#a treasure tove i tell you

[anaalnathrakhs]

nobody understands edancy like i do. it’s about a guy who feels like hot shit for not living up to the real world VS a girl who showed up to the real world with a shotgun and full intent to use it. it’s about growing up and leaving the small world you’ve been constrained in but struggle to let go of. it’s about learning from one another. it’s about admiration, jealousy, envy. it’s about slowly learning to understand and respect each other. it’s about the mismatched paces of self-actualization they go through. it’s about love, it’s all about love, it’s about loving someone, it’s about unrequited love, it’s about the bond that forms between people who match like two incredibly fucked up jigsaw pieces, it’s about looking up, and looking forward, and hoping, and bettering oneself, it’s about hate and rage and freaking out. it’s about big emotions and catharsis and changing irrevocably for better or for worse. it’s about two people looking into each other’s eyes from afar and sharing that fleeting moment of recognition.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 8/8/2023

theoretically seeing two apartments this afternoon so i am taking the date as good luck

listening

the asteroids galaxy tour's the sun ain’t shinin no more. this was apparently a very famous iPod commercial song? wasn't paying attention to general popular culture when the original iPods were coming out. i would attempt to classify this as somewhere between the doors and smash mouth. spotify.

bitches by tove lo (feat charli xcx, icona pop, elliphant, ALMA). is this a good song? eh. is it fun to scream-sing while navigating through packs of lifted pickups whose hoods are higher than the roof of my moderately-sized hatchback? yes. spotify

how'd i find these? really leaning hard on spotify autogenerated dance playlists these days.

-

reading

normal pair of books to read at the same time

diana biller's hotel of secrets was an odd one. you CANNOT take away from this section "oh tumblr user girlfriendsofthegalaxy hates consent" okay? i don't piss on the poor either. i had to really think about if i thought the sex scenes were jarringly modern and concluded no, they simply challenged my preconceptions of what a single mid-thirties woman in late 1800s vienna might get up to in a time when the best available methods of birth control were french letters. however, the lengthy discussion around consent and boundaries read as somewhat performative and out of place? or like a slightly different tone? than the rest of the actual sex scenes.

in many ways the romance was the b-plot to the hotel's inner workings and the international intrigue, which was fun. i enjoyed the a-plot enough to put a hold on biller's next romance, about a young american window in gilded age nyc. we'll see how that all shakes out!

i did not enjoy and did not finish chris miller's hefty pop history book on the history of microchip production and manufacture. got about a third of the way through. i think i most disliked his approach-- the technical style is very polished, one sentence flows into the next quite well, although we have very different opinions about the meaning of "intuitive" -- but we sit in very different seats watching the american political thunderdome. the way he presents his ideas is a bit jarring, bc it is an almost full-throated and uncritical endorsement of america's cold war diplomatic policies. i think many people would agree with me when i say those policies were not very good.

both of these have been on my holds list for months and i could not tell you the inciting incidents that made me place a hold.

-

watching

in my best friend's endless search for Things to Have on in the Background That Are Semi Child Friendly (or THBTASCF), i have viewed National Treasure (2004, dir. Turteltaub), Rush Hour (1998, dir. Ratner) and Rush Hour 2 (2001, dir. Ratner).

i cannot say i truly enjoyed any of these choices or that they have aged particularly well. national treasure has such an ominous looming of the whedonesque Well That Happened!!! that continues to infect movies.

also rewatched The Mummy (1999, dir. Sommers) bc i wanted a screenshot of the subtitles [YEEHAWING, GUNSHOTS] which is my Texas Adventure(TM) tag, but the subtitles on my pirate movie platform of choice are not that sophisticated. you'll simply have to take my word for it bc my dvd box set is still in storage.

-

playing

mainlining g/enshin impact. did not realize a whole nother goddamn country is being released next week. their every-six-weeks major content update schedule is batshit insane and i do not want to really think about the level of crunch happening over there.

the regions we have so far are legally-not-switzerland, not-china, not-japan, not-india, and we are going to not-france next. it has a real jules verne/twenty thousand leagues under the sea/steampunk vibe about it. look at this whimsical little deep-sea diver boy!

i have not enjoyed this past region (sumeru, legally-not-india) as much as the others. this may be due to the hiccup of seasonal depression i am experiencing. it may be bc this is the most Contiguous Landmass segment of the map and it's less segmented into individual regions than the other countries. it may be bc i have not spent quite as much time running around here as i have liyue (legally-not-china) which does feel genuinely comforting to run around. it may be bc the last time i played this game i still worked in the games industry and i still have residual brain weirdness about playing games.

i do appreciate their dedication to Big Fuckoff Trees tho.

-

making

fallow weeks. things are simply not percolating in time for yeehawgust, due to the agonies, and that's fine, i'm telling myself through gritted teeth.

[nfrazer92]

It was a rather queer thing to wake up to: waking up and seeing barbecue jettisoned around one of my roommate's nipples. I glanced up from the morning paper to find Patches with barbecue sauce jettisoned around his nipples, most likely on account of the leftovers from the night's previous pig roast. It hardly bothered me though as I had grew up across Scottdale's Gainey Ranch where such behavior was part in parcel. Gainey, a shipping magnate from West Palm Beach, once threw a fiesta there, the slogan being, "Stay for as long as you want and step right up." In other words my perspective had been seasoned by the outlandish behavior typical at Gainey's. Aunt Jacinda always made sure to remind me of this. Oh how she loved to recall when her nephew, my cousin Randolph, skipped palm oil naked, arse as clear as the Arizona sky, across the Pima Beltway to Gainey's Ranch on account of the too-loose-pair-of-slacks Aunt Jacinda had dressed him in. Long story short of it, Randolph galloped naked to the front desk to stop to ask to borrow a kite, and the maitre dame, having mistaken him for a son of one of the shipping magnates, let him borrow one, and so he flew it the nine yards over. Despite my having become accustomed to Gainey, dealing with Patches was no cake walk. There were times when dealing with Patches would elicit a "why me" reaction. One instance involved the biennal PowWow where the Natives would convene and bang on their rawhides wearing traditional garb, or, as Bobby used to call it, their "Arseless TeePees", causing Patches to howl like a werewolf and run through the Maricopa Valley canal systems. One instance of these powWows occurred the eve of the shipping magnate gala where Patches was torn between participating in the gala or in the pow-wow. This he confided to me, and I didn't know what to tell him. Yes the natives with their Voo doo had their novel appeal, but the networking opportunities of the gala could be beneficial, and this mattered to Patches for Patches received social security and I did not, and Randolph, just like his mother, always made sure to remind me of this: "Titter tatter bitter bladder," he would always say. "Nick, don't sweat it. Your day for social will come. You would be better of not to complain. Back off," and I would sigh and call Patches names out of jealousy and resign to this inconvenient truth though, grrrr, it rattled me to my core. I let my mind stop wandering and turned my attention back to the here and now of Patches, not the Patches of the unforsaken history of the Pow Wows, times lost in the treasure toves of a more sensitive, gentler time, of a time no more. In the here and now it just so happened the morning Patches descended the stairs covered in barbecue sauce was a morning directly after an evening where Randolph reminded me of how Patches received social and I did not so I wasn't in the mood when Patches proceeded to take his fingers and touch around the barbecue sauce as a form of charades. I couldn't deduce what he was trying to convey. Patches went on, "I can barely see without these things," he said while putting on his glasses. "You ever watch morning Stuff?" He asked snidely like a smoker recovering from the whooping cough asks for someone to play checkers with. "No," I replied and we turned on the tv to watch. I couldn't pay attention on account of the scent of the across the street whorehouse.

[kbrick]

Drarry Tag Game

✨  Drarry Tag Game! ✨ Answer any questions you’d like and ignore the rest!

When did you get into Drarry and why? Tail end of 2020,100% because of covid

Which Drarry fic hooked you?  All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound. So much pining. Smut that set my soul on fire. Angst. Mystery. All the drama. So good.

Top three favorite Drarry fics: This is IMPOSSIBLE (yes, I know I made up the questions, shut up), but I’ll do it like this - if I want to laugh really hard and feel things at the same time, Star Quality by who_la_hoop; for storytelling amazingness and plot, Far From the Tree by aideomai; for smutty goodness, Can’t Get You Out of My Head by femmequixotic. But there are so many more incredible Drarry writers I can’t even list them all. This fandom is a TREASURE TROVE OF TALENT!!! I am constantly blown away by the quality of writers here.

Why can’t you quit them? I was raised on enemies to lovers. Movies, books, it was always my favorite trope. Drarry is the ultimate enemies to lovers pairing. There is built-in pain, angst, and tension. They are canonically obsessed with each other (the stalking! The Potter Stinks badges! The dementor costume! I could go on!). They’re equals in many ways (or at least complementary) and rivals as well. It’s the perfect ship.

Would you rather be friends with Harry or Draco? Draco because you know it would be fun to talk shit about other people with him and also you could borrow his clothes. 

Who breaks your heart more often?  Harry. A thousand times Harry. I just want to hug him and give him all the treacle tart in the world and it hurts me when bad things happen to him.

Ideal career for Harry? For Draco? Harry: visual artist/ craftsman or a teacher. Draco: Potioneer or Unspeakable

Harry and Draco are being sent to a desert island for a week with plenty of food and water. Each is allowed to bring three additional items (no wands). What do they bring? Harry: a snitch, a broom, a hoodie; Draco: he’d probably try to throw 9,000 grooming products into a bag and claim the bag was one item. The other two would be a sunhat and lube.

Favorite non-Drarry HP character? 💖 Pansy Parkinson 💖 She’s that bitch, been that bitch, still that bitch, will forever be that bitch. Runner up is Charlie Weeze for outstanding marks in both badassery and hotness

If you had to pick one, enemies to lovers or (enemies to) friends to lovers? Put me on the enemies to lovers express, choo choo!  Violently mash those faces together! Make it hurt! Plus one point for every punch thrown right before a kiss.

Would you rather read a fic that made you laugh or one that made you cry? I love the funny, but if I had to pick one, I’d say cry. Drarry is cheaper than therapy.

Three songs that scream Drarry to you (feel free to include the Drarry-est lyrics!): Pressure (Tove Lo/Martin Garrix) (Can't take it back/ When you talk like that, no / You make me see red/ Still end up in my bed/ Know I want that sweat);  Good Things Fall Apart (Illenium/Jon Bellion) (Tell me what you hate about me/ Whatever it is I’m sorry); The Night We Met (Lord Huron) (for the regretful vibes)

Favorite authors outside of fic? Tana French (mystery), Donna Tartt (literary fiction), Kate Atkinson (magical realism), Bernard Cornwell (historical fiction), Ursula Le Guin (fantasy), Neil Gaiman (fantasy). I also have a raging Stephen King addiction/obsession that has been a problem since I was a teenager.

Tagging with no pressure, and please feel free to pick and choose the questions you’d like to answer! @tackytigerfic @fw00shy @notti-bianche @maesterchill @vukovich @pennygalleon @moonflower-rose @kryptidfoxwrites @onbeinganangel @amywaterwings @skeptiquex @calypsotempete @thebooktopus @academicdisasterfic @lqtraintracks @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm and 💥anybody else 💥 who wants in!!!

[author-morgan]

Hi! It's so good to have you back! If i can aks for a fic, would you be so kind and write some fluff moment for Eivor getting a matching tattoo with his partner?

here you are! hope you don’t mind that I put a little spin on it, because I had such a cute idea for this. 

m!Eivor x fem!Reader

SVEND GREETS YOU with a smile and motions you into his workshop and home, for he knows the reason you have come to visit him this early in the day after Tove told him of your plans the prior evening. Eivor Wolfsmal and his brother, Sigurd, were due back any day now, having left two moons ago to venture further into Mercia seeking an alliance with the Songs of Ragnar. 

It is not only Eivor’s return that has you sitting in Svend’s workshop but the fast-approaching day marking your third year of marriage. You wished to surprise him with a tattoo of raven matching his own —a tribute to your clan, Sýnin, and your husband. 

With a piece of wood coal, Svend outlines the shape of a raven on the inside of your wrist. The same design Eivor proudly displays on the right side of his skull and that he’d labored over for days. Rising from the table, he gathers several pins and brings a freshly mixed thick blue-black paste of wood ash and woad. 

The process is slow and one of practiced repetition —dipping the head of a slim pin into the dye, tapping it into the skin within the bounds of his charcoal outline, and wiping away any blood welling up. It takes the day for him to complete the relatively small, simple design. “Keep it wrapped while it heals,” the tattooist tells you, tying off a strip of linen around your wrist. It is sore to the touch and will take several days to mend. 

“Thank you, Svend,” you smile, flexing your stiff hand and arm before reaching to your belt and presenting him with a pouch of silver coin. A fair price for fair work. 

He shakes his head, pushing the coin purse across the table. “No,” Svend says, adamant, “this place and your company are more than enough payment.” The tattooist looks around his workshop and out the door to the ever-growing settlement of Ravensthorpe. Sigurd may wear the title of Jarl, but it is Eivor who had rebuilt the abandoned borough into a prospering seat in the heart of Mercia. Between his new home and workshop and a day of pleasant conversation with you, he needs no compensation. “You and Eivor have already done too much for an old man like me,” he notes.

LITTLE ARTH FINDS you at the hearth in the longhouse, sewing tunics and repairing ripped britches for several of the children often running amuck through the fields and woods, finding more trouble than treasures. His bright smile is enough for you to know why he has come in haste —the sails of Eivor’s longship spotted on the River Nene in the twilight. You follow in the boy’s steps, darting to the wharf eager to see your husband after so many weeks apart. 

