#and now I’m subbing while I get my masters in library science

[scarletwelly-boots]

“10 out of 10 apple.”

— N, 5th grade, about the absolutely normal gala apples the cafeteria dropped off after standardized testing

[angyvalentine]

Tell us more about your Tav! You said she's followed you for 10 years?

First of all, thanks for askin’! I quite never got the chance to talk so much about Rey <3 So here’s a quick explanation about her origins, and under cut for more background stuff, may someone be interested.

Back in 2013, I started to play Neverwinter online. It was 22nd December when I created her as my first character in the game. An elf mage, as usual (there’s not the sorcerer class). A bit later I got the Knight of the Feywildpack, that allowed me to choose a specific sub-race, the Moon Elf. I had fun with this character, I completed as many modules as I could.

Then in 2015 they released the Underdark module – the first one written by R.A. Salvatore himself.

Until then, Farelya – Rey – was just a character I played in a game. Then I started writing fanfics, based on quests of the  Mage Engine campaign (tied to the Underdark one) – the longer one from a quest in particular, “A view of Menzoberranzan”, where you’ve to disguise yourself as a Lolth priestess, followed by Drizzt as your “prisoner”, and retrieve Gromph Baenre's Grimoire from a drow outpost.

Slowly, I started to add details to details. Her wicked amulet, that holds the soul of a black dragon, eager to be fed of her fears and terrors – eager to indeed consume her and wholly possess her body, destroying her soul and mind; her over-protective pseudodragon, Vulthuryol (name I chose from one of the secret dragons in Skyrim), her familiar – and details of her past, why she’s afraid of her own amulet, and why her eyes have two different colors.

I wrote 30+ pages just for THAT oneshot and I’ve yet to finish it.

But yep, I’m currently playing her adventures in the Sword Coast – and in Space now, as well (the new module is named Spelljammer. Not really my cup of tea, honestly, I prefer the classic fantasy to the science one) xD

Here we go with some background stuff, then :D Be careful, there are some gruesome parts

She was born in the Moonwood, as an only child. Magic flows in the female part of her family, indeed both her mother and grandma are sorceresses – while her father is a ranger. She started to practice very early to gain more and more control over her powers, all while occasionally wearing magic-repression cuffs to keep her wild magic at bay. She feared she may hurt others, but yet she was eager to learn.

Later in her life, she often visited Silverymoon and the libraries of the Lady’s College, at least before starting her life as an adventurer – Moon elves have a great wanderlust, after all.

She was in reverie, after a long journey, when she got kidnapped by a group of young (and crazy) Red Wizards apprentices, who had fun using her basically as guinea pig – that’s how she lost her right eye. They tried to break her. Left her to starve, drugg*d her, and pulled her eye off while she was still conscious (totally groggy due to all the alcohol they gave her to drink, obviously against her will. That’s why she doesn’t drink alcohol at all, since then. Not to mention Volo's attempt to "help" her - attempt that triggered her so badly that it resolved in his face being almost burn to crisp.)

Thanks to an amulet her master gave her years prior, she managed to (barely) escape, get found and healed by Mielikki's priests. Unknowing to her, that same necklace held the soul of a black dragon (not really a phylactery, tho) that actually could help her increasing her powers, but at the cost of little pieces of her humanity.

That’s when she got to know the creature that, later on, would become her familiar and closer confidant – a pseudodragon that she’d name Vulthuryol.

She went back to find those mages and got a (quite) gruesome revenge, taking one of the most beautiful eyes of them to replace the one she lost (the now-gold one).

Since then, Vul vigils over her reverie, allowing her to rest when she needs (this, until she got closer to Halsin).

Aaand that’s all, guys! If you want to know something more about my Moon baby, please let me know <3

[thestraggletag]

Three Appointments and a Wedding

AN: Hi, @magicalgiven it is I, your Secret Santa! If I’m not mistaken we are both Argentinians in which case commiserate with me over the fucking hot weather we’ve been having. Because it fucking sucks. It was a pleasure to be your Santa, and I’m sorry this fic didn’t get smutty. I tried to add as much spice at the end as I could. It was challenging but fun because the accidental engagement prompt has been done a lot in the fandom so it was nice to try and put my spin on things. I hope you like it!

Prompt: Accidental engagement and consequences.

Summary: Mr Gold would do anything to help his only son plan his wedding, even if it is getting mistaked for the groom over and over as his crush gets mistaken for the bride. Over and over.

Rating: PG-13

He reminded himself that Bae had been clear about his distaste for a big wedding, and Emma as well. As far as they both were concerned they were better off with a simple civil ceremony and a honeymoon in Florida. But Emma’s parents insisted that their only child, their little princess, marry in style, so something grander was decided upon. He had to admit he hadn’t put up much of a fight. He did not have a lot in common with the Nolans- no matter how much David insisted on treating him like best mates whenever they met- but he did agree with them on the wedding. Bae was his only son and he wished to make a fuss about his wedding as well.

So he couldn’t really say no when Bae called to ask him to please take his place at a catering appointment in Portland. He had been summoned to a surprised meeting with a client that was a rather big to-do at his job. He did something related to web design that he couldn’t for the life of him understand, but it allowed him to work from home most of the time and stay in Storybrooke, so he was glad to be of assistance if he needed it.

He arrived at the catering business with a bit of time to spare, introducing himself and letting the person checking the appointment know he was waiting for someone. Not Miss Swan, because apparently she also had urgent business that could not be delayed- she did work in law enforcement, so there was a small chance she wasn’t lying to get out of “boring wedding stuff” as she kept calling it right in front of her mother and likely to annoy her. He had been told she would send Miss Lucas as a replacement, since she knew her way around a menu. He did not look forward to it, though perhaps he could amuse himself with trying to figure out how to raise the subject of the diner’s rent being due next week over talk of canapes. 

“Mr Gold, you got here before me!”

He turned around, a part of him recognising instantly that charming Australian lilt. He looked slightly down to find Miss Belle French, the town’s librarian as of three years. She was dressed, as always, rather charmingly, and looked less out of place in the city than in their small town. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long. The original plan was for Ruby to fill in for Emma, but Granny’s arthritis started acting up so she had to stay and help at the diner. Oh, please don’t tell Granny I told you that or she’ll never forgive me.”

He recalled she was an old friend of Miss Swan’s, from before she came back to Storybrooke, back when she was living in New York as a bit of a rebellion against her parents, doing bounty hunting work of all things. They had been roommates while Miss French went to NYU for her master’s in Library Science and worked at an antique bookstore. He knew only because he knew the bookstore and thought it smart to hold onto that piece of information. Book restoration and re-binding wasn’t his specialty, so it was nice to know of someone he could consult with if the need ever arose.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Miss French. I will even abstain of using the information against Granny the next time she tries to overcharge me for coffee. I hope you understand what a sacrifice that is.”

She laughed and he tried to pretend he didn’t feel overly smug about it, turning instead to open the door for her.

“Oh, Mr Gold, I see your fianceé is here! Lovely to meet the future Mrs Gold.”

He fumbled, his brain too caught up in what had just been said to register the small step on his way. He righted himself just as Miss French stammered a surprised denial.

“Oh, right, I apologise for assuming you would change your name after marriage, Miss Swan. Please, follow me.”

The man, a strongly-accented Frenchman, if his ears did not deceive him, swept past them and deeper into the shop, forcing them both to follow. The back was a rather nice dining area, small but with lots of windows to let in natural light. It was right next to the kitchen, but it still felt private and quiet. They were ushered into a table already prepared for them and served a sample of entrées along with a card detailing the ingredients of each one.

“Well, I suppose it’s an obvious mistake to make, and it would be unkind to correct him, he’d be mortified. I hope you don’t mind playing the would-be groom for a day, Mr Gold. At least we get some nice food out of it.”

“It’ll make a nice change from Granny’s overpriced lasagna.”

She slapped him gently on the arm, trying to conceal her smile, and he was surprised at how nice the gesture felt. Not many people touched him, and less with that sort of uncomplicated ease. He was glad that Miss French felt comfortable around him.

