#author: porcelain elephants

[arwenlalaith]

Rituals of a Most Bizarre Sort

Ship: Marian Brook/Larry Russell

Summary: The day has finally arrived: the day Larry and Marian must confess everything to his mother... Neither is all that enthused by the prospect.

Word Count: 871

Author's Note: Written for @totallovestrucksimp who kindly prompted me!

When Marian goes to the tailor that afternoon, she’s very nearly trembling, wringing her hands nervously. She knows it’s aggravating the seamstress, judging by the number of times she’s been poked with a straight pin (and the enthusiasm with which said seamstress seemed to be stabbing her).

“Why are you so nervous?” Aunt Ada asks her with that smile she has that seems to hint that she knows more about what’s going on than she’s officially supposed to know.

“No reason,” Marian is quick to insist. Too quick.

Ada raises a brow, clearly buying none of it. “You could save us all quite a lot of time, Marian, Dear, if you just tell me what’s going on,” she said.

Her cheeks immediately flush bright pink, the effort of keeping a secret finally boiling over. “Okay, but you have to promise not to tell Aunt Agnes!” she pleads.

While she didn’t seem particularly thrilled by the prospect of lying to her sister, she wasn’t altogether disappointed by the notion of knowing gossip before her sister. “I promise,” she eventually vows.

Marian inhales, exhales slowly before she finally seemed to work up the courage to confess, “Today’s the day Larry and I tell his mother we’ve been courting.”

In the next moment, Ada bursts out laughing, which seemed to displease Marian very much. “I’m sorry, Dear, I really am,” she apologizes once the giggles start to peter out, “I just think it’s very naive of you to think she isn’t already fully aware.”

Opening her mouth and then just as quickly closing it, Marian spends a few moments debating how best to have the last word. “Well, be that as it may,” she eventually manages to sputter, “It’s the first time we’ll be in the same room since Larry and I...” She trails off with a vague hand gesture that was supposed to indicate everything that was the Met’s opening night.

“And you fear it won’t go over well?” Ada asks.

She supposed she probably should have been nervous, considering Bertha’s larger than life personality...and temper. But she just couldn’t seem to muster the emotion. Maybe because she’d never really been a shrinking violet. Maybe because she didn’t particularly care whether Bertha liked her. Afterall, she’d gotten this far in life without her approval and it wasn’t as if Larry seemed to crave her approval either.

Maybe it would all be fine.

Maybe.

...

Marian settles onto one of the ornate sofas in the Russell drawing room, doing her best to keep the appropriate space between herself and Larry as he sits next to her lest they give away the surprise too soon. (Briefly, she wonders where the elephant in the room plans to sit...)

One of the maids sets a tea tray on the coffee table before making a hasty exit – almost as if she knows all hell is about to break loose. (And, given the way the servants talk, Marian wouldn’t have been surprised if that were true.)

Larry politely hands her a cup of tea and she hates the way her hands tremble slightly with nerves, fearing the clatter of porcelain on porcelain would give her away. Either way, she smiles her thanks and takes a sip, more for something to do with her hands than any actual desire for tea.

“So...” Bertha says leadingly when no one says anything for so long that it becomes uncomfortable, “It’s finally come to this?”

Marian frowns as she scans the statement for some kind of judgment or perhaps even condemnation. She finds none, but still isn’t sure how to reply. She glances over at Larry in search of some kind of clue as to how to proceed, but finds none – he seems just as clueless as to what she’d meant by that as she was.

“Pardon?” she says as Bertha only grows more smug with each passing minute of discomfort.

“You didn’t really think you were being subtle, did you?” she asks.

“Oh, umm...” Marian stammers awkwardly, eyes going wide as she quickly calculates all the possible meanings of the sentence. “I don’t... I wasn’t...” She winces at her sudden inability to complete a thought.

Larry offers her a small smile, silently encouraging her to finish her sentence, eternally patient with her (even when perhaps he shouldn’t have been...say during all that time she spent engaged to Dashiell when he had been long-sufferingly waiting across the street.)

Marian inhales, exhales, slowly in an effort to calm herself, though she doubts it will be enough with the way Bertha continues to stare expectantly at them. “What I’m trying to say is that, well...Larry and I...” She trails off once again as she couldn’t quite bring herself to say that actual word.

Finally, seeming to take pity on them, Bertha supplies the final words, “You’re courting.”

Breaking his patient silence, Larry yelps, “You knew!?”

She gives him a pointed look that seems to say ‘I’m your mother, of course I knew’.

“And you... You’re not...displeased?” Marian finally manages to finish a thought.

Bertha just gives her that seemingly all-knowing smile she’s perfected over the years. “Believe me, Dear, I should be thanking you – I finally have Agnes Van Rhijn right where I want her.”

[pandianks]

7 Effective Home Remedies for Constipation: Natural Solutions That Work

Post written by Pandian KS, on September 6, 2024

Please visit the author’s blog, Pure Remedy Solutions to read several compelling posts on home remedies for various healthcare concerns.

Introduction: Understanding Constipation and Its Common Causes

Constipation Stock photos by Vecteezy

Ah, constipation—the dreaded enemy of digestive health. We've all been there, sitting on the porcelain throne, desperately wishing for a bowel movement that seems more elusive than a unicorn at a magic show. But fear not! We're here to break down the common causes of constipation and maybe even crack a smile or two along the way.

First off, let's talk about those sneaky culprits behind your bowel movement issues. Lack of fiber in your diet? Guilty as charged. It's like sending your intestines to work without any tools—nothing gets done! And don't even get me started on dehydration. Your colon needs water to keep things moving smoothly; otherwise, it's like trying to slide down a dry Slip 'N Slide—not fun!

Stress is another major player in this game of digestive sabotage. When you're anxious or stressed out, your body goes into "fight or flight" mode, and let's just say your bowels choose "flight." They're not sticking around for that drama!

Now, before you run off to buy every laxative known to mankind, consider some home remedies for constipation that might just do the trick. A warm cup of coffee can sometimes kickstart those sluggish intestines—think of it as giving them their morning caffeine fix. Prunes are another classic remedy; they're nature's candy with a mission: Operation Smooth Move.

So next time you're dealing with constipation woes, remember you’re not alone—and there's always humor (and prunes) to help you through it!

1. The Power of Hydration: Why Drinking Water is Essential

Drinking Water Stock photos by Vecteezy

Let's talk about water. No, not the kind you swim in or the kind that ruins your hair on a rainy day – we're talking about the glorious, life-giving liquid that keeps our bodies functioning like well-oiled machines. If you're not convinced of its superpowers yet, buckle up because hydration is about to blow your mind.

First off, let's address the elephant in the room: constipation. Yes, folks, we're going there. If you've ever found yourself praying for a natural remedy while clutching your stomach and cursing last night's cheese binge, then you know what I mean. Staying hydrated can be your knight in shining armor here! Adequate water intake helps keep things moving smoothly through your digestive system – consider it nature’s very own plumbing service.

But wait, there's more! Water isn’t just for solving bathroom dilemmas; it’s also key to keeping you feeling fresh and fabulous all day long. Imagine trying to run a marathon with no fuel – that's what it's like when you deprive yourself of proper hydration. Your body needs water to function at its best; it's like giving your cells a high-five every time you take a sip.

And let’s not forget those beauty benefits! Want glowing skin without shelling out big bucks on fancy creams? Drink more water! It’s nature’s cheapest skincare secret. Plus, staying hydrated means fewer headaches and more energy – so you'll be ready to tackle anything from work meetings to impromptu dance parties.

So next time you're tempted to skip that glass of H2O for something less virtuous (looking at you, triple-shot espresso), remember this: hydration is essential for keeping everything from your bowels to your brain working properly. Cheers to that!

2. Fiber-Rich Foods to Include in Your Diet

Let's talk about everyone's favorite dinner table topic: fiber! Yes, that magical nutrient that keeps our plumbing in check. If you've ever found yourself in a bit of a bind (pun intended), you know the struggle of needing more fiber foods for constipation relief. So, let's dive into some high-fiber diet must-haves that'll have your digestive system singing praises.

First up, fruits and vegetables for digestion are your best friends. Apples, pears, and berries are not only delicious but also packed with dietary fiber benefits that'll keep things moving smoothly. And don't forget about the leafy greens—spinach and kale aren't just for rabbits; they're essential for a happy gut!

Next on the list is the humble legume family. Beans, lentils, and chickpeas might be small, but they pack a mighty fiber punch. Plus, they give you an excuse to make endless batches of hummus—who could complain about that?

And let’s not overlook whole grains like oats and quinoa. These grains are like tiny superheroes fighting off constipation one bite at a time. Just imagine them wearing little capes as they swoop through your digestive tract.

So there you have it! A high-fiber diet doesn't have to be boring or bland. With these tasty options on your plate, you'll be well on your way to enjoying all the dietary fiber benefits while keeping things light-hearted and fun—just like this blog post!

3. The Benefits of Regular Exercise on Digestive Health

Exercise Stock photos by Vecteezy

Let’s be honest: no one wakes up in the morning and thinks, "Gee, I can’t wait to do squats so my digestive system can thank me later!" But here’s the scoop—regular exercise does wonders for your digestive health. That's right, folks! Those burpees and lunges aren't just for sculpting those glutes; they’re also your gut's best friend.

First off, let’s talk about exercise and digestion. Imagine your intestines as that lazy cousin who only gets off the couch when there's pizza involved. Physical activity is like waving a box of hot pepperoni pizza in front of them—it gets things moving! Whether it’s a brisk walk or an intense HIIT session, getting your body moving helps food travel through your digestive tract more efficiently.

Now, onto physical activity for constipation relief. Ever felt like you’re carrying around a brick in your stomach? Yeah, not fun. Regular workouts can help prevent that uncomfortable scenario by keeping things regular down there. Think of it as giving Mother Nature a gentle nudge to keep everything flowing smoothly.

But don’t worry; you don’t have to turn into a gym rat overnight. Simple workout routines like yoga or even dancing around your living room (we won’t judge) can make all the difference. So next time you feel sluggish or bloated, skip the extra fiber supplements and opt for some good ol’ fashioned exercise instead.

In conclusion, while hitting the gym might not sound as appealing as binge-watching Netflix with a bag of chips, remember that regular physical activity is doing double duty—not just toning those muscles but also turning your digestive system into a well-oiled machine!

4. Naturally Effective Herbal Teas to Relieve Constipation

Ah, constipation—the party pooper of bodily functions. If you’ve ever found yourself spending way too much quality time with your bathroom tiles, you’re not alone. But fear not! There’s a natural hero ready to swoop in and save the day: herbal teas. Yes, those humble little leaves can be your best friends when it comes to getting things moving again.

First up on our roster of herbal tea remedies is the mighty Senna tea. This natural laxative tea is like the personal trainer for your intestines—no slacking allowed! It gets right to work, encouraging your bowels to do their thing with a gentle nudge (or sometimes a firm push).

Next, we have Peppermint tea. Not only does it leave you feeling minty fresh, but its soothing properties can help relax those tight muscles in your digestive tract. Think of it as a spa day for your insides—candles and soft music optional.

Then there’s Ginger tea, the spicy superstar that’s been hailed for centuries as a go-to remedy for all sorts of tummy troubles. Its anti-inflammatory properties make it one of the most effective herbal solutions for bowel movements. Plus, it's got that zingy kick to wake up even the laziest gut.

And let’s not forget Dandelion root tea—a lesser-known but no less potent player in the natural laxatives league. This earthy brew acts like an internal broomstick, sweeping through and clearing out any blockages with surprising efficiency.

So next time you're stuck (literally), ditch those over-the-counter meds and brew yourself some herbal goodness instead. Your bowels—and bathroom tiles—will thank you!

5. The Role of Probiotics in Promoting Healthy Digestion

Let's talk about the unsung heroes of our digestive system—probiotics. These little guys are like the party planners of your gut, making sure everything runs smoothly and everyone's having a good time. Imagine your intestines as a bustling nightclub, and probiotics are the bouncers ensuring only the beneficial bacteria for digestion get in while kicking out the troublemakers causing constipation.

Ever had one too many slices of pizza and felt like you've swallowed a brick? That's where probiotics for constipation relief come to the rescue. These gut health supplements swoop in like tiny superheroes, breaking down that cheesy fortress and restoring order in your digestive tract.

So next time you're feeling backed up or just want to keep your gut grooving, remember to invite some probiotics to the party. Your stomach will thank you, and who knows? You might even feel light enough to bust a move!

6. Avoiding Processed Foods and Sugary Drinks: A Key to Better Digestion

Ever wonder why your stomach feels like it's auditioning for a percussion solo after binge-eating processed foods and sugary drinks? Well, my friend, welcome to the not-so-glamorous world of digestive drama. Let's dive into why avoiding these culprits can be your ticket to a happier gut.

First off, processed foods are like that unreliable friend who promises to help you move but never shows up. They look appealing with their bright packaging and convenience, but once inside your body, they wreak havoc on your digestion. The lack of fiber and nutrients in processed foods makes them about as useful as a chocolate teapot when it comes to keeping things moving smoothly through your system.

And let's not forget sugary drinks—oh boy! These sweet temptations might taste heavenly, but they're like sending an RSVP for bowel issues. High sugar content can lead to bloating and gas faster than you can say "carbonated catastrophe." Plus, they mess with your blood sugar levels, leaving you feeling more sluggish than a sloth on a Sunday afternoon.

So what's the solution? Healthy eating habits! Think of whole foods as the superheroes of digestion. They're packed with fiber, vitamins, and minerals that keep everything running like a well-oiled machine. Plus, they're delicious—who knew broccoli could be so satisfying?

In conclusion: ditch the processed foods and sugary drinks if you want to avoid turning your digestive system into an ongoing soap opera. Your gut will thank you—and you'll save yourself from some seriously awkward moments!

7. The Importance of Establishing a Routine Bathroom Schedule

Let’s talk about something that doesn’t get enough love: the humble bathroom schedule. Yes, folks, it's high time we give a standing ovation (preferably not while on the toilet) to the idea of a regular bathroom schedule. Because let’s face it, nobody wants to be caught in an "emergency" situation at the worst possible moment—like during your boss's big presentation or right when you’re about to binge-watch your favorite show.

First off, let's address why training your bowels is as important as training for a marathon. Consistent bathroom habits mean fewer surprises and more predictability in life. Imagine being able to plan your day without wondering if you’ll need an impromptu pit stop! It’s like having a superpower but for your digestive system.

Now, how do you establish this glorious routine? Start by picking a time each day when nature usually calls and stick to it like glue. Your bowels are creatures of habit—they love consistency almost as much as they love Taco Tuesdays. With some dedication, you'll have them trained better than Pavlov's dogs in no time.

So next time someone says you're full of it, proudly nod and say, “Yes, but only at 8 AM sharp!”

Conclusion : Embrace These Home Remedies Today For Lasting Relief From Constipation

Alright, folks, let’s wrap this up with a bow (or should we say a bow-el?). If you've been following along, you now have a treasure trove of home remedies for constipation that are bound to keep your plumbing in tip-top shape.

First off, who knew prunes could be such overachievers? They're like the superheroes of the fruit world—one bite and they’re off to save the day! And let’s not forget our good old friend fiber. It’s basically nature's broomstick, sweeping through your digestive tract like it’s on a mission from gut heaven.

