#but good lord this is just temping me to write it so bad

[the-messenger-of-the-gods]

i have too many wips rn but GOD im so obsessed w a giant that is truly dangerous like its so hot. i don’t just mean dangerous to a tiny person, any giant can be potentially life threatening to a tiny. i mean a giant who kills other giants. like a devotional giant who is so compassionate and caring and considerate and they fuck you so gentle and so tender and also they’ve felt a man’s neck break in their hands. they’ve never hurt their tiny guy on purpose and they do everything in their power to be gentle but god by nature they are just not.

[multifandumbmeg]

Personal vent post into the void but like

Bro, the past two years have been so hard. I seemingly (not quite but it's complicated) developed a series of chronic health issues out of nowhere and it's like my body just finally gave up. Granted, a lot of bad shit happened to me and I abused the fuck out of it growing up and in my early 20s because I was taught the only limits I had were mental weaknesses which could be simply overpowered with willpower, but even so.

Apart from developing crippling chronic pain (from a few bad migraines a year to daily to occasionally getting one or two days off here and there now that I'm heavily medicated), I'm a medical mystery, my fatigue is unbelievable (for someone who has suffered with debilitating chronic insomnia from childhood, it's different), and now my mom is having serious health issues as well, and she's the only person in my family I get along with.

Today I went out with one of my best friends, who had me sleep over at her house and bought me food because she knows I'm running out of cash and borderline suicidal again. We had an awesome time, but I slept in VERY late because we were up til a whopping 11pm, then we walkes a grand total of maybe 1 1/2 blocks downtown between a diner and a single shop. I came home and showered for the first time this week, probably longer than that, and I've been bedridden since then. Migraine aside, that's just the tiredness. On non-migraine days, I'm guarenteed to get one if I leave the house. Being outside is instant pain, and it's only going to get worse as the weather heats up.

I've been unemployed 5 months, coming off 8 months of working only twice a week. After years of not getting so much as a job interview (I worked temp jobs arranged by my mom, who works for a temp agency) I had to turn down the Peace Corps because by the time I was accepted, my health had deteriorated so much I knew I couldn't go. I had two degrees, including a masters from an elite university, know five languages, have copious experience in various fields and I can't get a job doing literally anything, even if I ignore my illness and pretend it'll be possible for me to attend. I feel like a complete loser. I worked my absolute ass off and have got absolute nothing to show for it. I finally got some interviews recently, which went really well, and I got rejected from both. The temp agency called to offer me a job and when I called them back they said actually the client cancelled it. I have a migraine as I write this and have to contemplate what medication I can take, because I may have a worse one later and I can't take too many in one week.

A few days ago, hitting an emotional low, I decided to finally pick up a huge project I started last year again because I was having a fair run of good days (read: some migraineless days, mostly mild pain days). I almost announced it on here. Then a new string came up. Every time I start to make progress on something or it seems like FINALLY things are looking up! I get ground into the dust and kicked again.

So all that to say, times fucking suck, that's why I've not been responsive or consistently around, and if anyone has any tips for chronic pain/chronic illness coping I need it. Because Lord, I was mentally ill before all this. ANYWAY just needed to vent and stop complaining to my poor two friends for once because they're also getting murdered by life.

[twh-news]

To land ‘Loki,’ Kate Herron had to pull out all the stops. How she won over Marvel

As a teenager, Kate Herron was obsessed with the “Lord of the Rings” films.

In particular, she recalls heading to theaters repeatedly with friends who shared her passion to see “The Two Towers” (2002), the second installment in director Peter Jackson’s trilogy based on J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic fantasy novel. She even wrote “Lord of the Rings” fan fiction.

“It was very silly,” the British filmmaker insists, revealing that one of her stories saw the heroic Fellowship traveling through a magical fountain and getting trapped in New York. “Honestly, I was just writing the stories to make my friends laugh. I guess it was kind of that first foray for me: ‘How do I tell a story?’”

Years later, Herron is again involved in telling a story about a protagonist displaced from the world he knows. But this time, her audience is much bigger.

Herron, 33, is the director of “Loki,” the Marvel Studios series that follows the adventures of the titular god of mischief after he has been plucked out of time by an agency charged with maintaining the sanctity of the timeline. Thus, the six-episode series, which premiered earlier this month on Disney+, features a slightly different version of Loki than the fans of the Marvel Cinematic Universe have grown to love since his first appearance in “Thor” (2011) through “Avengers: Endgame” (2019).

“I love villains,” says Herron during a recent video call from Atlanta, where she is putting the final touches on “Loki.” “I think that if a villain’s done right, you don’t necessarily have to like their actions, but you have to understand them. And I think that Tom [Hiddleston], in the last decade, has brought such empathy and wit and pain to a very real character for so many people. I just wanted to be part of whatever [Loki’s] next chapter was going to be.”

The series, on which the self-described Loki fan also serves as an executive producer, is Herron’s highest-profile project to date. Her previous credits include directing on Netflix’s “Sex Education,” as well as “Five by Five,” a series of short films executive produced by Idris Elba.

While growing up in South East London, Herron never considered filmmaking as a career. Her love of movies manifested as the aspiration to become an actor, and she often goaded her peers into putting on plays or making movies using a friend’s father’s camcorder. It wasn’t until some astute and encouraging teachers at Herron’s secondary school pointed out that she seemed more interested in storytelling that she changed course.

By introducing Herron to new texts, these teachers — as well as a film studies class that covered films directed by Stanley Kubrick and Akira Kurosawa — helped expand her perspective.

“I just didn’t know that you could have a voice and an authorship over a film, which probably sounds a bit silly. But I just hadn’t really thought about films in that way,” says Herron. Soon enough, she was on the path to film school at the University for the Creative Arts in Farnham, England, where she graduated with a degree in film production.

Herron laughs as she remembers how she believed she would just go off and find work in film straight out of school. “Obviously that did not happen,” she says.

With no post-graduate roadmap (or job offer) to help her break into the industry, Herron eventually started writing and directing short films with “no money” while juggling a day job as a temp. Both experiences provided Herron with material for “Loki,” which introduces a new bureaucratic agency called the Time Variance Authority to the MCU.

“I’ve worked at a lot of random places, which weirdly has influenced ‘Loki’ in some ways because we have this office culture kind of running through it,” says Herron. “I’ve worked in a lot of offices.”

In order to give the retro-futuristic offices of the TVA “a real lived-[in], breathed-in office” feel, Herron incorporated details that viewers could recognize from the real world — from paper files to the posters on the walls — and gave them a fantastical twist befitting the superhero series.

“One of the most exciting things to me about Kate is she has this amazing attention to detail,” says “Loki” co-executive producer Kevin Wright. “That was something that we saw on her very first pitch [and] it works its way into every frame of the show. Every monitor, every piece of paper in the TVA … she has looked over and approved everything you see.”