His voice rings out over the river and longship crew like a sweet song —they are to unload the plundered riches for the storehouse. Eivor jumps from the dragon-tail of the ship, eyes skimming over the visiting traders and the people of Ravensthorpe. You call his name above a small gathering, and he is quick to discard the shield and bow on his back, greeting you with a warm embrace and soft kiss upon the cheek. “A fair sight for thine sore eyes,” he remarks, worsening a smudge of soot on your cheek. 

You smile, wrapping your arms around him again, and take a quick moment to breathe in his scent —leather, sweet berries, and hornbeam resin. “It’s good to have you back,” you tell him. This time he leans forward, rough lips meeting yours. A short, sweet kiss promising more to follow to make up for days and nights you’ve been parted from each other. Parting, you glance around him to the longship. Sigurd departed with him but does not return. “Where is your brother?”

Eivor recovers his bow and shield, draping his arm over your shoulders as you both climb the hill leading to the longhouse. “Gone to begin negotiations with the East Anglia,” he answers. Sigurd is making it a habit to keep the company of kings in hopes that one day he may wear a crown of his own. “No matter,” Eivor remarks —Sigurd is better suited for things of a diplomatic nature. “I should tell Randvi the good news.” New allies for the Raven clan had been found in the Sons of Ragnar. 

He pauses in the center of the longhouse, turning to the adjacent room where Randvi is discussing discoveries with her scouts. “Join me in our chambers after you’ve delivered the tidings,” you say, quietly, kissing his scarred cheek before returning to the hearth to gather up your sewing projects. The heavy wooden door shuts behind him, and he’s quick to start shedding his bracers and outer layers. 

Eivor crawls onto the straw bed wearing a faded blue tunic and patched breeches, laying his head on your thigh, and you run your fingers across his brow —smoothing out the wrinkles and furrows. A lengthy sigh passes his lips. “I am sorry to have missed our anniversary,” he admits. Of all the days away from you, that had been the day to seem endless. Sigurd and Ivarr alike tried to cheer him up with drink, but he would not be content until he returned to Ravensthorpe and you.

“All that matters is you’re back,” you say with a smile, “safe and in my arms.” Eivor returns your smile in kind, sitting up. He moves behind you on the mattress, wrapping his arms around your middle, and props his chin up on your shoulder. You hold onto his hands, softly laughing as he rocks you from side-to-side to the tune of a hummed lullaby. It is good to have your husband back, if only for a short while. 

“What happened?” He asks, catching your bandaged wrist. His first thought is you’ve managed to burn yourself, but you disprove that suspicion when you pull the knot in the linen free, discarding the dressing and revealing the tattoo —just under a week old and close to being healed save for a few small scabs. Shifting, you note the surprise in his clear blue eyes and the soft smile kinking his lips. 

“A raven,” Eivor breathes, his calloused thumb tracing the outline of the tattoo that is a mirror image of the one on his scalp. Hearing talk of ravens, Sýnin drops down from the rafters, staring at the blue-black tattoo of his likeness on your wrist. He turns his head this way and that —looking between your tattoo and the one Eivor has. With a satisfied croak, Sýnin returns to his perch in the rafters above.

“What do you think?” You ask, glancing at the raven on your wrist. Eivor lifts your wrist, placing a short kiss to the tattoo in reverence before brushing aside your hair and kissing a small patch of skin on your neck just below your ear —making you shiver. 

“I love it,” he hums, letting his golden beard tickle your cheek. He sees it as a tribute to your people and Sýnin —an expression and extension of your love. “And I love you,” he adds. Eivor will never let an opportunity for him to say he loves you go to waste. He is away too often and involved in too many battles to ever let silence rest easily on his heart. Tilting your chin up, Eivor kisses you. This kiss lasts longer than the others and is no less sweet. You cup his scarred cheek, chasing his lips when he moves to part, and he chuckles as he rids the space between you —pulling you further into the bed. 

Yes, you think white settling for the night with the added comfort of Eivor’s warmth and arms draped across your middle, it is good to have my husband back. 

[taglist:  @kvitravn​ @vanillabeanlattes  @nemo-my-name-forevermore​  @withered-poppies​ @ananriel​ @britishhotassassin @maximalblaze​ @khaoskrossed @theelvenvalkyrie @xxdearlybeloved​ @elizabethroestone​ @elluvians @letsloveimagines @finick94 ]

if you’d like to be added to my Eivor taglist, just let me know!  

[winged-fool]

RNM Create Week 2020 Day 7: Cheerleaders

For six days, creators have been reveling in all the love, so now it's the moment to give some of that love back. Tell us about those people who have helped you through your creative process, whether it's your beta or that particular person who's reblogged everything you've posted or commented on everything you've shared, or that person who's been holding your hand all the time while you worked hard on your creation. We want to know everything about them! We want to know those wonderful people who are helping you as a creator. You guys are an essential part of this fandom!

Sorry not sorry this is so long 💙

@exploring-in-space: Alix is my number one ride or die. She encourages me endlessly and in ways that I can never really articulate. Every time I come up with a crazy idea and bring it to her, she never judges me, she’s right there with me trying to figure out the best way to bring it to life. Not only that, but she’s an incredibly talented writer and I’m so lucky to have her as a sounding board. She deals with all my RNM rants and if you think I rant a lot on here just imagine all the garbage that she has to listen to first.

My Salt Squad: @insidious-intent @caitlesshea @themoonwhenimlost the best salt people I could ever ask for. Every time I come to them with a salty take they all validate me and don't make me feel like a horrible person hahaha you all are some of my favorite people in this fandom!

Finer Things Club: @el-gilliath @christchex @nielrian who distracted me and cheered me up when RNM was breaking my heart. A special shout out to Tove who held my hand through almost every episode and constantly encourages me! We’re co-writing our Big Bang and even though I’m the slowest writer ever, she is so understanding and patient 💙💙

@female-overlord-3: an absolute sweetheart 💙 I look forward to your comments on my fics and always enjoy every post you send my way

@bamfalexmanes : my favorite tormentor hahaha Gabrielle is constantly picking on me and it's just so fun. You'll never get me to love forlex! 😂 And of course my pic crew pal 💙

@usbournejez: you are always so kind to me, you believe in my writing in a way I don't think I deserve haha but it means so much to me because I love your writing so much 💙

@hmd023: this isn’t just a shout out for being an amazing person to me but to everyone in this fandom! I’m always seeing you in people’s ask boxes complimenting their writing or sending prompts and it’s so wonderfully refreshing to have all your positivity in this fandom. And I always remember you as my International Relations bud 🤣

@grampire: we haven’t been mutuals for long but I am soo glad that we are! You have been such an awesome cheerleader for me and so supportive of my dark fics. Dark fics can be a little niche which I totally recognize so it’s always so awesome when I find other people who love them as much as me 💙

@captainsorryimabadass: same as above! you’ve been such an incredible supporter of my dark fics and it makes me so happy! Plus we’re both hannigram trash and that automatically makes you one of my favorite people :D

@habibinasir: We don’t talk that often, but when we do, we have some of the funniest conversations. I feel like you really get my stupid sense of humor which is an automatic plus in my book! Plus we commiserated with each other every week when RNM Season 2 was airing and had a lot of the same what the fuck thoughts hahaha

@queersirius: you make some of my favorite gifs in this fandom and I absolutely love seeing them! They’ve inspired me to write little blurbs that eventually become longer fics! And you’re so generous with your time to create such an incredibly comprehensive list of recs that I’ve been lucky enough to be featured on. You’re such a positive person in this fandom, I absolutely love seeing you on my dash.

To the amazing authors in this fandom that still take the time to read my stuff, you all are so amazing because I know you’re busy with your own stuff but you’re still so generous with your time: @aewriting @prouvaireafterdark @spaceskam @chamblerstara/@manesalex @lambourngb @ninswhimsy

And of course my treasured mutuals: @lovecolibri @sungbeen @draculaspetbee @fairymonk @imrollingmyeyes @i-had-a-marvelous-time @ravens-world @fiona-glenanne-westen @bisexualalienss

I know I’m missing others and I’m sorry if I did forget you, it’s not personal I’m just a mess who is always forgetting things! I could say something about every single one of my mutuals and followers. You all are so great. Every time you like or reblog my nonsense, every ask and message I receive, I consider us friends. I know this fandom can be a little negative sometimes but I’m honestly so grateful for all the wonderful people in my little space. You all are the best 💙💙💙

[i-am-just-a-kiddo]

favourite male fictional characters

Thank you @vishcount​ for tagging me, this was a lot of fun! �� I originally planned to follow your example and put ten characters here but suddenly it became a lot more oops. also i hope you forgive me for following your format, it’s neat 

I am tagging @isabellaofparma​ , @the-cloud-whisperer​ and @sassyassassy​!

I chose the characters that impacted me deeply on a personal level throughout my life (often shown by how long my love lasts over the years and if i was inspired to write for them). 

In no specific order under the cut: 

Legolas

The Lord of The Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien. 

I think it’s only fitting I start off with this magnificent guy. Maybe I gotta admit, i’ve just had a crush on him ever since I was like, nine years old? He’s the character I will fight tooth and claw for (though I guess he doesn’t need me to do that). I love Orlando Bloom’s portrayal of him, eventhough he is vastly different from the books. Book Legolas is such a delight as well, he feels so whimsical and playful and his banter with Gimli is just gold. I was sad when The Hobbit trilogy came out and I was so disappointed by how they butchered his character, it just did not feel authentic anymore (maybe I am also just bitter about the forced hetero storyline for him. makes no cents, this elf is GayTM your honour. and he will meet his soulmate Gimli in a few decades).  Either way, Legolas is the love of my life, thanks for coming to my tedtalk,

Peter Pan 

Peter Pan, J. M. Barrie

Another childhood crush of mine. The gif I chose if from the 2005 movie because we always used to watch it and it is to this day one of my favourite movies. It’s so dreamy, so magical, yet also incredibly sad and sweet.  I have this very strange fascination with Peter Pan. There is something incredibly unsettling about him, especially in the book. He represents something every child wants - who doesn’t want to escape their bedroom and fly away to experience magical adventured far from the adult world? And yet he also represents the impossibility of it, the curse he carries around with himself because he will forever stay alone, no matter how many lost boys he gathers around himself. And Wendy - it’s a love that was never meant to grow and mature, it’s a fleeting dream for the both of them.  I have seen many different adaptations of Peter Pan and I have my favourites, though I want to give a special mention to the book Peter Darling by Austin Chant. It’s a retelling of the story how we know it, in which Peter returns to Neverland after having finally grown up BUT the main points I want to highlight is trans Peter? Heck yes. Gripping and compelling gay love story with our favourite original lost boy Captain Hook? YES. 

Snufkin

Moomins, Tove Jansson.

I have discovered Snufkin for myself only last year, and yet I know he will stay with me forever. In short - I vibe with him, he vibes with me. His anxieties about being with people and longing for solitude? His fear of being loved and being important to someone to a point he doesn’t know what to do with himself? This man just wants to roam freely with his own mind and yet he always returns for something that captures him. Mum, I love him because I have rarely felt this seen before. Also, Snufkin said ACAB. 

Prince Jing - Xiao Jingyan

Nirvana in Fire (2015)

This too is a darling I have only discovered recently. I watched Nirvana in Fire this year and let me tell you, it’s the best show I have seen in a long while. It’s absolutely amazing and it also ripped my heart out. All the characters are absolutely amazing and I am still not over it.

To be honest, I contemplated between Xiao JIngyan and Mei Changsu, because character-wise I think the latter is a lot more interesting and compelling. He makes for a fantastic heartbreaking and flawed protagonist.

However I have to admit - it was love at first sight with Prince Jing for me and I’m still lowkey mad abt it rip. Seems like I am not immune to Pretty Prince Propaganda. But apart from that, I adore him for his genuine

goodness,

his almost naive drive to be better and seek justice. He lost everything, and for the longest time did not have anything to fight for. So alone and lost and bitter, it makes me sad how much it hardened him. He is heartbreak and clumsy kindness hidden under a skin of scars that was inflicted by his father and many others. I see his sad cat-eyes and I cry, that’s just how it is.

Edmund Pevensie

The Chronicles of Narnia, C. S. Lewis

I grew up with these books and movies - they have always been part of my life and it will probably always stay that way (only last night I rewatched the first movie and sobbed).  Imagine my surprised when I finally watched the last movie about five years ago and was incredibly impressed by how they adapted the book; also imagine my brain suddenly going CASMUND in bold letters at Skandar Keynes’ and Ben Barnes’  performance in that movie.  From there, I rediscovered this story completely anew for myself. My favourite Pevensie sibling has always been Lucy (and still is, because I identify with her so much and she feels like home to me); however this new discovery of Edmund’s character was overwhelming. It’s interesting to see characters you’ve grown up with from a more grown up point of view. I don’t want to lay out all my thoughts here, just know I am so heartbroken for him, and so so proud as well. His character arc is amazing and maybe that’s how the last movie makes me even more emotional. Seeing Edmund and Lucy still holding on to Narnia but knowing that that door was closing for them? Not to mention what happens in the later books (we don’t talk about that).  Also did I mention Casmund. Here, have my incredibly emo and depressing take on Edmund’s character that I started writing four years ago and which will forever stay a WIP. 

Nie Huaisang

The Untamed (2019)

My son. My soul. My bane of existence. The tragic thing about him is, that he does not really exist in canon as I have created him for myself. He’s a secondary character in the show, always so relatable yet still brings the ultimate twist of the story, yet he still remains this incomplete shadow. The movie

Fatal Journey

gave him a lot more and I cried tears of joy and devastation. I don’t know why I latched on to him so much, but apparently he is the one that I project on, the one that feels like he sits somewhere inside my chest. I don’t know what else to say - this year he has been everything to me. I spend a lot of time in his head while writing, and maybe that’s how he’s there forever now. Nie Huaisang saw my brain and went it’s free real estate. All my love for you, you dramatic art hoe.

