7th of Tudor I would simply ask the servants what happened.

If Perkin is Richard then his sister - AKA the Queen of England at the time - would, you would think, have some sort of opinion on that. She might, perhaps, be an obvious person to ask about whether this pretender was all that good at pretending, you get me? So what did the fucking queen think?! Why did none of you write that down?! HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME ON THIS UNRESOLVED CLLIFFHANGER!!!

[montdargent]

mid-year book freak out tag

thank you @pinkasrenzo for tagging me (? maybe accidentally? was it just a mention who knows)

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2023? The wee free men, by Terry Pratchett: witches, scottish fairies and a coming of age story set in the discworld universe. what's not to like? officially my new favourite discworld series

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2023? A hat full of sky, by Terry Pratchett: these are just excuses to talk about the tiffany aching series tbh. also granny weatherwax is back, so that's easy money

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To? Deadly ever after (Rivers of London graphic novels), by Ben Aaronovitch: the rivers of london novels, novellas and short stories are not enough. i need to inhale these graphic novels too. i can't wait for chaotic river goddess twins shanenigans!

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2023? The deep sky, by Yume Kitasei: not many anticipated releases for that time, but it was reccomanded to me and the synopsis sounds right up my alley

5. Biggest Disappointment? Leave the world behind, by Rumaan Alam: a cool premise but incredibly boring execution and not my preferred writing style. a disappointment mostly because it was so amped up

6. Biggest Surprise? No exit, by Taylor Adams: i'm not usually into thrillers, so i didn't have particularly high expectations. but it was really good at building tension, delivered a satisfying ending and had a badass final girl that was easy to root for

7. Favorite New Author? Alison Bechdel: read "Fun home" because a friend of mine wanted to show me the musical and fell in love with it. i can already tell why her works are considered queer classics and i plan to read everything i can find by her

8. Newest Favorite Character? Tiffany Aching: see point 2. most children protagonists fall a bit flat for me or they have at least a couple of moments where their actions or internal monologue feel just unauthentic. and then an adult british cis man writes a smart, lonely, strange little girl and he makes me feel like he knew my child-self better than most family members. and that's why i love terry pratchett (among many things) and why i would die and kill for tiffany aching. she is the one true heir of esme weatherwax and i can't wait to read more of her

9. Newest Fictional Crush? Jordan Baker (from The chosen and the beautiful by Nghi Vo): what can i say, i could never resist a bisexual brunette who was too smart for anyone's good and falls a bit in love with everyone <3

💕Best Ship💕 Blue/Hamal (from Taproot by Keezy Young): just some cute friends-to-lovers fluff with plants and ghosts. honourable mentions are: the extremely toxic polycule from tcatb. that's for new ships, but i have to mention peter/beverly: they're still the best power couple in the greater metropolitan london area (i know i cheated and said three but i can't choose)

10. Book That Made You Cry? I'm glad my mom died, by Jeanette McCurdy: a very tough read, especially with the audiobook narrated by the author herself with all the emotion she puts into the reading. not for the faint of heart, but the pain is absolutely worth it

11. Book That Made You Happy? The fey and the furious (Rivers of London graphic novels) by Ben Aaronovitch: it's a comic version of a series i love, about fairies and drag racing. the pun in the title! i was smiling ear to ear the whole time

12. Favorite Book Adaptation You Saw This Year? Nimona (2023): i just finsihed rewatching it and i will do it again. i was obsessed with the gn at 18 and i'm obsessed with the movie now. between this and she-ra nd stevenson just owns my ass at this point. even with all the changes from the original, it still captures the spirit of it beautifully, with all the added layers of how the author changed and grew since then. i love it with my whole queer heart <3

13. Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year? i don't write reviews anymore, but maybe i should start again just for myself

14. Most Beautiful Cover? The priory of the orange tree, by Samantha Shannon: colour scheme? on point. lettering? beautiful. a dragon? fuck yeah

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End of The Year? ideally i'll complete my reading challenge, but for now i just hope i finish the ones i already started, so "One hundred years of solitude" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez "Cemetery boys" by Aiden Thomas and "Circe" by Madeline Miller

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac by Rose Prendeville

Brides of Chattan #2

Marriage of convenience that becomes so much more ~ Loved this book!

What I liked: * Ellen Mackintosh: quiet, hasn’t spoken (much or loudly) since childhood, has nosebleeds, focused on trying to be perfect, cossetted considered “weak” by her family, learns a lot about who she really is and what she really wants by the end of the story

* Silas MacKenzie: bigger than most, quiet, studious, brilliant, a bit of a scientist, has guilt feelings carried since childhood, loves his father, caring, kind, stuttered as a child, prefers to write than talk, made a vow in childhood that is difficult to keep…especially after marrying Ellen

* The slow burn that takes place as Ellen and Silas get to know one another

* The plot, pacing, setting and writing

* That it drew me in and made me care

* It felt true to the era and in keeping with the times

* The supporting characters and the necessary parts they played to make this story rich

* The conclusion of the book and how all the threads were drawn together and tied in a tidy knot

* Hoping there will be another book in the series

What I didn’t like:

* Who and what I was meant not to like

* Thinking about how selfish some people are and the pain they cause

* The pain both main characters carried from childhood

Did I Like this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Definitely!

Thank you to NetGalley and Eridani Press for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

It was a marriage of convenience for everyone except the bride and groom. He never wanted to be a laird. She never wanted to marry one. Wee Ellen Mackintosh, sickly and quieter than a church mouse, holds a secret that even time hasn't healed. Unable to use her voice since childhood, she's not up to being lady of the castle, but her father wants a MacKenzie son-in-law. So when the giant Silas Mackenzie returns to the Highlands, both their fathers' schemes take off like runaway stallions. Too tall and broad for anyone's good, but especially his own, Silas breaks everything he touches. To appease his dying father and an increasingly rebellious clan, Si reluctantly agrees to the marriage, vowing to keep it in his kilt no less so when he sees the tiny, perfect creature they expect him to wed. Unwanted but undeniable, the spark between them burns hotter by the day, even as they try to push each other away. But can Silas fight the monsters within his clan—or at war within himself—without her? Or will Ellen finally find her voice, only to disappear forever?

[handeaux]

A Cincinnati Housewife’s Career As A Novelist Was Cut Short By Censorship

As near as I can tell, not a single copy of Jean Randolph Searle’s novels is to be found in any Tri-State library, unless you count the book stacks at Anderson University, 88 miles away in Indiana.

It is ironic that many of the libraries holding Miss Searles’ books today are conservative Christian schools like Anderson, affiliated with the Church of God, Roman Catholic Carlow University in Pittsburgh, and “non-denominational conservative Christian” Patrick Henry College in Purcellville, Virginia. The irony lies in the reception her books detonated in 1912 when they were condemned by the national and local branches of the Society for the Suppression of Vice as “too utterly indecent for our young to see.”

Jean Randolph Searles was a most unlikely pornographer. In fact, Jean Randolph Searles did not exist. That was merely the pen name of Adah Viola Benz of Price Hill, aka Mrs. George Benz, mother of two daughters and wife of an apparently quite successful real estate developer.

One might assume that Mrs. Benz, married to an established businessman, had the money to pay for the publication of her two 1912 novels herself – a practice known as vanity publishing. The books credit the “Press of Jennings & Graham,” a printer affiliated with Cincinnati’s Methodist Book Concern, a publishing house and bookstore located on West Fourth Street. The wording implies that Jennings & Graham published the books, but it is likely they only printed and bound them.

The books in question are “The Girl In The Slumber Boots” and its simultaneously published sequel, “Further Annals of the Girl In The Slumber Boots.” Although the books deal with marital infidelity and its consequences the (shall we say) “mechanics” of this infidelity are buried in baroque prose that relies ponderously on innuendo and not at all on forthright exposition.

In brief, Nell, the titular girl in the slumber boots (heavy knit slippers made to wear to bed) is unhappily married and walks in her sleep. One morning, she finds herself in the bed of an unhappily married doctor who leaves his apartment door unlocked. When Nell enters his darkened room in the wee hours, he thinks she is his wife and has his way with her. Somehow, this activity does not rouse the somnambulist and it is only when she awakens hours later that the full import of her transgression inspires her to action. Drama and trauma ensue, involving British gentry, ruined damsels, misadventures out West and the shenanigans of high society.

According to Alfred Segal at the Cincinnati Post [26 November 1929], the Society for the Suppression of Vice may not have even read the book. Their censorious ire may have been directed toward the illustration opposite the title page:

“It showed a woman in a nightgown confronting a man in a bathrobe. Her hand seemed to flutter towards her face in fear. He stared at her with the glum expression which men on old-fashioned posters frequently had. That was too much for the purity of the day. The book officially was ruled out of the stalls and sent back to the author.”