In an email, “Loki” star Hiddleston described Herron as “a dream collaborator” who possesses “a unique combination of extraordinary diligence, stamina, energy, respect and kindness.”

“Her affection for and understanding of Loki was so deep, profound and wide-ranging,” Hiddleston wrote. “She built a new world for these characters to play in with incredible precision, but she was also acutely sensitive to their emotional journey.”

Herron’s affinity for outsiders is apparent throughout the course of our conversation. There is of course her love for Loki — the heir to the king of Frost Giants raised as the prince of Asgard who has become one of the MCU’s most beloved villain-turned-antiheroes. Herron’s first introduction to the world of Marvel as a kid was through “X-Men: The Animated Series,” about the superhero team with mutant powers that set them apart from average humans. Herron cites Lisa Simpson — the overachieving, opinionated middle child from the animated sitcom “The Simpsons” — as the reason she is a vegetarian who can play the saxophone.

And although Herron describes herself as shy, it’s no match for the passion she brings to discussing film and television.

She calls Wes Anderson’s 2001 film “The Royal Tenenbaums,” co-written by “Loki” actor Owen Wilson, “a perfect movie.” In addition to being obsessed with “The Simpsons,” Herron gravitated toward genre shows such as “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” the updated “Battlestar Galactica” and “The X-Files” when growing up.

As Herron enthusiastically dives into “Loki’s” influences — which include “Alien” (1979), “Blade Runner” (1982), “Brazil” (1985), “Metropolis” (1927) and, yes, even “Teletubbies” — it’s easy to see why Wright knew she was the right person to bring “Loki” to life from their very first meeting.

Upon learning that Marvel was developing a show about Loki, Herron tasked her agents with calling Marvel every day until they would meet with her. And it worked.

“I was just so excited that somebody was chasing the project,” says Wright. “Which sounds crazy, that Marvel would be excited somebody’s chasing us. But it was the early days of us trying to get this Disney+ streaming stuff off the ground, so people were very hesitant … they didn’t know what it was yet.”

Herron’s enthusiasm for the show landed her a video meeting with Wright and executive producer Stephen Broussard. Believing it might be her only shot at the project, Herron came armed with so many stills and clips to illustrate her discussion of the scripts she’d been sent that a simple meet-and-greet turned into a four-hour conversation.

“Over the course of the next week or so,” Wright explains, “it was really figuring out how to set Kate up to succeed when we got her in front of Kevin Feige to pitch this.”

Herron put together a 60-page bible of ideas for the characters, the story, the visual references and more. The rest is Marvel history.

She learned not to wait for permission, she says, after graduating from film school and becoming involved with improv and stand-up to both develop her comedy chops and to meet funny collaborators to be in her short films.

“I think I’d always find excuses, almost, [to not do it],” says Herron. “It was that thing of being like, ‘Oh, well, I’m not ready. So I’ll wait. I’ll wait until I’m perfect at it and then I’ll go do it.’”

Taking inspiration from Robert Rodriguez’s “Rebel Without a Crew” and a SXSW keynote speech by Mark Duplass, Herron realized that she just needed to start making things. She told herself it was OK if the films were messy. If a short was bad, nobody had to see it. If a short was “halfway to good,” she would submit them to festivals.

It’s this tenacious creativity that connects the dots between her early fan fiction, her short films, her pitch presentations — and now “Loki” itself. It’s a trait that has helped her navigate the industry to her current success, even during the periods it’s been most frustrating. As a female director, “I got asked crazy stuff in interviews sometimes,” she says of life on the festival circuit. “I remember being asked, ‘Are you sure you’re ready? Are you sure you’re ready?’ And male colleagues of mine were never asked that in interviews. I think that’s probably why I was so driven to just go out and make stuff.”

[mallowstep]

Primrose AU (with mentions of Leopard AU.)

When they arrive at Thunderclan camp, Cinderpelt begins to take care of Feather and Primrose. Of course, once Primrose spots Bramblepaw talking to her mother and giving her a mouse, the apprentice strikes. She may be missing a full set of claws on one paw, it being mangled beyond any help but all she sees is Tigerstar hurting her mother. Feather, of course trys to stop her sister, but is too weak to leave her nest. Primrose starts a fight with Bramble, and of course, ends up beneath Bramblepaw's paws from her weakened state. Misty loses it, physically grabbing Bramble by the scruff and literally tossing him into the thorn barrier, her fur fluffed up as she stands protectively over Primrose. Firestar and Greystripe calm everyone down, silently making a rule that Bramble will not bring prey or go near the riverclan cats. Stormpaw and Stonefur each calm down Misty and Feather, while both of them nuzzle and curl around Primrose after Cinderpelt past more herbs and cobwebs on Primrose's mangled paw. (Under Misty's, Feather's, Stone's and Storm's protective gazes.)

okay before i go on -- every now and then i get up on my pedastal about a real cat issue. today it is declawing cats.

declawing a cat requires removing a bone from their paw. i don't want to get off topic, i just want to remind everyone it is roughly equivalent to cutting off your toes. don't do it.

moving on to the subject at hand:

also oh man y'all please don't be too disappointed when i say my prim characterization is going to be. different. i think you'll still like her! but she's going to be different. anyway, considering she has like. 0 lines. we'll go with this wonderful bamf!primrosepaw for now, i just don't want anyone to turn around and see my prim and be shocked.

okay finally, to the actual subject at hand:

yessss. i'm too lazy to find the snippet this is in response to, but basically: brambs brings misty a mouse and she. demonstrates a trauma response? it's complicated. if y'all want to talk about feathertail and mistyfoot's codependency in the misty au we can, but that's different.

if i did this -- i think bramble wouldn't fight back? i think -- he's. of the many brambles, tpb bramble might be the only one i like. he's so painfully aware of his father and who he is. that's why he brings mistyfoot the mouse: he doesn't know what happened, like he can't possibly know what happened, but he's just trying to. make up for things.

brambs. love. it ain't ur fault ur father is terrible.

sorry i don't like. i hope u don't mind that i'm going "off the rails" so to speak. i feel like that's implicit in these asks but as always -- it's not bc u sent me something bad (like god i love this so much it's very good), it's just -- you know. not what I would write, Personally speaking. infinite ways and all that.

right. so -- prim is just, like. she's just been Itching to have her chance to fight. and she takes it. and featherpaw is staring in horror and mistyfoot is trying to figure out what to do and thunderclan is watching and--

("Hey," Stonefur says. He touches his nose to Primrosepaw's shoulder. She's still panting, standing on three legs. "It's okay."

"He was gonna--"

"I know," Stonefur says. "It's okay. They're safe."

She looks up at him. "They're not--"

"They are," he says. "Stormpaw and I have been here, and we're okay."