“So, what type of food does Miss Swan enjoy?”

“You should really begin calling her Emma, you know. And me Belle, none of that Miss French nonsense. This is not some nineteenth century pretend engagement, you know. I hope we can consider ourselves a modern pretend couple.” Miss French- Belle- smiled at him over the rim of her water glass before taking a sip. “As for Emma, she likes bar food. If it was up to her we’d serve peanuts and fries for entrées and burgers as the main course. I understand her parents talked her out of it, so perhaps nothing very fancy, but tasteful at the same time.”

He had given up on the day that morning, thinking it would be spent trying to make awkward conversation with a confrontational Miss Lucas, glaring daggers at him from across a rather small table because he dared charge rent for the property her grandmother rented from him. Instead he found himself discussing food and wine with someone he was infinitely more fond of and could not even muster enough grumpiness later in the evening to snark at Bae when he called later at night to thank him for subbing for him.

“It’ll be the last time, pops, I swear.”

.

The week after the catering appointment Bae called him in a panic to beg him to go for him to the florist appointment, also in Portland. He swallowed a few choice words learned in his youth in Glasgow, closed his shop and drove to the address Bae texted him. He was somewhat less surprised than before to find Miss French there, sitting on a bench outside the shop and reading a book. Something niggled at the back of his head but when he greeted her and they got to explain their presence he realised it made a bit more sense. Miss Swan’s job was a bit emergency-heavy and Miss French was the daughter of a florist, so it made sense to send her as a replacement.

She knew her stuff, as he could tell almost as soon as they set foot into the shop, to the delight of the old, red-haired florist that handled their appointment. The librarian engaged her in a rather interesting discussion on the meaning of flowers and the importance of harmonious scents, something he had never considered before. They spent a rather lovely hour touring the greenhouse and browsing through the catalogues, with Miss French- “Honestly, Arran, it’s Belle, you agreed!”- making a game out of it, picking something and having him guess whether it was a choice for Miss Swan’s wedding or a reflection of personal taste. He learned from it that Belle liked blue as much as her outfits had already implied and that she loved hydrangeas, thought them elegant but soft.

“Too soft for Emma. She likes bold colours and is not fond of traditional flowers, so I was thinking perhaps something with bougainvilleas? They have such lovely deep pink colour, almost red. What do you think?”

It was a bit intoxicating, the smell of the flowers, the heat of the shop and Belle French talking about flowers with a passion that stirred something in him that had nothing to do with centerpieces or boutonnieres. It wasn’t until they were out of it, inhaling the crisp evening Portland air, that he realised the florist had mistaken them for the engaged couple as well, and neither of them had made any effort to correct her. Well, that would’ve been rude, he reasoned. No need to put the old woman in the spot.

.

The morning of the cake-tasting appointment he had woken up with the knowledge that he was likely to get a “surprise” call from Bae begging him to “fill in” for him at the cake shop, and he could not even bring himself to feel angry about it. The wedding was, after all, a rather rushed affair, seeing as to how it was not what either the bride or groom had planned for, so allowances had to be made for the couple. That or they both were trying to punish their parents for pushing on them a grander event than the one they had wanted in the first place.

On his way out of town he passed by the library, insisting he would drive Miss French who was, surprisingly, filling in for Miss Swan again. She didn’t seem to mind yet another disruption into her schedule.

“I love Storybrooke, but I don’t mind admitting that it’s nice to go out to a big city every now and then.”

The bakery that would make the cake- one of the few that would accommodate the short notice of the order placement- was located in Bangor, which seemed to merge big-city vibes with small-town charm. The bakery itself was lovely, with a white and beige storefront and a myriad of colourful treats on display. It smelled strongly of vanilla and chocolate inside, and there was a dreamy, romantic sort of quality to the decoration. They were ushered into a warm, cosy room where they spent the next hour and a half tasting different cakes, one better than the next.

“Emma is a bit chocolate obsessed, so I’m leaning towards the chocolate champagne one. It was delicious.”

He tried not to replay in his mind the way she had moaned at the first taste of that one, eyes closing in absolute bliss.

“I still can’t believe that little urchin had me fill in for him again, so I’m not even considering his tastes. My vote is for the strawberry shortcake.”

Belle frowned, idly liking some frosting from her fork. His left hand tightened around the napkin on his lap.

“Isn’t Bae allergic to strawberries?”

“Exactly.”

The librarian laughed, which he was rather surprised by. Very few shared his rather dark sense of humour, most found the content and his delivery of it rather off-putting. He tried not to preen at the idea. 

“Might want to hold on in killing him until after the wedding. After all, we have invested quite a few hours into the preparation already. Feels more like our wedding, in a way.”

He choked on a rather lovely piece of red velvet cheesecake, fumbling for his glass of water to try and wash it down. He realised the danger he was in, all of a sudden, perhaps too late. His crush had been safe when he had not had much of a chance to interact with the librarian and get to know her. But spending entire days with her had changed things, giving his feelings depth that he did not entirely appreciate. His instinct of self-preservation was urging him to do something. Say something mean or cutting, or close himself off. Perhaps invent some business emergency and leave, letting Belle figure out on her own how to get back to town. If she was cross with him, if she hated him, if she decided to keep his distance, he would be safe.

But, surprisingly, he found that he was rather tired of feeling safe, and of pushing people away.

.

“You know, we didn’t do half-bad in the end, all things considered.”

He turned around, tearing his eyes away from his son and his new wife trying to waltz. He was sure someone was filming it, anyway, and he’d get to tease Bae about it later. Belle looked absolutely stunning in a Halston dress, an architectural number in navy blue with a champagne-coloured lining that peeped from the folds of the skirts and a bit of a train in the back, the hem landing above the knee at the front and below it at the back. It was a far cry from what most women were wearing, in particular the friends of the mother of the bride, but it was exactly what he had expected from her: bold, flirty, and the slightest bit of out place in a small town, without really seeming to realise. Her lips were a lovely deep, dark red and smiling wide. At him, of all people.

“Yes. The flowers do look splendid, Miss French. You have quite an eye for it.”

She hooked her arm through his, looking admonishingly up at him.

“It’s Belle. Unless you’ve decided I cannot call you Arran anymore.”

If he were stronger, he would politely insist on calling her Miss French, thus gently reestablishing their more formal dynamic. It would be safer, certainly. But he found himself unable to muster the energy for it. It was a happy day, and he was ecstatic as the father of the groom should be. Seemed like the occasion to do what he wanted and not necessarily what he thought was best. Indulge a bit.

“Belle, then. I rather like how you pronounce my name, seems a shame to make you stop.”

Her eyes widened, and so did her smile. He tried to remember how many glasses of champagne he had drunk, but could not recall. He had indulged there too, but that was only because he had been sitting next to David Nolan for dinner and he had kept trying to talk to him about sports. He had made the mistake of trying to discuss the UEFA Super Cup, but that had only led to ten minutes of David Nolan referring to football as soccer and displaying no understanding of the rules of the game.

“So, how’s the proud father? Was it all you hoped it would be?”

He looked around. The venue was lovely, a manor outside Storybrooke that was used exclusively for events like weddings and such, with extensive gardens and lovely, broad balconies. The Nolans had secured the place, seemed they knew the owner and had been able to pull some strings. It was decorated a bit like an enchanted forest, in shades of silver, gold and bold touches of bright pink and dark blue.

“Well, Bae remembered his lines and didn’t step on Miss Swan’s train at any point so the wedding has exceeded my wildest expectations.”

He glanced again towards his son, dancing something a bit more lively with Emma and looking infinitely more at ease doing so. They truly suited each other, and he was glad of that. Glad that Bae would know, hopefully, nothing but love in his family he meant to build for himself.

“It’s a lovely song. Would you care to dance?”

A tricky question, since the answer was both a resounding no and a desperate yes, but he merely pointed towards his cane as a way out. It seemed he was not the only one emboldened by drink, however, if Belle’s flashing eyes and red cheeks were anything to go by.