None of the Cincinnati newspapers reviewed “The Girl In The Slumber Boots.” One of the few published reviews, from the Monroe City, Missouri, Democrat [12 December 1912] is more than a little vague in its appraisal:

“It is too bad that anyone capable of writing as interesting a story as this one spoils it by taking the wrong view of what is right and what wrong. To be sure she straightens out matters in the second volume, Further Annals of the Girl In The Slumber Boots, but she doesn’t look at life right. The books are not wholesome – are not what we would want our young people to read.”

Well, that was in 1912. By 1929 – only 17 years later! – when the Post’s Segal interviewed the author, times had changed. Hemlines had skyrocketed from floor-length to knee-length. Women now smoked in public, for goodness’ sake. The new morality was reflected in the racy novels of the Roaring Twenties. As Segal explained:

“Words that would have been strange to the Slumber Boot Girl were sprinkled all over the pages. Details which she would have locked forever in her heart were shouted in black type. The erstwhile author thought perhaps her hour had struck. If she had written naughty things (with indecent pictures) too early in the century, she now could make up for it.”

Mrs. Benz, by now living on Shiloh Avenue in Clifton, took copies of her books downtown to Fourth Street, to Bertrand L. Smith, proprietor of the Traveler’s Book Shop, later to be known as Bertrand Smith’s Acres of Books.

“Smith glanced at the ‘indecent’ pictures and smiled sadly. He skipped through a few lines of the intimate passages and smiled still more sadly. ‘Madame,’ he said, ‘this ain’t nuthin’.’”

Smith accepted Mrs. Benz’s books and put them on sale. Buyers told Smith it was a relief to find decent books still for sale in Cincinnati. Still, Mrs. Benz would not allow Al Segal to print her real name for fear the taint of prior condemnation might still adhere to it.

George Benz died in 1937. A couple years later, Adah Benz revived her pen name and published another novel, “Only A Substitute Wife.” This time, the book was actually accepted by a legitimate publisher, Ruter Press, who also issued books of Caroline Williams’ artwork. Adah’s third novel appears not to have sold well and copies are hard to locate.

Adah Viola Rohrer was born in Elkhart, Indiana, in 1872 and married George Benz, a young and ambitious carpenter, in 1896. The young couple moved to Cincinnati in 1906, where George, in partnership with Sherman Weigold, built and sold a good number of houses in the northeast portion of Northside. Both George and Adah, aka Jean Randolph Searles, are buried in Goshen, near Elkhart, Indiana.

Adah’s books, while not preserved in Cincinnati, are on file in the Library of Congress and perhaps a dozen other libraries. They can be located online, where original editions fetch $70 or more.

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - PhantomsPhine’s Writing Is Less Than Phine

For: @sailor-toni @everystarstorm

Paulina is a wee bit obsessed in all honesty, and while she might not be exactly good at it, she’s fine taking out said obsession on the written word while making others have to witness it

Jazz had been sorting what of her final papers for the year that she hadn’t already handed in, when she caught one of the younger students sort of… glancing at her nervously, shifting on her feet even.

The girl was outright beautiful, with long black hair, near-perfect skin, and expensive perfectly colour coordinated clothing; meaning she could only really be Paulina. Didn’t Danny have a crush on her for a short while? Like most of the silly boys at this school? Yeah she’s fairly certain he did; at least he was definitely over it. From what Jazz knew the girl was less than Danny’s type and was very much shallow; at least according to all of Sam’s ranting. She was a pretty face and that was apparently it; Jazz didn’t believe that of course. What she does think is that maybe the girl wanted people to think that; some people put everything on their looks and don’t want to be seen as anything more.

Turning to the girl and quirking an eyebrow, “what’s bothering you? Do you need any university advice or help with one of the teachers?”, Jazz was well aware that she had very little in the friend department, outside of Lillian all anyone really wanted with her was her brains. Just like all anyone wanted with Paulina was her looks; though Jazz’s pretty sure Star and Kwan are genuine friends to her, which is good. Everyone needs genuine friends, even if she didn’t use to believe as such.

Paulina shifts a little more and twirls her hair daintily. The younger girl had perfected the cute act, Jazz will give her that. Paulina walking over and making something of a show of ‘mustering up her courage’, not that Jazz can’t sense how fake the act was. “You brainy types write a lot right?”.

Jazz nods, wondering where this is going. Test writing? Essays! Job or University applications perhaps? How to professionally sign off on emails? What she didn’t expect was for the younger to hold out her phone, decorated in a custom-made 3d pink candy case, with Ao3 on screen.

“What am I doing wrong?”.

Jazz taking the device and eyeing the user name, PhantomsPhine, oh! Was she writing fanfiction! Well that was certainly a wonderful pastime and hobby, self-fulfilling and the act of writing it and reading it would improve anyone's reading comprehension and writing skills; vocabulary too! Scrolling a bit with a hum, making a point to not outwardly wince, she was… not exactly gifted with the written word. The spelling was fine, spell check likely being involved, grammar was… okay, but the word choice and paragraph structures were not great. It was hard to tell who was speaking and when, their tone even harder. There was a lot of ‘wall of text’ going on, which for an essay is fine, for online absolutely not. The ‘“we should probably get up”. “Yup”. “So”. “Fine”.’ line is particularly confusing. There was also a lot of ‘.”,’ and ‘.”.’ which was simply strange looking. The general word choice was, as Danny would say, rather cringey.

But she nearly chokes, smiling slightly, when she finally scrolls past an actual character name: Danny Phantom. This was self-insert romance! Oh Danny would be so embarrassed. But well, self-insert lent itself to being inherently groan-worthy. But she could still offer the girl some help… and then bother Danny about this later. Sitting down at a desk and gesturing with a smile for the younger girl to do the same.

Paulina glances around quickly first, likely making sure she wasn’t going to ‘been seen with the financially worse off’. Paulina plucks back her phone, practically showing off her manicured baby blue nails, and scrolls on her screen quickly before pushing it back at Jazz, “look at this! They’re so mean! To me!”. And Jazz sees why, exactly, Paulina had come to her: a negative review. A really scathing one actually.

‘Get off of here, no one needs to see more horrifically written dribble from some crushing loser who thinks they should get the privilege of writing just because they can type on a keyboard. Do you even know what grammar is? A dictionary? Are you five? If you somehow actually are five then whatever, your parents should take your phone away before you embarrass yourself further. And this dialogue? What cringey hallmark movie teen even talks like that. Do you think not using character names is ‘quirky’, god give me Twilight over this!’.

Jazz frowns, now this was simply mean. Unnecessarily mean. Shaking her head, “people like that give shame to all readers and writers. Unbelievable”, looking to the younger teen, “ignore them”.

Paulina pouts a little, lip wobbling in intentional cuteness, “but… it’s not very good”.

Jazz shakes her head, “No one is good when they start something new. Especially teenagers. If this was publishing quality then I’d tell you that you were truly gifted”, smiling, “sure there is much to be said for natural talent, which I will admit you don’t have”. Paulina twirls her hair a little at that. “But practice wins over natural gifts, particularly when it comes to the arts. Creative writing, drawing, photography, dancing; they’re practice based more than anything else”, shifting and leaning towards the girl some so she can see the screen where Jazz is pointing, “the technical mistakes are simply an awareness thing. Like these periods inside dialogue followed up with periods and commas outside of the dialogue is just a grammar error”.

Paulina shrugs, “I think it looks prettier having the, um, punctuation outside of the dialogue quotes on both sides and not just one”.

“Then get rid of the more grammatically correct punctuation inside the speech”, drawing ‘“…and”, character smiles, “hi…”’ on a bit of paper, “do this instead. Grammar barely matters with free online for fun writing like this. If people don’t like it, ignore them. Write for you first”.

Paulina smiles and hums to herself, “that does look better… prettier”.

Jazz nods to herself, pointing on the screen to a bit when she had written… Phantom elongating his tongue -which was not something she had ever needed nor wanted to read- swallowing a little to seem less weirded out, “and maybe learn more about ghosts, I can tell you that Phantom can’t actually do that; at least not like that at the least. Simply making things more accurate will make it better and it will help you keep things consistent”.

“Oh! Well I guess you would know that”.

Jazz ignores the slight jab. Nodding instead, “and drop using ‘said’ so much, you’re better off not using that word at all than constantly. The dialogue markers already tell the reader that a character is saying something, you don’t need a word to tell them that. Us things that give tone instead. Have them smile or laugh or smirk or giggle. Definitely don’t do more of this ‘she giggled, said, “oh you fox.!”.’. When someone writes a character giggling before saying something it means they are speaking with a giggle, so the ‘said’ is entirely redundant”. Paulina nods along eagerly, well at least she was listening.

…

The two girls manage to talk for a full half an hour actually. Jazz can tell the other girl isn’t exactly used to genuinely paying attention for long periods of time. On learning. Paulina smiling almost pinched, before grabbing her phone rather rudely and standing up, “well thank you bunches, but I should probably go. Star’s probably wondering where her Paulie is!”, skipping to the door before looking back, “you tell no one”.