Finally, she releases the tension, pressing her forehead to his shoulder. He licks the top of her head.

"Do you want to go rest with them?"

She nods.)

bramblepaw feels. so guilty. lord.

stonefur does Not have a plan for what to do, here. stormpaw sleeps with...it's bramble, ash, and fern rn, right? that sounds right. but anyway, stonefur does Not have a plan bc thunderclan doesn't have a concept of modular dens.

positive part of them being rescued: stormpaw and featherpaw get on better a lot faster. uh. partially because he doesn't have a chance to fuck up really badly in the beginning. she's not -- uh, i'm not sure. like. how well it came through, but featherpaw is very, very illucid in "i didn't care much i lived." is that a word? she's -- confused. again its the sepsis.

but she's doing better here, so when stormpaw accidentally calls her feather, her first reaction is not, "aw shit, he's about to attack me." she still Hates it, but she does not have the same oh-fuck reaction.

everyone probably emphasizes getting the apprentices training asap. that's a very thunderclan ideal. obviously like -- not until they're physically healthy, but.

firestar gives prim to sandstorm as a temp mentor, and -- she's actually in fairly good shape? her paw is fucked and i think it probably ends up amputated, through ~~the magic of idgaf~~, but she's otherwise okay. so she can get back to training faster.

and she wants to. she never, ever wants to sit out of a fight again.

[crazymommoments]

Before i start this i must tell everyone, We are unvaccinated and we choose to

hold that right 100 percent. That is not what this is about. So please save your

advice on shots and masks for yourself…..i respect your choice now please

respect ours

11-1-21-Covid 19 day ONE￾So I have decided to write this all down as it goes. I know everyone's experience

is different with it but mentally i believe this also helps.

So the story begins last night Oct 31st 2021, Hunter and myself had “colds”for a

couple days…. However, we both have pretty bad allergies and asthma and this

is a common time of year for it to hit us as we start to run the pellet stove and

furnace so nothing triggered in my mind it could be more than that.

First red flag- after trick or treating with the kids we decided to go to Mcdonalds

for a quick and easy supper, i was so happy to find the McRib back…. Well

needless to say i could not smell or taste it at all, no taste to fries, sandwich, or

drink….. Everyone else said it tasted good……

After this i had to test this no taste thing out- drank dill pickle juice, ate jalapenos

(anyone who knows me knows i can't even handle the hotness of a slim jim) and

absolutely nothing!!! I did feel a tingle with the jala but that was it.

Second red flag-It wasn't until late in the evening halloween night we got fevers,

just low grade (lower than 102) and Hunter said his breathing was not the

greatest…..so i said first thing in the morning we go get tested. Up until this point

I figured we would ride this one out at home so we don't have to cause a huge

fuss over every single person we had been in contact with the past 3 days

(football games, school, trick or treating). However, Hunter's breathing scared me

so I decided it was best he be seen.

Hunter, Isaac, and myself were all seen this morning and are positive.

Isaac had no symptoms but he had to come with us so I figured if one of us came

out positive then I would have him tested.

We still have appetites. I am the only one so far with no smell or taste. Everything

just tastes metallic to me.

Fevers come and go. Exhaustion comes and goes. Hunter and I are on steroids

as of now

Olivia got a fever about 1 pm so Cory loaded her up and away they went to be

tested as well

Note; Olivia would have had to be about of school until the 23rd if not positive.

Her quarantine didn't start until ours ended unless she popped a positive. So 23

days of missed school…I definitely don't understand the math behind all this and

honestly I don't believe they do either.

Anyways, she tested positive as well!!!

My husband on the other hand tested NEGATIVE!!! No clue how!

As i sit her tonight, my kids all medicated, and in bed…..my mother brain goes

into full worry

If their oxygens levels drop below 90, they have to be admitted to

hospital…...ALONE, not one single person can be with them…..yet i sit here and

have never felt more helpless….i can't do a damn thing to make them better, i

can't assure them it will be okay….all i can do is sit here and worry.

I now Listen to every noise they make, watch the dark circles and glassy eyes to

make sure they dont get worse. Check their oxygen and temps every few hours.

On top of the extra stress of being out of work, bills to pay, Christmas money

being spent to cover those bills and food/household items needed for the house,

our winter funds are spent to make sure everyone gets the right vitamins,

nutrition, and comfort during this trying time. Also all the peoples lives we have

interrupted with this mess makes me down right sad. I am truly sorry to all

affected by this.

As a parent I can handle the sickness as of this point….it's all the mental crap

that is coming with it that is breaking me.

I like to prepare and for this i was not prepared…..i thank the good Lord for my

mom, brenda farrar and my niece Madison farrar for going and getting us all the

food, medicine, household items. Mom made homemade chicken noodle soup

for us all so i didnt have to cook.

On top of all this my husband has to stay away from us all for 10 days as he is

the sole provider for this family…we can't afford for him to lose his income as

well. The stresses this covid puts on a family are indescribable to say the least

and there is not much help for the people. Unless you're of course an illegal

immigrant or unemployed…..but I won't drag that into this…..

nothing can stop it…...buy the extra toilet paper or can food if your income allows it once in a while…. Stock up on meds, household items, food…… set up online

to go grocery shopping….bill pay….and communicate.

Even just writing this, grammar errors and all, it has helped me this evening with

the load my mind was carrying. Also i have great hopes with no taste i may

continue to lose weight as everything tastes like i licked a sheet of metal.

And most importantly count your blessings and pray. Thank God for all the

blessings you do have. Let the people know how appreciated they are for helping

you through times like these.

And to top matters off I'm in facebook jail today so communication hasn't been

easy……

[mhdiaries]

Frights, Camera, Action! – Hauntlywood Clawdia Wolf Diary

August 25th

Today I was walking through the streets of Londoom I just wanted to howl and do a little dance because I’m so excited to be here. I didn’t, of course, do the dancing part, since I’m the one with the “clumsy gene” in our family and I didn’t want to fall through an open monster hole cover. It has never bothered me that I’m not as athletic as the rest of the pack, because I think it was pretty apparent even when I was a cub that I was better at writing stories about my brothers’ and sisters’ athletic exploits than participating in them. It’s not that I didn’t try, but my mind and body may have been in concert but they were not playing the same tune. I remember the last organized soccer game I played: the coach put me in the goal partly because I was tall for my age and partly because he thought that perhaps the prospect of a ball being rocketed toward me might keep my attention. It worked for a bit, until the ball stayed at the other end of the pitch for a while, and a butterfly landed on the net. All of a sudden I became a ferocious were-spider who decided to give the butterfly a reprieve. So I climbed up in the net to shoo it away when I heard my dad yell, “Clawdia, turn around!” A ghoul was on a breakaway, and the only thing between her and me was open pitch and the ball. I tried to turn, and my spikes caught in the net, so I just closed my eyes and leaped toward the front of the goal. Somehow the ball ended up in my claws, and I kept the ghoul from scoring. It was my one and only athletic achievement, so I retired with my legacy in check and got a good story out of it, which, I’m sure, will end up in one of my screamplays some day. 