“Oh, come on, just some gentle swaying. We could go outside, if you don’t wish others to see. It’s a bit stuffy in here anyway.”

There was no way for him to deny her, nor did he wish to anymore. He let her lead him out, into one of the terrace-like balconies attached to the ballroom, and wrapped her arms around his neck, prompting his own to wrap around her waist. They soon fell into a slow, easy rhythm, lazy and yet strangely exhilarating. He felt loose and tightly-wound at the same time, and could not decide whether he liked the feeling or not.

“It really is a lovely wedding, by the way.”

“Yes, I think we did rather well, all things considered. Certainly more than what Bae deserved, taking into account how little he worked for it.”

She tugged on his hair, he assumed as a way to chastise him. It had rather the opposite result, sending a jolt of fizzy pleasure up and down his spine.

“You rather enjoyed it, admit it. And I did too. In a way it’s sad that the wedding has happened and our outings are at an end.”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, teeth worrying her lower lip the slightest bit. He got the feeling that there was something he was not seeing or sensing, some signal he was not quite deciphering. But it was getting rather difficult to think, with the champagne in his veins, and the feel of Belle in his arms and the way she smelt like orange blossom. 

“You look lovely, by the way.” He realised he hadn’t told her, and it seemed like a major oversight. “Stunning, really. Gorgeous. Too good to be wasting your time out on the balcony with me.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? When had he lost complete control of his bleeding mouth?

“Don’t say that. I like spending time with you. A lot.” She bit her lip again and he wondered if his blood pressure could take it. “Actually, I was hoping we could spend more time together, if you wished it.”

There was no mistaking the flirty turn of her lips, or the coyness dancing in her eyes, even to an expert in self-denial such as him. He tried to form words to reply to her, something along the lines of “Yes, please” or “Is it tomorrow night too soon?” but his vocal cords were suddenly useless, and in a sudden panic that she would interpret his stupid silence for a rejection of her advances he leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. He felt her stiffen in his arms for a second, saw her eyes widen in surprise, but the next moment she was pressing back against him, tipping her head back to better capture his mouth with her own. She took absolute control with a quiet, fierce determination that he found incredibly erotic. He was happy to reciprocate, to tighten his arm around her waist and open his mouth to her, his left hand tightening around the handle of his cane with something that felt like petulant frustration at not being able to simply drop the damned thing hold her properly, perhaps delve a hand into her hair, feel if it was as soft as it always looked. 

She seemed to read his mind, for she maneuvered them clumsily towards the rather tall balustrade. He eagerly leaned against it before dropping his cane in the nick of time to catch the librarian’s leg, which sought to wrap itself around his waist. Her obvious, undisguised want was disarming, making him forget himself in a way he had never allowed himself to-

“Papa, what the fuck?”

“Belle!”

Both him and Belle startled, with her regretfully taking a few steps away from him, leaving him to notice the chill in the air. When he glanced at the entrance of the balcony he saw his son and Miss Swan, looking radiant in her Vera Wang dress and also, bizarrely, quite smug.

“Hey, Bae, didn’t see you there.”

His accent barely made the words intelligible, but there was no helping that. He always lost control of his brogue when he was nervous.

“Clearly!” Bae sounded shrill, more child than man. Reminded him of the infamous temper-tantrums the lad had thrown once upon a time. “How could you? At my own wedding?!”

Fuck, he was right. He had been caught fucking making-out and almost doing God-knew-what just a few bloody steps away from his son’s wedding reception. What was the matter with him?

“I mean, why couldn’t you wait? I had almost won the bet!”

What?

“You only had to last until after the wedding! I was so close, pops! And you were doing so well!”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad. Now remember, Bae, you promised at least two dances with Regina’s sister. At least she’s unlikely to hit on you at your own wedding, so there’s that.”

Emma smiled up at her new husband, kissed his cheek, turned him around and directed him back towards the ballroom with a not-so-gentle smack in the ass. She smiled, gave Belle a thumbs up and an “atta girl” and walked out of the balcony, closing the French doors behind her.

“What the fuck was that?”

[lyssismagical]

coffee, rainbow pins, and middle school gossip

Parkner Week Day Seven: “13-year-olds are the meanest people in the world” / middle school / jealousy

 Being a teacher hadn’t really been Peter’s plan for his career until he got to his senior year and he got his school-mandatory volunteer hours at the elementary public school and he loved how teaching made him feel.

He’s always loved kids. When he was twelve, he started babysitting for the other tenants in the building for much cheaper than any other babysitter, but enough to get the good pizza every couple weeks.

Later, he spent his summers as a Camp Counselor to make some money and to have something to do all summer, out of May’s hair and giving May a chance to save up money without having his mouth to feed.

He didn’t really think much about it until MJ asked him to start reading to children at the library with her. Apparently, she thinks she doesn’t have a soothing enough voice to read for hours on end, but he reads a lot out loud at school and during Academic Decathlon, and she says his voice is nice and he likes kids enough to hang out with them all day.

And now, as a twenty-four-year-old graduate, he’s got a job as a middle school substitute teacher. He wants to one day be a permanent teacher for a younger grade, but he’s happy being a teacher.

Until he finds out how cruel middle schoolers are.

He gets it, the Science teacher at the school is pretty good looking.

Mister Keener is a young, single guy who’s genuinely smart and passionate. He’s a few years older than Peter, and he’s objectively handsome, but Peter isn’t interested. (He’s totally interested, he can barely keep his eyes off the science teacher whenever he sees him in the Teacher’s Lounge, but that’s not anybody’s business.)

His students seem to have one goal in life. To get Peter and Mister Keener together.

“Have your kids been saying anything?” Peter asks. He watches Harley as he laughs, brewing a pot of coffee. “I was subbing for the phys-ed class and they wouldn’t stop.”

“Yeah, I hear about Mister Parker more than anything these days.”

Harley grabs two mugs from the cupboard above the coffee machine and pours them both a coffee, adding the number of creams and sugar to Peter’s that he likes which makes Peter feel incredibly warm and giddy, and then he sits down across from Peter, passing him his coffee.

“I know! Angela, you know her, I think she’s in your science class period two, she literally talked you up to me for the entire hour yesterday. I tried to tell her that it wasn’t appropriate to talk about it with me, but she wouldn’t listen.”

The science teacher laughs again, bright and warm. “Yeah, she went on and on about you. Apparently, you’re really smart when it comes to English.”

“That’s thanks to my friend, MJ, she was really good at English and reading, and she kinda got me into a lot of it. We still have biweekly book clubs.”

“I’m not super into reading, but my little sister is. I-”

The door to the Teacher’s Lounge is pushed open, with a few knocks. It’s not a teacher who stands there though.

“Harry!” Peter exclaims, shooting out of his chair. He races over to throw himself into Harry’s awaiting arms with a squeal. “I thought you weren’t coming to visit for another couple weeks!”

“I’ve got a long weekend off and figured I couldn’t wait to come see you,” Harry explains quickly, arms tight around Peter’s waist.

There’s an awkward cough from behind them that has Peter spinning around, pulling Harry with him back to his table.

“Harry, this is Harley Keener, the science teacher here. Harley, this is an old friend of mine, Harry Osborn. He’s getting his masters abroad so he can’t visit very often.”

The teacher stretches out a hand to shake Harry’s, offering a polite smile with a murmured nice to meet you before he’s draining the rest of his coffee and standing.

“I should be getting back to class early to set up for the lab. I’ll see you later,” Harley says, offering one last smile before he’s out of the teacher’s lounge.

As soon as he’s gone, Harry leans in closer. “Is he the guy you’ve been crushing on these past couple months?”

“He’s the guy who our students have been harassing me about for the last couple months,” Peter corrects before he admits, “Yeah, I’ve totally been crushing on him. He’s so nice and smart and hot. Can you blame me?”

“You should go for it.”

Peter rolls his eyes, sitting down at the table and gesturing for Harry to sit down with him. “I don’t even know if he’s into guys, or if he has a rule against dating coworkers, or if he’s taken.”