Making Jazz laugh lightly, “I’m not the gossiping type”.

“Oh I know”.

-

Jazz sitting for a bit after the girl left before snickering and laughing into her hand. Poor Danny! That girl had it hard for him. Half of him specifically. She is absolutely telling him. And Lillian. She might not be a gossip but that doesn’t mean she keeps everything entirely to herself. Especially when it was a sister's duty to pester their little brother.

-

It takes her all of five minutes to find Lillian, grinning at her friend who quirks a ginger eyebrow at her. “Well you seem chipper?”.

Jazz nods, “oh yes. One of the underclassmen wanted some help with creative writing, and actually listened to my advice!”, and beams. It was really satisfying in all honesty.

Lillian bumps shoulders with her, “good on them, girl. It’s great when others actually want to learn from you”. Jazz nodding readily, well aware that Lillian wanted to be a teacher someday.

Jazz leaning over to whisper a little, “and all they write is self-insert Phantom fan-fiction”. Lillian actually blushes furiously at that and makes a scandalised look before shaking her head, “that poor whoever. Was it at least creative?”.

“A little too creative”, and winces. Lillian wincing in return, “oh gee, sorry for your brain then”. Making Jazz laugh lightly, “honestly? I think I’d actually love watching my parents read it, just to hear them jump between ranting about inaccuracies about ghosts to the simple fact that it’s romance about a ghost”. Lillian laughs with her readily, easily agreeing that would be something to behold. Either way, the two head off to their university prep class.

---

Jazz corners Danny in his room, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe, “so, you know how a vast majority of Casperhigh have crushes on you. On Phantom you”.

Danny groans actively, putting on a show of looking to the ceiling and slouching dramatically, “oh Ancients do I ever”, turning to her, “why?”, sounding more than a little suspicious.

Jazz smirks at him, “oh no reason, someone just wanted a little help writing some very interesting self-insert Phantom fan fiction”.

“Oh end me”, glaring at her, “why would you actually help them do that?!?”.

She rolls her eyes, “believe me, it was hard to read. But I am not about to discourage someone’s interest in creative writing just because my little brother’s famous enough to be the subject matter”.

He throws a pillow at her.

-

Regardless, when Jazz checks to see what new fic PhantomsPhine had posted, maybe due to a desire to simply check in on someone she advised, she’s happy to see there’s already a little improvement. It’s less visually painful… but reading about someone literally snuggling her baby brother's ghostly self was still mentally painful. But at least the writing itself has improved. Small wins.

Having also overheard Danny crying out, “Paulina why?!?”, one night. Also brought a smile to her face, she knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself but look. He pestered her constantly, she was going to get him back here and there.

End.

Prompts: Paulina begins to write self insert x Phantom fanfiction. But she is not a natural writer and after someone leaves a bad review she goes to Jazz for writing advice. and Jazz has friends

[writer-akihiko]

Chapter 9 - Overworking [STARISH]

Listen to your boys and relax

Chapter 10 →

Otoya Ittoki

He was busy that he didn't notice you sleeping late, waking up early and skipping meals. It was only after his work died down that he noticed you were tired and weren't your usual self.

You had to admit yourself you were overworking yourself. You didn't know if Otoya noticed, but you were timid; you didn't want to bother him. You knew he was busy this week as well so you could probably get away with it.

Oh you were so wrong.

About the fourth day of your overworking streak, Otoya burst into the room with a blanket.

"YN! STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING RIGHT NOW!" He yelled. You were confused. He wrapped you around and swaddled you with the blanket.

You squeaked as he wrapped his arms around you. Your face reddened immediately as he picked you up and placed you on the bed. He was directly looking at you, which did not help with your blushing.

"YN-chan... you're so cute when you blush," He said, brushing a lock of hair out of your face. "There's my girl. So cute... No one should see you like this except me..."

"O-Otoya?"

"You've been overworking. I noticed," He said.

"Ah... so you did," You replied. "But I have to finish it by this weeー"

"No," He protested, hugging you closer. "I'm gonna have a word with your manager about this... No one should make my YN-chan tired ever."

"I didn't want to bother you," You said. "You were busy too and Iー"

He laughed. "You know you can ask me anything right?"

You nodded. "Otoya?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for taking care of me." You pecked him on the cheek.

He buried his face against your neck. His face was as red as his hair. "You really are too cute..."

Masato Hijirikawa

Overworking does not exist in your relationship. He does not condone it. You ー sadly ー learnt that the hard way.

You had a tough schedule ahead of you. Basketball meets, friendly matches and the winter season in two weeks. This caused you to come to practices early and stay longer after the team has left.

As the team's star point guard, you had to do your best. You wanted to make your team proud especially after last season. There were many blows, and now you had to train to overcome every single one of them.

You were watching hours and hours of past matches; including ones that weren't played against your team; analysing every player. You were concentrating hard until someone picked up your laptop away from you.

"W-Wait..."

"YN! Rest. Now. I don't want you to overwork yourself," He scolded you.

You protested, reaching for your laptop. "Masa... Stop being a bully!"

He reddened at the nickname. "Stop being stubborn and rest YN," He retorted.

He covered you in sheets and pulled it to your chin. Starting to feel comfortable, you nuzzle your head into the pillow.

"Do you need me to bring you anything?" He asked.

"Mmm... Maybe some water would be nice."

"Alright," He said gently, brushing your hair out of your face. "Get some rest YN."

Natsuki Shinomiya

Your uncle's bakery had gotten popular after a STARISH fan posted about the members eating at the bakery. You still carried on baking, as they didn't disturb your business.

You were secretly glad at the free publicity, but things had gotten a little hectic lately. You had to admit, it was exhausting.

Natsuki got worried about you, feeling as if it were his fault that the fans swarmed the shop. He'd finally managed to visit you after a busy day.

He was a sweet boy, helping you tidy up the cafe. He wore a disguise as to not inconvenience you.

You were wiping the tables, your eyes drowsy from the lack of sleep. You slipped on the recently mopped floor, crashing into table.

Natsuki immediately rushed to you and held you by your torso, making sure you didn't fall. "YN! Are you alright?" He carried you to a chair. "YN-chan... You look very sleepy..."

You shook your head, leaning into his chest. Right on cue, your uncle walked in. He simply stared at this blonde-haired man holding you in his arms. He didn't assume the worse, but he was still wary. "Please take her upstairs to sleep on the couch and then leave."

"H-HAI!"

Ren Jinguji

You'd been staying up late often to study as you were away from school. Your parents had called and reminded you to still study even though you were away.

You had also reviewed each of your games and nit-picked every single flaw you found, since you had to keep up your game. You kept writing in your notebook, making little markings of possible room for moves.

Ren had noticed you agonising over the past few hours. "My dear lady, I think you should rest," He said, holding your hand and stopping you from writing.

You blinked, rubbing your eyes. "Maybe I should. Iー"

"My fairy, please make sure your rest is not simply sleeping on your desk. Rest on the bed," He said, shutting your book.

"Why do you care about my well-being so much?" You tiredly whine.

"Because you are my fairy and I love you. Now rest, YN."

Cecil Aijima

Late night practices often left you weary for most days. You had been extremely tired from all the rehearsals. You hadn’t seen Cecil since you were so busy. You had gone to the twins for another fitting.

“YN?”

You had accidentally fallen asleep in the dressing room.

“Oh no…”

Shuu had gone and called Cecil since the twins were too busy to take you to your dorm. Cecil came… and he panicked.

“YN!” He picked you up and shook you awake.

“Cecil? What are you doing?” You said sleepily, rubbing your eyes as you yawned drowsily. You didn’t have time to take in your surroundings, so you decided to go back to sleep. “Hmm… Whatever is it… I don’t care. Just let me sleep.”

“YN! Don’t sleep! I need to carry you back!”

Syo Kurusu

You had been overworked after the festival the shrine hosted. Syo couldn’t physically contact you after as he as well was busy with his own work.

At night however, he had spent time to call you. “YN… You know you don’t have to work so hard… Everything will turn out fine.”

“I’m worried though…” You said.

“I’m pretty sure everyone at the shrine would be worried about their favourite shrine maiden fainting,” Syo sighed.

“I will rest Syo, don’t worry. I just have trouble sleeping…” You admitted.

“How about I sing a song for you?”

“That would be nice,” You said. You adored his singing, no matter the situation. You were in a sense, his number one fan. His voice always seemed to calm you down.

Syo began humming lowly, starting the song slow but melodious. He sang sweetly, in a tone that he wouldn’t share with anyone but you.

“YN?” He called out. He heard your soft breathing, indicating that you had fallen asleep. He smiled to himself.

“Good night YN. Sweet dreams.”