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Ah, another lifelong companion. There are many adapations that I adore - starting from the origin of it all, the books and stories which I have all devoured; the 80s adaptation with Jeremy Brett which was incredibly wonderful; to BBC Sherlock which shaped and traumatised me (I still like the first three seaons but I am too hurt to think about it); to the numerous movies -  but by far my most favourite performance is Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes. Somehow he manages to capture the Holmes I see in my head when I read the books, the sharp yet polite eccentric detective, who loves his companion so much and who has desire to help others.  Sherlock Holmes will always stay special to me, in so many different ways. He shaped my youth and I know he will stay with me. (also what would you say when I told you he helped me discover that I can, in fact, be queer AND ace at the same time? thanks pal).  What else is there to say? Sherlock Holmes is a universe that you can dive into and find many amazing treasures. 

Isak Valtersen 

SKAM (2015)

There he is, the boy that changed my life. SKAM changed my life. All of the characters did. However, Isak is special for many, as I imagine. I remember winter 2016, when tumblr was flooded by these norwegian white boys kissing in a pool and cuddling and I was like ‘nah’, this doesn’t look convincing.  I don’t know what changed my mind but I remember sitting down at last and watching all that was released of season three and it was only downhill from there. I remember starting to follow the real life updates religiously while watching the other previous seasons in between. The one clip that completely wrecked me was when Isak went to the school nurse about his struggles with sleep - it felt like for the first time I saw someone on screen that could understand me on so many different levels. The entierty of seaons three is so personal, I would tell you to go watch it if you don’t know what I mean. The entire show in fact. It’s a masterpiece and it feels so real. This show impacted my life in a way that no show has managed to do before. I miss it so much. I miss Isak too sigh. 

Shang Xirui

Winter Begonia (2020)

Technically, for me personally, Shang Xirui is the nonbinary, gay and ace representation I need in my life (or at least that’s my own personal take on him), but since that is not official, he’s still here on this list. Of course he is because wow, it’s been a long while since I’ve seen such a compelling character on screen. I went from disliking him to being absolutely heartbroken over him. I don’t think any other character in this show captured me as much as he did. There are so many layers to him and discovering all of his sides is a wonderful, heartbreaking, painful and also beautiful journey. I’m not sure I understand all of him yet, but I am willing to try and dig and just ponder his existence. This too, is a perfect example for a flawed yet authentic protagonist. Also he is the most beautiful thing on this planet, or at least that’s how I have been feeling ever since I watched this. I wish to write more of him in the future. 

Aang

Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005)

I grew up watching ATLA and my favourite characters have always been Toph, Zuko and Uncle Iroh. In recent years however, I completely fell in love with Aang all anew. 

I think especially in the past, I had these prejudices against main characters and found them all the most boring personalities ever. In recent years this changed a lot and especially Aang is a prime example for that. Watching him from the perspective of older me, I find so much wisdom in this young boy. Somehow he represents all I wish to be in my life but at the same time he shows his flaws, he carries this sadness with him that will accompany him all his life. This inner battle and chaos that he has to face day to day and in the end - he is just a young boy. So much has been taken from him and yet he learns how to not let it overtake him, that anger and hurt. He tries his hardest to be better than the day before, even if sometimes the world crashes down on him and he gets overwhelmed. He is a child recruited by adults to manage their mistakes and play into the hands of predestined fate and in this essay I will -

Harry Potter 

Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling

I am surprised myself. I thought I would put Fred and George here, or Remus and Sirius, however I realised that none of them quite capture this feeling of lifelong change, of personal, deep impact that Harry had on me. 

As with Aang above, I used to think Harry was the most boring protagonist, yet my opinion took a 180° turn in the past years. Many of the things I wrote for Aang apply to him too - the fact that he was a child, that lost so much, and was always faced with challenges that a child should never have needed to face. Something I want to address is how my favourite book, The Order of the Phoenix, lays all of this out. Harry is just as flawed, just as vulnerable and angry as anyone else. I know some people did not like his ‘emo behaviour’ in the fifth book but for me it just showed how human he is, how he was just a teen like myself at that time. As for many, this boy shaped my entire life, shaped a generation, and I will forever be grateful. I’m sad and angry at how J*R behaves, and how she puts us in the position of doubting our love for these stories. I know I will always love them, but I will not turn a blind eye on all the problematic shit is carries with itself and what the author piles upon us. 

Lan Wangji & Wei Wuxian 

The Untamed (2019)

I will try and keep this short, because if you want to read my thoughts about Wangxian just go to my ao3 and find the  over 70k i wrote for them.  I decided to put them here together because I can’t seperate them and I can’t choose between them. Each of them carries something I recognise in myself, and each of them is the opposite of me. They each own my heart and soul and I know there will never be a fictional couple like this for me ever again. They’ve snuck their way into my heart and have never left. They deserve to be here, together, because my love for them is indescribable. Bless them.  + Bonus:

The Doctor

Doctor Who (1963/2005)

Technically, the Doctor doesn’t count as a “male” character, but since he has been presenting as male up until recently, I needed to include him. I chose the Tenth Doctor because he is the one that broke my heart the most. I adored Nine but he was there too short, and I do love Eleven and Twelve a lot, and Thirteen absolutely owns my heart, Ten has just always been the one that made me cry the most. I loved this era of Doctor Who, I loved how sad and hopeful he was, how heartbroken and yet determined to help wherever it was needed. Doctor Who is always that show, when I return to it, I am reminded that maybe, humanity and the universe isn’t all that bad. 

phew, this took ages damn. but i had so much fun! i decided to leave out honorable mentiones because we would be sitting here until tomorrow lol. 

[feralrosie]

Send me a pairing and a number between 1-100 and I'll write a short scene based on my Spotify Top 100 playlist

@snarky-warden replied: 55

55. Come Undone - Tove Lo

“Hey, Vee?” called Eryn, leaving her tent in the morning and looking around the camp, “Have you seen Zev?”

The other warden was finishing packing up her things and studied the girl from head to toe. She clearly had just woken up and her hair was a mess, but it was the white piece of cotton fabric in her hands that caught her attention, “He went with Alistair to check the road ahead. Did he forget something with you?” she raised an eyebrow, but Eryn couldn’t tell if it was in judgment or friendly curiosity.

Her cheeks blushed, and she nodded before looking away, trying to conceal a silly smile. It was not a secret that both of them were having fun together—the entire camp heard them—but the way Eryn acted around the assassin was concerning. Veela let her shoulders sag and exhaled, “Lethallan…” she whispered, “You’re not having feelings for him, are you?”

The mage’s cheeks turned into an even brighter red when she tried to keep her ground, “Of course not! Don’t worry, Vee, I can handle some fun.” 

“Sure,” she scoffed, but her lips curved in a comfortable smile, “Just be careful, ok? He tried to kill you once.”

The other had no time to answer before both men came back to their camp, announcing that it was safe to continue their journey. Despite being so early in the morning, Alistair was in an incredibly good mood, stealing Veela’s attention to himself while the party finished packing up. Eryn was looking at Zevran on the other side of the clearing, his smile brighter than the rays of sunshine on his face, and she felt the most weird tingling in her stomach and chest. She bit her lips, playing with one of his shirts in her hand, and couldn’t look away. 

The sound of his laughter was hypnotising, the golden of his hair prettier than any treasures and, of course, his eyes were as intense as wildfires. Lost in thought, she wished he would stay in her tent the whole night and wake up with her. She wanted to hold him more, kiss him more, and enjoy his company as much as she could. Eryn couldn’t stop thinking about him and, honestly, it was infuriating to find herself so drawn to him like that. She was being an idiot. 

“Ah, I was looking for that,” his voice echoed in her mind, bringing her back to reality. Zevran was right in front of her, smiling, “Thanks for keeping it for me, my dear.” 

It took a moment for her to realise he was talking about the shirt, “Oh, of course! No problem, I… I was about to give it back to you.” Stuttering, she handed him the piece of clothing, only to feel his long fingers wrapped around hers, warm and strangely soft. 

“Why don’t you keep it for a while longer?” his words leaked from his lips like hot wine being poured, “Just until tonight?” Face burning with embarrassment, Eryn could only mumble in agreement, stealing a soft chuckle from him. “Thank you,” he said before leaving to gather his things.

[bisexualaliens-signmeup]

Roswell song lyric gif sets I’ll be making

Hey! So I’ve been trying to make some song lyric gifs for different characters so here’s the list of all the idea’s i have so far. it says the character/s and the song name along with the lyrics I was thinking of. If you have any ideas or requests or thoughts please let me know!! Even if you think there’s a vibe that would go with a gif set, I would love to know! And I need ideas for the rest of the characters that aren’t on this list too! I mainly listen to mainstream pop, indie, and alternative music so that’s where most of these lyrics come from (sorry lmao) and if any of this is offensive in any way please let me know so the idea can be scrapped immediately, sometimes I don’t notice things. Also, sorry if any lyrics or spellings wrong. Anyway!

Michael and Alex:

Falling for you – The 1975 I don’t want to be your friend I want to kiss your neck

Don’t you see me I think I’m falling Falling for you Don’t you need me  I think I’m falling  Falling for you And on this night And in this light I think I’m falling Falling for you Maybe you change your mind

Kiss – Pale Waves Kiss me hard Like you did From the start

 Hostage – Billie Eilish I wanna be alone Alone with you Does that make sense I wanna steal your soul And hide you in my treasure chest I don’t know what to do To do with your kiss on my neck

Let me crawl inside your veins I’ll build a wall Give you a ball and chain It’s not like me to be so mean  you’re all I wanted Just let me hold you Like a hostage

When the party’s over – Billie Eilish Don’t you know I’m no good for you I’ve learned to lose you can’t afford to Tore my shirt to stop you bleeding But nothing ever stops you leaving

Roman holiday - Halsey We know that we’re headstrong  And our hearts gone And the timings never right

Is there somewhere - Halsey I sorry but I fell in love tonight I didn’t mean to fall in love tonight You’re looking like you fell in love tonight Could we pretend that we’re in love

I’m trying not to let it show That I don’t want to let this go Is there somewhere you can meet me

Ashley - Halsey If only The time and space between us wasn’t lonely I’d disintegrate into a thousand pieces Think I’m making a mistake

 Michael:

When the party’s over – Billie Eilish Don’t you know too much already I’ll only hurt you if you let me

 Maria:

You should see me in a crown – Billie Eilish You say come over baby I think you’re pretty I’m okay I’m not your baby If you think I’m pretty You should see me in a crown

 Michael and Maria

Timebomb – Tove Lo I couldn’t decide if you were the most annoying human being I’d ever met Or just the best thing that ever happened

 Alex:

Ashley - Halsey Seems like now it’s impossible to work this out  I’m so committed to an old ghost town  is it really that strange If I always wanna change

Now If I figure this out A part for my beating heart It’s a muscle but It’s still not strong enough to Carry the weight Of the choices I’ve made I told you I’d ride this out It’s getting harder everyday somehow  I’m bursting out of  Myself

 Rosa:

Habits – Tove Lo I gotta stay high All the time  To keep you off my mind

Staying in my play pretend Where the fun ain’t got no end

Noises – Pale Waves My mind makes noises Too much I feel like I’m slowly losing myself I’m afraid that I need help

Hey you got drugs – Tove Lo Hey you got drugs  Just need a pick me up Only for tonight Don’t tell anyone I was with you

 Izzy: 

You should see me in a crown – Billie Eilish You should see me in a crown I’m gonna run this nothing town You should see me in a crown Your silence is my favourite sound 

Killing boys - Halsey I’m not breaking I won’t take it I wont ever feel this way again

My house - PVRIS I feel you in these walls You’re a cold air creeping in  Chill me to my bones and skin

Control - Halsey I’m bigger than my body I’m colder than this home I’m meaner than my demons I’m bigger than these bones

 Liz and Kyle 

Future friends - superfruit If this all ends I promise  That one day We could be future friends 

[troominmoll]

"i feel like being bitter and listing off all the things that the 90s show changed about the original stories" as a relative newcomer to moomin-related stuff, i'm curious... what *did* the 90s show change??

*rubs hands because I love being insufferable*  

(Minor disclaimer that this is mostly done in good nature. I understand almost every show that is adapted from existing content is gonna change stuff to suit their story-telling needs. But I am annoyed that some who praise the 90s anime think the new series is bad simply for doing things differently when that show, and nearly every one prior to it, has also put their own spin on things.)

There are 24 episodes of Tanoshii Moomin Ikka (plus a movie) based on the books by Tove Jansson, and I think 11 based on the comic strips she wrote. It would take a long time to cover every single detail in every single episode, so I am mainly going to discuss those that have changes I find more significant, disappointing, personally distressing, or just plain baffling.

(A second disclaimer: I have not read any entire comic stories past the point where Tove stopped working on them. There are some episodes based on strips created exclusively by her brother Lars, The Vampire and Artists in Moominvalley being two examples. I will be skipping those, as well as Bouken Nikki episodes, as I have yet to thoroughly watch each one on account of so few being based on Tove’s work and the headaches they induce lmao. Nitpicks from fans who have read Lars’ strips in full are welcome.)

Now without further ado, let the fussing begin~

01 Spring in Moominvalley: This follows the basic storyline from the first two chapters of Finn Family, but with some notable changes. Snufkin at this point woke up from hibernation along with the rest of the family, Little My had yet to be introduced, and Snork - a child like the rest of the main cast - lived with his sister and the rest of the kids in the Moominhouse. The entire subplot of him being an inventor is merely an invention of the anime.