“One, I can’t believe you didn’t notice the rainbow pin on his bag. Two, this isn’t going to be your job much longer. You’re going to get that teaching position at the elementary school. And three, he wouldn’t be staring at you like that if he was taken.”

“Have you met me, Osborn? I don’t have the guts to ask him out.”

Harry rolls his eyes right back. “Have it your way and lose your chances with the greatest looking guy in all of Manhattan, second only to you.”

“Shut up,” Peter says with no heat to his words. “We’ll see.”

* Harley’s acting weird the next couple days.

He doesn’t say as much, and he’s downright pouty for most of their lunches together, frowning down at his food whenever Peter rambles about anything.

Harry starts picking him up from the school, so they no longer have that half hour window to chat while Peter waits for the bus. And Peter catches Harley practically glaring when Peter slides into Harry’s convertible.

After a week of these strange interactions, Peter finally caves and pulls one of his students aside after class.

“I know I really shouldn’t be asking you, but has Mister Keener said anything about me lately.”

Katie grins mischievously, beckoning a few of her friends over. “Why? You want him to be talking about you?”

Liam and Emily giggle, leaning into each other behind Katie.

“No!” Peter gasps, shaking his head quickly. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“He was acting pretty weird last week,” Aryssa pipes up shyly from where she’s still sitting at her desk. “Quiet, graded our test pretty harshly. He gave a couple people detentions when they wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

“Really? And he didn’t say why he was acting weird?”

Liam rolls his eyes. “No, why would he tell his students why he was acting weird? Most of the time, teachers don’t talk this candidly with their students.”

“Well, I’m not going to be teaching here much longer hopefully. And I’m a substitute.” It doesn’t entirely justify it, but the students seem more excited than annoyed by him talking about his private life. It’s what they’ve been asking him to do for months anyway.

The bell rings, making Peter jump. “Okay, dismissed, get to class. Don’t tell him I asked you about him.”

Katie and Emily snicker, looping their arms together before racing out the door.

Peter knows he won’t be able to trust them.

It still surprises him when Harley stops him in the hallway after the school’s cleared out at the end of the day.

“So, I heard some interesting gossip,” Harley starts.

“Did you?”

Harley laughs, bag swaying at his side. Peter takes note of the rainbow pin. “Katie, Liam, and Emily told me you were asking about me. Asked them if I’d been talking about you.”

“Thirteen-year-olds are the meanest people in the world, I swear… It’s just- you’ve been acting weird lately. Like I did something wrong. I was concerned.”

Harley sighs and he sinks to the floor, leaning against the lockers. Peter hesitates before sliding to the ground beside him, shoulders knocking.

“Can I be honest?” Harley asks, frowning down at his hands. “I really like you, but I get it, you’re taken, I’m not going to be upset about that, I just got a little bit jealous of him.”

“Of who? I’m not-” Peter blows out a breath. “Harry.”

Harley’s eyes go wide, sad. “I’m not mad at you and I really do want to stay friends, and I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better too-”

“I’m not with Harry!” His voice comes out shaky and too loud. “I mean, we did date once, like forever ago, back in high school, but we decided we were better off as friends, and that’s all we are now. I liked you, but I didn’t think you were into me, especially after last week.”

Harley lets out a laugh verging on hysterical. “I’m so sorry. I saw you with Harry, and I just jumped to conclusions. But if you haven’t been totally turned away by my jealousy, I’d love to take you out for coffee?”

“I’d love that, yeah. Harry’s picking me up if you wanna take up the offer of getting to know my best friend a little better? We could get coffee the three of us while he’s still in town, and then we could get dinner, just the two of us, on the weekend?”

“Sounds like a fantastic plan.”

Taglist:@littlemissagrafina  @spidey-reids-2003 @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @pj-hermes-tonystark-obsessed  @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester  @emo-girl10 @justme--emily  @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad {Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

[aion-rsa]

MST3K: Joel Hodgson Reveals the Secrets of the Gizmoplex, Teases “the Next Manos”

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A few years ago, Mystery Science Theater 3000 made its grand return. Through an incredibly successful Kickstarter, they raised enough money and showed proof of enough fan interest to get the show back with a new season. Netflix acted as the home to the eleventh season with fourteen episodes and much fun was had by all. The Return also led to a series of live tours that kept going until COVID kicked in and they also did a Dark Horse comic spinoff.

Unfortunately, Netflix wasn’t so enthusiastic in the aftermath. The twelfth season only contained six episodes, emphasizing the challenge of binge-watching them. Then Netflix unceremoniously dumped the show. Well, at least we have the fourth season of GLOW to look forward to.

…oh, you bastards.

But now the MST3K team have a brand-new Kickstarter project, “Let’s Make More MST3K & and Build the Gizmoplex!” Yes, Joel Hodgson and friends are going the Bender route (minus the blackjack and hookers) of making their own streaming service of sorts specifically for MST3K viewing and checking out the brand-new episodes. The good news is that the initial goals were met, but the true, final goal is still a ways to go. They have until Friday night, May 7 to hit $5.5 million. If they meet that, there will be twelve episodes instead of the definite six.

Also cool is that while previous incarnations of MST3K have been based on mad scientists torturing one group of subjects at a time, the upcoming thirteenth season will feature two separate groups! Jonah will return with Baron Vaughn as Tom Servo and Hampton Yount as Crow for some episodes, but other episodes will feature the the cast from MST3K Live with Emily Marsh as Emily Crenshaw along with Conor McGiffen as Tom Servo and Nate Begle as Crow.

And if they reach the final stretch goal, Joel Robinson will come back into the theater for another round or two! Neat!

Speaking of Joel, I had the pleasure of speaking with series creator Joel Hodgson about the Kickstarter and the new episodes. Here’s what he had to say.

Den of Geek: So to start with, we have a new Kickstarter out there, “Make More MST3K.” This time, rather than shopping it around, the funding is based around building Gizmoplex, a streaming service. Can you give us a basic idea of what the Gizmoplex is all about?

Joel: Well, the idea of the Gizmoplex is a premiere theater. The Mads have built a Cineplex on the moon, and they’re prepping the make it a tourist attraction and screening movies there. And on the practical level, the way you access it is you can watch it on a lot of your different devices and on smart TVs and stuff like that. And there’s also a few features, like you can watch it with friends and chat. If you happen to buy episodes or bought episodes through the last Kickstarter, you can watch those there, too, kind of like your own locker or library with your shows in it.

Very nice. So since you’d be calling the shots this time, would you still restrict the episode length, or would you keep it uniform?

I think most the time we found that the sweet spot is the whole show should be about 90 minutes. We tend to cut the movies so they fit that. We don’t show them in their entirety, because sometimes these movies are poorly made.

Ha! I’ve caught on to that, yes.

Yeah. Right?

So last season you guys did “Ah-tor”/”A-tor”…I don’t know how to pronounce it, Ator the Fighting Eagle.

A-tor, yeah. Everybody says it different. I say “A-tor,” but a lot of people say “Ah-tor.”

Which was a huge deal, because it’s the prequel to what I consider to be the first true classic episode of MST3K, Cave Dwellers. Are there any other series you’d like to revisit? Any chance we might finally get some more Master Ninja out there?

We’re always looking for that. The tough thing with me with Master Ninja is that it’s made for TV. And so, the aspect ratio is… It doesn’t really give you that immersive academy aperture vibe. So I tend to want to do movies that are more wide screen. 4:3 to me is just so tough because everybody has these nice big TVs now and phones, so it doesn’t quite look right there. But we are experimenting and looking into trying something where we might be able to use a 4:3 in and change the aspect ratio, so it looks right.

Yeah, because one of my favorite sub-genres of Mystery Science Theater movies, I’m just fascinated by it, is just, whenever just two episodes of a TV show or a pilot or something are stitched together and they try and say it’s a movie. I always think those are just the weirdest experiments.