Tokiya Ichinose

You had invited Tokiya over to your dorm to see you work on your manga. He had noticed that you were a little weary from class, so he simply followed you back to look after you.

He had to admit that he was curious and excited to witness your writing. As one of your big fans, this was a huge opportunity for him.

You brought Tokiya to your manga room and allowed him to do some work. You gave him the simple task of erasing fine lines. He quietly did his work, observing you from afar.

He watched you at your desk, working passionately as you swiftly created your manga. You put your head down on your desk to clear your head and eventually you fell asleep.

Tokiya saw you resting your head and decided to move you to your bed.

“Honestly… YN… I told you not to overwork yourself…” He tucked you into bed and kissed your forehead lovingly.

Chapter 10 →

[authoressskr]

october is it’s own magic

[october 13th]

Characters: f!plus size reader, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Clint Barton, mentions of Maria Hill, Phil Coulson, and Nick Fury

:: --> Warnings: Language, no Beta, basically this is me writing for myself 

:: --> Notes: this will be a series. i will be posting it (hopefully*) every other day until Halloween. But nothing set in stone or scheduled. And thanks to @firefly-graphics for the use of the divider!

:: --> Word Count: 1332

Soulmate AU. Bucky has a secret admirer. They keep leaving him all sorts of autumnal goodies with little notes. But who the hell is it?!

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post, translate, or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

[october 12th]

Bucky has now taken more of what Peter suggested to heart.

Because logically, if you are denying being the one to do it...then you still could be the giver and just have others helping you.

Avengers, for example.

So he had bought his own surveillance cameras. Tiny. Undetectable if you didn’t know exactly where to look.

If Friday wouldn’t record, then he damn well would.

He had spent the wee morning hours up before anyone else, planting and tucking the cameras around the elevator and the kitchen space. Then he had gone to bed almost giddy, falling into a dreamless sleep for a handful of hours before getting up with Steve and Sam to run.

He’d returned with barely concealed glee. Excited to get through his present of the day and then review the camera’s videos.

Sitting on the counter is another cloth-like little gift bag, this one black velvet with little white, green, and orange ghosts decorating it.

He, Sam, and Steve are the only ones in the kitchen right now, giving them all time to get some light breakfast before the ‘festivities’.

Bucky and Sam share a large box of Lucky Charms while Steve scrambles a couple of eggs when Natasha sails in with Vision.

“It appears your gift-giver is pretty even and fair,” Vision states, leaning his hip against the countertop, pointing a forefinger at the gift bag. When Bucky doesn’t reply, Vision just smiles a little wider. “Large, small, medium, large, silly, sentimental, sweet. Balanced well.” Sam nods as he chews beside Bucky, suddenly making a knot form in his belly.

Why was he trying so hard to figure it out or catch her if he truly believes it is her?

Now he regrets the cameras a little.

Clint comes in, dragging ass with a whole carafe of coffee tucked under one arm as his hair sticking all over on one side like a crazed hedgehog, the other smushed down, making Bucky wonder where the hell he’d fallen asleep this time.

Clint slumps into the seat next to Sam, twisting the lid off the carafe and taking a big gulp before twisting it back on.

“Rough night?” Steve asks, eyebrow raised as he turns to finish setting up the espresso machine.

“Fury called late last night for some info.”

“He never did strike me as the gossipy type,” Sam remarks as he pushes his empty bowl across the top, Steve delicately sitting his americano down to take the bowl and rinse it, flicking the dishwasher open and setting it inside as Wanda, Pietro, Rhodey, Bruce, and a very chipper Peter come spilling out of the far hallway that leads to the small lab and elevator to the smaller private garage.

“You’d be surprised by him,” Natasha mutters with a sly smile as the main elevator doors open, you following Tony and Pepper out.

None of your faces read as pleased.

“Hi, sweetheart,” You breathe out as you kiss his cheek gently, Bucky shoving his bowl away and wrapping his metal arm around your soft middle, hauling you into him. He presses a few kisses to your shoulder and upper arm, nuzzling against it afterward.

“Get all the affection in you can, Tin Man,” Bucky furrows his brow as your hand comes up to smooth over his locks. “She and Pep are headed to London to finish dealing with that firm. They’ll be gone for a few days.” Tony doesn’t sound pleased with this either but Pepper’s hand squeezing on his forearm does seem to ease him down a bit.

“I’ll save my presents for when you come back, pumpkin,” Bucky promises as your fingers sink into his hair to scratch at his scalp. He can feel how tense you are, trying to give more comfort with his metal fingers pushing just under the edge of your pretty eggplant knit sweater to stroke at your skin.

“Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. I can call in like the others,” Your voice is soft and he can see how tired you are in that moment, the both of you taking a deep breath almost in sync.

“Nah, I like seeing your face,” Bucky purrs out, pulling you into his lap, delighting in your little squeak and your hands gripping onto his arms for balance. He kisses just behind your ear softly, now even more unwilling to let you go.

“Among other things,” Sam mutters as he raises his coffee cup to his lips, not trying to hide his smirk.

“Open your present,” You breathe out before his flesh fingers tilt your face towards his for a chaste kiss.

Peter slides the gift pouch closer as Steve finishes setting Bucky’s bowl in the dishwasher. Bucky maneuvers you a little better in his lap before picking up the gift, gently tugging at the black strings.

Holding the cardstock, Bucky reads “My pretty soulmate, you are hair raisingly good looking even without this. Love, me.” Turning the bag upside down and giving it a shake, a large tin the size of his palm squeezes out. “Werewolf Hair Balm. Wait, beard balm?” You chuckle, the soft sound warming Bucky, your fingers reaching behind to stroke his chin a few times.

“Feels fine to me,” You remark as he sets the tin down on the counter and wraps both arms around you.

“They’ll be leaving at 3 pm, so get in all this honeymoon nonsense while you can,” Tony orders softly before he and Pepper head back to the exit, this time with Natasha in tow.

You shuffle in his lap, turning so you’re more sideways. “I have to get some more work done before we go, but I’m all yours from 10:45-ish to about 2 pm.”

“It’s a date, babydoll,” Bucky bumps his nose against yours before kissing you softly once more. “I’ll come down to your office later then.” You cup his face in your hands, kissing him deeply and properly.

“See you later, Bucky,” You whisper a bit sadly against his lips as he lifts you off his lap and sets you back onto your feet.

“Just a little bit, doll,” He assures, taking your hand and kissing all your knuckles before giving you an encouraging smile as you leave.

As soon as the elevator door closes, Wanda leans across the countertop with a soft smile, waving her fingers in a wide circle towards him. “You both have this very love-struck aura. Lovely shades of pinks and sherbert orange colors.”

“Aww...Buckers! I told your ass you’d look fly in blush!” Sam sasses out as Pietro and Peter bite back laughter.

“Why don’t you take some blush flowers to the 17th floor?” Bucky sasses right back, watching with happiness at his one-up-manship, Sam’s mouth dropping open as everyone’s eyes swing towards him.

“What’s happening on the 17th floor, huh?” Pietro asks slyly as Clint twirls a coffee stirrer absentmindedly while giving Sam the same look.

“You’re a dick, Bucky.”

Bucky just shrugs at his words, a knowing smile painted on his lips as Sam shoves his shoulder and heads off towards the gym.

“Well, I am sure that this trip won’t take too long, Sergeant. Hopefully not too much missed,” Vision says with a wink as everyone files back out with coffee or snacks, Rhodey and Vision headed back towards the garage as Peter trails happily behind Steve and Clint towards the gym. Wanda, Bruce, and Pietro are the last to leave, heading to the roof deck for some reason Bucky hadn’t been paying attention to. Once he’s alone he pours some coffee into his Howling Commando tumbler and hurries off to his room to pull up all the camera footage.

As he has a moment of excitement and dread as the camera footage loads on his tablet, only to find all of the footage is black.

Upon inspection, all of his cameras have tiny pieces of electrical tape over them, with no fingerprints or clues. Goddamnit.

[october 14th]

tagging: @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmymind @mizzezm @ladywintersoldat​ @marvelatthisone​ @grumpyashhh​​

Note: The owners/makers/distributors have all the rights and etc. Don’t sue me. I’m poor enough and stressed as is ;)

[thebrochtuarachs]

All That Was Good - Chapter 3

A/N: This story has just been a delight to write. Thank you to everyone who loves and comments about this story. It absolutely warms the heart. <3 As always, comments and suggestions are always welcome. :) Stay safe!

This story is also on AO3

xxxxxx

Faith.

It was as natural as breathing when Claire knelt and caught her daughter in a tight hug. 

“Ma!” Faith chimed and it swelled Claire’s heart. She couldn’t stop the tears that feel even if she tried. Seeing her photo in the wallet and now, in the flesh in the span of 5 seconds was more than enough to break Claire down. 