And water—oh sweet H2O—never underestimate its power. Think of it as the lubricant for your internal machinery. Without it, those gears just aren’t going to turn smoothly.

Yoga poses for constipation? Yes, please! Downward Dog isn't just for showing off at yoga class anymore; it's here to help you in ways you never imagined. So go ahead and embrace these home remedies today. Your intestines will thank you with every smooth move they make. Remember: A happy gut is a happy life!

Please click Home Remedies for Constipation for a more engaging and comprehensive post on this topic.

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author:  Porcelain Elephants

Prompt:  A lucky penny; dark cave; flexibility

Group: B

-

Flowers for Her Grave

Izzy French didn't believe in luck, whether it was in the form of horseshoes, shiny copper pennies, or anything else.  After all, she had little reason to.   She was stuck keeping her father's flower shop afloat in a town she thought she'd never return to after she left for college.  If there was any luck in the universe, Izzy would be a librarian somewhere by now.  Her mother wouldn't have died of cancer when she was six, leaving her with a man who couldn't care for himself let alone her.  Papa would stare blankly ahead for months, his hand on his drink, his mind on his dead wife, and not on the little girl who needed him.    

So Izzy had made her own luck.   Even when her heart ached for a simpler life, one that didn't involve cooking lessons from Granny or sitting with her homework at the flower shop counter, learning geometry as she cut roses, she kept going.  She kept herself afloat and grew up fast like the heroes in her storybooks, although Izzy hoped only to see the world and for a library of her own to run one day instead of magical powers or grand adventures.  (Secretly, Izzy thought she deserved powers, a little compensation from the universe for the hand she'd been dealt,  but Izzy knew fairness like luck and magic was nonexistent.) She'd thought she'd done it for a while, found a way to force the world to work in her favor.   But then Papa had his heart attack her Junior year of college and everything she'd so tirelessly built came crashing down.  

Still not everything is bad, Izzy thinks to herself as the bell on the shop door rings.  She wipes her hands on her ragged jeans and looks up at her Tuesday regular.   He's been coming here every Tuesday for as long as she remembered, precisely at 11:30 like clockwork.   Most people would be frightened of Mr. Gold given his reputation (a reputation she's sure he's helped manufactured),  but Izzy can't fear a mourning man though.  

Gold looks better than usual today.  His fingers are still white from how tightly he's gripping his cane, but his limp is less pronounced today.   His hair frames his face, instead of completely covering it.  He has a blue pocket square, as opposed to a black one.   There are a hundred little things that let Izzy know today is a good day, or at least as good a Tuesday as she's ever seen.  

"The usual, Mr. Gold?" She asks with a smile.  It's not hard to smile at him on good days.  On bad days, she barely forces herself to.  A part of her just wants to hold him, cradle him to her chest and never let him go.  She can't explain why.  Their interactions are short, and he's never sought her affection. But still, Izzy wants to give it to him, wants to know him.  

"Do you have anything a little brighter today?" Gold doesn't meet her eyes.  He never does.

"I'm sure we can find something.  Otherwise, we always have your roses."  She turns her back to him and lays out the blue paper for the bouquet before she asks her next question.  Their relationship has always been an odd one.  He occasionally offers her answers that make her own heart twist in her chest, but she can carry some of his pain, especially if he offers it so hesitantly, coded in answers to simple question.  

"What sort of flowers do you have in mind?"

"She was wearing gold the day we met.   She looked radiant, like a brief flicker of light in an ocean of darkness, and her smile..." Gold trails off as if he remembers she’s still listening.  

Izzy doesn’t push him; she never does.  She knows the rest of the town hasn't heard Gold talk about his wife because they would never be able to believe he was a heartless monster after that.  He speaks so reverently.  

"If it was summer, I'd recommend sunflowers even if they are untraditional, or more so because from what I'd heard she'd like untraditional."  She sees a tentative smile.  "However I think daffodils will do nicely."    

Every Tuesday Izzy waits with a bouquet of roses at the ready.  Occasionally, he’ll need delphinium (because they remind him of her eyes), daisies (because she always insisted they were lucky), snapdragons (because she’d drag him into their garden to dance barefoot as soon as they bloomed) or lilacs (because they’re her favorite).  But most of the time, it’s red roses, a symbol of both love and the first gift he ever gave her.  He offers these tidbits tentatively, but Izzy treasures them.  

When school is out for the summer, his son joins them, a little boy with deep brown eyes like his father.  Gold speaks little of his dead wife when Gideon is around, always staying strong even on the days when Izzy just wants to usher him into the backroom so he can just sit and cry in peace.  Not that he’ll take her up on the offer for even something as simple as tea.   They keep going, their lives completely separate, except for every Tuesday when Izzy finds herself falling a little more in love with a man who loves so deeply that he’s already buried his heart.  

Until suddenly their lives aren’t so separate anymore.  

Gold practically races into Game of Thorns as soon as it opens, the door slamming behind him. Maybe it’s because she isn’t properly awake yet, but Gold looks different.  He doesn’t lean as heavily on his cane and there’s a certain swagger in his step.  But mostly it’s his eyes.  They’re the happiest she’s ever seen them, like he’s found hope again.  He studies her face desperately.  If Izzy didn’t know any better, she’d think he was trying to memorize it.  

“I’m surprised to see you here on a Friday, Mr. Gold.”  

He gives her a half-grin. “I simply couldn’t wait.”

Izzy wonders what sort of day it is that he needs flowers so desperately.  She searches for memory for anything important.  She’s clung to the dates the way she clung to his flower choices; everything just seems so important. But there’s never been a day that makes him this happy.  All of the dates with his wife - their anniversary, their first meeting, their first date, her birthday, the day she died – those days make him shrivel into himself.   This is something different.  

“There seems to be a newcomer to town, a Miss Emma Swan.”  Gold stares at her intently.  He looks her in the eyes despite always avoiding the eye contact before.

Izzy taps her fingers against the counter.  She feels like Gold just said something important, like he’s telling her the secret to her happiness.   And she wants to remember desperately but there’s nothing there.  Just the beginnings of a headache.  

“Belle?”  He whispers the name like a prayer, speaking as reverently as he does when he’s talking about his wife.

Izzy’s confusion evaporates instantly.  She wants to scream.  He’s been here every week for years.   She’s practically fallen in love with him and he doesn’t even know her name.  

She points to her name tag far more aggressively than strictly necessary. “Izzy.   My name is Izzy.  Not even my father calls me Isabelle anymore, and no one’s ever called me Belle.”  

He steps away from the counter like he’s been burned.   “Of course, Izzy.  I didn’t mean anything- I just…”

She’s seen him lose his focus before,  heard his sentences trail off in a million difference ways.  But this time feels different.  In the past,  Izzy knew exactly where the pain was coming from, a small grave covered in flowers and books, a life half-lived and a grieving family. She understands that sort of pain.  She’s prepared flowers for every funeral in Storybrooke since her own mother’s.   This pain is something completely different.  

When Gold leaves just as quickly as he came, Izzy can’t help but feel  like it’s her fault.  When he doesn’t come to the shop on Tuesday,  her guilt grows.

On Wednesday, Izzy leaves her father in charge of the shop (It is after all his shop even if it would be bankrupt without her.  He can handle a few hours.)  She grabs the bouquet of roses and marches toward main street.  She figures it’s late enough that Gold will have dropped Gideon off at school and returned to his shop.  

Izzy pauses outside, the sudden reality of the situation hitting her.  She has never entered his domain before, even when the show windows contain something that piques her interest.  Their friendship has always been a fragile thing, stolen hours when a broken man allows himself to be seen.  It didn’t seem fair to force that sort of thing on him.   But still, even though Gold knows nothing about her, she can’t let him run away from this.   Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.  Izzy forces herself to push the door open.

“I’ll be with you shortly“ Gold exits his backroom at the sound of the bells, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees exactly who his new customer is.  Clearly he hadn’t expected to see her.  Part of her wants to laugh at the comical look of shock on his face, but she’s far too nervous for that.

“I thought you would want these.”  She holds up the flowers weakly.  

“Izzy.”  This time it’s her name that’s said like a prayer, like it’s something special, like she’s special.    

“I didn’t like where we left things last week.”  Her voice is small and hesitant. She wishes she’d thought this through more.   Izzy had just acted.  

“I didn’t either.  I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome back.”  

Gold shifts his weight from side to side and she briefly wonders if that hurts his bum leg at all.

“Of course, you’re welcome back.   What would we do without our number one customer?”  

The smile he gives her doesn’t quite reach his eyes.    “Would you like to stay for a while?   I have tea in the back.”  

Izzy agrees without hesitation, because even though there’s something new between them, this is what she’s always wanted.    

Tea comes more often after that and the conversations get easier.  Izzy hears him laugh for the first time at a silly joke she made, and it feels like there might be a chance for them after all.  They talk about everything, books, music, art, but the conversation always swings back around to Gideon.    The boy is eight and the brightest part of his father’s world. Gold seems desperate to share every bit of Gideon’s life with her.   She learns how much he loves history and sleeping in dinosaur footed pajamas, how he only eats his sandwiches with the crust cut off and how he follows around Henry Mills like he’s a prince.  

"He’s a good kid." Izzy remarks after hearing another of the boys’ fantastical adventures.  

"Remarkable considering who raised him."  

She doesn't know why she leans toward him, but Izzy cups his cheek like she's done it a million times before.  "You know as well as I do that there’s always the possibility to be better than our parents. Their actions do not define us.”  

The earthquake shook the flower shop. Only a few of the vases were broken, so overall not too bad.   Izzy would have been able to go about her day if it hadn’t been for Gold bursting in looking out of his mind with worry.

“Gideon.  He’s gone.  I can’t find him.”  The poor man is close to hyperventilating, barely keeping himself upright.    “I can’t lose him.  I can’t do this again.”  

Izzy hugs him tightly to her and kissing his head.   She takes the keys from him and helps usher him to the Cadillac.  She can’t explain the ache that’s going through her own body. Every inch of her feels like its screaming, but she needs to be the calm one for this.  Izzy drives to the newly formed sinkhole on the edge of town.  The crowd is already fairly large.  Sheriff Graham and his new deputy are already hard at work trying to find a way to rescue Dr. Hopper, Henry and his little shadow, Gideon.  

Despite her small stature, Izzy can’t find a hole small enough to sneak through. She knows it’s dangerous, but she would gladly contort her body into whatever shape necessary just to get her son back.  No her mind corrected.  Gold's son.   All the stories in the world don’t make you his mother.  You've only met the boy a few times.  You need to stay strong for him.  He's already lost one child; he can't lose another.  Izzy doesn’t know where that last thought came from. Gold never told her about another son, but she knows.  She’s never been more certain of anything.  

So Izzy cradles him and whispers soothing words as they wait.   She asks the necessary questions when it’s clear Gold’s worry for his son makes him more prone to violence toward the mayor than usual.  Something neither of them need, because for once they’re on the same side.  

When  Emma is hoisted the last few feet out of the elevator shaft, two scared boys clinging to her, Gold’s face is positively alight with love for his son.  Gold must not be thinking about his own limitations, because he runs and picks up the boy like he’s still a small child, cradling him close and peppering his face with kisses.  

Izzy tries to stand as close as she can without intruding on the moment.    This is not her family as much as she longs for it to be.  Gold has a wife.  Yes she lies in a cemetery with flowers Izzy helped pick out, but there’s no doubt in Izzy’s mind that Gold still loves his wife. Izzy can’t replace her, and she fears how much she wants to.  Even now, despite not knowing him, Izzy longs to embrace Gideon too, to check over every inch of his body to make sure he is truly okay.    

Maybe one day, they can be a family, she thinks to herself as she trudges back to the car.  One day she’ll be worthy to stand in his wife’s footsteps.   But for now, Izzy counts herself lucky she gets to stand so close, lucky for tea with Mr. Gold and stories of Gideon.  

-

[zutaralesbian]

Tag people you want to get to know better. Thanks for the tag @tridentarius ❤️

Favourite time of the year: It used to be Christmas time. Call me corny but I genuinely love seeing lights everywhere and having a Christmas tree set up in the house. However��not to be overly personal and depressing, but I don’t think I quite feel the same way about Christmas (or just the holidays in general) since my brother died. I always get strongly reminded of his absence, more so than usual :( So nowadays I think it’s probably summer time. I hate cold weather and I live in an area where it gets pretty damn cold in the winter and fall.

Comfort foods: My mom’s spaghetti. It was my favorite meal growing up.

Do you collect anything: Nope. I used to collect elephants though. And I still have a bunch of porcelain elephants, partially because my grandma gave them to me before she passed.

Favourite drinks: Soda. Particularly Pepsi. It’s a horrible addiction that I really need to lay off of tbh

Favorite music artists: I hate music questions because my taste is all over the place. But lately I’ve been digging a lot of stuff from the 70’s and 80’s. Again, call me basic if you want lol

Current favourite songs: See above answer

Favourite fics: 90% of the time I read fic for shippy purposes. So almost all of my faves are romance lol. I’m just going to take a peak at my ao3 bookmarks and list 5, each one for a different ship.

1. A Saint’s Just A Sinner by killingsaray - An AU Villaneve fic with priest! Eve and temptation! Villanelle. Also just all of the Villaneve fics from this author tbh.

2. sideways by whaticameherefor: Gallavich canon divergent fic after/during S6. My favorite of its breed.

3. I’m still here by owedbetter: Zutara canon divergent after The Southern Raiders. Usually post-canon is more my speed for Zutara canon adjacent fics but this one is my biggest exception. It’s so lovely and well-written.

4. a fleeting moment by thchateaus: Daensa (Sansa/Daenerys) fic that is essentially a re-write of S8 of GoT. It pains me to rec anything GoT related but this is one of the more recent fics that I read and it’s so good. It left an impact on me.

5. Strong Enough To Bind by Magnetism_bind: The Black Sails AU where Eleanor doesn’t die and ends with Eleanor/Max/Anne ot3. Aka the Black Sails fic of my dreams lol

favourite video games: I don’t play a lot of video games tbh. I love the Life is Strange franchise even tho it’s very flawed. It was one of my first exposures to gay media when I was coming to terms with my sexuality. I also have a big soft spot for the Fable franchise because I loved it as a kid and it reminds me of my brother. It was one of the things we used to bond over.

I tag: @anniejanuarygf @sonyarebecchi @mrs-n-uzumaki @patrooclus @melroesplace @witch-apologist @dollsome-does-tumblr @whaticameherefor @ecstaticallyelectrifying @tectonicduck

[lavendereyedassassin]

Cursed Kisses - Chapter 5: The Request

Sorry I forgot to post this last week so chapters 5 and 6 are out of order! :S 

Chapter 5: The Request

~~~

Sehnsucht (German): “Painful desire for that which can and will never be.”

SH Month Day 19 Prompt

Shinobi naku (Japanese): “Silent tears.”

SH Month Day 20 Prompt

~~~

Upon entering the pagoda, the couple were immediately taken to the temple elder. His head was shaved to the skin, and he had thick gray eyebrows set over heavily hooded eyes. His wizened face was friendly with laugh lines extending from his mouth and eyes, yet the depth of his gaze and deliberation of action demonstrated wisdom and authority. He was draped in heavy black monastic robes with an additional orange layer slung over one shoulder. His feet were bare and he kept a gnarled but sturdy wooden cane nearby to assist his stride.