It’s true. And they are really interesting, and they are really super disjointed. I agree. They do have a unique profile, I think.

We have a movie we just screened that we’re trying to get, that I have to say is… We watched it, Matt and Cheryl and I, the other day, and it left us all really, really depressed. And we had ended the day, saying that’s a no-go on that movie. And then I thought about it, and I realized that we should probably do it. It might have components of that same kind of – oh man, what would you call it? It’s not like despair. It’s kind of like…a malaise, kind of the same way that a Manos: The Hands of Fate has this kind of malaise feeling to it. It was really weird, but I do think in some ways it could out-Manos, Manos.

I think Manos works because you get this really weird feeling as you watch it. You can’t tell if the filmmaker is really talented and is giving you this feeling of…almost like the air has gotten sucked out of the movie, and you wonder if they know what they’re doing or if it’s just a happy accident, that the movie gives you this really weird kind of feeling…

Yeah. Just kind of like a dread that goes through it. There’s just a dread feeling as you’re watching it mixed with wanting to take a shower.

Yeah, yeah. It’s really funny. You can’t tell if the filmmaker did that deliberately, or if it’s an accident, because there were things that work with that movie, where it was like they shot it with a specific type of camera that only could shoot 35 seconds of film at a time and then they did all the sound later. And by the time we got it, the print was really bad.

This new movie has those same kind of feelings that you can’t put your finger on, but it’s amazing in its own right. I had never seen this movie before. I never even heard of it before. But when we first watched it, we just said, “we can’t do this movie.” Then I realized that it would be really great if we could do it.

I’m very much looking forward to that one. So are we ever going to see any of the live touring shows in any form? I know it defeats the point and the purpose, but with 2020 and the whole pandemic screwing everything up, maybe we could get a little taste?

We’re looking into it on a couple of different levels, and we would really like do that. It’s really different, and it’s very ambitious to shoot a live show. We’re up for it, and we’d like to try it.

So to answer your question, I believe we’re planning on…I think the touring cast is going out once COVID is wrapped. We’re already planning another tour. We’re interested in recording those new ones, if possible.

With the comeback, the villain henchmen, the Boneheads, are based on the bad guys from Infra-Man. Has there been any plans or interest in covering that movie for the show at all?

I do love that movie. It’s actually a really good point. I’m going to look into that. I do love Infra-Man, and it would be really fun to do that. I mean, it kind of changed my life, man. I saw Infra-Man when I was… It was probably in the early ’80s at an art house cinema, and it was pretty amazing. I thought it was pretty great. And the idea of an ironic viewing and all that, that was when it dawned on me.

In fact, I’ll tell you something. When I was working on the idea of Kinga, the way I did it was I took the Dragon Queen from Infra-Man and I put Lucille Ball’s head on her in Photoshop. So that’s kind of was the beginning of Kinga. And then I thought that Felicia Day was probably the closest thing we have to Lucille Ball right now.

No disagreement here. One thing I’ve noticed with the MST3K resurgence over the past few years is that it seems like when you left the show, you decided to, I guess, distance yourself from it for a time, which is understandable. Since you’ve come back home, you’re now seeing all these Mike era episodes that you’ve never seen before. I know the other night you saw Hobgoblins for the first time, which was a treat to watch. What’s the experience been like? And are there any moments or movies that really stand out to you?

It’s really fun. I mean, I think that obviously it’s really fun to see one that I haven’t seen, and there are style things that are really different that they did after I left, that kind of in my mind, feels really foreign to me. So it always takes a little getting used to.

I’ll give you an example. The set is very disorienting to me, the way they lit it, because I think they actually lit the back of the set brighter than the characters. My thinking was always the set is the background plate and you want to light the characters. So that’s always really disorienting to me. It’s kind of shadowy, and the idea was… It’s just a style difference. Right? Nobody seems to notice, but that’s always a little disorienting for me is the way it’s lit, the whole segment.

Were there any movies that if you really wanted to do, but weren’t available for whatever reason, especially for the Netflix seasons?

It doesn’t work like that. We always start with lists of movies that are clearable. We don’t window shop and then tell the lawyers to go talk to other lawyers about clearing a movie, because that never works. So we just start with movies that are available and use that to create the aggregate of what we can go for.

The thankless job of the show is that you have to watch these movies over and over and over and over again. Are there any movies that just didn’t get old for you?

You’re kind of like an animator when you go through it, so it’s manageable. This one movie that I’m kind of billboard-ing as the next Manos, I’m not even sure I want one writing team to manage it, because I think it would bring a lot of despair. So I’m going to break it up between two or three writing groups. They’ll each manage a third of it, and they don’t have to watch the whole thing and be responsible for riffing on the whole thing. That one I’m really concerned about, and I’m going to make it as a challenge, and I’m going to bring it in when everybody’s got their chops. I mean, it’ll probably be the last movie we write for this series just because I want everybody to feel really comfortable and confident that they can get through it.

I was a big fan of the Dark Horse comic series you guys were involved in. Are there any other special projects cooking or that you’re interested in trying down the line?

Joel: The Gizmoplex is fascinating because it is really limitless, the kind of content we can make for it. And the nice thing is we can do events around specific movies. It’s really wide open, and I’m looking forward to that. It could be a vehicle for a lot of our ideas and a lot of the things we want to do.

I mean, one of the things I’d like to do… We experimented a little bit. We did this with the men and women from Critical Role. We did a night where we read the comic book and it was projected on a big screen in a club. We did it at a comedy club in LA, and it worked really great. So I think it’s very likely for us to do more things like that. If we wanted to, we could do the whole comic book series, and break it up, so it’s 20-minute installments that happen before a feature, or a classic episode, et cetera.

***********

In the meantime, as we get closer to the Kickstarter deadline, the MST3K crew are hosting a series of live events online. Most of them are commentary while they watch classic episodes. Here’s what’s going on, leading to the big finale.

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The post MST3K: Joel Hodgson Reveals the Secrets of the Gizmoplex, Teases “the Next Manos” appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3ucxwpD

[rilenerocks]

This is Pete Yorn in a screenshot I took of him yesterday at the end of a livestream concert he’d just performed. I bought a ticket for this show, paying more money than the minimum charge because a portion of the funds collected are being donated to Covid19 relief. I also bought a t-shirt designed especially for this event. I’ll probably get it in a couple of weeks. Pete performed an acoustic version of his breakthrough hit album, Musicforthemorningafter, which was released in 2001. During the pandemic lockdown, Pete has played seventeen live shows on social media platforms like Instagram and Facebook. I’ve watched all of them. On some days, they’ve been the only thing that got me through the murk. So how did I wind up with Pete? I’ll tell the story which is one of those serendipitous little deals that subtly shift the trajectory of a life.

In 2001, I’d never heard of Pete Yorn. He was a 27 year old musician trying to crack his way into the big time recording world. I was coming up on my 50th birthday. I’d been living with Michael since 1972. We were going to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary that May. The previous year we’d made a huge transition in our lives. Michael had decided to leave Record Service, the music business that had been the center of his daily life for 27 years. With the advent of free music downloads from the internet and big box stores selling CD’s for less than the cost of purchasing them from the record labels, the writing was on the wall. The day of the small independent music stores was coming to an end. Michael’s degree in political science wasn’t much use for a practical job. He was 51 years old. So he’d decided to return to college, pick up 30 undergraduate hours of education classes and acquire a teaching degree as a secondary school history teacher. Eventually that move turned into his also adding a master’s degree in US History.

We told our kids about the new plans on our annual holiday trip to Starved Rock State Park. Our daughter was a sophomore in college and our son was in eighth grade. They stared at us, stunned, across the dinner table. A parental job change is a big deal. They loved their cool rock and roll dad who knew everything about music and got great tickets to concerts and sports events through the major record labels.  Going back to college when you’re an old guy? That was a challenge for them. We laughed out loud when our son asked, “are you sure you’re not going to become one of those dads who lays around on the couch all day, drinking beer and watching game shows?” We did our best to reassure them although we too were uncertain about how all this would work out. Michael got his substitute teacher’s certificate and took on as many jobs as he could, teaching everything from kindergarten, to special education to the occasional high school history class. He went to school a few nights a week, studying and writing during the days he wasn’t subbing. Student teaching would be coming up in the fall of 2001, followed by the daunting search for a real teaching position. I was the primary breadwinner, holding things together as we all made our adjustments  together.