But it was definitely more for Jamie, who by now, has completely lost it. He was openly crying in awe and disbelief for the daughter he’s never seen or met but prayed with all regret that he could’ve. After everything that happened in Paris and even though they have settled it between them, deep inside his mind and heart, Jamie blamed himself for her loss. 

Hearing Jamie sniffle and wipe his nose and face, Faith turned to him and quickly reached out her arms, requesting him to carry her. Without hesitation, he picked her up and held her close to his heart. 

Pushing herself up from his shoulder, Faith turned to Jamie with a question. “Da, sad?” 

“No, no, not sad. Da is verra verra happy right now.” he quickly assured his daughter with the biggest smile on his face. “We’ve just missed you so much” 

Faith mirrored his smile as Jamie continued to take her in. “She has your eyes.” he remarked to Claire. 

“And your everything else!” Claire jokingly scoffed back at him. She then, squinted and too, shook her head in wonder. “Jamie, I - “

“I know. I can’t believe it either.” Jamie finished the sentence. He opened his free side to her and she quickly slided in, wrapping Jamie and their daughter together in her arms as close as she could. 

The next five minutes have been the most blissful time yet.

-

If the Beauchamps or the Frasers noticed Claire and Jamie’s puffy eyes and tear-streaked faces when they came to the dining hall, they (thankfully) didn’t mention it. 

To Claire and Jamie, everything was new - but to the foursome in front of them and the baby between them, it was practically routine and regular. 

Brian, Ellen, Henry, and Julia were talking about the latest in business and social events they were planning to attend. Claire and Jamie tried to keep an ear out to get some clues on what their families may be doing at this time but it was proving to be hard when there’s a two-year old, red-headed Fraser calling your attention every minute whether it was giving her food, her giving them food, wiping her clean, and listening to her stories in the past week she was with grandparents. Between the two, Jamie and Claire focused on Faith, savoring everything about her. Everything else can wait. 

They were taken out of their focus when Ellen asked Claire a question. “So, Claire, darling, what was the news ye had to tell us?” 

Claire swallowed the food she was chewing and looked at Jamie, a silent conversation ensuing between them. Jamie looked at her belly and maybe got her answer. It was the only thing of significance they could think of at the moment. 

“Oh, our news” She put her utensils down and everyone followed suit waiting to hear what’s next. “Well, Jamie and I are very happy to share that little Miss Faith here…” she tickled Faith’s belly resulting in a short giggle. “...is going to be a big sister.” 

They waited with baited breath for any reaction and hope that it was information they haven't told before. A few seconds later, all four grandparents erupted in celebration with the news, standing and looping Jamie and Claire into taps and hugs. 

“How far along are you?” Julia asked. 

“About two to three months. We just found ourselves.” Claire replied. 

“Have ye told anyone else?” It was Ellen’s turn to ask. 

“No, you guys are the first to know” 

“Can we tell the rest of the family, then, give them a quick call?” Brian chimed. Jamie and Claire nodded even thought they weren’t sure the extent of it. However, Brian offered the list immediately after. “We’ll call Willie, Jenny and Rabbie. And of course, we’ll reach out to your Uncle Lamb.” 

Jamie quickly clutched Claire’s hand and she did the same. Their entire family and more. 

It wouldn’t be far fetched that Claire and Jamie might think that they may have died and gone to heaven because this was everything. But until that reality falls down upon them, they will take this experience and make the most of it. 

“We should plan to get everybody here together and celebrate, maybe in another month’s time?”

“I agree, plan for a proper celebration. Plus, I think Lamb would also like to be out of the house once in a while.”

“It’s a date then!” 

The parents made all the arrangements and Claire and Jamie were just left to happily agree. 

-

The four grandparents continued their catch up to the library and Claire and Jamie decided to explore the estate. They brought Faith with them, not wanting to part with her just yet, even though the little girl was napping on Jamie’s shoulder. 

“Uncle Lamb must be in his 80s now but from what I gathered from my mom, he’s still strong but prefers to stay at home these days.” Claire shared, pulling out a cloth and wiping a drool from Faith.

They’ve checked the family photos and deducted what they could. In this time, William Fraser was married to Mary McNab, Jenny and Ian are together and already have wee Jamie and Maggie, and Rabbie is still in uni finishing his studies. 

Further reviewing the contents on both their wallets, what they’ve found so far are: Lallybroch is a whiskey distillery, Jamie and Claire are based in Glasgow, where Claire’s a nurse, and Jamie heads the Glasgow branch of the business - thankfully, jobs that are not necessarily out of their range. 

As for how they met, their past, and other information to their present, nothing much on that end yet. Maybe once they head to their own home, they’ll find more answers. But for now, they believe they have enough information to process but more importantly, let go a bit to focus more on Faith. 

The day passed rather quickly, with Jamie and Claire coming back to the house to cool off. They made their way to the living room, laying Faith down in one of the solo sofa chairs while they settled on the other. 

Jamie pulled Claire beside him and kissed her temple in reverence. She, in turn, cuddled closer to him, crossing her legs on top of his. Soon, sleep took over both of them once again, a much deserved nap as they adjust to today’s time. 

-

Jamie and Claire were woken up when they felt something trying to grab or climb at them.

“Oh, hi, darling. Did you have a good nap?” Claire asked Faith, she herself sitting straight and waking. 

“Yes. Are we going home now?” Faith asked as she bear hugged her mother. 

“Not yet. We’ll stay one more night and go tomorrow.” 

It was nearly dinnertime and one of their parents might’ve opened the lamp to give the space some light. Claire turned to Jamie and found him tenderly looking at the both of them. 

“I dinna have the words, Claire.” Jamie sighed and began. “I ken meeting our parents is one thing but meeting her, seeing her, feeling her, talking to her…” he reached to brush Faith’s hair. “Seeing what it is of her or me that is in her, watching ye become a mother…” Jamie shook his head. “I could talk about it all day, Sassenach. But after ye, this has been the best blessing in my life. And I promise ye, I wilna take it for granted.” 

“We won’t take it for granted, Jamie.” Claire reiterated their commitment. She, then, turned to their daughter to ask “Do you want to cuddle with Da next?” 

Sure enough, the little lass pulled out of Claire’s embrace and proceeded to go to Jamie’s. He put his nose in her head and breathed her in. “Mo nighean ruadh, tha gaol agam ort”. He grabbed Claire’s hand and placed a kiss on her knuckle. “Mo nighean donn, tha gaol agam ort” 

“I love you, too, Jamie.” she replied, squeezing his hand in agreement.

“Love too, Da” Faith said so simply and Claire and Jamie could just not stop the tears from flowing. 

Unbeknownst to them, outside the door, Ellen accidentally overheard their unusual conversation when she was coming to get them for supper. Throughout the day, she’d observed some things are rather different but nothing to be alarmed of. However, the chat did leave her a bit confused.

Letting the thoughts pass her mind, she knocked on the door loudly and got the family for dinner.

[spicynamericano]

Perception. - mk lee

sypnosis: you meet a stranger in the park, who helps you prepare for your interview with renowned author, mark lee.

word count: 2.1k

genre: fluff, strangers to friends!au, author!mark x reporter!reader

a/n: i impulsively wrote this in the wee hours of the morning because i can't stop thinking about mark lee and his poems! btw, this is my first time posting an au on this platform, but i do have ongoing twitter fics (written in eng/fil)!

I had just finished my late night shift at the office and was on my way home from work. Being a field reporter is not an easy job. I have to work my butt off to always stay up to date on the latest news and make sure to grab even the rarest exclusives.

I have to travel to basically anywhere, just to gather the most accurate information for the daily primetime news. And even if work is done for the day, I would usually go overtime to make sure no single detail is left out for tomorrow’s reports.

My workplace isn’t that far from home, or what I call home now. Moving into my elder sister’s old apartment was not a hassle. It was actually quite a blessing since I always used to stay over whenever we visited the city. I really thank the heavens that her place was near my workplace. Imagine the struggle of moving in and out from scratch. Actually, I wouldn’t even dare to imagine.

I would usually ride my bike to and from the office, but since I was running a bit late earlier in the morning, I decided to take the bus. Convenience at its finest. But it’s late now. A fifteen minute walk back home won’t hurt, right? Besides, I needed a breather. A walk in the nearby park would suffice.

It’s midnight and of course, the park is empty. Although Seoul is alive 24/7, I really like how some areas still have that laid-back vibe. I walk to the swings and place my bag on the ground. I do wish someone would push me right now. I just wanna be free from all the hectic stuff I’ve been doing lately.

But no, the quick rest I thought of didn’t stop me from going over tomorrow’s duties. I scan my little, brown notepad and check the work I have yet to accomplish. I mostly finished them before I got off work, but there is one more that I needed to do for tomorrow: interview Mr. Mark Lee, the author of the best-selling Late Night Scribbles.