September 8th

I was sitting in the lecture hall today not really paying attention like I should have been, partly because I was working on a not-for-that-class writing assignment and partly, okay, mostly, because symbolism in ghost-modern, neo-realist goblin cinema is only slightly less painful than rolling in flea-infested wolf’s bane. Honestly, I have no idea what a goblin miner wearing a red hat and pushing an empty ore cart says about the state of modern goblin-kobold relations. I’m sure it is profound and important, but well... it doesn’t matter. What did matter, howere, was that the professor asked a question that he wanted all of us to answer, and I didn’t hear the question. I could have asked him to repeat the question, of course, but then I would have had to acknowledge that I had not been paying attention, and since this particular professor hates that, I knew I was going to have to wing it on the answer. Which made me nervous, which made me look for something to chew on, which meant I wasn’t listening to the other answers, which meant I didn’t have a clue when he got to me. So when he said, “Ms. Wolf?” I said I didn’t think I could add anything to the discussion that had not been more profoundly stated in the answers my classmates had already given. This caused the rest of the class to burst out laughing, to which the professor said, “While I appreciate your humility, your answer leaves us no closer to knowing how many siblings you have.” I was mortalfied, but even more so when he said, “Please do try and pay better attention going forward.” Unlive and learn, Clawdia, unlive and learn. 

September 15th

I’ve been using my iCoffin tablet to do some of my writing lately, and I really like it. I mean, I like the tablet. It’s great for doing video chats, and there are some really cool Londoom based apps that have helped me find my way around the city better. As for the writing part, I still prefer my chewed pen and leghoul pad. It may be old-fashioned, but there’s something about a blank sheet of paper that’s less intimidating than a blank scream with a blinking cursor.

October 1st

The only thing that’s coming down faster than the temperature in Londoom right now is the rain. I’m not sure what the real temp is, but you know it’s cold when a werewolf has to put on her fuzzy wool socks... brrr... fortunately, dad did a good job preparing me for this climate by never allowing to turn the thermostat up past the “I can see my breath” mark during the winter. We would say, “Dad, the house is freezing!” to which he would always reply, “You can either have heat or you can eat.” Followed quickly by, “We’re werewolves, for ghoul’s sake, put on a sweater if you’re cold.” Then we’d all look at mom, who would just shrug her soldiers. It was one of the only things she couldn’t change his mind about. So we’d all just sit snuggled together on the couch watching bad TV, complaining about Howleen’s sharp, unclipped paw nails and making promises about what we’d do when we all moved out and got our own places. I distinctly remember saying that I would turn up the heat so high that it would make Gloom Beach seem like a Yeti cave. So the first time it got cold here, I did just that, and it was every bit as amazing as I imagined it would be, until I got my first heating bill. Let’s just say that grocery shopping for the next few weeks gave me a completely different perspective on dad’s old saying. I’m pretty confident that saltines and marmite will never darken the shelves of my cupboard again after having that formerly tasty combination as my only breakfast and lunch option for a fortnight. I’m really missing being able to snuggle up on the couch with my pack of siblings, and I wouldn’t even complain about Howleen’s uncut paw nails... well, maybe not a lot.  

October 6th

I had a great video chat with the fam tonight, and they could not stop talking about Draculaura being chosen as queen of the vampires. They were in complete shock, and I have to admit it was quite a surprise to me as well. The vampires haven’t had a queen since the last chosen one, a young vampire ghoul named Elissabat, disappeared some 400 years ago. What is really curious about this, as if Draculaura being chosen as the new queen right out of the boo wasn’t curious enough, is that Clawdeen told me Draculaura’s choice was confirmed by the Vampire’s Heart. I have actually been doing quite a bit of research on the heart, which is really just a massive jewel with magical properties, for a screamplay I wanted to write about the mystery of the missing queen. There are many scholars that believe the jewel disappeared at the same time the ghoul who would be queen did; so either the scholars are incorrect, or there is more here than meets the eye. I didn’t want to be the one to rain on the funeral though, until I had a little more proof, especially with Clawdeen being so excited about attending the coronation. I did notice that Clawd wasn’t in the room with everyone else, and I’m wondering how he is dealing with this news. 

October 7th

Clawdeen has sent me at least 30 texts and emails since last night detailing the fashions she’s thinking about taking to the coronation. I can see her now running around the room with absolutely every piece of clothing she owns spread out so she can mix and match fashions. She’s probably also been through Draculaura’s closet several times as well. I love her so much and I wish I could be there to make her laugh when she starts getting too serious. She’s so beautiful, though, that whatever she chooses will probably steal the show. I finally got an IM from Clawd asking if we could talk. This wasn’t unusual, since Clawd prefers one-on-one conversation to fighting for face time in a group. When he popped up on the screen he looked terrible, almost like he’d been crying, although it might have just been bad lighting. As usual, Clawd didn’t want to talk about himself and instead wanted to know every little thing I was doing. I finally had to say, “Stop howling around the moon and talk to me, little brother.” So he did. He told me that he didn’t trust the Lord Stoker character that showed up with the Vampire’s Heart claiming it led him to Draculaura. What’s more, neither did Draculaura. They both thought Draculaura would be miserable being queen, but that she would feel honor and duty bound to take the throne. Even so he was trying to be as supportive as possible and went on for a few more minutes about things that were worrying him. When he stopped I said, “You really love her, don’t you?” He looked down for a moment and swallowed hard, “She’s my best friend, sis, and I’m about to lose her forever.” Now it was my turn to swallow hard, and then he made an excuse about having to leave for practice and said a hasty goodbye. I’m going to do some more digging into this, because something doesn’t pass the smell test here, and a Wolf’s nose is always right. 

[universe-in-the-void-in-the-cube]

I think I figured out my core problem in life.

Drama! 

And before you get up on me for it, just take a breather and listen to me while I’ll explain myself.

For as long as I can remember all I have known is negativity, stress and drama in my life. Basic timeline of my life.

Age 2 to 3 - As my first memories I lived in cockroach infested apartment complex, inhaled lead based paint fumes and I broken my wrist from climbing up a slide backwards. 

Age 3 to 4 -  Moved into a shitty 70s build trailer house in tornado prone Oklahoma experience in tornadoes for the first time and getting lost in the mall. 

Age of 4 to 5 - Moved from Oklahoma to Washington. Lived with grandparents before my dad got a job and found us a home.