When Hinata presented the artifacts hidden in the scroll to him, the light of understanding flickered on his ashen countenance. Flat on his burned cedar desk, she spread out her collection: the clover from the Land of Ire, the golden toad from the Land of Porcelain, a horseshoe from the Western Lands, the elephant figurine from the Land of Indus, the hamsa from the Middle Lands, the gris gris from the Land of the Sun, a bundle of bamboo stalk from the Village of Feng Shui, the dove shaped milagro from the Land of Wind, the ancient coin from Lake Trevoli, and a Leaf from Konoha. Altogether, their journey took nearly three weeks to complete.

With her head bowed and posture bent in deference, she softly voiced her request. “I offer these spiritual totems to you, Great Elder, in exchange for a Nozomu.”

The old man watched her with sorrowful eyes as she took a shuddered breath before explaining further. “I’d like to bring my cousin back, please. Hyuga Neji was a brave and talented young soul who did not deserve his fate. He died a hero in the last ninja war. Please… return him to me.”

Standing closely behind Hinata, Sasuke turned rigid at her words. His eyes grew wide with concern and they swarmed over her appraisingly. He did not realize this was what she wanted. Had he known from the beginning, he would have advised against it.

The Elder turned his cloudy vision to the graceful figure before him and gently responded, “My dear child… there are many things I have the power to grant. I can cure disease, bless a life with success and happiness, provide wisdom and clarity... but I cannot bring back a life.”

He stood then, walked around his low desk, and placed a pale wrinkled hand on her shoulder. “I am sorry for your loss. Please take this with you for your troubles. May it bring you the life you deserve and the healing you require.”

Moving his hands over hers, he squeezed them tightly before disappearing down a dark, candlelit corridor.

Hinata opened her cupped hands, staring numbly at the acorn she received. She blinked away the wetness in her eyes as best she could, but it only blurred her vision more. Her lashes clumped together and the tears silently streamed down her pinkened cheeks onto the small brown nut.

Sasuke felt the hot, sharp knife of shared pain slice through his chest cavity, leaving him breathless. He stared helplessly as Hinata’s shoulders began to shake violently. Her fist closed tightly around the consolation prize. She made no noise as she despaired, which he had no doubt came from years of practice. Witnessing her fresh remorse was a harsh reminder of his own departed brother and the torrent of emotions that swiftly devoured him.

Reaching out for her, he softly murmured, “Hinata.”

Without apprehension, she spun around and buried her head into his chest. Clenching his cloak tightly with one hand and soaking it through. Her breathing turned ragged. He rubbed soothing circles on her back before clasping her chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted her head up and implored, “Talk to me.”

Stifling a wail in her throat, she bit her lips and sniffled loudly. “I-I-I j-just don’t understand. This should have worked. This was supposed to work. It’s all my fault. I must have done something wrong. I did do something wrong. Neji never should have died! It should have been me!”

She was rambling in her desperate spiral. Being a logical man of action, he knew the only way to help her was to understand her thought process. “Hinata, you did nothing wrong. This…” he held out his arm to the relics still laid out on the table, “…never would have worked. Why did you think it would?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she pushed herself away from his embrace. Reeling from the failure, she became defensive. “What do you mean? I didn’t just make this all up! It’s all written here, in this book.”

From a pouch resting against the small of her back, Hinata recovered said book- the same one he recalled her reading when he kissed her outside the coffee shop.

Taking it from her hand, he read the title- The Terrific and Terrible Tales of Totoro the Timid.

He couldn’t believe it.

For the past three weeks they traveled, battled beasts, committed crimes, suffered impossible odds, and fought through blood, sweat, and tears to get here… all because of a fairytale. Slowly, incredulously, his eyes travelled upwards, seeking out Hinata’s face, her attention, her rationality.

Unprompted, she was now rapidly defending her idea in a garbled argument. “This isn’t the only book that spoke of the power of these objects. I’ve researched for months and there were other sources. Dignitaries from all over the world would visit my father and share the true stories of people they knew that experienced their miracles firsthand. Some even shared scientific papers on necromancy!

“This book is based on eye witness accounts and written testimonies. There was a good chance that the tale held some truth to it!”

Beseeching her to see reason and end this journey of guilt, he spoke as if he were cautioning against some dangerous object to a child. “Hinata. This is a fairytale. It’s not real.”

Throwing her arms down at her sides, tossing the acorn to the ground in the process she yelled, “I KNOW THAT!”

Her eyes began to lose focus and she stared into nothing as she whispered between quivering lips, “I spent so much time… believing this would work. I knew it was a fairytale and that I was taking a chance. But if I only had this chance to bring back Neji, I had to take it.”

Downtrodden and completely exhausted, she resolved to press on in the default way she’d been trained since childhood. Swallowing her emotions, red nosed and puffy eyed, she lengthened her spine, and held her head high with the grace of a true heiress. Emulating her learned behavior of interacting with noble emissaries, and not the man she’d spent nearly a month with, she met his stare and despondently remarked, “Sasuke, please send me home.”

The ache sluiced through his chest a second time. Sasuke bit down hard, flexing his jaw with the movement. Trying to gauge her level of commitment, he supplicated with one word. “Stay.”

“Sasuke… please. Send me home.”

He watched morosely while her eyes flooded again with liquid crystals over pearlescent orbs. Although his heart sank and his breathing faltered, he honored her request and opened the final gate for her to cross. As she began to walk towards fissure, and Konoha on the other side, Sasuke halted her departure. “Wait.”

Her attention flew up to his face, then traversed down the length of his arm, where he was holding out the tome that incited the problem.

“Don’t forget your book.”

Switching her concentration back to her current destination, she solemnly replied, “Do with it as you please. I no longer have any use for it.”

With violet-colored chakra fueling her departure, she made an elegant leap through the rip in space. The hole sealed, and she was gone.

----------

“Where is she?”

The monk stared back with terror at the raging Uchiha. The monk stammered out, “Who?”

“The witch,” he spat. “Ririka.”

From the entrance of the pagoda in which he was currently standing, a familiar cackle made itself known.

“Uchiha Sasuke, you devil. You came all the way here to visit this unworthy priestess? My, my. Should I be flattered?”

Leisurely turning to face this female nemesis, Sasuke sharpened his sight with spinning tomoes in glowing red orbs. The intimidation factor was a bonus. In a flash, he was standing in front of her, holding the sharp end of Kusanagi to her throat. “Witch. Undo the curse.”

Her eyes grew as large as saucers. Instead of the usual terror, the woman started laughing… again. Ririka laughed so hard she gently, carelessly, pushed away his sword, and began to cough in her other hand.

Out of confusion, Sasuke allowed it. He sheathed his weapon and impatiently waited for her fit to die down.

“Oh, Sasuke. You poor fool. There never was a curse,” she explained with an amused grin.

“What about Naruto?”

“Manifestation.” She waved a hand dismissively.

“The dog?” he continued to press.

“Dog? Pfft. Coincidence.”

“My fan club.”

“Ahhhh!” Her eyes lit up impishly. “Well, that? I may have tipped them off and offered a reward to make you believe in the curse for a while longer.”

She rubbed a stray tear from her eye. Her smile widened at recalling her foolhardy misdeeds.

Unable to help himself, he inquired, “What reward?”

“A life-sized body pillow in your image,” she happily responded.

Now it was his turn to cough.

She added, “I don’t actually have one but I never thought they’d get close anyway. Although some young girl did write to me claiming success. Was that true?”

When he shot her the harshest glare he could muster, her brows lifted towards her hairline and she muttered to herself, “I suppose I’ll need to order a pillow.”

Finally, gathering his wits, he summarized, “So, there never was a curse.”

Ririka scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m a holy priestess, not a witch. People are so gullible.”

Sasuke’s oppressive presence filled the room as he stewed in the revelation of his curse. He roared, “What about Hinata?”

She stilled in her movements and tilted her head to the side, her curiosity piqued. “Is she the Hyuga you arrived here with?”

The emptiness that gripped his insides continued to suffocate him at her mention. It was slow torture. Shutting his eyes and breathing deeply, he exhaled, “Yes.”

Placing a slender hand on her chin, Ririka thought aloud, “It seems to me that you should be asking her that question.”

When the Uchiha simply stared and made no move, the priestess snapped her fingers and hollered, “What are you still doing here? Go!”

Sasuke blinked severally when her words sank in. He didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. What was he doing here instead of going after Hinata?

Without a word, his rinnegan activated and the shimmering portal popped open.

“WAIT!” Ririka called out.

Snapping his attention to the slender female, he watched as she darted to the center of the room, picked up something from the floor, and ran back towards him. Once close enough, she placed the item in his palm saying, “For luck.”

It was the acorn that Hinata discarded. Tucking it away, he pulled a note from the same satchel and peered at the smiling priestess. “For you.”

Ririka accepted the paper. By the time she finished blinking, he was gone.

Unfolding the letter, she read, “Golden Toad: Peach Grove Monastery, Land of Porcelain; Golden Dove Necklace: Carlos d’Oro, Land of Wind… WHAT IS ALL THIS?”

She quickly scanned the inventory list from beginning to end, her anxiety building with each item. Reaching the bottom, in neat writing it stated:

Ririka,

I’ve taken the liberty of notifying the owners in these lands that you needed to borrow their sacred objects for Temple duties and would return them in a fortnight. Please do hurry as the Temple and our Country’s honor is at stake. I’d hate for anything to happen to you should you fail.

S. Uchiha

Her nostrils flared as she read the contents over and again. Surrounding birds scattered at hearing her screech at the top of her lungs. “DAMN YOU, SASUKE UCHIHAAAAAAA!!!”

TO BE CONTINUED...

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

A/N: Nozomu in Japanese means “wish.” In this fic, I am using the term to signify an religious submission for a ceremonial request, but it is entirely made up for the plot. Also, I would like to take a moment to defend Hinata’s sanity and IQ in this story. Yes, she may have taken the words of a fairytale a bit too seriously, but even the smartest people can fall victim to their emotions and desperation. After all, there’s a direct correlation between the love you feel for a person and the foolish things you’re willing to do for them.

Moving on…

I love how many of you guessed the locations correctly! Some were more ambiguous on purpose. I wanted some real-world countries to translate to a larger area in the Narutoverse. Because of that, it was difficult for people to guess where the Land of Wind is located in our world. It represents the regions in South America and the Iberian Peninsula where Milagros are prevalent.

I’m sorry for the two heavy chapters in this fluff crack fic. Like I said, this was only supposed to be one chapter and it got away from me. I hope you still enjoyed them. Happy ending coming next. Thank you for following and reading!

[kimyoonmiauthor]

Types of PoV

I should say I debuted this on Nanowrimo and people resisted it a lot at first. I admit I stole this from the Modernists, though no official terminology existed before I described it, it’s their conceptual basis. I kind of like this sort of thing and to debate and think about it. I dislike the labels that this kind of thing is “too Literary” but I think more that purposeful Literary puts technique over content. And that’s not what I’m arguing for here. Look, after a year of reading assholes dump on the Modernists, and mostly women, I kind of think it’s time to stitch the Modernists with the Structuralists. *Some* of the techniques from the Modernists were *good* like flashbacks. So why not play and see what story can actually do?

The three main PoVs are: Omniscient, Third person limited, and First. Second Person is generally discouraged, but sometimes happens mixed in First Person narratives and occasionally omniscient. What I argued is that you can have a distant or a close lens with it. And MODULATE that lens in order to do some useful techniques and illustrate character. Also, this can be done so the character is more voicy less voice. If you modulate all of this, you can create some really cool effects. Ooooo I know, I’m promoting that evil Modernism again rather than pure structuralism.

Note: I made the examples on the spot. This means they aren’t the cream-of-the-crop examples, but these are the fastest I could scratch them up.

Omniscient

This was encouraged from the 1500′s-1800′s, roughly. Occasionally, though people forget this the narrator would be a character in-of-themselves, such as in Anthony Trollop’s novels. (To be honest, Trollop isn’t my favorite). So the author would semi-self-insert themselves, but this was more prevalent later in the 1800′s. The reason a lot of people fail in Omniscient narration is because they need to learn how to modulate the POV. How to push in and pull out effectively.

Omniscient Close:

For it wasn’t that he thought he was walking with a stick on that fine morning, but he was rather convinced, that this stick, this great gnarled thing in front of him was, indeed, magical.

Omniscient Distant:

If the distance between the two men was greater, an elephant could have walked in, laid down, and the two gentlemen, as they were, would have continued to stare at each other, even if said elephant was very, very white, much like the original elephant that the expression comes from.

The sensation is looking at the men in question because you can see both of them at one time, rather than through the person’s eyes.

Omniscient Close to Distant:

Aunt Lydia had many-a-time thought rather deeply about Saint Martin and how he helped those in need, and this, above all others was such a time. But also how reluctant he was in being a spiritual leader. Saint Martin also hung proudly upon her wall smiling at the guests as they passed by, but it was notable that it was, in fact, the wrong Saint Martin and not the one that Aunt Lydia had so carefully mythologized in her head. It was not Saint Martin of Tours at all. It was Saint Martin de Porres. But guests still hardly noticed such a portrait in the first place since it was crammed between the many other portraits.

In fact, there was only one guest that day that seemed to notice and remarked, quite smartly, “Why is there a Black Saint on the wall?”

See, it goes Aunt Lydia’s thinking to an object, general opinion about the object that aren’t Aunt Lydia’s and then pivots to someone outside of Aunt Lydia.

Omniscient Distant to Close:

The elephant would not do. It’s very existence held the gentlemen staring or such a long time that one would think the rendering on the building would crack, the building fall apart before the gentlemen would once, again, speak to each other.

Sally came in, gently coughed, as much as a lady can cough gently, and then said, “I have the most fine Chinoiserie porcelain cups. Would you like to see them?”

Because Sally did not like to see her uncles in such a state. The last time they fought this deeply, was when she was ten. And when she was ten, their silence affected the village as the village was forced to take sides on who was far more correct than the other. And no one wanted such a thing again. Least of all Sally.

Again, pivot based on an object/person in the room. There are other techniques, but this one is the easiest to practice and master.

Omniscient voicy: The best example of a voicy omniscient narrator is probably the Lemony Snickett books. But I’ll type up a version. It’s where the narrator is a character unto themselves and has quirks rather than just narrating.

It is ones best opinion that Aunt Lydia was a rather odd Old Maid. An old Maid, if one could qualify that by saying she was five-and-thirty. Five-and-thirty and frumpy. In fact, the only thing lacking from Aunt Lydia to make her a true Old Maid with the capital O and capital M, if you would please see it as a prestigious title, was a cat. But cats are most filthy and vile creatures that bring in pestilence, like birds, rodents, and the like, and one does not need a cat for this story, so there will be, no cat, no matter how much one might beg for it.

So let’s move on about Aunt Lydia and not the cat that has crossed your mind, most deliciously fluffy and probably like a white Persian. There will be no cats.

See, the narrator has OPINIONS, and communicates those opinions to you, the reader. And then makes opinions about the reader.

Omniscient unvoicy: It’s the opposite. It’s pure narration. The narrator is a vessel, but not a complete character with opinions.

Sally went to the bakery in town, not because she hated Ms. Martin’s bread, but because she had eyes on Jenny, the baker’s daughter. The baker’s daughter who had the prettiest eyes, at least in Sally’s estimation.