Our daughter was a college athlete, playing volleyball for her university in an athletic conference that had other colleges within driving distance of our home. We spent time on the road going to watch her play. Our son was an athlete, too, so his games occupied us as well, Michael attending as many as he could given his demanding schedule.  Spring was a busy time for all of us. Our wedding anniversary was on May 1st. Given the fact that we were living on a modest single income, good sense dictated that we probably should minimize our celebration. But me being me, always with an eye toward the future, pointed out to Michael that we only got one 25th wedding anniversary. Ever convincing, I melted his resolve and off we went on a Caribbean cruise. We sailed on the Norway, a ship that looked romantically like the Titanic, although without the threat of icebergs. It was referred to as the last great ocean liner.

We sailed to the Bahamas where we swam with stingrays at Stingray City, to Roatan for snorkeling and diving off beaches covered with iguanas, and finally to Cozumel where we spent time in a magical water park alive with beautiful fish, birds and exotic sea creatures.

We wound up at the ruins in Tulum, Mexico, where we wandered about, marveling at the incredible turquoise water and the remnants of the fort walls, intended to be impregnable but easily violated by conquistadors whose horses easily vaulted the barriers. While there, we had our wedding date preserved like a Mayan calendar page.

We had a wonderful trip. On our actual anniversary we ate at a small intimate  bistro where Michael, proving himself as fiscally risque as me, slid a box across our table right before dessert with an amethyst ring inside. I remember my shock and my tears. So romantic.

May was a busy time. We returned from our trip and celebrated my 50th birthday. A friend had my yard decorated with 50 flamingoes in honor of the event.

A couple of weeks later, we were off on another adventure. Our son had qualified for the National Spelling Bee for the second year in a row. The local newspaper sponsored the bees leading up to the national one, and paid for that trip. We were joined by our daughter who flew in to Washington, DC because this year was the last for which our son was eligible. We stayed in a beautiful hotel downtown where we were feted in style.

In addition to the spelling there were barbecues, trips to surrounding historic sites and general great fun. Our son wound up in third place, getting his first paycheck at age fourteen. What a glorious time.

Summer came and zoomed by. Michael was still in school and the kids were busy with their activities. Our daughter returned to college in the fall, our son was a high school freshman and Michael was doing his student teaching. In October, our aged dog Sydney, had to be euthanized. We were all heartbroken.

We celebrated Thanksgiving and then winter was upon us. We were going back to Starved Rock after a very full 2001. Pete who?

Fast forward. The year is now 2017. Michael died on May 28th after his five year cancer journey. My son, now a biology postdoc, transferred all Michael’s iTunes files to an external hard drive for safekeeping for me before he returned to his field work in Guam. I was alone in my house. Recovering from the massive fatigue of being Michael’s caregiver, I set myself to the task of planning the large exhibit of Michael’s life which would be held in December of that year. He’d become a well-loved teacher in his unfortunately shortened career and I felt that an event near Christmas would allow former students home from college to attend. This would be a big public gathering. While I worked, I decided I would listen to the 2507 songs on my external hard drive. Michael and I were music lovers our whole lives. When he left the Record Service, he was slightly out of touch with current music but after starting teaching, he quickly developed a class which combined modern American history with film and music. He encouraged his students to share their favorite songs with him and continually added new tunes to his personal library. Although we listened to that library a lot, the music was on shuffle which meant there could be hundreds of songs I’d never hear. I wanted to listen to every single song, our old favorites and the ones he’d picked up during his teaching career. Some were great and others I could’ve done without. One afternoon, I heard Pete Yorn’s Life on a Chain for the first time. I was instantly hooked. One of my habits is that when I like something, I have to consume it. That first day, I probably listened to that song 50 times. Then I listened to the album it came from, Musicforthemorningafter, the big breakthrough for Pete in 2001. I ordered a CD and kept it in my car where I played it every day. I also loaded it onto my phone. There was one track in particular, June, which made me cry the second I heard it. I know this sounds weird but the melody sounded like the inside of Michael’s soul to me. Hard to explain-it’s just how it was.

Eventually, I started listening to more of Pete’s music. I read his biographical information and learned about his family. I started to like him. He said great things about his parents and brothers. I found him attractive. He took awhile before marrying and having a baby. He is unabashedly adoring of his little girl. He talks freely about emotions. I was hooked. I started following him on Instagram so I could keep up with his career. Last year he was performing at the Pageant Theater in St. Louis. My son went to college in that city. He was back from Guam and graciously attended the concert with me. We had great seats and I was elated.

For me, Pete was a gift that Michael left me, like so many other things that I’ve stumbled on since his death. Michael always told me I was the most loyal person he knew. That loyalty extends to those people who I’ll never really know, but feel I do because I’m just strange, I guess. Pete is the musical version of my beloved Roger Federer.

�� When the pandemic hit, Pete began showing up on Instagram to perform live shows from some house in the California desert where he was sheltering with his wife and daughter. He had one acoustic guitar and a piano from his childhood. I can’t tell you how I loved watching him sit right in front of my face for these concerts which he played because he needed to for himself and to help all the shut ins out in the ether. He’d wait for a few hundred people to show up on his feed and then play, tell stories and chat. When it became clear that the pandemic wasn’t going anywhere, he partnered with groups to raise money for Covid19 relief, food pantries and the like. As I noted earlier, he performed 17 times. I missed him when he disappeared for awhile. Then all of a sudden, he announced last Saturday’s concert, a live acoustic stream of the entire Musicforthemorningafter album. Tickets were $15 and up, with each level getting a different perk and again, funds being donated to Covid19 relief. Unique t-shirts and a face mask with the words “Strange Condition,” one of Pete’s song titles emblazoned across the front. I so looked forward to this show and it was everything I dreamed it would be. Personal, empathetic Pete and great music. Nothing fancy, just him. One of the best hour and a halves I’ve ever spent. And I’ve been to more concerts than you can possibly imagine.

When the show was over, Pete asked people to let him know how they felt about it. Lots of people sent him screenshots with decorative, appreciative emojis. I wrote him a note, which is more like me. He took a second to answer me.

  Yup. Me and Pete. Who’d have known. I’ll be his loyal fan until I disappear. Life is full of surprises. Look him up. Have a listen. I hope you like him too. 

Me and Pete This is Pete Yorn in a screenshot I took of him yesterday at the end of a livestream concert he’d just performed.

[trinnyboppers-blog]

Favorite Tomione Stories

Complete

Ultima ratio by Winterblume Ultima ratio - the last resort. At last the day of the Final Battle against Lord Voldemort has come. Harry, Ron and Hermione fight bravely against their nemesis - but then something goes wrong. And Hermione finds herself alone in a precarious situation.

Somewhere in Time by Serpent In Red Sent back in time by a mysterious person and trapped in the past with a missing Dumbledore and an overbearing, charismatic Dark Lord, they had no idea how much they could dabble with before the world they had known shattered into pieces.

Tied for Last By: Speechwriter Hermione is killed by Voldemort, and is now dead. Well, sort of. Turns out that death is a little more complex than she knew... Ignores epilogue and last 50ish pages of DH.

Nightmare by provocative envy COMPLETE: A broken time turner shouldn't have sent me back so far. It was unprecedented. Stepping on it-smashing it-nothing should have happened. At most, I should have lost a week. At worst, I should have disappeared altogether. I shouldn't have traveled back fifty-two years; half a bloody century. This should not have happened. HG/TR.

Masters of Manipulation by Nerys A true manipulator will control the universe, but who will achieve the wanted mastership? Hermione suddenly finds herself opposing Tom Riddle in a quest for knowledge banned by the founders of Hogwarts. Can she stop the heir before he becomes invincible?