Age 5 to 8 - Moved to a new apartment complex, get bulled and beat up by the kids at school, get lost walking home from a friends house, get on the wrong public bus on the first day of kindergarten. Having to become a big sister to a new baby girl and experiencing my first major volcanic eruption. Yes I lived in Tacoma when the 1980 eruption of Mt. St. Helens happened. 

Age 8 to 9 - Get beat up and bullied at school so badly that CPS was called and I was taken away from my parents and placed in a foster home with abusive foster parents the refused to let me drink ANY liquids and made me sleep on the floor with cockroaches, mice and rats for a week. Before being move to my grandparents for the summer then to a new foster home with a foster mother that had dementia before being returned to my parents January 1st of the following year. And transforming schools as well and forced to go to therapy that seemed a bit off.

Age 9 to 11 - Move back in with parents, mother blames me for being taken away by CPS, tells me that I am to old to play with toys of any kind and force to go to therapy that somehow didn’t feel quite right. Mom goes through her first religious zealot stage. And I broke my left leg, underneath the kneecap on Valentine’s day of all days, and the doctors office didn’t think I broke it and had me on a damn splint for a week till my parents took me to the major children’s hospital where they did tons more x-rays than my normal doctors office did and found out I did brake my leg. And when they took off the cast the first time they realized they set my leg wrong and had to rebreak it and reset it so I have knee problems till this day.

Age 11 to 12 - Forced to move again because new apartment complex owners kicked every one out, and had to live with my dad’s brother, his brother’s wife and 4 cousins in a one bedroom house with the basement converted to 4 bedrooms that had a bad problem of getting flooded when there was to much rain. Get transferred to a new school that was so backwards that my education and grades nosed dived and badly, and moving to two homes in less than a year. As well as starting my period for the first time.

Age 12 to 14 - Go to middle school for the first time, get bullied again and sexually harassed and totally confused about things and mom goes through religious zealot stage 2 and start getting emotionally and mentally abused by my mother. My grades drop even more. Wasn’t allowed to have a boyfriend.

Age 14 to 18 - Go high school, grades improved, mother becomes more controlling to the point I wasn’t allowed to go to school games, participate in sports or any other extra curricular activities, or any school dances. (I missed out on both my Jr. Prom and Sr. Ball), finally allowed to have a boyfriend who cheated on me with 4 other girls, 3 of which were my friends all at the same time. Mom ended up having throat cancer and a month after she had surgery my parents had to stay in an apartment in Seattle for chemo, my sister had to stay with my grandparents in another town and I lived at home alone as a latch key kid. Then my dad has a heart attack and I was the first one to be called and I had to call the entire family and I was by myself with no one to comfort me.

Age 18 to 19 - Graduate high school, my grandpa dies, get caught shop lifting, go to jail for a month, forced to go to Job Corps, met my husband, get kicked out of Job Corp and move back home, mom kicks me out to move is my future husband’s alcoholic step dad for a week, almost get raped by the prick, come home a week later get married. New husband’s mother visits me and my mom kicks me out of the house again and forces me to live with my mother-in-law who was a nasty alcoholic at the time while husband was still at Job Corp.

Age 19 to 25 - Live with mother-in-law, get in to fights, go to jail for domestic violence, get extremely sick with the stomach flu and almost die with an 105 temp and extremely dehydrated, and end up hurting my back by falling down the stairs hitting the area between my tail bone and lower back twice causing me to have back problems till this day. Go to collage as my husband goes to jail for writing bad checks and end up going through the first hints of emotional brake down.

Age 25 to 27 - Move into my first apartment with my husband alone. Have a slum lord as a landlord, first major blizzard and ice storm, get on SSI, doing good till one day I was cutting up meat and suddenly had the urge to cut myself. AKA my first psychological brake. Go to mental health after that. 

Age 27 to 32 - Move to my second apartment, having unintentional roommates put on me and my husband, then 911 happens, then get a series of earthquakes in the city I live in, get the room makes moved out, get a new one for a while that meets the cunt that ruined my life, get the dick head on again off again roommate and having to constantly deal with his shit, my dad dies, then my grandmother dies, get an inheritance, the cunt my second roommate knows gets jealous and accused my husband of being a pedo and arranges the situation by bribing the cops that interviewed my husband (since the detective on my husband’s case was friend with the cunt’s mother) and the judges with her mother’s money, husband goes to prison for 5 and a half years.

Age 32 to 40 - Living without my husband, on again off again roommate gets so drunk that he threatens to kill me so get a restraining order on him. Get coned by an asshole which causes me to loose money, computer and laptop brake, car gets stolen, have to sell the car or get it towed when I get the car back, have the asshole roommate move back in. Having to deal with his bullshit with his family and girlfriend to the point they are all living with me and my property gets stolen.

Age 40 to 45 - Husband gets out of jail, he is forced to not live with me or I will end up losing my housing. He ends up getting a job and everything is good. I get thyroid problem, sex drive plummets and he ends up cheating on me and getting the girl he was fucking pregnant, deal with my asshole roommate with is asshole girlfriend who are both addicted to meth and badly and do drugs in my home, more stuff get stolen. Find out that I am infertile and can never have kids when my husband told me what he did, get new management in the apartment complex that I live at for almost 20 years, they give me hell and force me to find a home in less than 30 days and do tons of illegal stuff to me and other tenants in the complex to the point one had their cancer (which was under remission) come back and kill the poor man causing him to die of cancer. 

Age 45 to 47 - Find a new apartment thanks to the old realtor company, still have the asshole roommate move in with me, losing about half of all my clothes and being in debt for a few months thanks to husband and the new realtors of the old apartment. Go to the hospital under suicide watch because of all the stress. then Covid 19 happens, drives my roommate to controlling situation and abusing me mentally and emotionally till I am nothing but an empty shell of a human being. Finally had enough, get a new restraining order on him, deal with a bed bug problem and feel like I am not going to make it then heater goes out then the lights and I have a nasty mental brake down and end up getting psychological help.

Age 47 to current - Get the bed bug problem fixed, get he heater fixed, roommate no longer lives with me, I am going to therapy and improving every day. All my bills are paid in full, I have food in my kitchen and enjoying life finally. The first time in my life I have never experienced stress and that negative aura of doom and gloom around me. But... it scares me since I am waiting for the other boot to drop since my life has NEVER been this peaceful and good EVER!!!

So because of this revelation. I believe that negativity, drama and stress is normal for me because that is all I have known in my life. To have a peaceful and content life is so abnormal and strange to me that it feels wrong and bad and I should feel guilty. Hell I do feel a strange sense of guilt to. But I shouldn’t feel that way. I should feel happy. So I need to be reprogramed so I can convinced that my current situation is what life should be and can be for me. Not doom and glove negative aura cloud surrounding me like a thick fog.