Moomintroll, in the book, spends a lot more time in transformed body. As he believes his friends are playing a new game when they fail to recognize him, he makes up a story about being “The King of California”. He repeatedly pretends to insult Moomin (himself), and in a touching display of devotion his own friends beat him up to defend his honour.

02 The Magic Hat: Continuing on with a scene based on the later half of chapter 2, we see Moomin rescue Snorkmaiden from the Ant Lion, and along with Snufkin, decide to trap him in the magical hat. In the original story however, Moomin and Snork trap the him. This was rather unprovoked, though Moomin cites a moment from a previous book (read all about it in The Moomins and the Great Flood!) where the Ant Lion allegedly kicked sand in Mamma’s eyes. The gang then takes the hat back inside for more “experiments”, and after making a mess, the adults decide it best to dispose of the hat in the river.

Much like in the story, the hat is soon recovered by Moomin and Snufkin, though a chapter where they hide it in a cave and and end up frightening the Muskrat (who uses it as a shelf for his dentures) is absent. It then continues to the scene where Moominhouse is briefly overgrown with plants. Aside from this happening sooner than it did in the book, and the premature appearance of the Hobgoblin, and the missing Mameluke hunt, and the part where all the children play in the jungle, I think it’s pretty true to that chapter!

03 Discovery of a Wrecked Ship:  First off, I wanna say I’m mostly including this episode on my list just to make it clear that Snufkin’s random sexist comments towards Snorkmaiden and Little My are missing from the book. There is a chapter where him and Moomin go ambling up some rocks, but “the girls” are thankfully absent from this scene.

So then they discover an abandoned boat and the rest of the episode is padded with scenes where they repair it. A charming spectacle, I’m sure, but also absent from the book as the boat they find is already in pristine condition. Shame that Snufkin never got to share his idea for the ship’s name, (it was Lurking Wolf aha ha ha) but that might be for the best.

07 The Suitcase: As seen in episode 06, Thingumy and Bob arrived in Moominvalley. They bring with them stolen goods and and the mother of Grimace, who seeks to recover said goods. Snufkin, once again letting everyone down, decides that a gentle female should speak to them about the contents of their suitcase and soon Snorkmaiden is assigned to the task. Instead the book features a trial sequence, which really helps hammer in the metaphor. Everyone takes part and Sniff acts as prosecutor of behalf of the Groke, who appears and is willing to trade the treasure in exchange for the magical top hat (NOT a pretty scallop).

08 The Hobgoblin’s Magic: Moomin hears that his wondrous wooden woman has washed up on the shores of Moominvalley. But when he rushes to the beach, he finds nothing but sand and disappointment waiting for him. This sends him spiraling into a brief yet no less deep depression which is cured only when Thingumy and Bob share their contents of their secret suitcase. The novel was much more reasonable however. He was saddened by the loss of Snufkin who had skipped the valley for the first time, promising (as we all know) to return on the first day of Spring.

And then there is a fabulous summer party thrown by the family after the recovery of Moominmamma’s handbag. This part is true to the story, at the very least. But the party in the book is much more fantastical, with dancing, music (from America of all places), punch served in darling sea shells, and everyone - right down to the tiniest forest critter - is invited, and gets to make a wish when the magic man arrives. 

09 An Invisible Friend / 10 The Invisible Child: I wouldn’t say that these episodes, featuring the famous character from Tales of Moominvalley, have any life-ruining changes from the original story. But since no episode is complete without a bit of drama, or a pointless cameo from Snufkin, a scene where Stinky traps Ninny with the intention of having her assist in his robberies has been written in. And Little My’s comment regarding the aunt in the English dub, where she states “I hope you told her she hurt Ninny’s feelings!” seems uncharacteristically gentle in comparison to her asking if Too-Ticky “bashed her head in”.

13 The Last Dragon on Earth: As mentioned in the entry above, some episodes will include new subplots or elements for the sake of drama and action. This episode is another example of that, but otherwise it has only minor tweaks. Snufkin states that “the cards” have told him he should leave Moominvalley early if he catches x number of such-and-such a fish, but that storyline is exclusive to this show.

14 Our Neighbor is a Touch Teacher: This episode is based on snippets of the comic strip “Moominmamma’s Maid”, but scraps the storyline containing the titular character from the strip, which is nearly all of it. Instead, it is entirely focused on the Moomin’s new neighbor, Mrs Fillyjonk, a strict and uptight mother of three.

After the Moomin’s welcome party leaves Mrs Fillyjonk fearing for her life, she forbids her children from playing with the Moomin brood. They sneak away anyway. A bunch of death defying stunts happen, courtesy of Stinky. Mrs Fillyjonk plans to leave the valley, but the kids have none of that. This is almost an original story, save for the existence of a party.

16 A Close Encounter with Aliens: Once again we have an episode based on the comics. It follows the basic plotline of the Moomins caring for a stranded Martian child.  But a lot of wackiness was cut for time, including invisible Moomins pranking valley residents, a flying fire brigade, and Moomin shrinking down with Mamma, who later bites a Fillyjonk child. Time used for an inserted chase scene with Stinky (one of many across the tv series) feels could’ve been better spent on some of the fun stuff mentioned in my previous sentence.

17 A Change of Air: And yet another comic-based episode, this one taken from “Moomin and Family Life”, which happens to be my personal favourite comic so this analysis may sound bitterer than others. The episode cuts the beginning of the strip, where we see a lonely parent-less Moomin contemplate suicide before being reunited with his long lost Moominmamma and Moominpappa. The comic is a completely different entity from the books and adjustments must be made, so this decision is understandable. But the following choice? Less so.

The episode instead starts with Pappa complaining that nothing exciting ever happens, and I won’t remind him of the events from episode 16 because everyone brings that up. Stinky overhears plans of doing something to entertain him, and during the night makes a set of giant footprints leading to the sea. Whereas in the comic strip, the “giant” prints are innocently left by Snufkin who was wearing boot too big for he gotdamn feet. He nearly perishes for this grave mistake.

Strips where Moominmamma and Moominpappa hang out in a cave, Moomin sheds a few tears tears, and Snufkin offers some half hearted words of comfort provide a basis for following scenes in the episode. But antics with Moomin and friends trying to foil Aunt Jane, who angrily travelled to the Moominhouse after being pranked by Pappa, are sadly missing. 

24 Hurry Up Snufkin: The part where Snufkin meets and later names the forest creature Teetywoo, is based on the short story “The Spring Tune”. There are many potential gripes one can have about such a brief scene.

A lot of the dialogue between the two characters reflects what is said in the short story, but what the episode sorely lacks are Snufkin’s feelings. Gone are his shouts and snaps, his grumpiness about being disturbed, his regret when he lashes out, his desperation to find Teetywoo again. His famous line “I’ll come when it suits me” is “cried violently”, making me wonder how it ever became an inspirational quote (oh wait I know). In favour of portraying Snufkin as cool and chill, the anime sometimes ends up making him look more like an emotionless bump on a log.

The plotline of Snufkin being late to return because he is trying to compose a new song has been cut, on account of either his lack of talent or lack of music budgeting.

25 The Lighthouse / 26 The Day the Lighthouse Lit Up: These episodes actually combine elements of two different stories: the comic strip “Moomin and the Sea”, and the similarly titled novel “Moominpappa at Sea”. Lacking most of the typical shenanigans from the strips, or bleak themes from the book, these episodes feel more like a slightly above-average family outing.

The episodes seems to lean more towards the comic, where Moominpappa takes on the job of lighthouse keeper as inspiration for his writing, and Moomin is terrorised by an equally frightened ghost. Too-Ticky unfortunately is missing from the episodes, alone with the scenes where she shares some spooky suggestions with the spectre, and where Snorkmaiden fakes her own drowning to help Moomin feel brave. 

Borrowing from the books, we meet both the former lighthouse keeper and a little boy named Toft, who apparently got very lost on his way to auditions for a “Moominvalley in November” episode. The episode scraps the element from the book of Moominpappa making the entire family miserable because he has some deluded fantasy about protecting and providing for them on his own, as well as a heart wrenching subplot involving the Groke, which I will not spoil for those considering reading it. But know this: there will be tears. 

28 The Floating Theatre / 29 The Lost Children / 30 Midsummer: This three-parter is based on “Moominsummer Madness”, which is kind of an interesting book. Taking place smack dab in the middle of the series, we see it move away from the more lighthearted tones of the early stories, and begin the shift towards the less fantastical and more serious themes of the later books. But it isn’t quite there yet. And being written around the time Tove still worked on the comic series, some parts of the book would not seem out of place if drawn in her strips.

The most noticeably difference between the original story and anime episodes is the change of the cast. With the number of characters and subplots happening at once in the book, it was inevitable that some unlucky sod would get scrapped from the story - three sods in fact, by the names of Mymble, Misabel, and Whomper. Sniff is inserted into the story, and references to Mr Fillyjonk, the stage manager and Emma’s late husband, are removed. 

Snufkin and My’s subplot is changed and cut quite short, beginning with the element of the two not knowing each other. His assault on the park keeper seems to be done for the sake of rescuing the children more or less imprisoned in the park, but book Snufkin simply took joy in breaking the law. The episode lacks great scenes of him trying to take care of the 24 little children; doing things like making silly noises, threatening to drown himself, and exposing them to second hand smoke. 

With a small handful of characters missing, the plot of the play Moominpappa writes greatly differs from the book. And say goodbye to the ending chapter, where the reunited Moomin family flees the police and gets chased all the way back to Moominvalley. 

45 Moomin Builds a House: This episode is based on the comic of the same title. Although it cuts the story quite short, what is left in is relatively close to the original. Except for the insertion of Snufkin, but I am not offended because that adorable laugh made his appearance worthwhile.

59, 63, 68 Adventures of Moominpappa: And here we get to the episodes based on “The Exploits of Moominpappa”. The first few changes I’d like to point out are a little less notable. As Mrs Fillyjonk was already more established in the show, the Hemulen aunt becomes a Fillyjonk. Edward is a silent character, the Nibling child that Pappa and co look after is absent, and everyone gets real ugly colour palettes. 

Next, as you may know, the original books don’t really follow a solid timeline and canon changes in between stories. So in an attempt to make more sense, the young Mymble that Moomin meets is Little My’s mother, rather than her sister. But strangely, Moominpappa’s other friends are no longer the parents of Sniff and Snufkin. Why those two were still so enraptured by listening to his story is unclear.

Comet in Moominland: Finishing off the list is a movie based on the story of the same name. Being the first in what is considered the “main” book series, there are bound to be differences in how characters are written. But there is no difference here more worth talking about than Snufkin.

As I’ve already mentioned before, he is portrayed in the anime as more relaxed. He is the older and most mature member of Moomin’s group of friends, and tends to be reserved in expressing his emotions. For the sake of presenting Snufkin as a responsible figure, he never teaches the gang his favourite game: rolling boulders down cliffs, an activity which almost results in multiple casualties. We never hear his story about disrespecting a police officer, and his subsequent prison break.

But Snufkin in the earlier books is very much a child like the rest of the main cast. He is playful and talkative, being described as bringing “gaiety” to their adventure, and is always thrilling his friends with epic tales from his travels. He is not shy about expressing himself, he is shown to have some sadness about having no parents and cries his wee heart out upon sees the dried up ocean.

Other changes may seem more innocuous by comparison, snipping a party scene and river raft ride, and including Little My. But with the lack of a noticeable personality for a key character, and some of the action scenes, much of the movie just feels like a boring hike home.

~

In short, yeah. As you can see I’m pretty passionate on this subject, especially when it comes to Snufkin’s characterisation. Anyone who wishes to discourse Moomins with me is welcome.  

[purplecloaks]

Stolen Beauty, Part Three

Bjorn x sister!OC Ivar x sister!OC

Everything tag: @squirrelacorngliterfarts @kawennote09 @sherrybaby14

Vikings tag: @hvitserk-ragnarssons-slave @geeksareunique

A/N: THIS STORY HAS INCEST IN IT!

           It’s been a couple months since Bjorn and I first had sex. We’d been having it everyday since. Ivar still glares at me as much as possible. He and I don’t talk as much as we used to.

           This is the third day that I’ve thrown up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t usually get sick. I’ve decided to go to the healer. I make my way into her cabin.

She looks up from what she’s doing. “Princess Tove. What can I do for you?”

“I’ve been throwing up lately and I’m worried I’ve grown ill.” I say.

She gestures for me to lay down. When I do, she starts pressing on my belly.

“Have you given yourself to a man, recently?” She asks suddenly.

I pause. “Yes.”

She grabs my breasts and squeezes them gently. I gasp.

“Tender?” She asks.

“Yes.” I say shakily.

“Have they been swollen?” She asks.

           “I have noticed it’s harder to lace my dresses, but I just thought that was because I’ve been eating more.” I say.

           “You’ve had a larger appetite?”

           “Just a little.”

           “When was the last time you had your monthly bleeds?” She asks.

           I hesitate. I know what that question means. “It’s been a while.” I say quietly.

           “Princess Tove, I think you are with child. You are not ill. There’s no need to worry.” She says.

           I cover my face with my hands and take a deep breath. “Okay. Thank you. I would like you not to tell anyone.”

           “Of course.” She says.

           I sit up and make my way out of her cabin. Tears pool in my eyes. I can’t see where I’m going, and I run right into someone.

           “Tove? What’s wrong?” It’s Hvitserk.

           “Where’s Bjorn?” I gasp.