It’s a collection of poems and prose he’s written over the course of five years during his travels to different cities as a renowned travel writer. His travel reviews and recommendations were something I always looked forward to reading. Maybe someday I could go on a stress-free holiday trip thanks to his advice.

I have read his book. For someone who’s trained into more technical writing like me, I could still clearly resonate with most of the poems he’s written. Not too shallow, not too deep. Though you do need to have a sense of literature in order to understand more of his deeper works. He isn’t famous for nothing.

What appalled me though is that he never showed his face to anyone, not even once. Some say he’s actually the main rapper of the world-renowned boy group NCT, since they bear the same name. I think otherwise. Well, it could be, though. Rappers do make their own lines and tell their own stories.

But I don’t think that Mark Lee would be the same person I’d be interviewing tomorrow. It’s weird because I won’t be actually meeting him face to face. He said he’d rather converse through email. Works for me since I don’t have to travel tomorrow. Thank God.

Well, let me tell you a secret. The reason I don’t think author Mark Lee is singer Mark Lee is because singer Mark Lee is actually my childhood best friend. Crazy, huh? I used to live in Vancouver when I was young until my family and I moved back to Korea during my teen years.

I don’t think he remembers me, though. But I do remember him. Our moms were practically best friends. I couldn’t say the same to us, only if he still actually remembers me.

I stretch my arms up high and bend it side to side. God, I need a massage asap. I was about to pick up my bag when a basketball rolled over and hit the tip of my loafers. A man dressed in black waves from the court, signaling to toss the ball to his direction.

I would toss it if I could but I walk over instead. Blame my poor strength and reflexes. And I obviously do not want to embarrass myself. A rough day’s a rough day. I don’t want an addition.

“Uhm, are you looking for this?” I ask the guy, tossing the ball mid-air.

“Yes, thank you…” he pauses. “uh…”

“Oh, it’s (y/n).” I introduced myself, “And you are?”

“Minhyung.”

“Well, you’re welcome, Minhyung. Good luck with your basketball practice!” I gave him a nod before finally turning back to go home.

“Wait!” he calls out. “Do you maybe wanna have a cup of coffee? There’s a nearby convenience store still open. I figured you might need it.”

Was it that obvious? I can’t imagine how stressed I look right now! He has probably seen the dark circles under my eyes. Gross.

I finally turn around and give him a smile, “You know, maybe I do need it. Let’s go?”

This man and I walk to the nearby convenience store just a few meters away from the court. It’s midnight and not many people are here. Well, just exactly like how I want it. The park can actually become full, even until 10 pm. But I guess these people also need some shut-eye. I’m actually surprised this man right here still has some energy left.

I wait outside and sit at the nearest gazebo while he buys instant coffee for the both of us. He arrives with three in hand. Does he like coffee that much?

“You’re really gonna drink two?” I ask him curiously.

“It’s actually for you,” he says as he hands me one of the cups. “I feel like you’re going to be staying up late tonight.”

Well, he’s right. I am gonna be staying up late. I still need to prepare questions for tomorrow’s, or later, rather, interview. I really won’t be getting some sleep tonight. I also need to do research on him too.

“Well, I do have an interview for tomorrow. I still need to prepare as it’s a very important one.”

“With whom, may I ask?”

“Mark Lee, the author. Not the singer.”

“Oh,” he lets out a soft sigh that can be heard, even through his mask. Is he offended that I don’t think author Mark Lee and singer Mark Lee are the same?

“Why do you sound so disappointed?”

“Uh, nothing. I just remembered the book he recently released. Have you read it?”

“Late Night Scribbles?”

“Yes, that!” he answered enthusiastically. Wow, I guess I found a fan right here. He might actually help me with my interview later. I need to grab this chance.

“Do you mind helping me? I’m actually going to interview him about it tomorrow.” I gave him the widest smile, hoping he’d say yes. I normally wouldn’t do this to strangers, especially at night. But I really just need to get this over with.

“Well, as someone who’s a fan of his works. I’d like to give it a try and interpret it,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Just imagine I’m Mark Lee. Shoot your questions.”

“Hmm, I can’t be answering personal questions since you’re not Mark Lee.” I scratch my head. Damn, I can’t think of anything. My brain is not working right now! “But if you were Mark Lee, what would you want to be asked?”

“If I were Mark Lee? Well, rather than asking what my inspiration was behind the works I’ve made, I’d rather be asked on how I tried to convey my thoughts and feelings to this piece of work,” he explained, staring at the night sky.

I followed the direction of his gaze, and he’s looking at Orion, one of the brightest constellations out there. I gaze at it too while waiting for him to continue explaining.

“But isn’t it basically the same as drawing inspiration from something?” I ask profoundly.

“Not really. You can draw inspiration from anything. And you can come up with different outputs based on one inspiration. What’s important is how you’re able to connect the context of what you’re writing to the feelings you want to draw out,” he continues.

“With a single inspiration, I can come up with two completely different works based on how it’s written. The idea may be the same but the context is not.”

“Hmm, care to explain a little further?” I ask politely.

“We can use Black Socks as an example.”

Black socks are underrated

The way they connect the bottom sleeves of

my black sweatpants to my black sneakers

is just perfect

Pleasure from perfect alignment

That also goes for the ability to be parallel

with my thoughts and actions

I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep

it consistent even when forgotten like a

working habit

A moment to think twice about what

seemed unimportant

Black socks have been making my day

these days and I knew I had to return the

favor by acknowledging them

I throw you in the bin only so that you can

be renewed again

“Black socks, literally an ordinary object that is tossed to the bin right after use. But what caught my eye is his appreciation for this mundane thing.”

“Through his words, you can tell black socks gave him comfort. He used a simple subject to convey his inner thoughts of how every little thing we don’t really recognize can actually be part of our routine, our life,” he said, looking me in the eye seriously.

“He found comfort in the most ordinary things no ordinary person would take notice of.”

Minhyung stands up and stretches his arms. He then continues, “It’s actually cool he shared this piece with us. If I were him, I’d go on and ramble how black socks could ruin my laundry.”

We both chuckle at the thought. It’s true. I hate how some of my black socks actually ruin my laundry. I dread the thought.

“It’s only a matter of perception, (y/n). Sometimes, you have to open your eyes and see, not look. Listen, not hear. Savor, not taste. Feel, not touch.”

“You know, you could actually be Mark Lee himself,” I tease him, “You do know your literature.”

I know he smiled at my remark. I can see his cheekbones rise from the edges of his mask.

“Sometimes, you just have to ask the right questions in order to get the answers you want,” he said teasingly. “You can’t get what you want if you don’t know what you want.”

For a stranger, he’s indeed a good talker. I actually learned so much from our talk tonight.

“Thanks for tonight, Minhyung. I really learned a lot.” I thank him before gulping down the last cup of coffee he bought me. “And thanks for the coffee, by the way! I now have energy to prepare for my interview later.”

“No problem. I’m just glad that I was able to help.”

I stood up from my seat and we both started walking away from the park.

“It’s 1 am. How are you gonna get home, (y/n)?” Minhyung asks worriedly. Yeah, it is pretty late. It’s a good thing I just live near.

“My apartment’s just two blocks away. I can manage,” I say with a smile, a genuine one at that. “How about you?”

“I’ll just grab a cab. Do you mind if I walk you home?” I don’t know why but I felt flustered for a moment. Surprisingly though, I just nodded my head, giving him permission to accompany me home.

We both arrive at the entrance of my apartment building and we say our last goodbyes.

“For a stranger, you really do know how to make people comfy,” I say, crossing my arms and giving him a stare, brows furrowed to tease him.

“Well, that’s just how I am,” he says while giving me a wink. Okay, now he’s flirting. Someone stop him, please. Just kidding.

“By the way, you haven’t taken your mask off the entire time except when drinking coffee. I couldn’t get a good glimpse at you since it was dark,” I explain. It’s true. Add the fact that I’m barely keeping myself awake the whole time. “I might’ve actually thought you’re an idol of some sort. Perhaps, maybe you are Mark Lee.”

“What?” he asks, puzzled and clearly taken aback. “Why’d you think so?”

“Because you share the same name with him.”

[siderealscribblings]

20 Fanfic Writer Questions

Tagged by @midnightstarlightwrites

How many works do you have on AO3?

65

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

1,023,735 (jesus) 

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Thirteen (Miraculous Ladybug (40), Breath of the Wild (5), Digimon (3), Homestuck (3), RWBY (3), Percy Jackson (3), Avatar (2), Fire Emblem Awakening (2), Fire Emblem Three Houses (2), Soul Eater (2), Teen Titans (1), BlazBlue (1), Persona 4 (1)

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Satisfaction Brought It Back (12169) 

The Ladynoir Diaries (2475)

Truth and Consequences (2251) 

Mint Two-Lips (1845) 

Good Hands (1613) 

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to reply after the fic is done but I avoid it midstream. If there’s confusion or clarification needed, I’d prefer to address it in the next chapter. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

T&C ended on a pretty dour note but it’s technically one half of a larger story. I think 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Jingle All the Way had the overall happiest ending (except for Gabriel but who cares)

Do you write crossovers? If yes, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever written?