You can also modulate voicy and unvoicy as you please and this will reflect on the story, mostly, but also the narrator at turns and who they are. Look, you have 4 combination and 4 ways to modulate.

Third Person, Limited

This is a limited perspective of one character.

Third Person, Limited: Distant lens

Ned had always thought that if he’d really looked into the mirror, he’d see the ghost of his dead lover, Gary. The light flickered making Ned think for a second that maybe Gary was here.

The thoughts are made to be a part of the character, but aren’t dropped in as complete thoughts. The character is made to be thinking them. Contrast to a more close lens.

Third Person, Limited: Close lens.

If Ned really looked into the mirror, he was convinced he’d see Gary. The light flickered. Gary had to be here.

Same passage rewritten to a more close lens. See the opinions are dropped into the text, rather than Ned having the opinion. So you see more things from Ned’s point of view. There is no sensation of looking at him.

Third Person, Limited: Modulating from Distant to close lens.

Ned looked for Gary and thought for a while about Gary’s hair and eyes, trying to summon him. Gary used to touch his lips so softly. And then stroke his hair. The ripples of his warm fingers. His heart beat hard. Comfort. Deep comfort. Ned closed his eyes. A warmth brushed over his eyelids. Gary. Please, please be Gary.

See, you start outside of Ned, see Ned, but slowly sink into his head as the opinions that aren’t the readers increase, until there are thoughts. You don’t have to use italics for the thoughts because it becomes self evident. You don’t have to use quotes, because you are in Ned’s head. The technique is to use a personal sensation to pull the reader into Ned’s head. Then slowly introduce more and more thoughts that are 100% Ned and no one else.

Third Person, Limited: Modulating from Close to Distant lens

A coldness jolted Ned. What the bloody hell was that? He opened his eyes. A pale white figure greeted him in the mirror. That was not Gary at all. Ned blew out the candle, hoping the figure would go away.

Notice, outside sense, then jumping out of the PoV by using external signal.

Third person, Limited: Voicy

Drop a ton of opinions in the narration:

Gerta Stretford II hated her name. Her head would explode if she thought about it too long. It sounded like a German had met an English Shepard. God, it was cold today. Wind blew back her hood again, and her nose felt too frozen to have icicles on them.

No need for italics, but it makes it more voicy because she has opinions and observations about everything. This doesn’t work too well if the character is not that self-aware or doesn’t have opinions on certain things.

Third person Limited: Not that voicy

If Gerta Stretford II thought too long about her name, she would have hated it. But she was at the side of the road. Wind blew back her hood again. She rubbed her red hands. She tried to sniffle, but the cold bit her nose.

Opinions are dropped. you can increase the effect by using a more distant lens. Comment less on the internal thoughts--which you’d have to cut (though you should keep track of), and look more at the physical actions to give clues.

one, again, can modulate voiciness of the character. But you get the technique by now.

First Person

First Person, Distant

I was crying so hard the windows shook. Staring at the ceiling, I wondered if there was a past or future besides the gnawing pain in my chest. I could only think about Kira.

I admit this one is not favored, but it has its uses, if you think carefully about them. Again, while you’re using I, it feels you’re looking at the person doing the acting in a close up, rather from their PoV. This is as supposed to Third Person Limited, which feels like a mid shot of the person doing things.

Dissociation is a thing, so being able to use a more distant First person can be useful.

First Person, Close

I cried. The windows shook. Staring at the ceiling, there was no past or future. There was only a gnawing pain my chest. Kira. Only Kira.

You see everything from their PoV, you can cement this with details from their environment they’d only observe. Or the amount of opinions you drop into the narration.

First Person, Distant to close

I put on a yellow chiffon dress and then ran for the door, picked up my purse, bu then realized I had missed putting on my shoes, so opened the door again, and then put on my shoes. Shoes. Keys. Wallet. So dumb. How could I forget the thing I was going to bring to Kira? The picture.

First Person, Close to Distant

The yellow chiffon dress looked good on me. Door. Run. Oh yeah, my purse. Click. The door shut and locked. Dammit, my shoes. Did I have my wallet? I was being dumb. I dashed to get the picture for Kira.

First Person, Voicy

What was the point? No, really. What is the point of people looking up at buildings when pigeons are flying around with their feathers ready to kamikaze the shit out of them? Will it make a hells worth of difference is one does so? But there she was with bird shit on her eye, laughing, and trying to justify that it was somehow good luck. Not me. What the fuck is so lucky about some bird pooping your goddamned head?

Again, high amount of opinions from the character with a unique PoV. I should note about voiciness, that it often works much better in individualistic cultures and with someone at least very judgy, if not opinionated about everything. And sometimes it works better with observant and more self-aware characters, though I’ve seen characters that were voicy that somehow managed to slide without it. A lot of agents demand voicy characters, but I think we should ask if a very opinionated character works well in say, Heian Japan. Does it really serve the story? Sometimes voicy characters can work against the framework of a story for good or ill and some minority identities can’t really afford it. So thinking this through carefully is always a good idea.

First Person, Not that voicy

A bird pooped on her head as she looked up. She laughed. But to me, it wasn’t that lucky. There should be no point that one looks up at buildings. I handed her a handkerchief.

Again, you can modulate the voice of the character to be outside of the character or in their heads more with the amount of opinions of the character. And as before, you can modulate the amount of voiciness over the course of the story to create a different effect and affect too.

Second person

Some people say, flat out, don’t mix your PoVs. But, as with anything, if one does it well, people won’t notice one is doing it. And then haven’t you won. (Haha, I mixed PoVs).

Second Person (when mixed with Omniscient)

If one really observed Tanaka-san closely, besides his half-closed eyes, you could observe a certain character about his mouth and expression. Because you see, he did think quite a bit about his position in society, even if he looked perpetually tired, as a salary man does after pitching a ball accidentally in his boss’s face.

This is pure inclusion of the reader to observe something the character in the scene can’t observe. 19th century writers used this. Mostly Trollop, who also switched from Omniscient to first person to drop in opinions about the character.

First Person (when mixed with Second Person)

I looked across the tracks to a man that looked astoundingly like Matsumoto Jun. Hunched over, striped black and blue tie, curly hair. It clearly wasn’t him, but if you looked closely, it was as if his soul had been sucked out of his body.

WHY put in a you? There are two major reasons: Inclusion of the reader

First person’s opinion of majority opinion, rather than it being only their opinion.

But also because even for people who self-narrate everything, they sometimes mixed PoVs. You, I, Third Person Limited. Be honest--how many times have you used other PoVs when self narrating? Even the “We”.

Mixing PoVs

Generally not encouraged. That said, I’ve seen it smoothly done and it work. Where the narrator switches from first to third, or third to first, or omniscient to first with different effects. But I’d only recommend this when you get the other basics of PoV down. There’s definite reasons to do a switch, but you carefully have to think about them.

Last bit: Stream of consciousness as a PoV. (Not that popular)

This is the rush of thoughts. Usually, this is more done with higher sensory information coming in and done in present tense. I’ve also seen it done in past tense, though. It plays out the action moment to moment with each take, rather than as a general action. A general action would be more like “I rushed out the door.” A stream of consciousness might look more like:

Stomp. Stomp. What did Kira exactly mean to me? The warm wood creaked under my feet. Maybe the underfloor heater was on. The keys clicked in my hand and hit my hands, cold. Purse. The chain clinked as I picked it up, not cold because it was near the heater. Kira was my chain. My bedrock. My heart pound and I twisted the door knob open.

Each moment is etched out, every little thought is dropped in. William Faulkner is famous for this sort of thing.

On Italics with thoughts

I tend to hate italics for thoughts, because one can usually get around with with good PoV manipulation. This might be why I got such push back on this idea. I also tend to think it’s lazy, because there are ways to mark it as thoughts. The skill isn’t in how well you can bold or cap or italicize something, but manipulate the words so they are still the same word count to get the same effect. That’s far more impressive to me, than a writer falling back on italics.

BUT that said, there are reasons one might want to italicize thoughts:

- For example, intrusive thoughts might work better as italics if the person isn’t mentally healthy. This would work well with anxiety, depression, schizophrenia, and probably dissociation. I’m sure other mental health issues might also work.

- Mind speech moments might work slightly better as italics, though I kind of think there are better ways to get around this if one manipulates the words well enough.

- For moments when you really need to separate the character and their actions as separate from their thoughts. If you need that extra emphasis, where the thoughts don’t match the actions, italics would be useful, I think, BUT only after you establish other PoV ground rules.

This is not all there is to PoV

There are more tricks to PoV than just which one, distant and close and voicy or not voicy and stream of consciousness, but this should give the basics.

There are also tricks to show the PoV of the other characters in the scene without head jumping. Modulating the tone, themes and choosing the details carefully all can help with communicating PoV. Choosing a time and place of the narration as supposed to character action. If the narration is present or past tense and why. And of course unreliable narration and psychological tricks like cognitive dissonance, but those are much more complicated and take a lot more work to understand the hows and whys.

Conclusion

The book that people point to in order to look at the change in Point-of-View thinking is usually Sound and the Fury. It was to the point that William Faulkner wanted to color code the Point-of-view characters, but given the shape of printing at the time--with the rotary printing press, his publisher said no. Writers since then have played more to perfect these techniques, but I honestly haven’t seen anyone really try to get down and dirty with how it all works and why does it work. 

The whole structuralist thing about keep it simple, don’t play with point-of-view, I think misses out on some really cool effects one could have on the reader and long as the writer isn’t declaring up front they are merely doing it to be “Literary” and “Cutting edge.” One could have a more subtle hand and maximize the emotions of the characters towards certain objects, events or people if done deftly, I think.

One could elevate, say a trauma narrative by starting say, voicy, opinionated and then watch as the character loses those opinions and then make the narration more distant, more hyper vigilant, etc. In this way, the story still comes first before the technique, but it would bend to the character’s thoughts and emotions, so it’s not just the character experiencing it in the story, but also the reader and narration until it consumes how the story is told.

The major objections to doing it this way, I’ve heard and modulating it tend to be it will be confusing--I don’t think so. If you do it well, practice and find other techniques to work on the pivot, the reader will hardly notice. Readers don’t care that much about technique on this level, but I think they still can feel it, even if they can’t describe it. Manipulation of PoV, is another toolbox item. Much like stream of consciousness, story structure knowledge, connotation, etc. And why not play to maximize what story could or could not do and examine why you are doing what you’re doing so you can maximize the effect you want your story to have?

[soclonely]

Hardcase:Captain! Fives I have a joke for you!

Fives: *groans* Fine but hurry up.

Rex: *rubs his temples*

Hardcase: GREAT! So... A frog walks into a bank and approaches the teller, whose name plate says Patricia Whack."Miss Whack, I'd like to get a $50,000 loan to take a vacation." He says to her.

Patty looks at the frog in disbelief and asks his name.

"Kermit Jagger. My father is Mick Jagger. It will be fine to authorize the loan, I know your manager."

Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan with some collateral.

"Sure, how about this," said Kermit as he produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about an inch tall, bright pink and perfectly formed. Very confused, Patty explains that she'll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office.

Patty walks into the manager's office and proceeds to tell her, "There's a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow $50,000, and he wants to use this as collateral." Patty holds up the tiny pink elephant. "I mean, what in the world is this?"

The bank manager looks back at her and says..."It's a knickknack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan! His old man's a Rolling Stone."

Fives:

Hardcase: :D

Rex: *cracks open a bottle of Rhodian Rum* I hate this Company with a passion

[tuliharja]

Okay.

Hum.

(How does one write once again coherent manner?)

So. I'm excited over the fact I'm starting to heal from a thing that happened in the past concerning fandom thing that kind of crippled me in a creative manner. Because of that crippling, I lost my writing voice which honestly sucked majorly butt. I'm still not writing as much as I used to, but at least I'm once again starting to brim from ideas.

The fact my newest fic received positive comments has also helped me a lot. It just feels nice when after such a long time I'm getting positive comments without any judgment or way too deep analyzing. Don't get me wrong -I absolutely love when I get comments where the reader tries to analyze my writing, but at times just fully positive comments are something every author (I believe) needs.

While I'm still not fully back in the game, I feel like it's okay. If not anything, I feel like I can start all over again with my writings.

The fandom will be probably one of my old ones which are ironic since I had kind of broken up with it? I even wrote a fic which was my way of saying to it 'goodbye'. But because of the positivity I've felt, I feel like I can include myself a bit more. If not anything else, it at least made that I've started to work on an old artwork of mine that had its deadline, yet because reasons I never finished it...not to mention, because other reasons I kind of ended up hating it which made that, I lost fully my motivation to finish it. But I'm now slowly working on it since it's a big art piece. I hope I can finish it and when I do, I'll post it on the internet. (It might not end up 'perfect', but even so...I hope other people will like it and I'll too.)

So excited about that, even though it's a lot of work. (I think that artwork will end up as one of those cathartic artworks.)

I also hope I'll be patient enough to just sit down and write some of those fics that are inside of my head because I've missed writing a lot. (And I want to share my thoughts and feelings through writing.)

But damn. Am I rusty when comes to writing or am I? Seriously, I feel like an elephant in a porcelain store, but I suppose that's a bit given when one starts to write once again. (That also includes thanking people for their kind comments. I feel like some sort of monkey that just hits the keyboard, not really knowing what buttons it's pushing. Yet I appreciate each and every comment I get.) If not anything else, at least there won't be (hopefully) that many restrictions when I try to write something when I do.

[daily-best-jokes]

A frog walks into a bank to get a loan.

He approaches the teller, whose name plate says Patricia Whack.

"Miss Whack, I'd like to get a $50,000 loan to take a vacation."

Patty looks at the frog in disbelief and asks his name.

"Kermit Jagger. My father is Mick Jagger. It will be fine to authorize the loan, I know your manager."

Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan with some collateral.

"Sure, how about this," said Kermit as he produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about an inch tall, bright pink and perfectly formed. Very confused, Patty explains that she'll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office.

Patty walks into the manager's office and proceeds to tell her, "There's a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow $50,000, and he wants to use this as collateral." Patty holds up the tiny pink elephant. "I mean, what in the world is this?"

The bank manager looks back at her and says..."It's a knickknack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."

submitted by /u/fujfuj [link] [comments]

[365daysoftododeku]

16th Decemer 2019

Author: Kenyoda

________________________________________________________________

Behind the scenes

Izuku was rushing across the parking lot, cursing his luck. He was going to be late for shooting. He was never late! And on the first day, too! In his rush he nearly bowled over another person entering the building. He tried to stop but his momentum carried him forward anyway and he ended up pinning the poor stranger against the door, glass rattling ominously. 

“I am— so sorry!” he panted as he tried to regain his bearings. He finally pulled back, allowing the person to step away from the door and shuffle away from him a bit. 

“I-it’s fine,” came an equally strained voice. Izuku winced, he had already made a bad first impression. Oh no! Still running late! He sketched out a messy bow before racing through the doors with another apology ringing over his shoulder.  He made it to set with 3 minutes to spare for make up call. 

“Hey! You made it!” greeted a voice, enthusiasm on full blast. He looked up from being hunched over to see blonde hair and wild red eyes. 

“Morning Kacchan!” he gasped as he stood up. 

“You were almost late, ya dingus!” he huffed as he swept him under his arm for a noogie. 