           “He’s gone hunting with Ubbe. He should be back soon. Why what’s going on?” He asks.

           I lean my head into his chest, trying to think of who else to talk to. An idea pops into my head. “Where’s Ivar?”

           “In his room. Tove, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Hvitserk asks. He grips my arms.

           “I will talk to you later, brother.” I shrug out of his hold and run to Ivar’s room. I burst through the door.

Ivar jumps then he glares at me, then he notices the tears in my eyes. “What’s wrong Tove? What did Bjorn do?” He holds his arms out for me. I willingly go into them and let out a sob.

           “Ivar!” I wail.

           “What is going on? Talk to me.” He rubs my back.

           I take a deep breath and calm myself slightly. “You’re going to be mad.”

           “Just tell me, Tove.” He says.

           “I am with child.” I say softly.

           He pauses. “With Bjorn’s child?”

           “Yes! Who else? I am not a whore!” I shriek.

           “Calm down. I know you are not a whore.” He kisses the top of my head. “Mother will need to know.”

           “No! She will hate me!” I wail.

           “She will not.” Ivar scoffs.

           The door bursts open again. This time, it’s Bjorn.

           “What is going on? What did you do, Ivar?” He growls.

           “I didn’t do anything. You did.” Ivar sneers.

           Bjorn comes over to me and tries to touch me. Ivar pulls me away from him. Bjorn glares at him. Ivar glares back.

           “What is going on, Tove?” Bjorn asks.

           I sit up and out of Ivar’s arms. “Bjorn.” I sigh. “Bjorn, I’m with child.”

           Bjorn leans back and looks at me fully. Then he laughs. Loud and bold. “This is what you are upset about?”

           “Yes! We are not married! What will my mother say?” I say sharply.

           “I plan on marrying you, Tove. Your mother can not stop me. We just started a family a little earlier than expected.” Bjorn pulls me to him and hugs me.

           “How will I tell my mother?” I ask. It’s muffled by Bjorn’s chest but he hears me.

           “We will together. Tonight, at dinner.” He says.

           I sniff. “Okay.” Inside, I’m terrified. Being my mother’s only girl, I am treasured above even Ivar. She will be very upset that she is not able to choose my husband. And what will she think of my relationship with Bjorn. I know that she doesn’t like Bjorn much.

           At dinner, Bjorn makes sure I sit next to him. Ivar moves to the empty seat by my side. I am squished between them. We eat in silence for a while before Mother speaks up.

           “Why did you decide to join us tonight, Bjorn?” She asks.

           “I have something to tell you, Aslaug.” Bjorn says. He takes ahold of my hand. I hold my breath.

           “What is it?” She narrows her eyes at our joined hands.

           “I plan on marrying Tove.” Bjorn says.

           Ubbe looks at me with wide eyes. Hvitserk has a spoon frozen, about to take a bite. Sigurd stares down at his plate. Mother narrows her eyes even more.

           “You will not marry my daughter, Bjorn. I will choose her husband and it will not be her brother.” Mother says.

           “You don’t have much of a choice anymore. Tove is with my child.” Bjorn boasts.

           Ubbe slams his fist down on the table. Hvitserk, who had finally taken his bite, chokes. Sigurd looks back and forth between Bjorn and me.

           “Is this true, Tove?” Mother asks.

           “Yes.” I squeak.

           Mother sits back in her chair and runs her hand over her face. She’s thinking. Suddenly she sits up and looks at Bjorn. “Tove will have this child and will raise this child with the help of her full brothers and me. She will not marry you. If you come near her again, I will banish you from Kattegat. Feel lucky I haven’t already. Leave now.”

           My heart shatters. “Mother!”

           “I don’t want to hear anything, Tove.” She says.

           “I love him!” I shriek.

           “It does not matter. He is just like your father. He will leave you eventually. I am doing you a favor.” Mother says. “Do I need to call guards to escort you out, Bjorn?”

           Bjorn stands, glaring all the while. He kisses my hand. “I will save you, my love.” Ivar gags. Bjorn turns and leaves.

           Mother starts eating again. Ubbe, Hvitserk, and Sigurd all stare at me, wide eyed. Ivar takes hold of my hand and rubs it.

           “It will be better this way. You’ll see.” He says.

           I stand suddenly, pulling my hand from Ivar’s grasp. I run to my room and collapse on my bed. I sob until I have no more tears.

           Bjorn leaves for Hedeby where his mother, Lagertha, rules as Earl. I wish he could take me with him. I miss him every day.

           As my pregnancy progresses, my brothers start to become more supportive. Ivar and I get even closer. My mother is distant though. She still helps ready everything for the birth, but it’s like she loves me less. It’s not my fault, I can’t choose who I fall in love with.

           I am sitting with Ivar one day when a gush of water flows down my legs and soaks my dress. Ivar and I stare at each other before he starts yelling for someone to help. Ubbe and Hvitserk run over and lift me up. They bring me into Mother’s room and set me on the bed. Ivar hobbles in after us. He calls for Mother. She comes rushing in.

           “Ubbe go get the midwife.” She barks. Ubbe runs out of the room.

           Ivar gets on the bed bedside me and holds my hand. “It’ll be okay, Tove.” He kisses my forehead.

           Hours, days I go through labor. It’s worse than any of Mother’s labors. Near the end, it’s only Ivar and the midwife in the room. Ivar hasn’t left my side once. I feel weak, but still am pushing. Suddenly I hear a cry. The baby’s out. Ivar leaves my side by my head and bites the cord. He spits it on the floor.

           “You have a healthy girl, Princess Tove.” The midwife says.

           “Let me…see her.” My eyes are rolling back in my head.

           Ivar comes back up to my head. He calls in a slave to take the baby. “Save her!” He shouts at the mid wife.

           She looks at me but shows no move to help. “She’s too far gone.” I hear her say.

           “NO!” Ivar screams. He cups my face. “Tove. Tove, please. You can’t die. Tove.”

           I bring my hand up to touch his hand that’s on my face. “Take care of my baby, Ivar.” I wheeze.

           And then I die.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Warrior Daughter

Chapter Thirteen

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader  |  Word Count: 5583 Warnings: Smexy and fluff, language (when is there not a language warning?)

Song: My Gospel by Charlie Puth

Steve still couldn’t get over the whole castle thing. No matter how Y/N protested it was a keep, not a castle, he and Bucky would exchange a look and arch a brow.

It was totally a castle.

They dropped Bucky off at his room and walked into their own through a door of solid oak wrapped in heavy bands of steel. The Queen’s Quarters. A space which hadn’t been used or changed since Y/N had last died, and had been preserved by magic which had been lifted when she’d announced her return.

Steve let out a low whistle at the high stone walls and thick beams which spanned the ceiling. Windows which arched and appeared to be made of leaded glass allowed the sun to spill across the floor on either side of the bed.

It was bigger than a king, sitting on a frame of ornately carved wood. Covered in thick pelts, it looked like something out of a medieval movie, not the current century, but damn if it didn’t appear inviting. The walls held tapestries of battles long gone, paintings of places and worlds he’d never seen nor ever imagined could exist. Shelves held unique knick-knacks, and he wondered if they were things Y/N had collected in the past or if all the rooms held such treasures.

He started tugging on the buckles of his armour as he wandered over to take a closer look. A stunning vase of green glass drew his attention when it changed colour all on its own to a pretty navy blue.

“Damn,” Steve murmured amazed.

“Mistral glass. It responds to person closest to it, changing colour to suit their preference,” Y/N said, taking over to tug his buckles open herself.

“How’s it do that?” he asked, lifting his arm out of her way.

“Magic,” she snickered.

Steve rolled his eyes. “What’s this one?” He pointed at what looked like a spearhead of ancient material.

“Eoter’s pike tip. He was a dark God Odin sent the Valkyrie after when he decided to try and take over a neighbouring world. Tove was newly queen then. The story of Eoter’s defeat is one you’ll likely hear while here.”

He lifted the heavy cuirass off over his head and set it on the floor beside his shield. “And this?” He gently touched the chunk of wood with its chips of paint and partially obscured design.

Y/N’s arms went around his waist, and her forehead landed between his shoulder blades. “Shield, what was left of it, after… after the battle with the Sjeletyv.”

“Baby, why would you keep this?” he asked, turning around to take her by the arms.

“To never forget what we lost.” She sighed and stepped into his chest. “So many died. Some were just maidens. Some had barely begun their lives. I vowed never again. Never again would I allow what happened on that world to happen again. Never again would I fail my people. Yet… here we are, looking at genocide if I can't figure out what's happening here.”

“You're gonna figure it out, doll face. You are,” he reiterated when she sighed. “Let's go over what we know,” he said, scooping her up to take to the big as fuck bed where he dropped her and began working on her boots. “Garry's here somewhere. I can practically smell the little shit. I've been thinking about it for a while. What would have happened if he’d succeeded in bringing you back and tricking you into believing he was me? You said a queen couldn't call the Valkyrjur for personal gain, right? What would have happened if you'd summoned them that day on Earth?”

“I wouldn't have,” she said, propped up on her elbows. “Even if Garry convinced me he was my sjelevenn I wouldn't have done it.”

“Hypothetically. Say you'd been desperate and reached out for help. What would have happened?”

“I would have been disgraced if I'd called them out on you. The Avengers are the good guys. Aiding Hydra would have been seen as a traitorous act against Asgard as Asgard is allied with the Avengers. My title would have been stripped from me, and a council of Valkyrie would have decided my fate. Death most likely for my crime.”

“Even after finding out it was a trick?” He could hardly believe it.

“We have strict rules for a reason, Steve. If someone with evil intentions ruled the Valkyrie, there are few forces which could stop them. I know you and Bucky probably look at them with a little scorn right now, but these women are not the ones I fought with a millennium ago. Yes, they're sloppy and under trained, but that won't last long. Eventually, I'll have them in the shape they should be, then they will return to the unstoppable force they were. A force like that with corrupt leadership could be very dangerous.”

“So if you'd called the Valkyrjur to Earth, they would have killed you? Just like that?”

“It would have been a true death. I would have stood trial; then the temple would have made certain my time as Sváfa never returned. Our journey would have ended. Maybe we’d reunite and start again as sjelevenn, but with how fucked up our path has become… I don't know.”

He pulled off her second boot. “Someone's really trying to get rid of you, baby girl.”

“I know. But it's not the high priestess. At least I don't think so. That other one, Kerse, I can't say the same. Something about her is just… fishy.”

“I agree,” Steve said as he unbuckled her faulds.

“So, no sjelevenn besides Gunborg and now me have returned. There should be at least six of us. The other thing I found odd? Gunborg looks exactly the same as she used too. There are usually subtle differences.  Changes to height and build or hair colour depending on the parents we are born too. But she seems no different than when I last saw her. It's weird.”

“I bet.” He lifted her hips with one hand to tug her faulds from beneath her and reached for her metal breasts. Steve smoothed his hands over them which made her laugh.

“You know I can't feel that.”

“So? I can,” he teased. “What about the fellas in Valhalla?” he asked.

“I don't know. Until I can see the Einherjar for myself, that will remain a mystery.”

Steve gave the buckles beneath her arm a tug. “You people need to invent zippers,” he grumbled. “What happens if the men in Valhalla shouldn't be there? I mean, their technically dead right?”

“If those in Valhalla aren't worthy of being there, they never should have made it past Baldi and Balik. They'd be turned away, the gates would have closed to them, and Ekheart would have taken them to Fólkvangr.”

Steve shook his head and smirked at his wife. “That was a whole lot of names I'm not familiar with.”

She smiled as he pulled her first layer of armour over her head. “Baldi and Balik are the wolves who guard Valhalla’s gates. And Ekheart is the eagle who flies above it. Fólkvangr is where those who don't meet Valhalla's standards go having earned their rest.”

“Like heaven’s consolation prize? Thanks for playing but you didn't quite make it?”

“You don't have to make it sound so horrible! It's not Hel,” she scoffed.

Steve froze and looked up at her face. “Really? Do I want to ask?”

“Unlikely. There are serpents and corpse eating involved. Rather ugly business, really.”

The smile on her face made it hard to figure out whether she was joking or not. “I'm not asking.”

“Then I won't tell,” she snickered. “I believe, Captain, you were in the process striping ne naked.”

“Since when does removing your armour amount to me getting you naked?”

“Since… always,” she laughed.

“Brat,” he muttered.

“Don't start. I can't call you Feathers.”

Steve flipped her to her stomach once he peeled off her leather cuirass and threw it on the floor. “Fuck I love these pants,” he groaned, taking handfuls of her ass while he straddled her thighs.

She smirked and wiggled her hips. “Ditto.”

Tony had reworked her corset of chain mail. Swapped out the metal for vibranium and made the closure a seamless set of hooks he only needed to pass his hand down to attach or run a finger up to undo. It was a genius bit of lowtech Stark was ridiculously proud of and rightfully so.

Steve lifted her up, and the chain mail slithered off the bed to the floor with a shove and a small crash while she tugged her bracers off and pulled her tunic over her head.

All that remained was her undershirt and those sexy pants Steve unlaced before dropping her back to the bed. “If,” he murmured as he placed kisses across her shoulders and gently caressed the backs of her arms, “the men somehow got past the wolves into Valhalla and didn’t belong there, what could you do?”

“Purge. It can be done, but it's difficult. I'd need Odin's approval and the backing of both the Valkyrjur and the Einherjar. And if some of those people don't belong here, or where taken from their rightful afterlife, Steve, I don't know what to do. If they don't belong here, they could be sent to Fólkvangr, but to what end? They wouldn't be at peace. They'd never see their loved ones again.” She gave a heavy sigh and turned her face into the fur.