Shared Flame by Lady Miya  It all started when two normally clever individuals both had a really lousy day. 

Have You Ever by Lady Moonglow With the war looking bleak, the Golden Trio, Ginny, Draco, and Lavender go back to Tom Riddle's 7th Year to destroy Lord Voldemort once and for all. What Hermione DIDN'T count on, however, is a shared common room, a curse, and a crazy little thing called love.

Daddy Dearest by ImmortalObsession Lady Hermione isn't quite right in the head. Her kingdom resides in a manor full-of-monsters. She has regular conversations with the Devil and fancies a dark knight who wants to kill her in her sleep. If not for the wonderful library, she might have lost her wits completely by now. Instead, she passes the time with music lessons and plots of murder.

The Hogwarts Christmas by OrbNerysDax Christmas is a time of peace and joy, and most of all, presents. Do Tom and Hermione get what they want or what they need?

Romantic Idealism by Meowmers She falls in love with him when she's 12, but by the time she's 17 she wants him dead. For Tom Riddle, its vice versa. Tomione. AU. M for a reason.

A Big Ball of Wibbly-Wobbly by Colubrina The war is over, the good guys have won, and Hermione Granger goes to sleep in her lovely flat only to wake up in 1953 in the bed of someone she'd really much rather were dead. "I'm working on the 'kill Lord Voldemort now, work out the temporal paradox issues later' plan," she tells him. He laughs. Tomione. 

Linen Rope by Brightki Hermione is an upper sixth student at the highly elite Hogwarts School, and she needs extra hours working in the school's science labs for her pre-admission to Oxford the next year. However, she has to get the approval from the chemistry teacher, Dr. Snape, as well as the support of the man in charge of the science department - Dr. Tom Riddle. (Non-Magical/Modern AU)

War Paint by provocative envy  COMPLETE: It was small, slim, about the length of her hand; the leather cover was soft, the sewn-in binding was crisp, and the thick vellum pages were empty. 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' was printed in ancient, flaking gold leaf across the front. He had been a Slytherin, a prefect, and head boy in 1944. She had checked. HG/TR. 

A Nose That Can See by Colubrina Hermione Granger has found herself inexplicably tossed back into time to Tom Riddle's Hogwarts. And he's a Veela and, wouldn't you know it, she's his mate. Could life get worse? But he seems to have an endless supply of out-of-season fruit so it can't be all bad, right? Tomione. Major character death, musical theater, and all that fruit. COMPLETE.

Allure by Meowmers "Granger," He seethed, as if he had any right to be angry while he was covered in blood on her doorstep. "Invite me inside." Her nails dug into the polished wood of the door and she contemplated slamming it in his face. "Absolutely not." Modern Vampire AU. Tomione. Also a splash of Drarry because I needed that in my life rn.

WIPs

Please, Save Me by Winterblume AU Tomione. No time travel no time turners. - 'Are you not scared of him? Tom Riddle has got a rather peculiar reputation. But I'm sure it's all stupid talk. He's Head Boy after all.' - 'What kind of a reputation' - 'Er… he's… well, he seems kinda dark.'

A Fall Through Time by Ariel Riddle A/U Tomione In a future dystopian society, Muggles are enslaved to their Pureblood masters who greedily drain the earth of its resources resulting in humans being on the brink of extinction. Muggleborns are hunted. Hermione must do what she does best-survive and adapt. Until that is, she is given an opportunity to go back to when it all started and rewrite history.

Bodyswitch by Winterblume Hermione's in hell and all her nightmares have come true. She's turned into a brainless bimbo and is failing all her classes quite spectacularly. Her teachers have, in fact, already given up on her and just sit back and watch her flunk all her NEWTs. Yes, it's nothing but hell for Hermione. On the upside, things can hardly get any worse. Right?

unsphere the stars by cocoartist When you can't change time, but you can't go forward, what is left? Hermione learns how to be the protagonist of her own story. [EWE]

Stepbrother by cherry cup  AU. The Grangers adopt a young Tom Riddle, and seal their daughter's fate forever. Set in the 30s-40s. 

Murderer's Maze by ibuzoo A new killer causes a worldwide media sensation by committing crimes so depraved, that they're creating a global panic. Only Special Agent and Consulter Hermione Granger can stop the killer—if she can solve his most complex and terrifying puzzle. Will she see through his game before her time runs out? Or will she lose herself in his maze of terror?

The Prisoner by Nerys Imprisoned, Lord Voldemort is considered a threat of the past. His knowledge is desired by many. Yet, his offer is for one person only: Hermione Weasley-Granger.

Persephone by dulce.de.leche.go Better to be the right hand of the devil than in his path. Better still to be the consort of Hades than a part of his collection of souls. Ten years after Voldemort has won the war, Hermione reaches a breaking point and shreds the flow of time to change her future. If she can't change the world, she will change her place in it. - Extremely dark Tomione/Volmione. Warnings inside.

Bound by Sharkdiver1980  When Hermione is sent back in time to 1947 after attempting to destroy a Horcrux, she finds herself forcefully subjected to a new law, Proclamation no.1682, otherwise known "The Marriage Law". it had obviously been repealed almost as quickly as it was instated, which is why she had never heard of it; The problem was, she had already been assigned a husband. 

Unsinkable by Speechwriter He: a young man long since raised from poverty, now on the verge of inheriting a magnate's business in the 1910s. She: an impoverished young woman on her way to start a new life in America. In short: Tom Marvolo Riddle, Hermione Jean Granger, and one voyage on the RMS Titanic - and how it would change their lives forever.

Hermione's Diary by Radiant Innocence What would happen if Ginny Weasley had never had Tom Riddle's diary? What if the Horcrux still existed, and was found by Hermione? What happens when the Dark Lord becomes intrigued by Hermione, and pulls her into his past? Read and Review!

School Days by Meowmers  They meet on the playground. Ron told her that if she doesn't fight for herself no one will ever leave her alone so she's just trying to follow his advice. "Are you crying?" He asks. She musters all the fury in her 7-year-old body and channels it into her voice when she speaks through the tears. "So what? I'll still kick your arse." Tomione. AU. Rated M for future chapters. 

Oneshots

Professor Riddle by jadepresley “When you have seen as much of life as I have, you will not underestimate the power of obsessive love” - Horace Slughorn

The Black Veil by NerysDax  Samhain: When the veil's at its thinnest, the impossible will occur. Up is down, down is up. Everything can be achieved by those the Goddess values. COMPLETE

The Darkness Sings to Her by Ariel Riddle From beneath the cover of the water, or from behind a rock a ways from the shore, she would find herself lurking behind the waves and sneaking surreptitious glances whenever she could. AU Dark Fairytale with a Tomione twist. Oneshot.

Youth in Retrospect by provocative envy ONE-SHOT: She's buying a box of condoms when she meets him. HG/TR.

Quid nove sub sole by LeanaM "They say history repeats itself, but that is not entirely true. History isn't circular, it is more like a spiral. Similar events may take place over time, but they are never exactly the same. Sometimes they are smaller. Sometimes they are bigger. Sometimes they start the same, but the result is completely different." Historical AU. Dark. Tomione/Gin'n'Tonic. One-shot.

A Lovely Night by Meowmers "Please don't ask me to dance," She said, her fingers fluttering across her skirts, "Societal expectations dictate I must, I'm afraid," He said, and there was something so familiar in the feel of her hand, in the warmth her eyes sent him. CINDERELLA AU THAT LITERALLY NO ONE ASKED FOR BUT I MADE BECAUSE I AM LITERAL TRASH ENJOY 

Master of Mort by PierreJ A place for multiple pairings, romantic one-shot/stories and love with just a splash of angst. Come on, this is me.

Playing Cupid by Meowmers "I'm beginning to think that I would love to hear you scream." Tomione. Regency AU. Rated-M.