“Ack! Kacchan no! My hair is a rat’s nest on the best of days! Don’t make more work for them!” he groaned. Kacchan just laughed and rubbed harder. 

“That is what they are paid to do anyway!” he chortled as he let Izuku go. 

“That’s rude, Kacchan!” Izuku hissed, mortified slightly as he watched a few of those makeup and hair people glare their way in offense.

“What? It’s the truth,” he stated, confusion evident in his tone. Izuku sighed, he loved his childhood friend, but he had all the social graces of an elephant in a china shop. Bakugou Katsuki was enthusiastic and well meaning but unbearably blunt. Most people blew him off as an airhead and rude. When he was actually quite intelligent and not prone to sugar coating things. Which in Japan, could easily be considered rude. His attention was caught when two deep voices reverberated across the set.

“I am telling you Toshi this is not a good idea!” 

“Calm down, Enji! Most of the show’s main cast are children! He will get to spend time with some of his peers. At least give the boy a chance.” Izuku looked up and about expired on the spot. Yagi Toshinori and Todoroki Enji were making their way onto the set. Between the two actors there were nearly 20 different acting awards from stunt work to acting. They were his and Kacchan’s idols!

“It’s— It’s Yagi-sama and Todoroki-sama!” Izuku couldn’t help but squeal in delight. Katsuki let out a gasp beside him.

“I know that, but you know how Shouto is,” Todoroki continued. 

“Yes, I am well aware of my honorary nephew’s tendencies. This will give him a controlled environment to practice in.” Yagi soothed. Shouto? As in, Todoroki Shouto, one of the few well known student directors in Japan? Son of the man himself?

“Yes, I know I said I wanted to get him out from behind his camera but I was thinking more of a school setting Toshi! Not a mid level production with him in a semi recurring role! This is his first one and you throw him in with sharks! Not to mention you know that Aizawa Shouta is set in his ways! Ways that make little sense to the rest of us mere mortals!” the man complained. Izuku’s curiosity is piqued. Todoroki Shouto will be acting in this production, not directing?

“I tried to find him something smaller but with a similar age range. There was nothing else!” Yagi protested. “Besides he insisted!” Todoroki sighed reluctantly. 

“Where is the boy anyway?” After a moment, another person shuffled onto the set, but Izuku’s attention was drawn by the director. 

“Midoriya! Bakugou! Get to make up. Now’s not the time to gawk we all have busy schedules!” barked Aizawa Shouta. Izuku squeaked in terror and rushed off to the other area.

 After a whirlwind of makeup and hair spray, Izuku finds himself scaling the fire escape of a low income building. He leapt onto the roof with the shadow of the thief ahead of him. 

He was now Valor, a parkour crazy sidekick that was on the heels of a thief with known ties to a cartel that he and his hero mentor were tracking. This was going to be his first capture, he was so close… 

An arch of lightning lit up the night before slamming into the would be thief. Valor slides to a stop as the thief slumps to the rooftop, unconscious. 

“The reward for this one should be good,” a smooth voice purred. Out from behind a duct vent came a lithe figure. They topped Valor by a head. Their streamlined shape and deep timbre suggested that they were male. 

A bounty hunter. 

They were vigilantes that exchanged villains with prices on their heads for money, rather than turning them over to the proper authorities. This was usually bad on the heroes end if they needed information or to retrieve stolen items or people. Because the bountied person usually was never seen again. 

“I can’t let you have him,” Valor called, stoutly. “He is wanted for questioning by the Heroes Alliance!” The hunter looked over at him and Valor could feel the smirk on the man’s face. He bristled at that. Two eyes flashed at him from a window in a hard mask. It was as dark as the rest of his clothing. The end of the staff in his hands arched with electricity. 

It was just his luck that he ran into a bounty hunter with backing! Just as he finished the thought, he had to dodge an arc of electricity. Instead of retreating he rushed forward, using his momentum to knock the weapon away with one hand while punching at the bounty hunter with the other. He fell with a grunt as his weapon clacked onto concrete before rolling away. Valor pinned the hunter’s legs with his own, before slamming the hunter’s arms above their head. 

“Who are you?” Valor barked. The masked figure laughed. 

“You ask me that after you straddle me?” he teased. Valor pushed the blush and embarrassment away. 

“I-I asked you a question first,” he ground out, frustrated at the slight tremor to his voice. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” the hunter sneered. Valor snarled in anger before pinning both arms down with one hand and ripping the mask from the stranger’s face. 

He gasped. 

Skin the color of porcelain housed thin pink lips and eyes the color of smokey quartz and turquoise. A bright red birthmark covering the left side. A halo of ruby and crystal hair fell around an angelic face, the strands having slipped free of a ponytail. 

Izuku froze and his heart stuttered violently. He could not recall another one of his lines. His entire brain had decided to devote all of its remaining firepower to committing such a lovely face to memory. The porcelain skin turned into rose gold as his co star flushed under his scrutiny. 

“Who— are you?” he found himself whispering. His co star gasped and began to struggle against him. Izuku pressed his weight down automatically. They stopped moving. 

“I’m— ”

“Valor! Valor, my boy!” Ever Bright’s voice snapped Izuku from his daze. Oh my god, I zoned out in the middle of scene!

“E-ever Bright! There is a— ack!” he cried out as the hunter gave a hard buck and finally unbalanced him. He landed hard on his side. By the time he got his barings, the hunter was on the other end of the roof, preparing to jump. 

“Halt, vigilante!” came Ever Bright’s booming voice. The hunter turned his head back to stare Izuku down. The well timed wind blowing a few strands of ruby hair across the piercing jewel colored orbs, obscuring his face. 

“Valor, huh? How fitting!” he taunted, before leaping off. 

“And cut!” came Aizawa’s voice. “Y’all aren’t useless after all! I might need to do some revisions.” Izuku sunk to his knees at the off handed praise. 

“Well done, young Midoriya! You are carrying your role well for your first day!” Yagi said as he patted his shoulder. Izuku felt light headed. He had been complimented by Yagi Toshinori! Even after monumentally screwing up a scene because his useless bi ass was floored by a pretty boy! “You too, Shouto!” Izuku’s head snapped up. 

The young hunter had come back onto the roof and was gathering the props to hand off to the assistants. He jerked up reflexively before turning crimson. One of the assistants took the items and scurried away. Once there was nothing in his hands, the boy immediately began playing with his fingers and looking anywhere but at them. He mumbled something unintelligible to the air.  

“Shouto, I have heard you be louder than that when you are giving stage direction!” chided Todoroki Enji as he made his way over. “But I agree with Toshi! That was excellent work, son!”  

Shouto shuffled in place, a small pleased smile tugging at his lips. 

“T-thank you, but was it really ok?” he asked softly. Izuku felt the equivalent of mental whiplash. This was the same person that was borderline flirting with him mere moments ago? It was had to believe it! It seemed that not only was Todoroki Shouto a talented director, but also a pretty talented actor, too. Not to mention just plain pretty. Most anyone ever saw of him was half his face hidden by a hoodie.  

“Ah! How rude of me!” Yagi cut in suddenly. “Young Midoriya, this is Todoroki Shouto! He is like one of my nephews! He will be playing the vigilante and bounty hunter, Nexus.” Izuku nodded, unable to speak and wrestle his inner fanboy into submission at the same time. “Shouto, this is Midoriya Izuku a newcomer that is already showing promise!”  

“H-Hi! I love your work, Todoroki-kun! I hope you don’t mind the -kun. Wow, the make up artists must be really good, your hair and eyes are really striking!” he said, babbling slightly out of nerves and butterflies in his stomach. The boy blinked at him, before his eyes went wide. Once again Todoroki Shouto turned bright red. He worked his mouth but no sound escaped. Izuku decided then and there that a strategic retreat was in order. He politely excused himself and bolted for the nearest exit. Just as he passed to the outer edges of the set, he heard Yagi-san’s voice. 

“Just as well he doesn’t know that these looks are natural, eh, nephew?” This was followed a weak whine that Izuku could easily identify as one of embarrassment.

“Toshi!!!” chided Enji. 

Yep, Izuku was going to go find a hole to crawl into. 

________________________________________________________________

Would you like your work to be featured in the 365 Days of TodoDeku Project? Apply here! (≧∇≦)/

[frankieabii]

|| Dear No One || Ch. 1

Summary: Bay St.James was perfectly happy crushing on guys from afar and writing love letters that she never dreamed she’d send. So what happens when the letters she prayed no one ever saw, suddenly got sent out to their intended recipients? Especially when one of those happens to be Bay’s sister’s boyfriend!

Pairing: Jungkook x OC, Yoongi x OC, Jimin x OC, Taehyung x OC, Hoseok x OC, Namjoon x OC, Jin x OC

Genre: Fluff, Romance, To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before!au, High School!au, Fake Dating!au, Friends To Lovers!au

Word Count: 1595

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: Holy crap my friends I am so freaking excited to post this story! I’m a HUGE ASS fan of TATBILB and I just HAD TO put it into a series. thanks to @chan-yolo​ for being so supportive of me writing this and reading everything for me lmao. CHAPTER 1 IS HERE!

For as long as I can remember, I have liked to save things, never anything important or relevant like the planet or an endangered species, hell, or even a cat stuck in a tree! It was always small things, charms, trinkets; like those small ugly porcelain figures you can find in thrift shops. Hair scrunchies by the bucket load. Love letters. Out of everything I have ever saved, my love letters are the things that mean the most to me. 

 The letters are kept hidden in a lilac box, topped with a silk rose that my mom got me when I was a child, from an old store in our town that no longer exists. They aren’t love letters, romantic notions, that someone else has written to me; I don’t get those. No, these are ones that I have written myself, and there's one for every boy I have ever loved - seven in total. 

 The first was Jungkook, when I was seven years old. Jungkook Jeon was the son of one of my mom's friends, a couple of years younger than myself but cuter than a bunny in spring. Floppy dark hair that always fell into in big brown eyes, and a little smile that resembled that of a bunny rabbit, tiny, sweet and blushing. I remember him coming over for playdates with myself and my sisters, which always ended up with us picking the games, overruling all ideas that Jungkook had had, insisting that we play house, dress up or have a tea party. I cringe at the thought now, how mean it was to force this five-year-old boy into tiaras and fairy wings, to be the dad when we played house. It went along for a year, until his dad got a job overseas and they moved away. I wrote the letter the day I found out he moved. 

 Next was Yoongi Min, a boy a year older than my nine-year-old self. He wasn't much taller than me but had warm brown eyes and a small smile when he was shy and a big gummy smile that could light up a room when he was laughing. Our dads worked together at the time, and his dad held a Christmas party for several of his work colleagues and their families, and my family was invited. It was a nice party, fancy food and glittering decorations that hung from the ceiling, and I enjoyed it until my nine-year-old self was unknowingly stood under mistletoe next to Yoongi. His mom insisted that he kiss me, as I was stood frozen in fear, he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek and then ran away very promptly, not before giving me one of his precious gummy smiles. I wrote Yoongi’s letter on New Year's Eve, and my dad got a new job a week later. 

 When I was eleven years old, there was Jimin Park, angelic face and innocent eyes that turned moon-shaped when he smiled or laughed. My mom had signed me up to dance lessons, and Jimin was assigned to be my partner. He moved so gracefully and elegantly, whilst I stomped around like an elephant in an awful mood. He was always so eager to help me perfect the dances and the movements, always patient when I struggled and enthusiastic when I got it right. Then, for Jimin, puberty hit like a bat out of hell and suddenly every girl wanted to be his dance partner, and I was cast aside like yesterdays news. Jimin’s letter was written in anger, that day after I got home, and refused a dance lesson ever again. 

 I fell in love with Taehyung Kim when I was thirteen years old at Evergreen Summer Camp. Taehyung had long dark hair that fell onto his eyes when he laughed, and a boxy smile that made him charmingly adorable. He was smart and funny, and was always causing mischief around the camp that my mom had insisted on sending me to, as my older sister Ivy had gone a few years prior and wanted to make it a tradition amongst my sisters and I. I followed him around like a lost puppy and clung onto his every word like a spider monkey, until he pushed me into the lake and laughed at me with his friends. I wrote his letter in my bunk, my hair matted with salt lake water. 

 Hoseok Jung was my first ever date. When his sunshine bright smile had asked me to a school dance when I was fourteen years old, I couldn’t say no. Hoseok had gotten me a flower to pin into my hair, that matched the one pinned onto the pocket of his shirt. We had laughed, and danced all night; myself horrifically and he danced with rhythm and excitement in every move. He kept dragging me out onto the dancefloor, even when I had protested that my feet were about to fall off, he spun me around the dancefloor like we were the only two in the room. He made my heart spin around the dancefloor too, so I wrote him a letter. 

 At 16 years old I fell in love with Namjoon Kim. With his blonde hair cut into a fashionable style; longer on top, with an undercut on the side, his black-framed glasses, the adorable dimples that graced his cheeks whenever he laughed or smiled, and his ability to recite a Friends quote for every occasion. Namjoon was smart, and somewhat popular, not through sports, mostly by association with the ‘in-crowd’, but still much more popular than myself and the friends I could count on one hand. It was about halfway through the school year when we were all invited to a party at one of the popular kid's houses, with smuggled alcohol and kids dancing on each other in every corner. Not exactly my scene, but coerced into going by my sister Ivy, and we somehow managed to get roped into playing a game of Spin The Bottle. And Namjoon was sat in the circle, his smile slightly hazy from alcohol he had consumed, but his eyes still bright and aware of what he was doing. So we took it turns to play, each of spinning the empty beer bottle, kissing whoever it landed on. The boys all whooped and hollered whenever someone kissed, and I buried myself further and further into my jumper, thankful that the bottle missed me each time. Until it was Namjoon's turn, that was. The bottle spun round and round, over and over until it achingly came to a stop and my feet, a blush rising to my cheeks in an instant, Ivy’s eyes widening in surprise. And so, playing by the rules, he kissed me. I wrote Namjoons letter a week later, after some several daydreams about that kiss. 

 And finally, number seven. Seokjin Kim. Jin. Jin is the year above me at school, and the year below Ivy, and moved into the house next door to us about four years ago. He and I became friends instantly, sharing the same taste in music and movies, and playing weird questions games for hours. I never really realized I had loved him until Jin and Ivy started dating about a year and a half ago. And then I wrote his letter. 

 When I write the letters, I don't hold back. I write about all the things I love, that annoy me, that makes me weak at the knees. Everything I think and feel goes into the letters, every secret thought, every careful glance of observation. Nothing is left out, as I write like he’ll never read the letter because he never will. And then when I’m done, the letter is sealed forevermore in an envelope, addressed, and then stored away in the lilac box. 

 But my letters aren’t love letters by definition. I write the love letters when I want the crush to be over. Done with. They’re goodbye to the feelings and thoughts that the crush gave to me. After I’ve written the letter, I feel a weight off of my heart and my shoulders, and I’m now longer weighed down by all-consuming love. I can go about my day like normal, I can watch a movie and eat popcorn and not wonder which sodas he likes to drink with his popcorn; apple tango for me, or if he’s more of a sprite kind of guy. I can sing along to songs on the radio and not be belting out my heart for him. My letters are my freedom, they set me free from my crush. Or at least I thought they would.