“We’ll figure it out. Maybe you worry for nothing,” he said, nuzzling the nape of her neck, but he doubted his own words.

***

From the foot of the bed, naked still after their afternoon together, Steve watched his girl as she readied for the night ahead. It was, to say the least, highly stimulating. Instead of leather pants, she’d pulled on a skirt of cognac coloured silk which sat low on her hips. Lace and chains wrapped around her pelvis. Tassels swung, coins and bits of bone chimed together. Her midsection was mostly bare, her breasts confined by what was, to his mind, nothing more than a scarf she hung behind her neck, crossed over her chest, wrapped twice around her ribs and tied in a knot at her back. Heavy necklaces of bead, metal, and bone, feathers and ribbon, and precious stones swung low, brushing the bare space above her navel. A glint of gold beneath them made him smile, finding his gift to her, the locket just like his mother’s, still around her neck.

Bangles of solid bronze, shiny gold, and black stones clung to her upper arms. Her gauntlet had been set aside for the night, but she wasn’t without protection. She had hidden daggers strapped to each thigh, visual ones on each hip, and another tucked into the back of her top above the knot. He’d watched her put up her hair, fluffing it up high in the front while braiding the mass of it down her back. She’d tucked metal cuffs and feathers in along the way, eventually finishing with the crown which proclaimed her what she was.

The Valkyrie Queen.

She looked it tonight, but not like he was used too. When she turned to look at him with her eyes covered in kohl, her lips painted red, and three blue streaks along her right cheekbone, Steve shivered. She was a Warrior Queen. A barbarian. A beautiful and deadly creature he was almost afraid to touch.

“I have something for you,” she said gliding toward him.

Steve swallowed thickly, thankful he’d drawn one of the many pelts over his lap to hide the evidence of his arousal.

She only smiled, soft and knowing. “Do you like my outfit, sjelevenn?’

“Yeah,” he squeaked and cleared his throat. “Yeah, baby. You’re gorgeous, but this is all so different.” He couldn’t help but watch her hips as she swayed to a stop in front of him.

“Stevie,” she purred, tilting his chin up with her finger. “I know this is all really different. If you're uncomfortable at all, tell me.”

“Darlin’, the only part of me that’s uncomfortable doesn’t have time to be dealt with.”

She chuckled, ducked her head, and lightly kissed his lips. “If only.” Still, she settled onto his knee and wiggled just enough to make him groan.

“Stop it, woman,” Steve grumbled.

“As I said, I have something for you.”

She held up the hand not wrapped around his neck. From it hung three strands of thin cord. Silver wrapped sections of each in a staggered pattern, but what looked like porcupine quills, blunt at the tip, capped the ends. The second item, a silver chain complete with a small round pendant, a tree upon its face, also dangled from her fingers.

He arched a brow in query, carefully touching both.

“This was yours, from your mother when you brought me home after we first met,” she said of the pendant. “She said it was a reminder that life was a circle. Birth to death to rebirth. Something which would be quite literal for the two of us. But these,” she ran her thumb over the cord, “I made. One for each life we lived together on Asgard. Every time I found you, I made you a new one. Thinned and tanned the leather, wound the cords, and wrapped the silver.”

“You gonna make me one this time?” he asked, touched by her gift.

“If you want me too,” she murmured, blushing a little. “They mean more to the men of Asgard. Handmade gifts are considered powerful for the time and effort put into them. Magical in a way. Like they have protective properties.”

That clinched it for him. Steve took the cords from her fingers, looped the long lengths once around his neck, and pressed his palm against them over his heart. “Were you planning to make one every life? I think if we’d been together twenty or thirty times, I might run out of space.”

She chuckled and gently stroked her fingertips over his mark. The sensation of her touching it was ridiculously pleasurable and Steve hummed his approval. “I thought at nine I might start adding beads or silver cuffs to keep count. The funny thing though?” she murmured, lifting her gaze to his. “You ask me that every life.”

“I do, do I?” Steve chuckled.

“Every time,” she murmured, gently stroking his mark again.

“Are these some kind of quill?” he asked, flicking his finger over the tip.

Y/N nodded. “From a slark.”

“What’s a slark?”

She blinked once. “Ugh… have you ever seen a platypus?”

Steve frowned. “In pictures.”

“They look kind of like that, but they have this crest of quills they can flare out when startled or when a predator tries to bite them. It’s a nasty surprise for sure. They don’t shed, so to get them you have to catch one or throw a piece of leather on them, so the quills stick. It’s not painful for the slark. Maybe a little stressful, but you pull the leather away, and they trample off into the forest.”

While she was explaining, he gently took the silver pendant in his palm. “It would be neat to see one.”

She closed her hand over his. “Steve, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I kept it for you because it was part of our beginning, and while you share a soul with Helgi, you are not the same person. The beliefs and ways of Asgard aren’t yours. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m pushing you to be someone your not.”

“But I am,” he said softly. “It’s pretty clear I’m supposed to be here. Hurgid’s sword, the King’s ring, the people of Sváfaland? You.” He looked into her eyes. “As much as you need to be here, I think I do too.”

A quiet sigh slipped from her. “Just… be happy, Steve. Don’t take on the troubles of this world and add them to the burdens you carry at home.”

He chuckled and pulled his hand away to encourage her to help him put on the pendant. “Haven’t you figured it out yet, Y/N? That’s just how I roll.”

She snickered, latched the pendant, and cupped his face. Her nails lightly scratched the stubble on his cheeks. “You keep growing this out, and you’re really going to fit in.” Y/N cocked her head to the side. “Any chance I can talk you into lining your eyes?”

It was Steve’s turn to blink at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“With kohl. It’s pretty common for our men, or did you think Loki wore eyeliner because he wants to look pretty?”

“I thought it was a Goth thing,” he mumbled.

“What would you know about Goth things?” Y/N snickered, rising to head back to the table with the mirror she’d used to do her makeup.

“Hey, I can do the Google.”

She snorted and laughed, giggling as she returned to stand before him with a black pencil. “The fact you said, “Do the Google,” just goes to show you can't.” Holding up the pencil, she arched a challenging brow.

“I dunno, babe.” It wasn’t something he’d ever envisioned on himself.

“The men, both of Asgard and those Vikings of Earth, believed it made them fierce and also highly desirable. It might increase your already potent sex appeal, Stevie.” She twirled it around her fingers.

He could feel it, the excitement the idea of this whole kohl thing was giving her, and waffled a little.

“If you hate it, I’ll take it off.”

Steve rolled his eyes but nodded. “Fine. Just don’t make me look like Bucky.”

Y/N chuckled. “Close your eyes. I promise you won’t look like Bucky. You’ll look super sexy and dangerous.”

He doubted it but didn’t say so, just let her have her fun. It wouldn’t hurt anything to indulge her, and it could be removed when she finished having her way. When the pencil dragged along his upper lid then out toward his temple before she lifted it to repeat the process on his lower lid and down his cheek, he smirked a little. “Having fun?” he asked as she ran her finger over the mark, smudging things he supposed.

“You have no idea,” she murmured, but the hard clench and wave of her desire had his eyes popping open.

“Really?” he asked, but it wasn’t necessary for her to answer. He could feel the heat bloom in her belly. How the desire caused her breasts to tingle and her nipples to harden. Her pupils expanded to fill her irises, and her breath caught.

“I’m… going to need a minute,” she murmured and stepped back, stealing the pelt from his lap as she went. “Ho, wow.”

His body had calmed only to respond to her increase in arousal, and he sat there half hard, getting harder by the second. She gulped a swallow, her eyes running over his whole body. “Even… even if you don’t want to wear it publicly, you need to wear it privately at least once. Could you just…” She motioned to his lap.

Steve wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked. They both hissed loudly.

“Okay, okay. You need to stop. We don’t have time to deal with that right now.” She fanned her face, her cheeks incredibly flushed.

“Then you’d best stop looking at me like that,” Steve growled, rising to his feet to stalk toward her.

“I can’t help it!” she moaned, backing away. “You look fucking hot!”

She backed all the way into the table with the mirror, and Steve glanced at it only to do a double take. “Holy shit…”

“I know right!” Y/N squealed.

The dark liner looked odd on his face, but it made his eyes a vibrant blue, and he could see why the men would wear it to appear fierce in battle. It was basically warpaint. “That’s… crazy.”

“So? You gonna keep it?” she asked, a challenge in her voice.

He grabbed her around the waist and dragged her to his chest, his cock hard between them. “If I do? What do I get out of it?”

She bit her bottom lip, a tempting little tease. “Babe, you can have whatever you want.”

Steve grinned wide. “Anything?”

Her nails traced a path down his chest and scratched over his nipple. “Anything.”

He took a second glance in the mirror. With the thin cords and the silver chain hanging against his bare chest, and the look of her all warrior woman beside him, Steve gave in with a nod. They fit. “When in Rome, right?”

Y/N gave a happy shriek and pulled away. “Come get dressed. You can do the anything later.”

Steve took a couple of deep breaths, counted backward from twenty, and followed after her once his hard-on settled down enough he knew he could get his pants laced.

***

Bucky looked up when the quiet knock came to his door. “Come in.”

“Am I disturbing you?” Eira asked as she stuck her head in the door.

High and braided and full of ornaments, Bucky had to smile when her hair swung forward. Her dark locks looked like soft silk where they hung loosely around her. Two lines of blue paint traversed her face from hairline to chin, stopping at her right eyebrow and continuing beneath her right eye. Her eyes were heavy and dark with kohl, her lips a soft pink which made her mouth look lush.

“Nah, I just finished with this.” He motioned to the clothing which still made him slightly giddy. Black leather pants and a dark grey tunic, v-necked with a black cord to lace it closed. He’d made the mistake of taking off the bangle Freyja made him to change shirts and instantly regretted it.

His arm had gone dead. Not numb. Not jerky. Just dead. Straight down right now. He’d put the bangle back on and given his head a shake, vowing not to do that again.

Eira pushed the door all the way open, and Bucky had to swallow the saliva which pooled swiftly in his mouth. Dark green lace. She wore nothing but dark green lace and strategically placed jewelry. Thick, full necklaces of metal and stone hid her breasts, but the idea she could bend over and show them to the world made him incredibly uncomfortable. So did the streak of possessiveness which raced through him.

Should he be feeling possessive about a woman’s breasts? A woman who wasn’t his?

When she turned to shut the door, he damn near groaned. Her back was bare but for a tale of lace in a triangle worked with bits of gold. Her skirt sat low on her hips in the same green lace, double layered and much less see-through, while a belt of looped gold chains hugged where he had the sudden urge to place his hands.

“What in the hell are you wearing?” was not what he planned on spitting at her.

She pressed her palms to her stomach, one clutching a small box. “This is my favourite dress for my off nights. You… you don’t like it?”

He liked it a little too much if the tightening of his pants was anything to go by. “It’s not that,” Bucky murmured, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “I guess I was expecting something more like what you wore last night.”

“Oh,” she smiled and relaxed, and made her way toward him. “Yes, that was quite different. But Asgard is stuffy like that. Do your Earthly women not dress this way?”

“Nope.” The P popped when his voice rose at her approach. She looked far too confident in her getup for him to be comfortable. It wasn't until she was closer he realized the lace was panelled in the front and not as sheer as he'd thought. Still, her skin looked incredibly soft. Her eyes were big and bright, made all the bluer by the paint on her face.

“What would they wear?” she asked, sinking down to sit next to him.

She smelled fucking incredible. Bucky hadn’t noticed it earlier, or even last night, but she’d clearly bathed because she smelled of something delicate, soft, and inviting. Like flowers in a meadow after a rain.

Bucky wanted to touch her hair, her waist, her mouth. For all his flirting with Magret, he hadn’t had the same reaction to that woman as he was to the gentle one sitting beside him. “Uh, well for one the skirts are a lot shorter.”

Her eyes widened. “That seems… odd. How are you to fight if your dress is so short your ass is exposed when you kick your first opponent?”

“Well, most of our women don’t fight, and the ones who do have figured it out,” he chuckled, thinking of Natasha. “Most of them wouldn’t wander around with such a risky shirt. What happens if you bend over?”

“A little side breast is considered scandalous, but one can just flash their ass and undergarments?” Eira shook her head. “Breasts are for feeding one’s children. Legs are for enticing one’s lover.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smirk at her. “I assure you, darlin’. Breasts work just as well for enticing one’s lover.”

She arched a brow in speculation. “I suppose that is true. Perhaps I’ve lived among women too long.” Eira stood, her skirt split to show off her legs. “Perhaps I should take a lover.”

He nearly swallowed his tongue. “Never had one?”

“I’ve been busy,” she huffed, tapping a finger against her lips. “Thoughts for another day.” Eira turned toward him and held up the box. “It’s commonplace for our men to be painted. I was wondering if you’d be interested?”

Bucky eyed her warily. “Explain what painted means?”

“Eyes darkened with kohl. The God Loki wears it, or he does when he is here, though I believe he had his eyes lightly lined in Asgard as well. It’s considered appealing sexually while also making one look battle hardened and fierce. It would suit you,” she said softly, eyeing him from behind her lashes.

Her pleasure in the idea was evident, but Bucky shook his head. “I really can’t.”

“Why?” Her nose scrunched adorably with her confusion.

He sighed softly. “Too many bad memories. At one point, the Winter Soldier worked for Hydra, and not because I wanted to. They did to me what they did to Y/N, except when they wiped my memory, it worked. I had no knowledge of Steve or my life, only flashes of memories. Snippets. Pieces. Nothing that made sense. They’d point me at a target, and I’d kill it. Until they pointed me at Steve and I… couldn’t. They made me wear a mask, a muzzle really, and always darkened my eyes to prevent glare when I was shooting. The idea of seeing that face again…” He shuddered.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry.” Her hand landed on his and squeezed. “May I ask how they did it? A single line or all over?”