The one and only Blazblue/RWBY crossover

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Quite a few angry replies but I can’t decide if that’s “hate” or not, since they were just passionately pissed off about some character choices I made. I take it as a sign of investment if someone fires off a few paragraphs ripping into my choices; it gives me a chance to re-evaluate my trajectory as well (or just reinforce my point of view) 

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Seriously though, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve written smut and I think it’s because I’m a wee bit burned out on it/lacking fresh ideas. I don’t think I’d ever do a multi-chapter smut fic again but I might do some one-offs in the future. 

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of; I think the whole concept is sad, especially since it can be easily proven that you didn’t write it. How anyone can take pride in something they stole is beyond me.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

A few Russian translations of my fics (SBIB, Ghost on the Dance Floor) exist!

Have you ever cowritten a fic?

@bullysquadess & I co-produced Every Ladynoir Fic Ever and honestly it’s overdue for a dramatic reading

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I think for me SoMa, Zelink, and Ladynoir top the charts but I can be easily convinced of most ships

What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Hat Trick would be fun to revisit at some point, but I fell out of a Digimon rut as I wanted to devote more time to MWD

What’re your writing strengths?

Dialogue, action, sex scenes

What’re your writing weaknesses?

Verbosity...perfectionism...repeating myself....not really beta-reading very carefully...stubborn refusal to scrap chapters that don’t work and start over...overusing...ellipses...more...than...nec...ess...ar...y

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I do a “translated version” in italics with some loan-words thrown in. I avoid writing in languages I don’t understand. 

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

His Dark Materials in 2006

What’s your favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Truth and Consequences is my first “grand” fic and I still enjoy the little cosmos I’ve built on. I really like that the comment to kudos ratio is skewed in comments and really like seeing the regular commenters return to give their opinion on the latest chapter. (I’ve even gotten to the point where I can predict how certain reviewers will react ;)

Tagging @chronicallylatetotheparty @abadmeanman @insanitysscribblings @bullysquadess @noblechaton

[random-imagines-blog]

Wonderful and Weird {Barty Crouch Jr x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: @spectrumofdisney Wordcount: 2866 Summary: While working at the Ministry under his father’s control, Barty meets you - and finds you to be oddly interesting. Notes: The reader is autistic, as per request. I tried my best with this, being on the spectrum myself, without giving into stereotypes. Please message me if I did any of this wrong, I truly wanted to get it right.

You enjoyed working for the Ministry. You had your own little office with your cameras and your typewriters and everything was clean and organized. Nothing from the outside world came in except for what you brought with you, and the paperwork that was brought to you by owl every morning to go through. And the owl never stayed, because you did not like the smell that the birds brought, nor the feathers and dander that it left behind. You had gotten the job shortly after graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and you excelled at it. Your co-workers didn’t really care for you, but they didn’t actively dislike you. They thought that you were a bit odd, but you were efficient and didn’t cause trouble so they didn’t bother you for anything. Your work life was just about perfect - until he came into the picture.

You heard a fuss coming from the hallway. Normally you would not care and would continue on with your task, hyperfixated on the status reports that you were reviewing and correcting, but your door was slightly open from after the owl left and the noises bothered you. Getting to your feet, you walked across the small office space and stuck your head into the corridor, about to say something when your name was called.

“Ahh, y/l/n, just the person I wanted to see,” Bartholomew Crouch Sr said, with his son in tow. You recognized him from school. He was a Slytherin, while you were a Ravenclaw, and he was a year or two older. You had no interaction with him whatsoever, and would not have remembered him - if it wasn’t for the fact that he had stopped some of the other Ravenclaw students from pulling a horrible prank on you. You had seen him interfere with the girls as they levitated your underthings so they hung from the top of the Ravenclaw tower, but had never before spoken to him. Never even thanked him, which your mother admonished you for after you had admitted to her in a letter what had upset you.

“Why?” You asked, blankly, staring at the floor by Bartholomew Jr’s feet rather than attempt any sort of eye contact. That was just too intimidating.

“My son,” Barthomew looked at his son with displeasure. “-is about to start his position here at the Ministry of Magic. I’d like you to show him around and make him feel welcome.”

“It is a very simple layout. There is a map framed in the hallway. Welcome.” When you said the last word, you finally brought your eyes up in the way that you were taught. Your mother had taught you with blueberries to say words like ‘Thank you, You’re Welcome and Happy Birthday’ with eye contact, and with a happy tone. You forgot the tone today. You just wanted to get back to work.

“You’re a bit of a weird one, aren’t you?” The former Slytherin said, looking you up and down, which did nothing to make you feel more comfortable.

“Yes,” You answered the question, as you did every question proposed to you. “Mr Crouch, Mr Crouch, excuse me,” You ducked back into your office and closed the door this time. Well, that was a rather odd occurrence.

-

The rest of your day was blissfully quiet, but it was as you were preparing to leave the Ministry that it got odd once again. You were taking the stairs, since they were quiet and had no chance of getting stuck, unlike the elevator. You just set foot on them when you felt a touch on your arm, that instantly made you go into panic mode. You pushed the person away, and drew your wand on them, pointing it right towards their chest. All of your coworkers knew better than to touch you, so this was someone unknown. “I do not like being touched,”  You said quickly, squinting in the light to get a better look at who the person was.

“Noted, noted,” The newest addition to your office said with his arms up in surrender. He licked his lips as he looked you over, with some degree of recognition. “We went to school together, didn’t we?”

“Yes we did, Bartholomew Crouch Jr,” You said, lowering your wand.

“Well hullo, I thought I recognized your ... brand of weird,” He said, waving his hand at you. “Yes, I remember you. Some of the boys wanted to put wee in your pumpkin juice.”

“That’s disgusting. Why would they do that?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing together. “And why did you touch me?”

“They thought it was funny. Managed to stop them though, so you’re welcome.” He said, giving you a smile. That made you more confused. You were talking about a topic that was particularly unpleasant. Why was he thanking you? You said nothing but continued to stare, waiting for an answer to your second question. “Just wanted to get your attention, is that so bad?”

“The idea is not bad but the way that you went about it was. I do not like to be touched. Please don’t do it again.”

“Alright, alright, I won’t touch you,” Another lick of the lips. “I kinda like the weird thing you have going on.”

“I don’t know if I like you yet,” You stated simply. “Goodnight, Bartholomew Crouch Jr.”

“Call me Barty,” He said with a salute.

-

Even you could not avoid hearing the rumors that circulated the next day at work. Everyone was talking about Bartholomew. The rumor was that he had been fraternizing with death eaters, and was thinking about joining them. That was why his father had forced him to get a job in the Ministry where he could be kept an eye on. You didn’t pay heed to these rumors. You had more important things to think about in your life, such as where the latest stack of paperwork was. The owl had not arrived this morning and it was making you very antsy.

“Have you seen my papers?” You asked your co-worker next to you. They shook their  head no so you kept on looking, until you came to the last room, which was Bartholomew’s. You didn’t knock since it was a work environment and no one should be doing anything inappropriate. So when you opened the door, he was a bit startled and dropped the paper stack he was holding.

“Have you heard of knocking?” He asked, bending over to pick up the papers.

“Of course I have,” You answered seriously. “Are those my papers? Why do you have them? Those are mine.”

“I thought I’d see what you were doing,” He said with a smile. Once more, you were confused and annoyed by his facial expressions. He smiled at the oddest times. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” You answered. You took the paper out of his hands, being careful not to let your skin brush against his. “Please don’t take my work.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Barty said, putting his hands behind his back once you had your papers back. Another lick of the lips. A trait that you were noticing a lot. It would stick out in your head as something being particular to him, the way that red lipstick was to your coworker Marjorie, and the smell of fish and chips on Gary. “Can I watch you work?”

“Watch me work?” You repeated. No one had ever asked you that before. “If you don’t say anything or touch anything then maybe.”

“Great,” Barty said. He walked you out of the room, staying a step behind you through the hallway. He even stepped ahead of you and opened the door to your office. You didn’t thank him, just went straight to your desk and worked as if he wasn’t even there. The forms were second-nature to you. You knew exactly what to write, and you liked the neat little boxes that you were supposed to write in. You liked writing small to add in more details. You liked taking the stamp out of your drawer, pressing it on the ink pad, then stamping the bottom of the form and moving on to do it over again. It was meticulous work without many changes, and it was perfect for you. It allowed you to stay in your mind - so much so that you had forgotten that Barty was even there, watching what you were doing, until it was time for lunch.

“What do you usually do?” Barty asked, startling you as the clock chimed noon. You looked at it with annoyance, hating that it made noise. You had forgotten to silence it, what with your papers being missing this morning. “For lunch.”