[xtruss]

The Legendary Chinese Seafarer the West Overlooks

In the 1400s, Zheng He sailed thousands of miles around Asia and Africa in ships the size of soccer fields, spreading Chinese innovations like compasses and gunpowder in the process.

— By Alissa Greenberg | Friday , August 13, 2021

A statue of Zheng He at the Sam Poo Kong Temple in Java, Indonesia. Image Credit: Alex Santosa, Flickr

​​The Chinese admiral Zheng He must have made quite the impression when the 300 ships under his command arrived at a new destination. The biggest vessels, known as “treasure ships,” were by some estimates longer than a soccer field. Their rigging was festooned with yellow flags, sails dyed red with henna, hulls painted with huge, elaborate birds. Accompanying them were an array of support boats, including oceangoing stables for horses, aqueous farms for growing bean sprouts to keep scurvy away, and water taxis for local transportation. The 15th century citizens who received him in what are now Indonesia, Malaysia, Vietnam, Sri Lanka, India, Kenya, and Yemen had never seen anything like it.

And that was before the 28,000 inhabitants of Zheng’s ships debarked to establish trade relations with the local government. They came bearing luxuries, from tools (axes, copper basins, porcelain) to cloth (fans, umbrellas, velvet) to food (lychees, raisins, salted meats). In return, they received tribute goods to carry back to China, including spices and precious stones and—on a few notable occasions—ostriches, elephants, and giraffes.

Almost a century before Vasco da Gama and Christopher Columbus made voyages that kicked off the era of European colonialism, Zheng spent three decades plying the waters between China and the East Coast of Africa, setting up diplomatic relationships that would reshape Asian life. His seven expeditions challenged what humans could do at sea, pushing the limits with their boats’ size, complexity, and capacity for long-distance travel.

Zheng’s influence might have been yet more outsized if geopolitical pressures hadn’t changed China instead. But his legacy still lives on from the Swahili coast to Yemen, Calcutta to Hong Kong. Michael Yamashita, a photographer and contributor to National Geographic, spent several years writing a book and producing a multipart documentary on the Chinese mariner. “He was the greatest explorer that the world had never heard of,” Yamashita says.

A replica of one of Zheng He's treasure ships in Nanjing, China. Image Credit: Vmenkov, Wikimedia Commons

Zheng (known in early life as both Ma Sanbao and Ma He) was born around 1371 in Southwest China, his family part of a Muslim ethnic minority in an area still controlled by Mongols of the recently toppled Yuan dynasty. The battles that marked the transition from Yuan to Ming dynasty in the area were brutal and bloody. During one, Zheng (who was still a boy) saw his father murdered. He was left alive but captured and, as was common practice at the time, castrated and made a eunuch.

“It is almost incomprehensible that he managed to emerge from such relatively fringe or marginal socio-political positions to become the leader of this huge maritime enterprise,” Huang Jianli, a historian at the National University of Singapore, said in an email. But he did. Zheng was assigned to serve Zhu Di, a rebellious prince, and he was by his master’s side when Zhu Di installed himself as emperor in 1402.

Zhu Di had expansive ideas about China’s role in the world and the way it could use trade and widespread diplomacy to assert its power. He assigned his trusted confidante a leadership role, naming him admiral. Starting in 1405, they worked together to establish a far-reaching web of tribute relationships with 48 countries, city-states, and kingdoms all over Asia. Zheng, who according to reports was almost seven feet tall, became a towering figure in both stature and status.

The scale of the boats he sailed was equally remarkable. China had been building mind-bogglingly enormous ships for at least a century before Zheng came along. Both Marco Polo and the Moroccan explorer Ibn Batuta wrote of seeing huge seagoing vessels in their visits to the East. Some experts believe the treasure ships Zheng sailed were 400 feet long, or five times the size of Columbus’ ships, with 70,000 square-foot decks, though those numbers remain in debate. But “even if we take the estimates most people think are too small, those are twice what the Europeans used to sail around the world,” says Travis Shutz, a historian of maritime China at SUNY Binghamton.

Both the treasure ships and the support vessels—battleships, boats carrying grain and horses, local transportation—featured divided hulls with several watertight compartments. This engineering innovation had roots in early Chinese seafaring. It allowed Zheng and other Chinese mariners to take unprecedented amounts of drinking water on long voyages, while also adding much-needed ballast, balance, and stability.

But for Shutz, what made the armada most impressive was the sheer logistics necessary to build and command it. Under Zheng’s instruction, workers in six provinces along China’s coast and inland along the Pearl River cut down trees, processed lumber, and built shipyards in order to construct scores of vessels. In inland cities, an additional team focused on dredging the river once the treasure ships were ready to float out to sea. “That’s something that makes it really impressive, how they mustered so many resources,” Shutz says.

A partial replica of one of Zheng He's treasure ships at the Maritime Experiential Museum in Singapore displays its below-deck cargo. Image Credit: Choo Yut Shing, Flickr

For his National Geographic documentary, Yamashita spent years tracing Zheng’s seven voyages, following the trade winds and stopping nearly everywhere the giant eunuch went. In Indonesia, Yamashita visited some of the same sulfur mines recorded in Zheng’s ship’s log, as well as temples devoted to his spirit. In Melaka, Malaysia, he visited the enormous storehouses Zheng built to house goods going to and from points further afield. The communities that grew up around the storehouses were among the first of many permanent overseas Chinese populations that would dot the continent and eventually grow to a majority in nearby Singapore. In India, Yamashita followed Zheng to the famed pepper markets of the Malabar Coast; the spice flooded China so quickly after Zheng’s visit that it transformed from a top-shelf luxury to an everyday additive.

And after stopovers in Sri Lanka and Yemen, Yamashita visited the islands off of Kenya’s Swahili Coast, where he found people fishing with Chinese-style nets. Local legend has it that several of Zheng’s ships wrecked there, caught in some of the world’s most extreme tides, and the mariners on board married into the population. “We found lots of Ming pottery all over the place,” Yamashita says. “They used it to decorate the houses.”

But, Shutz says, after decades of travel and trade, the sheer logistical and labor costs of maintaining what amounted to a floating metropolis began to wear on Emperor Zhu Di—especially as the Mongols began threatening from the north, forcing the Chinese capital to move to Beijing. Producing and stocking giant ships became prohibitively expensive. Zheng’s last voyages were mostly focused on returning foreign trade envoys to their homelands.

Then Zhu Di died, and a new ruler with deeply different priorities replaced him. Eunuchs like Zheng, who valued trying new things, enriching imperial coffers, and building China’s world reputation, suddenly had much less power. Instead, more conservative Confucian courtiers had the new emperor’s ear. They were more focused inward, on protecting China from the Mongols with the construction and expansion of the Great Wall.

Zheng embarked on his last voyage in 1431, and he died en route in what is now Kolkata (formerly Calcutta). He was buried at sea. Soon after, the new emperor outlawed most formal maritime trade. Forget soccer-field-sized boats: the Chinese state wouldn’t finance any voyages again for several hundred years. When they returned to the ocean, the world would be a very different place.

In the decades that followed, any suggestion of China returning to the high seas was firmly rejected. Many of the records of Zheng’s voyages were reportedly destroyed during political fights or simply lost to the vagaries of time. The loss of those documents has left a hole in what we know about Zheng, leading to academic arguments about everything from exactly how big his boats were (we know they were significantly larger than Columbus’, but how large?) to why he went where he did (was it proto-colonialism or just posturing?). The author Gavin Menzies even found success publishing “1421: The Year China Discovered the World,” a best-selling—but now widely debunked—book that claimed Zheng actually circumnavigated the globe in his sixth voyage.

What we do know is that Zheng’s voyages had a lasting impact on Asia, setting up patterns of migration and cultural exchange that continue today. After the state abandoned virtually all maritime trade, coastal communities stepped back in, some residents turning to smuggling and piracy to meet market demand. Other families instead emigrated to one of the many new overseas Chinese communities taking root in places like Singapore, Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia, and Vietnam. Many of those new communities sprang up at nodes where Zheng had stopped to develop trade relationships. That’s one reason Southeast Asia is dotted with temples devoted to him.

Those trade networks, Shutz says, were also essential to the spread of two Chinese technologies that helped build our modern world: gunpowder and compasses. Both items were conceived and commonly used for different purposes in China: compasses for divination practices and gunpowder for firecrackers. Thanks to the trade relationships Zheng helped establish, they were much more widely taken up for navigation and warfare across Asia and Africa—and eventually used by Western colonial powers to reshape the world for the next several centuries.

Yamashita also sees Zheng, a Muslim wielding power in a mostly Buddhist society, as a man with “really modern thinking” about equality. In particular, he cites a set of stone tablets Zheng left behind in a temple in Sri Lanka as evidence of this mindset. The trilingual carvings mark offerings to Buddha in Chinese, to Hindu deities in Tamil, and to Allah in Persian. In these carvings, Yamashita sees a legacy of tolerance—a message, he says, of “equal gifts for all; all gods exactly the same.”

Historians like to imagine what might have happened if Chinese voyages hadn’t stopped with Zheng. “What if they had still been in Mozambique when the Portuguese showed up?” Shutz wonders. Would the two powers have traded or gone to war? How would that have affected the violence European powers inflicted as they divided up the world for colonization? “It would have been a different path for sure,” he says.

Instead, for centuries, Zheng’s voyages “remained a testimony of China’s maritime capability if and when it wished to summon,” Huang says. It’s a reminder that’s become increasingly pertinent in the past few decades as China has reasserted itself in world economics and politics.

Now, Huang sees in Zheng’s rise and fall a warning for the United States as it continues to pour money into maritime military maneuvers in Asia and Russia. These ventures “are extremely costly to the state coffer and people’s welfare,” he writes—one reason they were ultimately halted in China in Zheng’s time. “Instead of building more aircraft carriers and staging endless military exercises the world over, U.S.A. should spend its hard-earned money on its failing domestic infrastructure and solving its deep socio-economic problems.”

Even so, until recently Zheng’s accomplishments either received only a passing mention or weren’t taught at all in Western history curricula, Shutz says. While he didn’t learn about Zheng during his own schooling some 20 years ago, Shutz’s younger sister learned about him in her junior high school history class in 2015. In this small change, Shutz sees the beginning of a bigger trend in the American approach to world history. “It’s much less focused on Europe and more focused on the world writ large,” he says, “letting all these varying cultures speak for themselves.”

[spideynewt-blog]

Lost (The Maze Runner: Minho imagine)

A/N: Hey guys. This is my second imagine. There are two writers on this page, me (Nic) and Tina. From now on we’ll write at the top who the author is. If you guys have any requests, let us know. 

Author: Nic

Word Count: 1,680

The smell of coffee was overpowering as Y/N entered the small yet extremely busy café. “Hey Y/N! Over here!” Teresa called out to the clearly exhausted girl. Waving in response, she weaved her way through the crowd to the table her friend was sitting at. Teresa stood, embracing her friend. Y/N shrugged off her blazer, draping it over the back of her chair before taking a seat, a yawn sneaking out of her mouth before she could say a word.

“Someone’s tired. Long night at the lab?” Teresa asked. She worked longer hours than anybody and still managed to look flawless. Her skin was a perfect porcelain without a wrinkle or blemish in sight, with her flowing curling locks pinned away from her simple yet beautiful face, ready for the day ahead.

“It was indeed. Janson wants the new workspace ready by the end of the week, but I just don’t think it’s possible. There’s too much equipment at headquarters to bring over. And then I’ve got to find away to transport the infected test subjects without letting them loose on the city. I just don’t think I can do it T.” Y/N ranted, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding in.

“Everyone knows there’s a lot of pressure on you right now, but if anyone can do it it’s you. Ava and I were actually wondering if you’d like to come to the HQ today and look at the test patients. Might give you some ideas. She even suggested you could talk out any issues your facing with her. She has a great problem solving mind.” Teresa suggested, showing nothing but kindness and support. “But Y/N tell me honestly, are you still not getting any sleep?”

Any sign on Y/N’s face of excitement regarding her proposal disappeared as she asked that question. Anyone who knew Y/N knew that she hadn’t slept in months, maybe even longer. “T, why would you ask that? You know ever since..… No. Do you know what? I don’t even want to think about it. Not now. I’m already having a stressful week.  I’m getting three hours a night, max. But that’s enough”

“No Y/n it’s not! I’m worried about you. We’re worried about you.” Teresa’s eyes showed sympathy, the emotion both the young women despised the most.

“I can’t do this right now Teresa. I don’t have the energy or the attention span so can we please just head to WCKD and get this over with.”

“Of course and if there’s anything you ever need. I’m always here”. And with those words, they both stood, Teresa bringing her coffee as they walked out the still overly crowded store and began heading towards the largest skyscraper in the city.

The walk to the WCKD tower was a short distance from where the coffee shop was located. For most of the duration of the journey, neither of the girls chose to acknowledge the elephant in the room, the giant wall separating them, from the rest of the world, from it.

“How long is that wall really going to work?”

“Indefinitely I suppose.” She was lying. Everyone knew it but no one wanted to argue it. Y/N couldn’t help but think about the people she lost, mostly outside of the giant concrete walls that felt more damaging than protective. Her gaze lingered at the wall before zooming across the landscape before her. Perfectly laid pavement paths, fountains, organized road traffic, orderly commuters, beautiful (mainly glass) buildings. The city was perfect. It made her sick to think about all those outside just wanting to get in and be protected by the damn walls Y/N hated so much. She’d give it all up in a heartbeat to be reunited with her best friend, and she wondered if Teresa felt the same.

The minute they walked through the glass doors, the extensive security measures were blatantly clear. Three rows of different security checks and badge scanners laid before them. “Don’t worry about it, Ava was expecting you.” Teresa’s smile was warm and inviting as they both started to go through security.

After passing the extensive security checks, Y/N followed the brown haired beauty into the elevator. Growing up, Y/N had always been jealous of Teresa’s natural beauty and intelligence and how she seemed to gain the attention of most adults, and later boys. After navigating what felt like a maze of levels and corridors, they arrived at a gigantic door, that towered far above their heads to the ceiling.

A silent knock came from the left as a soft voice called out “Enter” in response. Y/N pushed the door open gently to reveal an older lady, who’s face she recognized so well, dressed in all white. “You must be Y/N. It is pleasure to meet you. Ive heard only good things from Janson and Teresa.”

“Thank you Ava, that means so much. And thank you for agreeing to talk to me. I know you’re extremely busy and the work you do is so important so I really do appreciate it.” Y/N’s smile didn’t falter, keeping up the happy-go-lucky facade so many believe in.

“Of course my dear. I can’t imagine how hard your job has been without being able to see the full extent of what you are having to export.” Ava explains offering Y/N some water, which she accepts, before moving over to the large window wall overlooking the city.

“It has been difficult, but every job has its challenges. I understand that what WCKD do is fundamental to our survival and I didn’t want to interrupt anybody.” No one could deny the view was truly amazing from that height. The way the sun bounced off the glass buildings and echoed through the closed in space created by the concrete barrier, between them and the scorch.

“Well let’s eliminate one of those challenges. Teresa please give Y/N a full access pass so she can see what she is dealing with.” Ava commanded. This was the first sign over the intimidating nature Y/N had heard lied within Ava.

“Fu.. full access? Are you sure?” Teresa stumbled, clearly nervous about Ava’s request.

“Yes Teresa.” Ava gritted her teeth as Teresa gulped. “We have nothing to hide here.”