“All over,” he frowned.

“I see. I won’t pressure you to change your mind. There are some in Valhalla who also don’t wear it. You won’t be the only one.”

“I sincerely doubt Y/N will convince Steve if she even bothers to ask.”

Eira nodded. “You’re probably right. It was only a thought. Though you look very nice as you are, might I make a suggestion?”

“Sure, dollface,” Bucky agreed, knowing it would take a while to get used to their ways and clothing.

“Stand up,” she urged and set her box down.

He obliged her, observing as she loosened the ties on his tunic.

“There is no need to be so laced up here. We are much more… relaxed than Asgard. Eat, drink, and celebrate. That’s what feasting in Valhalla is all about. We are a laid back people. For the Einherjar, this is heaven. They earned their place. We only serve and visit within the sacred walls.” She turned away and picked up the wide belt he hadn’t been able to figure out how to do up.

Eira wrapped it around his waist and began to tie an intricate and beautiful knot with the long leather laces. “It’s against the rules to carry a sword in Valhalla. The Einherjar hang their swords on the walls outside the building as they come in from the fields. But you can bring as many daggers as you wish. You’ll want one at least to eat with.”

“No utensils in Valhalla?” Bucky teased.

“There are, but usually the men are rather… eager,” she snickered. “Using a fork my get you heckled.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She finished the tie and lifted her hands. They hovered for a moment before landing lightly on his chest. “And your knees together?”

She said it with a softness, a hesitation and bit of uncertainty he didn't understand. Was she merely repeating what Y/N teased him about, or was their more to her question that he was currently missing?

Bucky peered down at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. “Yeah, doll.”

A shiver wracked her body. “I’m sorry about yesterday, and this morning,” she whispered. “I was childish and closed minded. There is so much more to the universe than I am aware of. I should not have been so quick to judge what I do not know.”

God! The girl was killing him with how sweet she was. Just gentle and soft. Yet, he’d watched her fight today in awe and a sense of pride. “My opinion shouldn’t matter so much.”

“Your opinion matters most of all,” she said so quietly he almost missed it.

Bucky took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up. “Why?” Something swam in her eyes, an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher. “Eira?”

She went from the something to uncertain to afraid. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“That’s not gonna fly, baby girl. We barely know each other. Why would it matter what I think of you?”

Her eyes closed and she swallowed thickly. “Because… because I think-”

A familiar fist banged on the door. “Buck! Move your ass!”

“Punk! Keep your panties on!” Bucky snarled at the door, then returned his gaze to Eira. “We’re not through talking about this.”

She gave a resigned nod. “I know. I just don’t think you’re going to be happy about it.” She pulled her face away and went to open the door. “Oh… wow,” she breathed once she had, her hand flying to her mouth. “You look… incredible!”

Bucky thought she was speaking to Y/N, but it was Steve who laughed and walked through the door.

“Damn, son!” Bucky laughed. “So that’s what it’s like!” Y/N had convinced him to wear the kohl. “You going native on me?”

“Don’t laugh. You’re next,” Steve smirked.

“Steve,” Bucky instantly sobered. “No.”

Steve’s smile fell away. “Okay, Buck. No pressure.”

“One is better than none,” Y/N snickered as she slipped in beside Steve.

Bucky whistled at the sight of her. “Fuck me sideways. You look amazing!”

“Thanks, Barnes.” She gave the ties on his shirt a tug and forced it open a little more. “Better.”

“She did the same with me,” Steve snickered. “Though with a lot more aggression.”

He motioned to the tunic open nearly to the top of his pants. Sleeves pushed back, Steve’s arm-ring gleamed in the light, his sapphire ring sparkled, and with the addition of the tattoo on his neck and the kohl-lined eyes, Bucky could only shake his head. “Damn. If only the team could see you know. Grow your hair out some, and they really wouldn’t recognize you.”

Steve shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. “It seems I’m going to be a man of two worlds. Get used to it.”

“He can get used to it over dinner. We need to go. There’s the Blessing and the Rite of Nine to see to first, and we can’t be late,” Y/N said, shooing all of them toward the door. “Eira, you look lovely.”

Eira blushed and ducked her chin. “Thank you, my queen. I’m off rotation at the moment.”

“Good. You can sit with us for dinner.” Y/N patted Eira’s arm, linked them together and shot a smirk at Bucky. “You can explain the eccentricities of Valhalla to Bucky.”

Eira giggled softly. “I shall do my best. I’m sure many in Valhalla will be glad to see you.”

“Yes, there are a few I look forward to seeing again.”

Y/N smiled in the way that always reminded Bucky of Loki, causing him to exchange a glance with Steve. Steve just rolled his eyes and smirked, apparently content to go with the flow.

“No swords, huh?” he murmured to Steve.

“No. You packing?”

“More blades than Barton has arrows.”

Steve chuckled. “I may have half that many. Let’s hope we won’t need them.”

“You’d better not have just jinxed us, punk,” Bucky grumbled, lightly touching the twin blades on his thigh.

Next Chapter

[juupajaa]

Blossom?? ALSO !! You should definitely show us some of your art or songs or something >:D

Favorite book/movie/song?

I've already done favourite albums and movies so now books/authors!

I'm a Dostoyevsky fangirl until the day I die. I have loved every damn book of his that I've gotten my hands on, but if I had to decide on a favourite I'd say 'Idiot'.

I've also been crazy about Kafka's 'Metamorphosis' for like ten years now. My duty as a Finnish person is to namedrop our national treasure Tove Jansson and her 'Moomin' books, y'all really need to read some of that perfection. They're so sweet and deep at the same time??

Also don't tell anyone but I love Lemony Snicket and A Series of Unfortunate Events books. I bought the first one to read on a train and then throw away but damn I had to buy the rest of them as soon as I got off the train!

And sure 😛 I'll post some doodles and jams later today

[treason-and-plot]

Get to know you tag remix

Thank you @daylightdisco for the tag! 

I would like to tag @hyperkaos @littlesims2chick @twinsimskeletons @pixelddump @gaiahypothesims and @lyrea. My answers under the cut.

1. name: Prudence

2. nickname(s): Pru, Pru-Pru, Prunejuice...

4. zodiac: Aries

5. wakandan name: According to https://wakanda-name.herokuapp.com/ it is N'DALA of The Border tribe.

6. favorite childhood memory: I used to walk to primary school every morning with my best friend Michael Allanby. One morning I got to the top of my driveway but Michael wasn’t waiting for me as usual. Instead there was a big rock with a note under it. Michael had gotten up really early to make a treasure hunt for me. It was so exciting and so much fun uncovering all the clues and to this day sticks out in my memory as one of the loveliest things anyone has ever done for me. 

7. favorite comfort food dish: Baked Potatoes with lots of pepper and salt and butter

8. favorite incense scent: Incense has the same effect on my eyes as candles, it makes them burn and tear up.

9. if you could pick anyone alive or dead to have lunch with who would it be and what would you eat: My mother, I would just relive the last beautiful lunch we had together before she died and tell her how much I love her.

10. favorite movie or tv show: Ferris Bueller always tops my list because I never tire of watching it... it has so many depths and it never fails to make me happy. Little Fish is my favourite Australian movie, every single actor in it is flawless and it just destroys my emotions every time.

11. if you could be a fly on the wall for any historically significant moment what moment would you observe: Wow, hard one to answer indeed, but Tank Man left an indelible mark on my pysche, and I will never stop thinking about him and hoping that he somehow survived. 12. favorite summertime/ cook-out bop: cook out bop is a word I have never heard before either! But whenever we have a barbie I like to thrown some barramundi fillets on it wrapped in foil.

13. favorite actor/actress and their best work: Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire. Game over.

14. put your preferred music app on shuffle, what are the first 3 songs: Don’t Ask Don’t Tell: Tove Lo Get Out: CHVRCHES One Perfect Day: The Little Heroes

15. favorite snack: white chocolate

16. what’s one book everyone should read:  Why People Believe Weird Things: Pseudoscience, Superstition, and Other Confusions of Our Time by Michael Shermer

17. if you could change your name to anything what you change it to: I would like to change my surname back to my maiden name but the hassle involved is too overwhelming/ I cannot be arsed.

18. one movie or show that is significant in your culture but admittedly you haven’t seen: Like @daylightdisco it would probably be Rabbitproof Fence.

19. sweet tea or unsweetened tea: unsweetened green tea

20. random fact:  The human heart creates enough pressure to squirt blood 30 ft.

[kzbrandt]

The Encounter

The Encounter

 “Oh, come on girl, have another drink with me, we’re practically sisters. This is the only therapy I’ll pay for!” A wonderfully golden angel whipped her hair, only swaying slightly. It would take more than imported wine for this Tabian to succumb. Estrid was as strong as she was beautiful, and how she loved to spread that beauty around.

    Just outside the rustic, sand-bar, majestic waves could be heard slapping the shore of Hexía. Taboo was particularly alluring tonight. A fushia sky was dazzling with bright blue stars, scattered aimlessly.

    “Fine, but only one more. Two more gauntlet’s please! Oh, Esie, does life ever feel boring to you, just too dry for the tongue to tolerate?”

    “Every day I feel feverish, sick with longing-- to spread my legs and welcome newcomers!” Giggling, fighting the urge to hiccup, she laughed away the serious tone.

    Why did Asna always bring down the party, she thought? Wasn’t it easier to drink the divine nectar the trees provided and forget about such things.

    Asna-Tove had an elegant appearance that many noticed, especially Skarde, who found her irresistible since adolescence. Of course, from time to time, she noticed his cleft chin and burly muscles, most fitting for a hunter and collector of sorts. Even with his comeliness, something was missing, that spark that kindled undeniable chemistry.

    Everyone in Taboo knew of The Great Lovers of the Sky, even those in the Hexían Isles observed the Lovers Eclipse once a year, it was a long recognized tradition. Asna thought of the Sun-Goddess often. Tabian’s loved to drink to their founders' union but couldn't seem to recall anything more than the trivial motions of the holiday.  Questions were always whispered within the solemn woman's mind. Her thoughts stretched farther than just drink and merry-making. All that was left of their history was how Síandra and Lunach united Taboo against a great storm, and then nothing…. Nobody around her seemed to care or even realize the obvious plot-holes. What ever happened to their King And Queen?

    Interrupted by her childhood friend sliding into the stool next to her, she got a good look at his rough but debonair complexion. Even with a scratched up face, he was impressive, rough but gentle, he deeply desired to know the inner workings of her heart.

    “Evening Asna, looking especially somber this moon, care to confess anything?”

    “Just feeling a little out of place, I guess.”

    “Impossible.”

    “What?”

    “I look at you and see how perfect you fit my eyes, no displacement could ever exist.”  

    “Do you ever tire of such flattery?”

    “Never.”

    Looking down at her fair hands and curved fingernails, she felt guilt and bewilderment. Heavy of heart, she would never be able to return his affection and blind to what he saw in her, when all others saw only the freak, the outlander.

    “Choose a hand,” he implored.

    “Okay, I’ll play, um...left,” When Skarde opened his hand, he revealed a priceless treasure, a lost trinket of old. Swaddled in an intricate piece of embroidery, there was a story sewn, but much...much older. Hidden inside was the solidified heart of an ashen monarch, one who had fallen out of all memory.

    “What is it?”

    “This is all that remains of The Skeleton King. I found his long lost temple, full of spectacular treasures of history, all untouched. Look at this fabric, it tells of a time before our Great Lover’s of the Sky, before Síandra, the birthing tree’s chose another. From the cryptic text and encryptions, this stone once drummed in his chest, now glistening as a precious jewel. I brought it for you. I strung some silver so you might wear it, if you so desired…”

    “Skarde, it’s so wonderful, I love it. You must tell me more!”

    “I’ll do you one better, come with me and see for yourself. There is still life left to this night,” guiding with his calloused and rough hand, he beckoned her.  Unable to resist Asna-Tove followed Skarde to the outskirts of Hexía where no one dared to venture, only thrill seekers and fools came here under the stroke of moonlight.

    For the first time in years, she with raven of hair and violet of eye, felt her soul surge with excitement. Finally a moment impregnated with more than pointless filler, a moment worth living for. Soon the pair came to an unnatural jungle in the middle of the desert.  Had she seen this before, it seemed to appear out of nowhere.

    “I’ve lived here my whole life and not once remember such vegetation?”

    “It’s that ruby necklace that dangles around your neck, while in possession of it, I too saw what hides in plain sight. Without it, I can only see dunes for miles.”

    “Amazing,” fondling the heavy jewel, her peach fingertips tingled, sensing something more, something forgotten. “Tell me more about the Skeleton King.”

    “Well my fair lady, I know his tale is old, known now to only the few, he ruled all of Taboo. Ancient beasts prowled undisturbed, honoring his reign. None could defy him, both tyrant and lover, he was supreme. As great as he was, there was hatred and envy that hungered, ready to pounce. The Skeleton King loved only one and this was his weakness. The rest is too cryptic to make sense of from the ancient scrolls, hopefully this will be rectified shortly. I need to find out more, I shan’t be denied, heavy on drink, I'm an unstoppable force!”

    “Hysterical more like.”

    As giant ferns and towering trees were lush with dense foliage, the evening wind was crisp and refreshing. Enveloped within her own thoughts, Asna took note of scattered boulders forming in the shadow of the underbrush. Brick by brick a temple of old was welcoming them, taking all the attention for itself. The necklace grew warm around the young woman’s milky clavicle, but she barely felt anything beyond the perplexity that engulfed her mind.