[whumpprince]

Prayer of Repentance

It’s a day like any other day and Silas thinks he’s adjusted to his new routine. This is life now, he thinks, and maybe it isn’t so bad. Isn’t this what I wanted? I’m home. I’m left to myself for the most part. When I’m punished it’s because I deserve it.

Silas’s room is small and sparsely furnished. The austere architecture feels homey, he convinces himself, and at night, when his aching and bruised body betrays him and longs for softness, he tries to block out memories of the past, of the plush bed he became accustomed to in a foreign land. That was a different life, he tells himself.

Silas thinks he’s adjusted to his new routine. He wakes before the sun to bathe and dress and meet Lord Drachen for morning prayer and breakfast. He presses his mangled right hand against the scars over his heart, holding it flat with his left. He trembles in pain and tries to pass it off as religious fervor. He focuses on the cold, hard stone floor beneath his knees - on the words of the prayers - on keeping his breathing as steady as possible. If he shows any sign of pain he will just be put in more of it. He learned this early on in his new life.

Sometimes, Lord Drachen will ask Silas to lead the prayers. Silas dreads these mornings. If his voice falters, he will be punished. If Lord Drachen doesn’t like his pacing, he will be punished. If he does anything wrong, he will be punished. 

I really do try to be good, Silas thinks when this happens. What’s wrong with me?

The two usually dine in stiff, polite silence.

After breakfast, Silas is left alone most days. He’s had to develop his own routine. Mostly he reads. He’s adjusted to this part of the day. The library is freely available to him. Most of the texts are ecclesiastical in nature, but there are histories and a small selection of classic novels and poetry collections as well. Silas loses himself in the pages. 

Evening prayers and dinner are much the same as breakfast. Silas thinks he’s adjusted to his new routine, until, one night, just as the maids have come to clear away the dishes, Lord Drachen’s voice breaks the silence and sends Silas’s new life into turmoil.

“Do you know the Prayer of Repentance?”

Silas continues to sit stiffly. He holds his gaze steady. He does everything in his power to hide his fear and confusion. From the outside, Silas is a blank slate. 

On the inside, Silas is panicking. Why is he asking about this now? What did I do wrong?

Lord Drachen clears his throat, and it’s a quiet, don’t-make-me-ask-again sound that makes Silas’s stomach churn. He realizes that he’s been quiet for too long. If he takes any longer to answer he’ll be punished for disobedience. 

“Of… of course,” Silas keeps his voice even. “I pray it regularly like… like we were taught in the churches.”

“Don’t stammer.” Silas flinches at the command, but Lord Drachen seems not to notice. 

He continued on with further questioning, “do you know it in the High Church Language?”

Silas’s eyes drift downward and his face burns with shame. “No,” he mutters. Why did I never learn High Aleshan? he chides himself, lazy, useless brat.

“Speak up.” This command is colder, much more impatient than the previous, and Silas fears his rapid heartbeat can be heard from across the table. His head feels impossibly heavy, but he forces himself to lift his chin and meet Lord Drachen’s gaze.

“No sir,” Silas manages to answer clearly and offers a silent, private prayer to the Mother and Father right then and there for that.

“Then you will learn it.”

With that, Lord Drachen rises from the table and leaves Silas shaking in the dining room.

*

It’s a day like any other day, but Silas no longer has the comfort of routine to fall back on. Instead of escaping into any number of dusty pages in the library, there is only one book Silas concerns himself with now.

“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, 

consectetur adipiscing elit, 

sed do eiusmod tempor 

incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. 

Nibh mauris cursus mattis molestie a iaculis. 

At in tellus integer feugiat 

scelerisque varius morbi enim. 

Tempus urna et pharetra pharetra massa. 

Ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipiscing. 

Gravida quis blandit turpis cursus. 

Curabitur gravida arcu ac tortor dignissim. 

Diam vulputate ut pharetra sit amet aliquam id diam. 

Tortor aliquam nulla facilisi cras. 

Placerat orci nulla pellentesque dignissim. 

Laoreet sit amet cursus sit amet.”

Silas reads these lines again and again. He closes his book of prayers and tries to recite from memory, but stumbles on the third line. Silas curses himself for his poor grasp of other languages. 

Three nights after Silas was given his new task, Lord Drachen once again addresses him at the end of dinner.

“How are your studies going?”

Silas hesitates. His head spins. He does not know how to answer. He knows he ought to tell the truth, but he also knows that the truth is likely not what Lord Drachen wants to hear. No matter what I say, the outcome will be the same, Silas thinks. Either I tell him I don’t know it yet and he punishes me for being slow or I lie and he finds out and punishes me for lying.

Truth is probably the best option, he decides. “I’m studying hard, sir, but I don’t have it fully memorized yet,” he admits, his face burning with shame.

To Silas’s surprise, Lord Drachen’s voice is warm when he speaks next. “High Aleshan is difficult for anyone to learn. Very well. Starting tomorrow, I will begin tutoring you myself.”

Silas’s jaw drops. His eyes widen as they dart to look up at the priest. He realizes with a jolt that he’s been staring for too long, that he’s forgotten his manners, as he observes the slightest raise of Lord Drachen’s brow.

“Thank you, sir,” Silas catches himself quickly, and returns to stone. Lord Drachen merely nods and, once again, leaves Silas all alone.

*

Silas no longer has his routine to rely on.

Learning the liturgical language was something he’d wanted to do for a long time, but not like this.

Kneeling at an old fashioned writing desk while Lord Drachen stands over him makes Silas feel like a child again. 

“Repeat after me,” Lord Drachen commands as he steps behind Silas to retrieve something from a cabinet at the back of the room. “Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet,”

“Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet,”

“Consectetur adipiscing elit,” Lord Drachen stands behind Silas.

“Consectetur adipiscing elit,” Silas feels Lord Drachen’s presence behind him, but he doesn’t dare glance back. 

“Sed do eiusmod tempor,”

“Sed do aiusmod temp-'' Silas’s world is drowned out by pain. At almost the exact moment of his mispronunciation, something strikes his back, hard, knocking all of his breath from his lungs.

“From the beginning then.” Lord Drachen’s voice is cold.

[superhusbands4ever]

my guy axe got friendzoned and then murdered on the SAME night? man's had a rough time :/ also love your writing! can't wait to see how it develops 💓

Funny thing is, I had always planned for Axe to die from the start, but I never planned for him to be in love with Din, Axe really took over with that one and it just... happened lmao my friend and my roommate had to listen to me cry about it for like two weeks

And I felt so BAD about it I’m actually VERY temped to write an AU of my own AU where Axe does get the guy because good lord, I did that man dirty

But I’m so glad you like it so far!! I’m very excited about the rest of the story! Next chapter shit is going down, as I’m sure you can imagine. Never piss off a Mandalorian, let alone Bo-Katan and the Mand’alor lol

[curiosity-killed]

super long rambling and a fair bit of whining abt my relationship with dance AUs bc this is what my brain chose to fixate on for my whole extremely sloggish run

Because I love dance and because I love writing and because I do rather a lot of both, I pretty consistently struggle with my complete and utter block on writing dance AUs and I’ve basically realized that it comes down to a three-prong barricade that gets progressively harder to overcome as you move through it

Because part of it is just technical. Writing about dance is hard from a dancer’s perspective. I know dance, I know the mechanics of it and the sensations of it. I can walk you through the technical details of a 3-minute variation and I can tell you how my heart lifts and body fills with light the moment I step onto the stage. I can give you the nitty gritty and I can give you the grand metaphors—and I cannot for the life of me balance the lens on the middle ground.