Y/N was suddenly alarmed by the tense atmosphere in the room. “I will give her a guided tour myself to ensure young Y/N is shown everything she needs to see. You are more than welcome to come alone Teresa, if you’re busy work schedule will allow it?” Both Ava and Y/N turned toward Teresa.

“I’ll clear my schedule if I have to”

“Very good.” Ava’s soft smile she had initially displayed when the two entered the room, once again lit up her ageing face.

**********************

“And this is the trials ward.” Ava gestured to the many separate labs all separated by windows that were made of anything but glass. Test patients were banging on the windows but not even seeming to dent the material. Y/N made note of the extremely sturdy material, wanting to take every precaution available to ensure the infected did not get loose in the streets of the city.

“So 40 infected. How many immunes?” Y/N asks both Ava and Teresa, to busy scribbling away on her notepad to look up at the two women, now wearing pristine white lab coats.

“25.” Teresa said sheepishly. This caused Y/N to look up, moving a stray strand of hair behind her ear to get a better look at Teresa’s expression. It was hard to read. Somewhere between scared and secretive. “And one extremely special case. Subject A5”

“Male or Female?” Y/N fired back quickly.

“Male.” Teresa answered just as quick. Ava removed herself quietly, entering one of the nearby labs to inspect progress.

“How old?”

“17.”

“Powerful?”

“I’d say so.”

“Hm.” Y/N pondered. “I better take a look. If he’s as important as your nervousness suggests, he’s going to need extra preparation and procedures.”

“No Y/N I’m really not sure that’s a good idea.” Teresa exclaimed suddenly. Y/N was confused at Teresa’s sudden outburst. Realizing she wasn’t going to take her to the ‘special immune’, Y/N entered the door she’d saw Ava leave through.

“Ava,” the scientist turned to face Y/N. “Would it be possible for me to see Subject A5?”

“Yes, of course. He needs to be kept under close watch, especially during this move.” Y/N nodded in compliance. “Follow me.” The three women walked in unison, Ava, followed by Y/N, followed by Teresa, down the long corridor of lobs and holding rooms full of immunes until the reached a glass door with an additional security pad.

Ava tapped in a code that neither girl paid much attention to, respecting Ava’s authority. As they entered the next wing of the complex building, the clinical white walls became a navy blue and grey with compliments of white. The atmosphere was calmer than the labs before. There were less people running round, showing the immense pressure of their work on their faces. It was odd.  Y/N knew something was wrong.

Ava stopped in front of a steel door and opened it, in what felt to Teresa like, slow motion. The sudden movement of the door caused both young women to jump suddenly, and as Y/N stepped into the light and saw subject A5 for the first time, she felt as though her world was being torn apart and glued together all at once.

She remembered the good memories she had of the two building blanket forts together, spending hours inside watch movies and eating ice creams. She remembered the water fights in the summer and the Hot Chocolate by the fire in the winter. She remembered it all. The laughter. The tears. Their first fight. Their first kiss. Their only kiss.

Y/N turned to Teresa, tears threatening to fall. “Minho?” It was barely a whisper.

A/N: There could be more parts to this if you you would want to read them

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author:  Porcelain Elephants

Prompt:  Like tears in rain.

Group: D

-

First Day Jitters

Bailey Gold was incredibly excited to be starting Kindergarten.  His father was not. Of course, the lack of excitement didn't stop Mr. Gold from waking up early to double-check Bae's choice in clothes or to pack his yellow lunchbox with extra care, adding a short note to remind his son how much he loved him.  But Gold was undoubtedly in a somber mood that didn't match the sunny weather.

"Papa, I'm going to be late," Bae said as he skipped to the Cadillac.

Considering there were forty-five minutes until class started, Gold seriously doubted that they would be late, but Bae was unable to tell time on the grandfather clock in the foyer and much too excited for his own good.

“I promise Bae your first day is going to be perfect.” 

Bae babbled, reciting everything his shop hand Alice had mentioned about school.  Yet Gold wasn't really listening.  Instead he couldn't help but see how everything was changing, and he didn't want it too.   Since Bae was born,  it had been the two of them against the world, with Bae's mother leaving straight from the hospital.   And while the rest of town may see Gold as the evil landlord without a kind word to say, his son was different.  Bae was his entire world,  the sun Gold revolved around, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do now. 

It is only school, Gold thought to himself,  only a few hours every day.  It shouldn't feel like the end of the world, but it certainly did. 

“And Alice said Miss French reads us a new book every day and even has little songs for us to sing and-“ 

Gold pulled their car to a stop.  “It seems like you have a wonderful day ahead of you.  I wonder if Miss French has something special planned for the first day.”  

Bae scrunched up as his face, his deep thinking contorting his face.  "I think so.  I mean, it's the first day, Papa.  That’s pretty special.”

“You’ll just have to tell me everything later.” Gold said as he unbuckled Bae’s car seat and lifted his son out of the car, holding him close despite the pressure it put on his bum leg.  

Bae gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “I promise Papa.  Absolutely-positively everything.”  

Gold was very aware that they were early, both due to Bae’s excitement and his own need for a long goodbye, but he hadn’t expected the school to be so empty.   The playground was deserted.  A few of the teachers seemed ready with clipboards full of paperwork, but the rest were still chatting amicably.

The two of them had barely been standing there a few moments before a young brunette woman strode forward. 

"Good Morning! Who do we have here?" The women's blue eyes sparkled as she peered intently at Bae.   

Gold squeezed Bae's hand, whose own nerves seemed to have momentarily gotten the better of him, but that little reassurance seemed to be enough.

"I'm Bailey Gold! Today's my first day of Kindergarten!"  

She smiled widely.   "Well, isn't it my lucky day?  I'll be your teacher this year, Bailey.  My name is Miss French."

She bent slightly to extend her hand first to Bae, who shook it tentatively, before shaking Mr. Gold's hand.  Gold was surprised to admit he already liked Miss French, a remarkable feat considering Gold could count the number of people he liked this town on one hand.   But Bae already seemed taken with her, and he liked the way that Miss French went out of her way to make Bae feel important.

"Now Bailey when the bell rings, you'll line up by the basketball hoop with your new classmates," She said pointing and waiting for Bae's solemn little nod to make sure he understood this new task.

"But until then, I have to check in with all the parents, and your Dad has to fill out some adult paperwork."  Miss French made a face on the word adult that made Bae laugh.  "I think now might be a good time to test out the playground equipment if your Dad says it's okay."

“Please Papa?”  

Gold leaned more heavily on his cane so he could kneel next to Bae for one last hug.  "Of course, Bae.  Have fun, and remember I want to know everything."

Bae squeezed his Papa tightly, before dashing off toward the plastic playground. 

“He seems like a good kid.” 

“Aye. Although if you try to teach the class about dinosaurs or pirates, he might try to take over.”

Miss French laughed.  “I’ll be sure to leave the pirate books until next week then to prevent a mutiny.” 

Despite his glum mood, Gold couldn’t help but smile like that.  She had a beautiful laugh. 

"Unfortunately, I do have some paperwork for you.  Most of Bailey's information is already on file. Still, we like to double-check it on the first day, especially the emergency contact and vaccination information."

She handed him one of the clipboards, before leaving to check on the Nolans and their rambunctious daughter.    Gold tried to focus on the forms.  This was supposed to happen; this was just the next step of Bae's childhood.  He shouldn't be mourning the lost hours together in his pawnshop.  School was what his son needed.  Bae was happily running up the steps to the slide, in full view of at least six teachers.  And with a task to do, he should be able to just focus on the paperwork in front of him, but the lines of text seemed to blur.  

The fearsome Mr. Gold wasn't crying. He couldn't be; it had to be just rain.  The fact that there wasn't a cloud in the sky couldn't stop that logic.  He was so caught up on the fact that he couldn’t be crying in front of Storybrooke Elementary that he didn't notice when someone joined him. 

"I wish I could tell you not to worry, Mr. Gold, that everything will be alright, and I'll take good care of Bailey, but I understand that some beginnings are harder than others."  

He could feel the sheer force of her smile despite his stubborn refusal to look up at her, to allow anyone to see the pain lurking inside the lonely man who refused to let the world in.  Her heels were much taller than he would expect of someone in charge of wrangling five-year-olds,  but her bright skirts matched her sunny dispositions. 

His refusal to look at her did little to deter her.  "Most parents cry on the first day.  My own brother wept like a baby when he dropped my niece off, and little Grace has known me her entire life." 

"Isn't that a case for favoritism?" 

Her smile seemed to grow at his response, likely because she had gotten through to him.  "I'll let you in on a secret, Mr. Gold.  Storybrooke is a small town, where everyone knows everyone else's business.  If I could only teach children I had never met or knew nothing about, I’d be out of a job.  But rest assured in my classroom, the only thing that matters is how the children act on the day to day basis." 

Gold sighed. That was good news.  He would hate for Bae to be held accountable for whatever grudge his tenants held against him. 

When her hand touched his shoulder, he realized he said that out loud.   “I’m not going to pretend I haven’t heard the rumors Mr. Gold, but based on what I’ve seen,  you’re certainly not as dark as people say.” 

Her smile seemed so earnest that he felt his heart leap despite the current situation.  “Does it get easier after the first day?” 

Miss French thought for a second.  “I’m not sure watching Bae grow up will ever get easier, but it’ll get easier for you to bring him to school.  You’ll know he’ll laugh and learn and be ready to come home at the end of the day with stories that you’re not sure actually happened.” 

He didn't have much time to think about her answer before the bell rang, and the mass of children began to line up by grade at the edge of the playground.  He thought about it as he re-polished the silverware in his shop and ate his lunch more aggressively than strictly necessary.   And by the time he arrived once again at the school and had Bae wrapped in his arms, Gold thought he understood.

“And Miss French knows EVERYTHING! She taught us a song where we say hello in different languages!” Bae announced, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.  “I can’t sing it yet but one day I’ll know everything too. I really like Miss French”

“I like her too Bae.”  Gold said, despite that being an understatement.  He was looking forward to parent-teacher conferences and the next time he could be alone with Miss French a bit too much.

[xnxadultstore]

Christmas Coloring Contest from Jane F. Hankins

Welcome to the Imaginary World of Jane F. Hankins Coloring Books. I consider that you may be simply as enchanted as I used to be after seeing the primary ebook. Jane’s books are professionally printed on thick artist paper and a number of other of them are large outsized books appropriate for framing and giving as presents. Most books comprise 25 single-side, 11″ x 14″ prints of authentic drawings, on HEAVY 80lb. Cover Stock paper, created particularly for this ebook! Pages are perforated for straightforward elimination, show, and framing.

This is grownup coloring, for adults who admire actual artwork, not swiftly drawn elephants or flowers, full of computer-generated polygons.

Each ebook has its personal theme and magical qualities so have a look. I’ve video flip throughs of some and I’ll hyperlink to Jane’s social so you possibly can see much more wondrousness.

CHRISTMAS COLORING CONTEST

Today November 15, 2019, we’re SUPER excited to announce a coloring contest to win a replica of Jane Hankin’s latest Christmas Coloring ebook!! We have a tremendous PDF of one among Jane’s lovely Santa’s which you’ll be able to obtain from our Coloring Book Addict Facebook web page or Facebook Group. CLICK ON EITHER LINK TO FIND THE SANTA PDF AND ENTER!

We are providing you with till November 25th to do your greatest work on this jolly fellow. Our admin crew and Jane’s publishers will select the winner who will obtain a replica of Jane’s Christmas ebook!!

In this ebook, she illustrates the spirited antics of Santa’s Helpers. These merry wee Elves have their very own model of “The 12 Days of Christmas”, which is sort of charming… even when a bit uncommon. See how they go about adorning and inserting toys underneath the tree – sprinkling their particular Elf Magic wherever they go!

So, take a break this busy season and coloration your new Christmas Heirloom. I assure you’ll catch your self smiling!

12″ x 14″ Format pagesSuper prime quality “professional grade” 80lb. Cover Stock paper25 single-side, hand-drawn prints, distinctive to this bookPerforated sheets for straightforward elimination and framing

Don’t need to anticipate the competition? You can order now from Jane’s web site right here or Amazon US, UK or Canada right here

CLICK ON ONE OF THESE LINKS TO JOIN IN AND COLOR & WIN!

Jane Hankins books are only a deal with, beneath you’ll discover hyperlinks to every together with a number of flip-thru movies. We assume you’ll fall in love like we did.

Take a take a look at my flip by again in 2017. You actually can HEAR how thick and unctuous the paper is.

I’ve all however two of Jane Hankins coloring books, that alone says a fantastic deal relating to how I really feel about her artwork. These books actually are, as famous on every ebook, “fine art coloring book(s)”. At first look they could seem like on the costly facet. But the previous saying;”you get what you pay for” positively speaks volumes on this case. The artwork is actually past lovely. You will smile even if you find yourself simply fascinated with these books.

Escerpt from Colorista #1 Review on Facebook

Click to Order on Jane’s Site Here or Amazon US, UK or Canada Here.

The Imaginary Underwater World of Jane F. Hankins

If you aren’t aware of her books they’re fairly exceptional. A HUGE dimension 11×17 on 80pound artist high quality paper. So, in case you’ve been annoyed you can’t use your fancy markers or paints, that is the ebook to do this all in. Each of the pages in all her books are perforated and spiral certain. Yes, they’re costlier than your common coloring ebook however upon getting one in your hand you’ll know why.

Click to Order on Jane’s web site or right here on Amazon US, UK or Canada

The Imaginary World by Jane Hankins

This ebook was launched Spring of 2016

Click to Order on Jane Hankins web site or right here on Amazon US, UK or Canada

The Imaginary World of Jane F. Hankins Volume 2

Released Winter of 2016

Click to Order on Jane Hankins web site or right here on Amazon US, UK or Canada

Last 12 months’s Christmas ebook was everybody’s favourite track that nobody can bear in mind the phrases to, LOOSELY based mostly on the 12 Days of Christmas.

25 Days of Christmas Magic

INDULGE instantly Holiday Vacation every time you immerse your self within the creativeness of artist and storyteller, Jane F. Hankins! Her extraordinary tackle the normal 12 Days will go away you laughing. Whether it’s the Children’s Nativity Pageant, the Sugar Plum Fairy, or Seven Swans (In Bikinis!) Swimming, including your individual coloration to those pleasant prints of Jane’s seasonal drawings will create a Christmas souvenir to get pleasure from for years to return!

Simply Magical!

CLICK TO ORDER

When we function an artist we like to offer our colorists slightly peek behind the inventive genius in our Meet the Artist Q&A.

Q&A with Jane F. Hankins – Illustrator, Author, Artist

Q1. What do you get pleasure from drawing essentially the most?

Adorable characters and creatures that dwell within the land between my ears.  In different phrases, all my drawings are from my very own Imaginary World. What you’re seeing within the coloring books are the creatures I like, and they’re what I get pleasure from drawing essentially the most.

Q2. How did you get began?

I used to be artistic as a toddler and that began all of it! I had numerous crayons, paper, and playdoh and by the age of four, I declared myself an artist… in addition to a dancer and singer. By the time I used to be in my second 12 months of school, I made a decision I’d focus on visible artwork. I did artwork gross sales as a pupil, juried arts and craft exhibits after which galleries and museum reveals.  Now, I’m delighted to be creating coloring books that enable collaborative artwork with colorists from around the globe.