“I eat,” You said, taking a small container out of your bag. Inside was your packed lunch, everything in separate bags so that nothing was touching.

“Bloody hell, you have that all organized too, don’t you?” Barty scoffed, standing up to peer inside the container. “Come out with me, we’ll go to Hogsmeade - Three Broomsticks, like school days.”

“Yes, I like to have my lunch organized,” You said, not noting his expression. “We never went to Hogsmeade together. And not to the Three Broomsticks.”

“Then this could be the start of something new, come on, I’ll buy.” Barty went to your door, opened it wide, stepped into the hallway then realized that you weren’t following. He turned around and saw that you were at your desk, unpacking your food one item at a time onto a plate that you kept at your desk. “You really are a weird one, y/l/n.”

“I eat here, everyday,” You told him, unpacking a set of cutlery as well. “I like it in here.”

“Well, then,” Barty frowned thinking. “I’ll just have to go and get my lunch to go and come join you. Would you mind that?”

“I suppose not, as long as you are tidy,” You said, so focused on your food that you hardly noticed he disappeared.

-

The rumors about Barty changed after that. They became less about him potentially tuning into a death eater, and more into how he spent all of his time with you and didn’t work at all. Word had even reached his father’s ears, but as long as he kept out of trouble, he didn’t care much either way. Barty heard the rumors too, but he didn’t care either. Because they were true. He really started to enjoy spending time with you. You were unlike anyone that he had ever met. You were blunt, and to the point. You said what you were thinking, even if it hurt someone’s feelings. You never meant to though, that was the amazing part. The confused look that was on your face whenever someone in the office became emotional over something was more entertaining than wizarding opera. He might even start to think that he loved you - which was a feeling that came on when you had brought out a second lunch container, with a packed lunch for him that matched yours completely.

“Are you still thinking of becoming a death eater?” You had asked as he examined the crustless sandwich that was in his bag. His head snapped up at the question. No one had ever asked forthright like that.

“Would you hate me if I did?” He asked, curiously, licking his lips then bit into the sandwich.

“I think I would, yes,” You admitted. “Killing people, even muggles, is a very bad thing to do.  The practical thing to do would be to stay at the Ministry and try to be a good person, even if you don’t understand people.”

“Be like you, you mean?” Barty raised an eyebrow. You thought about it for a second and then nodded. “That sounds boring.”

“I don’t think that it is, but if you want to think like that - that’s your problem.” You said, shrugging. You could feel his eyes on you, taking you in. He had been doing that a lot lately. You weren’t sure if you liked it or not. “I do have fun sometimes too.”

“What do you do for fun then? Show me,” He challenged.

“Fun things.” You said, a faint smile on your lips. “I can show you on the weekend.”

“It’s a date,” Barty said, finishing off his sandwich.

“I never had one of those before. A date, I mean,” You admitted to him, making him smile.

“I’ll show ya a good time,” He promised.

-

On the weekend, you met him in the Leaky Cauldron, then made your way out into Muggle London. Muggles were interesting people, you thought. So involved in their own lives that they barely saw the magic that was right in front of them.

“So what are we doing today, then?” Barty asked. He looked nice in Muggle clothes, you thought. You had grown used to seeing him in the robes of the office. He thought the same of you as well, since you were wearing something a little more colorful. It was like seeing a hint of sunshine on a cloudy day. He walked by you, but kept a little bit of distance, aware of how you didn’t like to be touched.

You opened up the bag that you had brought and showed him your muggle camera. “I like to take pictures.”

“Pictures?” It was hardly what Barty had expected.

“Yes, I use this camera to take a picture, which is like capturing a memory in an image. They can be-”

“I know what a picture is,” Barty said quickly before you got into the science of it. He had forgotten for a second that you answered every question, rhetorical or not. “Why do like to take pictures?”

“There’s a process to it. And I like to remember things. I like to take pictures of people smiling. I think it’s fun because I like to wonder what they are smiling about.”

“Can I see that?” He asked, pointing to the camera. You nodded and handed it over but watched him very carefully. You didn’t like other people handling your things. In fact, if Barty ever knew that he was the first person other than you to handle this camera, he might be heavily flattered. As he should be. He figured out how to work it pretty quickly - he wasn’t as dumb as he appeared, and held it up to his eye to see through the lens. He pointed it straight towards you and caught the look of slight embarrassment on your face. “Oh come on, put on a smile. If I know you as well as I think I do, I know yeh ain’t got many photos of yourself.”

“I don’t need pictures of myself. I know what I look like,” You said, not smiling. Barty put the camera down, knowing that he would have to go through extreme means in order to get a nice photo of you.

“Excuse me,” He called to a couple who were walking down the street. They slowed down to listen to him. “Would you mind taking a photo of us together?”

“Bartholomew!” You said, watching in horror as your camera got handed over to the strange man. You didn’t even know his name! Or if he knew how to  use a camera!

“I’ll buy you a new one if he drops it, alright?” Barty  licked his lips then stood beside you. Something felt like it was missing and he knew exactly what it was. “I know, you don’t like to be touched but - can I hold your hand?”

“I suppose that’s alright. I won’t like it,”  You insisted, but he gave you a very puppy-dog look. You wondered what he was trying to accomplish with that. “Are you trying to look cute so I’ll give in?”

“Is it working?” He asked, holding his hand out.

“No. But I’ll do it just this once.” You weren’t even entirely sure how to go about holding a hand, but you did what you saw other couples doing. Fingers intertwined. You wanted to like it, since it seemed to make Barty happy but it was just uncomfortable to you. You could feel your palms becoming sweaty at the new heat. You looked up at the camera and you smiled, and it was genuine despite the weird situation. You let go of Barty’s hand as soon as the picture was taken, and only breathed out in relief when the camera was safe in you bag again. “Why did you want a picture of us together?”

“Capturing a moment in time,” He repeated your earlier words. “Also I like looking at you. You’re better than the depressing wallpaper my father put in my room.”

‘I know a spell to change that,” You offered.

“Second date then,” Barty winked.

[cathygeha]

REVIEW

Their Angel’s Cry by Shannon Hollinger

Chief Maggie Riley #2

Gripping, dark, and gritty ~ compelled to continue reading into the wee hours of the morning!

What I liked: * Chief Maggie Riley: brilliant, capable, skilled detective, listens to her gut instincts, moved to Coyote Cove, Maine after a personal loss, engaged to Steve, upholds the law, working solo with Sue as her assistant after losing her lieutenant in the previous book, is pushed physically and mentally in this book,  have a feeling she has an agenda related to the secrets she is keeping that will play out in this series

* Steve Winters: financial wiz who lost his fire and moved to the country, loves his rather difficult if loving mother, understands and loves Maggie, has secrets that will be exposed in time-I think, there for those he loves

* The plot, pacing, setting, and writing

* Dr. Erika Ricky: medical examiner, cat owner, steps out of her comfort zone in this book and grows a lot, someone I hope to see more of

* Sue: Maggie’s assistant, a child guardian and qualified to step in when children are at risk, capable, caring, good friend

* The various characters that might be the killer of the three people found on the mountain – and finding out which one actually did the deed ~ also enjoyed finding out what the others were really up to

* Laurel: protective canine that heroically saved a baby

* Looking forward to what will happen in book three

What I didn’t like: * Who and what I was meant not to like

* The evilness of some of the amoral criminals in this story and the harm they did to more than one person

Did I enjoy this book? Yes

Would I read more in this series? Yes

Thank you to NetGalley and Bookouture for the ARC – This is my honest review.

5 Stars

BLURB

The little dog trembles and whimpers, but refuses to move. Maggie reaches further into the undergrowth, trying to tempt it out. But as she moves closer, she sees something that stops her heart—a tiny, shivering baby, wrapped in a thin, pink blanket, saved only by its loyal protector. There’s a ferocious storm heading toward the isolated town of Coyote Cove when Chief Maggie Riley gets the call every cop dreads. Three bodies have been found on Rattlesnake Mountain, half a day’s hike from civilization. And when Maggie finally reaches the site, exhausted and freezing, she discovers something even more terrifying—a tiny baby girl, kept alive only by the warmth of a small dog who refuses to leave her side. As Maggie races the baby to safety, she wonders, why on earth the family risked hiking the mountain in this weather? Who were they and who could possibly have killed them? A former Detective, Maggie may be an experienced investigator, but she’s still an unwelcome newcomer. Battling town prejudice, her fears for the orphaned baby, and the increasingly dangerous weather, Maggie soon realizes the case is far more complicated than she could have imagined. The family is not who they seemed at all. With Coyote Cove cut off by the storm, Maggie knows that wherever the killer is, they won’t be able to leave. Stuck in town with a murderer on the loose, Maggie must race to find them before anyone else gets hurt. But she hasn’t counted on the killer taking matters into their own hands, and going after Maggie first…