I got asked on bumble what my favorite dance step is and immediately answered tour jete (or entrelace, depending on your school). And then, because the person wasn’t a dancer, I followed up with, “it’s a big fun jump that makes you feel like you’re flying.”

Yeah. That clears everything up.

A story cannot be made by a Big Jump That Feels Like Flying. Do you know how many steps that could cover?? Hell, how many disciplines?? A barrel leap is a big jump that can feel like flying. So is an Italian pas de chat. All three of these are  w i l d l y  different steps.

So there’s the words but—how to translate a language of precise motion and sweeping emotion into plain language accessible to people who haven’t grown up in this pidgin tongue of bad French and weird metaphors. Tombe pas de bourre glissade pas de chat contre temps—this is my language of dance. This is not only clear instruction on what steps to take but also the rhythm of it conveyed in the syllables and accents. I read this and not only see the dance across stage but feel the sway of my torso as I mark along, the flick of my wrist as I shape the steps before they’re taken, physical reminders of 17 years of training and study.

A reader reads this and their eyes glaze over and roll back in their heads.

To go the opposite way, to lay it all out in the actual physical motions is, if possible, even worse. Fall (gracefully) onto your right leg while extending your left with pointed foot to cross your left behind your right to step your right to the side to— *gasp for breath* Yeah, no.

The solution to this, in theory, is the kind of checklist I go through while performing: emotion, motion, technique. (Incidentally, this is the opposite of my checklist while rehearsing or taking class) Draw the reader in with the feel of it, move them with familiar steps, punctuate with the details. In theory. I’ve yet to make it work.

And then there’s the fact that I have had a very weird education and career in dance. I grew up dancing in the rural Midwest US—not exactly a hub of performing arts (and if you mention Joffrey, I will kindly invite you to look up “rural” and then look at Chicago). 

The vast majority of dancers in the rural midwest (...RMWUS??) go to competition schools. Think Dance Moms, high kicks and tricks on Instagram, trophies and tiaras. 

I.....went to a university.

We learned more about kinesiology than kicks. My teachers were fascinated by the way I could “jump like a boy” and didn’t once mention my waist circumference. It would be a lie to say it was all daisies and sweetcakes. We were competitive. Sometimes we were brats. We learned to push through severe physical pain and turned perfectionism to a weapon. Teachers had favorites and older girls could be downright mean.

But, having now danced at a competition studio, it was wildly different. When there were tears in the dressing room, it was because we were graduating and going far across the country from each other—not because a teacher had come in and yelled at the entire cast for 15 minutes right before the show. When auditions came around, we discussed each other’s strengths and weaknesses and together determined what we thought the best casting would be (tbc we did not have a say in casting, it was all just a thought exercise). 

We learned about dance not as an isolated thing we do but as a part of life—dance as an expression of culture, dance as a remarkable maximization of the human body—and are still always welcomed home.

I do, if I’m totally honest, think I got a better education than people at competition schools. But when it comes to writing fanfic...this is not a model of dance that is super easily accessible. Competition dance is on TV, Instagram, it’s all over. A rigorous academic approach to modern ballet...is not.

Lastly and ultimately the biggest stumbling block is: dance has always been a very gendered experience for me. My weird university education was surprisingly queer and unsurprisingly liberal, but I am a ballerina—not a danseur, not a ballet dancer. I grew up huddling under the edge of the grand piano with my friends hastily sewing pointe shoes and tingling with anticipation when we were finally old enough to wear platter tutus. I grew up pulling my hair back in tight buns and only being allowed to wear small earrings in class when I was in high school. 

There’s some crossover of course. I’ve got (as Colorado Ballet says) Mad Hops so my teacher would make me do men’s tempo jumps while the rest of the girls stood on the side and caught their breath. My partner for a pas de deux fell sick one tech week so my best friend, female, partnered me instead. 

Men can (and increasingly do) train in pointe shoes and wear tutus. Look at James B. Whiteside and Harper Watters for some of the most obvious examples. It is wonderful and remarkable to see gender roles changing in ballet and dance and that should be expressed in fiction as well. Men dance. Men do ballet and not just to hold up the women or to do big jumps. They can point their feet too, y’all.

(Here is where the whining really begins. Just so you’re warned.)

But when I sit down to write, the stories I want to tell are the stories I know—queer women growing up and training and learning together and challenging and supporting each other. The way you are taught ballet is very dependent on your gender. Men can train in pointe shoes, but that’s not the classical or traditional route. 

While my friends and I were taping our toes and grimacing about dead shanks, the guys in our cohort were in a separate class learning how to perform big jumps and turns in second. While I was cinching tight my friend’s corset-back bodice, the guys were in tights and a shirt. Again with the jumps—it wasn’t that I was a good jumper or that I was a strong jumper, it was that I jumped like a man. It was a compliment, but it was also an exception.

Meanwhile, most of my fandoms are very heavily male. The one time I attempted to write a dance AU was for VLD and I immediately ran into the baffling problem of “There are too many boys.” As someone who’s danced my whole life...this is not (usually) a problem in the real world of dance. If I write AUs about the main characters, I am writing about male dancers. Again, great! We need more positive and varied depictions of men dancing—but it’s not what I want to write.

I wrote out an entire paragraph here only to realize that the crux of the problem is actually the usual crux of my problem with gender in fanfiction and it is, quite simply: I want more well-developed female characters. Because I can write a story about side characters, but there’s so much less to go on — and sometimes, that’s where the fun comes in. Getting to play with and create a wealth of history and character for a written-off member of the cast can be really fun. But, for me at least, the delight of AUs is slipping in and twisting around canon in a new context.

If I write a wangxian ballet AU, Wei Wuxian’s demonic cultivation can be traded for his switching abruptly to a new studio—one that uses harsh methods, demands too much from him, cuts him off from the people he used to dance with—all so that the money from his tuition can be turned to help Jiang Cheng continue at his chosen academy and pursue dance professionally. It’s a stretch, it’s a twist, but it’s within a frame readers recognize.