It had not occurred to me to do a coloring ebook till my daughter recommended it in 2017, “Just do what you draw!” Then my expensive cousin, Meg, mentioned, “I’ll make it happen!” And that she definitely did!

Q3. Who or what has impressed you?

Literature is an inspiration!  Everything from Harry Potter to Fannie Flagg’s great novels has influenced my work. Nature and music are all the time glorious sources of inspiration. Artists which have impressed me embrace illustrators Hillary Knight and Maurice Spendak, Garth Williams, who did the Giant Golden Book of Elves and Fairies that my aunt gave me after I was six years previous. 

This fall. What supplies do you get pleasure from utilizing?

When I draw I exploit Micron or Stadler drawing pens. I additionally love watercolor and coloration pencils for works on paper.  All my paintings is authentic. I draw freehand, and nothing is computer-generated, enhanced or projected. I work in sculpture, work, and drawings.  I sculpt utilizing porcelain and stoneware clay which I “cold finish” with acrylic paint and generally embellish with discovered objects (marbles, beads, buttons…).  The work are acrylic on canvas.  

Q5. Do you want to paint in your designs or choose to have others do this?

Prior to growing coloring books, I solely coloured my very own drawings.  Now that I’ve developed eight print books and three digital books, I’m so busy drawing that I don’t have as a lot time to paint.  I actually LOVE seeing how others interpret the drawings and the unimaginable expertise when coloring them.  I’m all the time delighted and stunned by the wonderful work of the numerous colorists that share their footage.

Q6. What provides (manufacturers) do you suggest on your ebook(s)?

As far as a model, I like to recommend Prismacolor pencils.   I exploit totally different manufacturers of watercolor paint, however I solely use it sparingly.  I’ve seen on social media works that use alcohol markers and different varied mediums, and I believe they give the impression of being lovely!  

Q7. What is your favourite coloring ebook apart from your individual?

Kerby Rosanes particularly Mythomorphia.  I like the element and creativity of the drawings particularly the dragons. 

Q8. What is your favourite factor to do if you find yourself not doing all of your artwork?

When I’m not creating artwork, I get pleasure from writing on my novels, studying, being outdoor, going to motion pictures and, in fact, artistic playtime with my husband and my granddaughters! 

Q9. Who is your favourite coloring ebook artist?

Kerby Rosanes is my favourite coloring ebook artist.  I’m fascinated by his work and the juxtaposition of the imaginary creatures, with castles and buildings popping out of them.  As an artist, I admire that they don’t seem to be laptop generated and are authentic works.

Q10. Can you inform us about every other initiatives you’re engaged on?

My present venture is an angel themed coloring ebook.  Over the previous 2 years have been doing a collection of work of “Our Better Angels”.  I’m additionally trying ahead to illustrating and writing a youngsters’s ebook with my husband. On high of all of that, I’m engaged on the third quantity in my trilogy of “The Peavine Chronicles“. 

Bonus Q – Anything else I needs to be asking you or different artists that may be fascinating on your followers or future followers?

Perhaps ask them the significance and/or affect on different mediums artists work with.  For me, I’m working in writing, portray, drawing and sculpture and this leads to extra choices so far as inventive expression. Each space evokes artworks in a special medium. 

One little recognized truth about me is I’m fascinated by theoretical physics. It’s a fantastic train for the creativeness. 

Digital Downloadable Books

You also can get three books in digital obtain format in eight half x 11 dimension so you possibly can print them off as many instances as you need. Click on the picture to order!

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25 Free Things to Do in Edinburgh

Group Accommodation in Edinburgh

An architectural and cultural gem, Edinburgh should definitely be on your bucket list of places to visit. The city may have a reputation for not being easy on the pocket – it is a western capital city, after all – but there are plenty of activities that you can do for free. Here is a list of 25 things to do for free in Edinburgh.

Places of Interest Scottish Parliament Building Located in Holyrood within Edinburgh’s central UNESCO World Heritage Site is the Scottish Parliament Building, which is open to the public six days a week for the majority of the year. The building itself, completed in 2004, is worth a look, having won numerous architecture awards. If you are interested in what goes on inside, it is possible to join a free guided tour of the building on Mondays, Fridays and Saturdays. The tour lasts about one hour and you will learn about many aspects of the Parliament Building, including how the Parliament works, the building’s architecture and design, and pieces from the art collection.

Greyfriars Kirkyard and Greyfriars Bobby One of the most well-known cemeteries in the world, in recent years owing to a certain writer who penned seven novels about a boy wizard who stole names from the tombstones to use in her books, Greyfriars Kirkyard is the resting place of a few well-known Scots. Possibly the most visited of the graves is that of Greyfriars Bobby, a Skye terrier who died in 1872. A familiar figure in 19th century Edinburgh, Greyfriars Bobby reportedly guarded his owner’s grave for fourteen years and stole the hearts of the Lord Provost William Chambers and the public, who would bring him food. Chambers even organised a dog licence for him, thereby saving him from being put down by the local authorities. Greyfriars Bobby himself is buried just outside the kirkyard, close to his memorial statue. Edinburgh Central Library Opened in 1890, Edinburgh Central Library was the first public library to open in the city. As well as being a beautiful building to walk around, the library organise a number of events throughout the year. Some are ticketed even though they are free so it is best to check the library’s website for details. As for the collections, the library has several floors and has books, periodicals, maps and newspapers going back many years in six different departments. Outdoor Spaces and Activities Arthur’s Seat and Holyrood Park Edinburgh is built on seven hills which form Holyrood Park, and the highest of these is Arthur’s Seat, named allegedly after the eponymous King Arthur of British legend and supposedly the location of Arthur’s Camelot. In reality, the hill is an ancient, now extinct, volcano which erupted around 350 million years ago. It makes for a pleasant walk and is also the location of a well-preserved fort dating back approximately 2000 years. Holyrood Park is the park surrounding Holyrood Palace and is home to a wide range of flora and fauna as well as a 15th century chapel and a fresh water loch. Dr Neil’s Garden One of the most impressive gardens in the country, Dr Neil’s Garden – also known as Edinburgh’s Secret Garden – is the result of the hard work of two medical doctors, Nancy and Andrew Neil. Situated next to Duddingston Loch, the garden has long been a source of inspiration for writers, musicians and artists. It is a space used for meditation and contemplation, and also makes for a lovely setting for a romantic walk.

The Royal Mile and the Grassmarket Possibly the most famous place in Edinburgh, the Royal Mile connects Holyrood Palace to Edinburgh Castle. A good percentage of the city’s museums, sights and galleries are located on the Royal Mile. You also have the opportunity to see an abundance of Scottish crafts, including the national tartan fabric. Just a short walk away is the Grassmarket. During the medieval ages, the Grassmarket was the city’s market place and execution site. It is now one of the most vibrant areas of the city with lots of shops and pubs, but you can still discover its past by following the Greater Grassmarket Historic Trail. Royal Botanic Garden Set in an amazing 72 acres of land, the Royal Botanic Garden is easily one of the most stunning botanic gardens in the world. There is much to explore in the garden, including: the arboretum, a tree collection containing over 730 species; the rock garden with plants from Asia, Europe and the Americas; the Chinese Hillside which highlights the strong links between the garden and China; the Queen Mother’s Memorial Garden with plants from around the world to symbolise her love of travelling; and the demonstration garden, focusing on encouraging people to grow their own food.

Portobello Beach Perfect in the summer months, the seaside district of Portobello Beach is located just a few miles from the centre of Edinburgh. It is the ideal spot for sunbathing and swimming when the weather is fine and the beach is also host to a number of events, such as the Big Beach Busk, a huge busking event and sporting competitions for volleyball and triathlon. Archivists’ Garden Archivists’ Garden is located in the open courtyard between General Register House and New Register House and houses 57 species of plant, all of which are connected to Scottish history and culture in some way. These associations are divided into five categories: Events (Birth, Marriage and Death); Famous Scots; Heraldry; Homecoming; and Tartan. The garden layout is a physical representation of the human mind and memory; the flora are planted in a flowing pattern to mimic the randomness of the human brain. The Potter Trail It is a well-known fact now that JK Rowling wrote a lot of her best-selling series of Harry Potter in Edinburgh, with a lot of local locations inspiring names, places and characters in the books. On this free walking tour, you will discover these locations, including the real-life street that Diagon Alley is based on, where Professor McGonagall and Lord Voldemort are buried, and the school which was the inspiration for Hogwarts. You will also visit the Elephant House, the cafe where Rowling wrote the first book. Calton Hill A designated UNESCO World Heritage Site, Calton Hill offers wonderful views over Edinburgh, especially at sunset. It is also home to a number of monuments: the National Monument of Scotland, which is dedicated to Scottish soldiers and sailors who perished during the Napoleonic Wars; Nelson’s Monument; and the Robert Burns Monument. Museums and Art Galleries Scottish National Gallery Housing an astonishing amount of art from around the world, the Scottish National Gallery is a must for every visitor to Edinburgh. Opened in 1859, the collections here span all the way from the Renaissance to the 20th century, and include works by Botticelli, Vermeer, Constable, Van Gogh, Gauguin, Turner, Monet, Raphael, and Rembrandt, among many others. There are actually two buildings of the gallery, the National Gallery Building and the Royal Scottish Academy Building, which are now connected by the underground Gardens Level.

The Writers’ Museum Located on the Royal Mile in Lady Stair’s House, the Writers’ Museum details and celebrates the lives of three of Scotland’s most revered writers – Robert Louis Stevenson, Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott. It is not necessary to have read the works of these writers in order to enjoy the museum as there is plenty of information given throughout. The museum houses a number of portraits, personal effects and rare books belonging to the three. Highlights of these include: original drafts of Burns’; a plaster cast of Burns’ skull, one of only three made; and Stevenson’s riding boots and a ring given to him by a Samoan chief. Outside the museum is Makars’ Court where you will find flagstones inscribed with the names of Scottish writers from the 14th century up to the modern day. National Museum of Scotland History buffs will be in heaven during a visit to the National Museum of Scotland. Detailing the country’s history, the museum looks into various facets, such as art, design and fashion, science and technology, and nature. In the Grand Gallery – one of the most beautiful spaces in Scotland with its high windows and tall pillars – there are a number of wondrous objects on display, such as a 19th century lighthouse lens and a 12-foot long South Pacific feast bowl. In the Natural World galleries you will come face to face with a giant Tyrannosaurus Rex and discover the wide variety of the animal world. Other galleries to check out are the World Cultures galleries, the Scottish History and Archaeological galleries, and the science and technology galleries. City Art Centre One of the most interesting galleries in Edinburgh, City Art Centre offer a wide range of exhibitions from the historic to the modern. They primarily concentrate on photography, architecture and contemporary art. As well as the exhibitions, they also have a hands-on ArtSpace where you can try your hand at different art projects such as portraits, landscapes and collages. They even have facilitated art sessions on Saturday afternoons. Museum of Edinburgh If you are particularly interested in the history of the city itself then the Museum of Edinburgh is for you. Situated in the 16th century Huntly House, the building is a maze of collections relating to the city’s origins and history. One of its most impressive collections is its decorative art. Examples include silver, glass, pottery and porcelain, showing the diversity of Scottish craftsmanship. Other interesting items are the collar and bowl of Greyfriars Bobby and the National Covenant of 1638. Fans of the TV show Outlander will be interested to know that some scenes from series three were filmed at Huntly House. Museum of Childhood The first museum in the world completely dedicated to the history of childhood, the Museum of Childhood has an impressive collection of toys and games dating back to the 18th century. The ground floor has recently been refurbished and now includes a number of new items, including a retro Buzz Lightyear from the year 2000. As well as toys and games, the museum also showcases costumes and fashion and details the home, nursery and school lives of children throughout the ages. Scottish National Portrait Gallery The Scottish National Portrait Gallery was the world’s first portrait gallery, opened in 1889. It’s an impressive building in itself, built in the Spanish Gothic Style, making it distinct from other buildings in the area. Designed specifically to showcase pictures of Scotland’s heroes and heroines, the gallery now houses a vast array of paintings, photographs and sketches, beginning in the Renaissance and leading up to the present day. Some of the more famous portraits include Mary Queen of Scots, Robert Burns and James IV as well as some modern names like Billy Connolly and Robbie Coltrane.

Museum on the Mound If you’re interested in the story of money, the Museum on the Mound, located in the Bank of Scotland’s head office, tells it in a fascinating way. It looks at the way in which money has evolved over 4,000 years, from using objects such as shells and tea as currency to our present day coins and banknotes. It has exhibitions on the rise of building societies in Victorian Britain and the changing face of banking throughout the centuries. The museum also has some interactive activities to take part in, such as trying to crack open a safe and applying for a 19th century life assurance policy. Churches and Chapels St Giles’ Cathedral Founded in 1124, St Giles’ Cathedral, the High Kirk of Scotland, is located at the heart of the city and was the focal point of the Scottish Reformation during the 16th century. It is the most important place of worship in the city and named after the patron saint of Edinburgh, who was extremely popular during the Middle Ages. Unusual for a Presbyterian church, it has some stunning stained glass depicting several figures, including Saint Andrew, the patron saint of Scotland. Magdalen Chapel It would be very easy to miss Magdalen Chapel – it’s hidden away in the Cowgate – but it is well worth seeking out due to the fact that it has the oldest stained glass in Scotland. Built in the 16th century, it was initially partly established as a hospital for the poor as well as the sick. Its stained glass was the only ones to survive the Scottish Reformation. The central window feature four shields including the arms of Mary Guise, the mother of Mary Queen of Scots. The chapel is now used as the Scottish Reformation Society’s headquarters. St Cuthbert’s Parish Church Built on the foundations of at least six previous churches, St Cuthbert’s Parish Church is hidden away at the west end of Princes Street. The current church was built in the late 19th century but also includes an 18th century memorial chapel to those who died in the World War I. This chapel is the location where Agatha Christie married her second husband in 1930. Other notable features of the church include the Byzantine-inspired apse and rounded vault with its exquisite ceiling paintings and marble and alabaster pulpit, and its stained glass window of David on his way to defeat the giant Goliath, made from Tiffany glass. Entertainment Live Music at Whistle Binkies Although many venues offer free music in Edinburgh, Whistle Binkies gets the nod for offering up to four bands on any given night during the week. They are free to enter from Sundays to Thursdays, and up to midnight at the weekends. In addition to regular gigs from both signed and unsigned artists, they also hold open mic nights. Live Music at Sandy Bell’s If folk music is your thing, Sandy Bell’s is where you should head. With evening sessions every day and afternoon ones on Saturdays, Sundays and Mondays – with the exception of the month of August during the Edinburgh Festival, when afternoon sessions take place every day – you can catch a wide variety of acts performing different folk genres, including Scottish reels and American bluegrass. The Stand Comedy Club Edinburgh has a great culture of comedy and the Stand Comedy Club is one of the most popular venues in the city. Although you need to pay for most of their gigs, they do have a free improv show at Sunday lunchtimes led by resident comics Stu and Garry. They also serve food so it makes an ideal place to go after a big Saturday night out. Edinburgh is a stunning city with plenty to keep you occupied for days. And with all these free attractions, there really is no reason not to visit.

Travel Tip created by Helen Thomas in association with Vacation Soup