    This place seemed so familiar, but how could such a thing be possible? The ruins barely crumbled, wearing three thousand years very well. Befuddled and mesmerized Asna-Tove traced old carvings, barely able to make it out.

Beyond lies the tomb of the Skeleton King, only what was lost will resurrect what is to come.

    As if a vale was pulled back, she went down a dark unlit corridor and descended into a spiral of stairs that seemed endless, by the thousands they delved into the ominous deep. Walking until the hardened heart of the fallen king glowed with life once again, she came upon the phantom from her dreams.

_______________________________________________________

  A few kilometres west, Skarde had found a quite intricately carved picture of times past, “With her death, he could not sustain his own life force and fell to ashes with only his beating heart left behind, soon solidified, and perfectly cut. Only when she returns, raven of hair and violet of eye, will he breathe again…” Staring at the picture sculpted into the rock, it had a striking resemblance to his secretly admired.

    It couldn’t be, could it?  Searching for a name, he desperately looked to ail the worry in his chest. Below, one line was written:

AsnaTov the light to his darkness, forever may he reign.

    “No… It can’t be?”

__________________________________________________________

    “You… This is impossible. You can’t be real, just a fantasy, yet here you are. So beautiful, just like ice.”

    As she went to withdraw her hand suddenly it was halted mid-air. Once cold dead eyes now smoldered ferociously red, ignited once more. As his bony hand glided cooly across her cheek, she should’ve been terrified, but an unfamiliar sensation coarsed through her veins. Had Asna-Tove been dead all this time, only to draw breath when he was with her once again? What was happening, she thought somewhere in the back of her mind, amidst a dense, impenetrable fog.

“AsnaTov, light of my life, I’ve been waiting for you…”

ᔓKZBrandtᔕ

[list-of-literature]

25/03/2016

The Woman in the Dunes, Kobo Abe Things Fall Apart, Chinua Achebe The Jolly Postman or Other Peoples Letters, Janet & Allan Ahlberg The Wolves Of Willoughby Chase, Joan Aiken The Wanderer, Alain-Fournier Commedia, Dante Alighieri Skellig, David Almond The President, Miguel Angel Asturias Alcools, Guillaume Apollinaire It's Not About The Bike - My Journey Back to Life, Lance Armstrong Behind The Scenes At The Museum, Kate Atkinson The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood Jonathan Livingstone Seagull, Richard Bach Go Tell It on the Mountain, James Baldwin The Ghost Road, Pat Barker Carrie's War, Nina Bawden Molloy; Malone Dies; The Unnamable, Samuel Beckett Waiting for Godot, Samuel Beckett The Adventures of Augie March, Saul Bellow G, John Berger Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman Mister Magnolia, Quentin Blake Forever, Judy Blume The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton Five On A Treasure Island, Enid Blyton The Enchanted Wood, Enid Blyton A Bear Called Paddington, Michael Bond Ficciones, Jorge Luis Borges The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas, John Boyne The Snowman, Raymond Briggs Flat Stanley, Jeff Brown Gorilla, Anthony Browne The Good Earth, Pearl S. Buck The Pilgrim's Progress, John Bunyan A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess Junk, Melvin Burgess Would You Rather?, John Burningham The Soft Machine, William S. Burroughs The Way of All Flesh, Samuel Butler Possession, A.S. Byatt The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, Italo Calvino Invisible Cities, Italo Calvino The Stranger, Albert Camus Oscar and Lucinda, Peter Carey Nights at the Circus, Angela Carter Looking For JJ, Anne Cassidy Journey to the End of the Night, Louis-Ferdinand Céline Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China, Jung Chang Papillon, Henri Charriere The Canterbury Tales, Geoffrey Chaucer "Clarice Bean, That's Me", Lauren Child I Will Not Ever Never Eat a Tomato, Lauren Child Les Liaisons Dangereuses, Pierre Choderlos de Laclos Disgrace, J.M. Coetzee Waiting for the Barbarians, J.M Coetzee Princess Smartypants, Babette Cole Nostromo, Joseph Conrad The Public Burning, Robert Coover Millions, Frank Cottrell Boyce The Power Of One, Bryce Courtenay That Rabbit Belongs To Emily Brown, Cressida Cowell House Of Leaves, Mark Z. Danielewski The Black Sheep, Honoré de Balzac Old Man Goriot, Honoré de Balzac The Second Sex, Simone de Beavoir The Story of Babar, Jean De Brunhoff The Little Prince, Antoine De Saint-Exupery White Noise, Don DeLillo Slouching Towards Bethlehem, Joan Didion Sybil, Benjamin Disraeli Hairy Maclary from Donaldson's Dairy, Lynley Dodd The 42nd Parallel, John Dos Passos The Brothers Karamzov, Fyodor Dostoevsky An American Tragedy, Theodore Drieser The Name Of The Rose, Umberto Eco My Naughty Little Sister, Dorothy Edwards Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison The Horse Whisperer, Nicholas Evans The Siege of Krishnapur, J.G Farrell The Sound and the Fury, William Faulkner "Absalom, Absalom!", William Faulkner Light in August, William Faulkner Take it or Leave It, Raymond Federman Magician, Raymond E. Feist Flour Babies, Anne Fine Madam Bovary, Gustav Flaubert A Passage to India, E. M. Forster The Diary of a Young Girl, Anne Frank Cross Stitch,  Diana Gabaldon That Awful Mess on the Via Merulala, Carlo Emilio Gadda JR, William Gaddis The Graveyard Book, Neil Gaiman One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez Maggot Moon, Sally Gardner The Owl Service, Alan Garner In the Heart of the Heart of the Country & Other Stories, William H. Gass Coram Boy, Jamila Gavin Once, Morris Gleitzman The Conservationist, Nadine Gordimer Asterix The Gaul, Rene Goscinny The Tin Drum, Günter Grass Sunset Song, Lewis Grassic Gibbon Little Mouse's Big Book of Fears, Emily Gravett Lanark, Alasdair Gray The Quiet American, Graham Greene Life and Fate, Vasily Grossman The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-Time, Mark Haddon Jude The Obscure, Thomas Hardy The Scarlet Letter, Nathaniel Hawthorne Stranger in a Strange Land, Robert A. Heinlein The Sun Also Rises, Ernest Hemingway For Whom the Bell Tolls, Ernest Hemingway The Old Man And The Sea, Ernest Hemingway The Blue Lotus, Hergé The Adventures Of Tintin, Hergé The Glass Bead Game, Herman Hesse Where's Spot?, Eric Hill The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett The Odyssey, Homer High Fidelity, Nick Hornby Point Blanc, Anthony Horowitz Skeleton Key, Anthony Horowitz Dogger, Shirley Hughes Journey To The River Sea, Eva Ibbotson Little House In The Big Woods, Laura Ingalls Wilder A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving Goodbye to Berlin, Christopher Isherwood The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James The Ambassadors, Henry James Finn Family Moomintroll, Tove Jansson Lost and Found, Oliver Jeffers The Far Pavilions, M. M. Kaye A Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole The Tiger Who Came To Tea, Judith Kerr One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey In Praise of Hatred, Khaled Khalifa Gate of the Sun, Elias Khoury It, Stephen King The Queen's Nose, Dick King-Smith The Sheep-Pig, Dick King-Smith Diary Of A Wimpy Kid, Jeff Kinney Kim, Rudyard Kipling I Want My Hat Back, Jon Klassen Darkness at Noon, Arthur Koestler The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera The Milly-Molly-Mandy Storybook, Joyce Lankerster Brisley Women in Love, D.H. Lawrence Seven Pillars of Wisdom, T.E Lawrence A Wrinkle in Time, Madeleine L'Engle The Golden Notebook, Doris Lessing Tristes Tropiques, Claude Lévi-Strauss Pippi Longstocking, Astrid Lindgren The Call of the Wild, Jack London Nightmare Abbey, Thomas Love Peacock Under the Volcano, Malcolm Lowry The Good Soldier, Ford Madox Ford The Cairo Trilogy, Naguib Mahfouz The Naked and the Dead, Norman Mailer Man's Fate, Andre Malraux The Magic Mountain, Thomas Mann Wolf Hall, Hilary Mantel The Road, Cormac McCarthy The Kite Rider, Geraldine McCaughrean The Heart Is A Lonely Hunter, Carson McCullers "Not Now, Bernard", David McKee Tent Boxing: An Australian Journey, Wayne McLennan No One Sleeps in Alexandria, Ibrahim Abdel Meguid A Fine Balance, Rohinton Mistry The Cruel Sea, Nicholas Monsarrat Private Peaceful, Michael Morpurgo Beloved, Toni Morrison Song of Solomon, Toni Morrison The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Haruki Murakami Under the Net, Iris Murdoch The Worst Witch, Jill Murphy Pale Fire, Vladimir Nabokov A Bend in the River, V.S Naipaul Their Eyes Were Watching God, Zora Neale Hurston A Monster Calls, Patrick Ness The Knife Of Never Letting Go, Patrick Ness The Borrowers, Mary Norton Master And Commander, Patrick O'Brian The Silent Cry, Kenzaburo Oe My Name is Red, Orhan Pamuk Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake Night Watch, Terry Pratchett The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett The Truth, Terry Pratchett Witches Abroad, Terry Pratchett Truckers, Terry Pratchett Life: An Exploded Diagram, Mal Prett Paroles, Jacques Prévert The Shipping News, Annie Proulx In Search of Lost Time, Marcel Proust The Ruby In The Smoke, Philip Pullman Eugene Onegin, Alexander Pushkin Gravity's Rainbow, Thomas Pynchon Live and Remember, Valentin Rasputin Witch Child, Celia Rees Mortal Engines, Philip Reeve Clarissa: Or the History of a Young Lady, Samuel Richardson How I Live Now, Meg Rosoff I Want My Potty!, Tony Ross Portnoy's Complaint, Philip Roth The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie Holes, Louis Sachar Blindness, Jose Saramango Being and Nothingness, Jean-Paul Sartre Nausea, Jean-Paul Sartre Austerlitz, W.G. Sebald Revolver, Marcus Sedgwick Where The Wild Things Are, Maurice Sendak The Silver Sword, Ian Serraillier Katherine, Anya Seton Come over to My House, Dr Seuss Daisy-Head Mayzie, Dr Seuss Great Day for Up!, Dr Seuss Hooray for Diffendoofer Day!, Dr Seuss Horton and the Kwuggerbug and More Lost Stories, Dr Seuss Hunches in Bunches, Dr Seuss I Am NOT Going to Get Up Today!, Dr Seuss I Can Lick 30 Tigers Today! and Other Stories, Dr Seuss I Had Trouble in Getting to Solla Sollew, Dr Seuss My Book about ME, Dr Seuss My Many Colored Days, Dr Seuss "Oh, the Thinks You Can Think!", Dr Seuss On Beyond Zebra!, Dr Seuss The Bippolo Seed and Other Lost Stories, Dr Seuss The Butter Battle Book, Dr Seuss The Cat's Quizzer, Dr Seuss The Pocket Book of Boners, Dr Seuss The Seven Lady Godivas, Dr Seuss The Shape of Me and Other Stuff, Dr Seuss What Pet Should I Get?, Dr Seuss You're Only Old Once!, Dr Seuss Dr Seuss's Book of Bedtime Stories, Dr Seuss Special shapes: A flip-the-flap book, Dr Seuss Dizzy days: A flip-the-flap book, Dr Seuss The Tale of Genji, Murasaki Shikibu A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith "The Gulag Archipelago, 1918-1956: An Experiment in Literary Investigation", Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn Memento Mori, Muriel Spark The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, Muriel Spark Heidi, Johanna Spyri The Making of Americans, Gertrude Stein The Charterhouse of Parma, Stendhal "The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman", Laurence Sterne Driving Over Lemons: An Optimist in Andalucia, Chris Stewart Goosebumps, R.L. Stine Ballet Shoes, Noel Streatfeild The Home and the World, Rabindranath Tagore The Arrival, Shaun Tan The Secret History, Donna Tartt The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell Fathers and Sons, Ivan Turgenev Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain Froth on the Daydream, Boris Vian Creation, Gore Vidal Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut Breakfast of Champions, Kurt Vonnegut The Color Purple, Alice Walker Scoop, Evelyn Waugh The War Of The Worlds, H.G. Wells The Time Machine, H.G Wells The Once And Future King, T.H. White Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson The Illustrated Mum, Jacqueline Wilson The Dare Game, Jacqueline Wilson Bad Girls, Jacqueline Wilson Lola Rose, Jacqueline Wilson Girls In Tears, Jacqueline Wilson Sleepovers, Jacqueline Wilson Secrets, Jacqueline Wilson Girls Out Late, Jacqueline Wilson Dustbin Baby, Jacqueline Wilson The Code of the Woosters, P.G. Wodehouse Native Son, Richard Wright Going Native, Stephen Wright The Day Of The Triffids, John Wyndham The Dream of the Red Chamber, Cao Xueqin Red Sorghum: A Novel of China, Mo Yan Revolutionary Road, Richard Yates We, Yevgeny Zamyatin Germinal, Emile Zola Amazing Grace, Mary Hoffman & Caroline Binch Horrid Henry, Francesca Simon & Tony Ross Meg And Mog, Helen Nicholls & Jan Pienkowski Ten Little Fingers and Ten Little Toes, Mem Fox & Helen Oxenbury The Elephant And The Bad Baby, Elfrida Vipont & Raymond Briggs The True Story Of The Three Little Pigs, Jon Scieszka & Lane Smith