-art cred @ariel-riddle (I just played with it)

[swipestream]

Sensor Sweep: Skullsplitter Dice, Fantasy divisions, Future Firearms, Samson Pollen

Fiction (DMR Books): I have a real attachment to the supernatural tales that appeared in what is often called the golden age of the English ghost story.  Ranging from around 1880 to somewhere in the 1920s its boundaries are as vague as its achievements are remarkable.  For a time, in that difficult to imagine world in which fiction had yet to solidify into specific genres, any author might try his or her hand at a tale of the supernatural, writing primarily motivated by the desire, as M.R. James put it, to make the reader feel “pleasantly uncomfortable.”  While dozens of authors who would later distinguish themselves

  Genre (Perilous Worlds): Sometimes it seems like the myriad sub-divisions of the fantasy genre cause more confusion than clarity. Terms like Epic and High Fantasy are often used interchangeably, labels like Sword-and-Sorcery and Dark Fantasy are commonly applied indiscriminately, and books with seemingly nothing in common can be found right next to one another in the fantasy section. A novel set in modern times featuring a heroic, magic-wielding protagonist and one set in a medieval-flavored secondary world devoid of the supernatural and concerned with the selfish adventures of an amoral rogue are both works of fantasy – but if only one of those sounds like a book you’d want to read, it helps to be familiar with the broad categories of contemporary fantasy.

  Weapons (Future War Stories): Any leap forward in design, fashion, and/or technology can be greeted as the harbinger of the future or a laughing stock by the masses. While this can be applied to personal electronics, clothing, and architecture; it can also be applied to firearms. During the 1980’s, the western nations invested heavily in advancing weapons technology to overcome the numerical superior of the Warsaw Pact. This was the time of cutting edge weapon system like the Apache attack helicopter, the M1 Abrams, the Steyr AUG, night vision, laser sights, and the H&K G11.

  Weapons (DMR Books): Hank Reinhardt would have turned eighty-five today. Though I never knew him personally, Hank affected my life in some unique ways and he shall receive due honor from me for that. If you don’t know who Hank Reinhardt was, check out the hyperlink above or read on.

I first learned of Mr. Reinhardt when I bought the DAW sword and sorcery anthology–quite possibly the greatest ever published–Heroic Fantasy. Hank was co-editor of that book along with Gerald W. Page.

  Art (CBC News): Semi-nude women, sadistic soldiers, and animal attacks aren’t exactly high art.

Yet those were themes that appealed to the millions of men who read “sweat magazines” — adventure digests sold across North America from the 1940s to the 1970s​.

Publications like Man’s Story, World of Men, and Man’s Epic weren’t exactly pornographic — but were the opposite of politically correct.

  Authors (Socialist Jazz): Theodore Sturgeon was by all accounts a confounding personality, genial, personally irresponsible, questioning many of the more basic matters of human relations, perception and emotion, and a man who could certainly write a sentence…and then be hung up by how badly he’d done so for years-long writer’s blocks. And yet managed to be very prolific over a long if troubled career.

          Art (Mens Pulp Mags): Simply put, Samson Pollen was one of the greatest of the many artists who provided illustrations for the men’s adventure magazines (MAMs) that flourished from the early 1950s to the late 1970s.

My publishing partner Wyatt Doyle and I had the good fortune and the honor of working with Sam on two books featuring his artwork before he passed away in December of 2018.

The first, POLLEN’S WOMEN: THE ART OF SAMSON POLLENwas published last year. It quickly became one of the best-selling books in our Men’s Adventure Library series, which features classic MAM stories and artwork.

  Fiction (Perilous Worlds): If you love The Hobbit and The Lord of the Ringsand want to follow the third road of the J. R. R. Tolkien fantasy triad, these first words of The Silmarillion might trick you into putting the book back on the “May Read … Someday” shelf, right beside War and Peace and Les Misérables.

I’m making a plea for you not to shelve it. Or for you to reach up to the shelf and take down Professor Tolkien’s 1977 volume of the Elder Days of Middle-Earth and try again. Too many people have let The Silmarillion’s reputation for difficulty—and its actual difficulty—keep them away from discovering what may be one of their favorite works of fantasy.

  Fiction (Tellers of Weird Tales): A month ago I wrote about Vikings and other medieval subjects on the cover ofWeird Tales, and out of that I received a couple of comments from readers about Viking fantasy stories. That got me thinking that there may be a missed sub-sub-genre of fantasy and science fiction dealing with those men and women of the north, with their winged and horned helmets, long, braided hair, conical breastplates, and raiments of hide and fur. So here is a first shot at stories of Vikings and Norsemen, with some also of Saxons, Geats, Goths, and other early northern Europeans thrown into the mix.

  History (Men of the West): The Turk has long been known as the “sick man of Europe,” and the story of the Ottoman Empire for a hundred years has been a tale of gradual dismemberment. Thus it is no easy matter for us to realize that for centuries the Ottoman power was the terror of the civilized world.

It was in 1358 that the Ottomans seized Gallipoli, on the Dardanelles, and thus obtained their first footing in Europe. They soon made themselves masters of Philippopolis and Adrianople. A crusading army, gathered to drive the Asiatic horde from Europe, was cut to pieces by the Sultan Bajazet at Nicopolis in 1396. On the day after the battle ten thousand Christian prisoners were massacred before the Sultan, the slaughter going on from daybreak till late in the afternoon. The Turk had become the terror of Europe.

  Authors (A Shiver in the Archives): The legend* has altered in the retelling, from a slip found in Robert E. Howard’s wallet after his suicide in June 1936, to it being the last thing Howard typed on his typewriter before going out to his car where he shot himself in the head. The couplet is now legendary:

All fled, all done, so lift me on the pyre; The feast is over and the lamps expire.

Rusty Burke published an article “All Fled, All Done” in The Dark Man: The Journal of Robert E. Howard Studies (Winter 2001), in which he identified Howard’s source for the final line of the couplet, a poem titled “The House of Cæsar” by Viola Garvin, which appeared in a poetry anthology Songs of Adventure (1926), edited by Robert Frothingham.  Each of the five stanzas of the poem ends with the line “The Feast is over and the lamps expire!”

  Gaming (Table Top Gaming News): These little gems are one of my favorite things, and so when Skullsplitter Dice asked if I’d like to review one of their sets, and not only that, their first-ever limited edition set, I was like, “(censored) YEAH!!” So, they sent me some dice. I rolled them around a bit, and I’m here to let you know about it.

It’s time for another TGN Review. This time, it’s the Huntress Limited Edition Dice from Skullsplitter Dice.

  Cinema (Kairos): In my work as a freelance editor, I’ve noticed a common tendency among the current crop of science fiction authors to write books as if they’re writing movies. That practice is understandable since most science fiction and fantasy novels published after 1980 suck, and therefore today’s authors are disproportionately influenced by film.

However, writing a novel by playing a little movie in your head and transcribing what you see in your mind’s eye hobbles the final product. Because this generation of authors don’t read as much as their forebears did, few of them realize the storytelling advantages that books have over movies.

  Fiction (Cirsova): Per Michael Tierney, the original fragment that Burroughs wrote was just found this morning.

Apparently, Danton Burroughs had sent it to be transcribed by Bill Hillman of ERBzine.com, who has announced today in a thread on the ERBzine facebook group that it is still in his possession!

Danton sent me this ERB handwritten script. I typed it out and returned the typed copy to him. He offered it to a few writers to see if they would be interested in finishing it. I still have the handwritten copy plus my transcription.

We have updated the copy in the original piece.

Cirsova’s spring issue featuring Young Tarzan and the Mysterious She is available for digital pre-order now and physical pre-order in February.

  Fiction (Glorious Trash): I had a tough time with this third volume of Conan. In fact I read it over a year ago, but at the time I found myself skimming the collected stories, to the point that when I “finished” the book I didn’t have any idea how to review it! So I waited a while until getting back to the series, only to find my interest again sagging at times.

    Sensor Sweep: Skullsplitter Dice, Fantasy divisions, Future Firearms, Samson Pollen published first on https://medium.com/@ReloadedPCGames