If I write a ballet AU with Jiang Yanli and Wen Qing...well, it’s all free form. We have so little to go on that you can make it work—Cloud Recesses becomes a summer intensive, Wen Ruohan’s conquest becomes the buying out and closing of the Jiang academy for some new development—but there’s less resonance. We’re on new ground and the reader has to offer up a lot more trust and disbelief. 

Which I suppose leads us to genderbends?? Good lord. I do not know my own feelings about that enough to go anywhere. b l a r g h

so i guess this is all to say: writing good, dance good, writing dance hard. pouty face pouty face pouty face :<

[currentfandomkick]

Miraculous Team and the Batboys- Mundane Monday and Plot is Connecting Maybe

HEY so thank you all for waiting, puppy plus work being mobbed is hell, so this took forever to get brain power to write... oh well.

--

Marinette was on guard when she came into class. Her meeting of the “End Gabriel Agreste” Club with its core four members—herself, Chloe, Nino and Sabrina—went well. They were now 15% away from their goal.

Apparently Felix snatched up 3% on his own and gave it to MDC while she was away. Apparently it was his way of a peace offering… or a bribe not to kill him on sight. She wasn’t sure which… yet.

Properly awake and with her favorite drink (blend of dark roast, cream and a tiny bit of Energy Mayhem Special) she was good for the day. Everyone had their usual orders in their seats.

She raised an eyebrow when she noticed a text from Red Robin on her phone, currently a rose and bird emoji label.

RR: So, scale of one to ten, how bad is it if I accidently figured out your partner?

Marinette took a deep breath at that, checked the classroom (Nino was off with Kitty Section debating how to fix the ‘off’ bit of the rift in Rose’s latest song—something about it not ‘punching right’ and Luka being busy with his other band, Chloe and Sabrina were currently fighting Bustier in her office, Alya was conspiring with the Girl Squad on Lila’s end since she wasn’t in, Max and Kim were obviously eavesdropping on that conversation while Nathaniel was off in his own world). Damian still hadn’t come in, and Adrien wasn’t in yet… she wondered if her Chaton was going to sleep in for once.

LB: Please tell me you haven’t told your team

She kept her breathing steady, not letting panic overtake. That would alert people she didn’t want knowing, to looking, which leads to suspecting and rumors and theories and she’d like to avoid that entirely—especially since she still can’t really lie.

RR: I have a feeling you would kick us all out if I did, so I haven’t.

Marinette sighed, tension leaving her shoulders.

LB: Good. Keep it that way as long as you can, okay?

RR: They’re detectives, once they have the pieces they’ll put it together… also, why is your team so easy to figure out?

Marinette winced at that.

LB: Dumb Magic Rules.

Like the one that training a wielder young will prevent corrupting them to use it for personal gain. Like the one where a Guardian cannot be a True Guardian until they connect to the entire Box or Set of kwami. Like the one where Fu can’t give up being Guardian until she’s fully fledged… and that means until she can reclaim the Nooroo and Dusuu and heal Dusuu’s miraculous. That when she does—when she does Fu is gone.

She kept her breathing steady. nothing that they wouldn’t see as Typical Marinette Fretting Over Orders… not that they knew she had those cleared for the month.

“Good morning Dupain Cheng.”

She put her phone away easily, quick to keep up Typical Marinette (no plotting or superheroing here, just Typical Marinette, Baker’s Daughter and Keeper of Secret Drink Menu).

“Hi Damian, how was your weekend?”

“Annoying.” She winced at that. He didn’t exactly have friends here, and time differences are a horrible strain on them… Maybe Ladybug should keep an eye on him… just in case. “I hope yours was adequate.”

She was really wondering who taught him French today… he was being less him and more… stuffy than usual.

“I just needed some time away...” Honestly, she needed a lifetime away from Bustier and Hawkmoth… Lila was manageable (now).

“I am glad you were able to then.”

She was wondering where her deskmate went and why he wasn’t looking at her… Maybe she overdid it last week? She—no. She is stopping her analysis brain from going off and---

“Hello Marinette,” grinned obviously Not-Adrien. Seriously—how did they all fall for it back then? Body language, facial tics, accent—its all wrong.

She narrowed her eyes, not aware that Damian was doing the same beside her.

“Aw, didn’t you miss me?”

Nino came over then, scrunching up his nose as they both could tell Fake Adrien Agreste from the real one with ease now.

“What are you doing here,” Nino was definitely tired… He was not applying his sleep schedule quiz results at all. She was so lecturing him… lunch. She could pencil it in for lunch after wrecking Felix for taking Adrien’s place for the day.

“Oh, good to see I-Love-You Girl isn’t the only one that grew a brain since I last saw you all.” Felix raised an eyebrow at Damian, lingering. Plotting. “You’re new.”

“American Transfer, leave him out of whatever’s going on in that thing you call a brain.” Marinette was not going to deal with an akuma over this. Nope. She was not dealing with that again—or a series of Akuma… God she was going to kill Felix personally if he did. Chloe was untouchable as the Mayor’s daughter, but him? She could take him down again.

“And where’s my bro?”

“Your precious Ladybug,” He sneered, “didn’t cast whatever she did last time, and he’s home sick since his allergies are acting up. I figured it’d be as good a time as any to pull our old switcheroo to keep his Father-Farthest away.”

Marinette twitched at that. She knew she was forgetting something… She sent a quick text to Red Robin.

LB: Why didn’t you tell me it was Mr. Pigeon irl, not video!

RR: …you thought I figured it out from a video?

Marinette rolled her eyes openly at her phone, ignoring Nino as he threatened Felix with his own brand of Bro Shovel Speech.

LB: detectives, most of our battles are caught a decent amount on video, and most of Paris knows that Mr. Pigeon makes him sneeze. Really not a hard recon.

RR: I think you are overestimating my willingness to watch amateur video at length when I can outsource.

Marinette huffed at that.

LB: So you trusted them to not miss major clues when you were all working on different things and would miss key connections?

RR: we’re on the same page as a team. Plus, I get better info filtered with my apps

LB: Magic Fucks Things Up

RR: I’ve noticed.

She looked up to see Damian staring ahead, and wondered if she did something, or didn’t or—NO! Bad Marinette—no going down Rumination Ruin until its time to sleep. She needs daytime for Plotting, Nighttime for Anxiety and Regrets to run wild.

She kept her attention forward when class began, pointedly Not Talking To The Gremlin but not busting him either—she wasn’t going to get Adrien in trouble. Bustier may not notice the abuse signs, but a few other teachers had, and were given the ‘heads up’ by Nino and Chloe and Sabrina.

Lila was the only one unaware of the switch when she left during lunch to drop off a few deliveries her parents asked her to handle when the rush hit. Mostly to one elderly home, and one to her favorite Rescues Only center.

(if she was seen cooing at Lord Murder—yes she knows that’s a Bad Name but the giant kitty amputee was named that years ago before she was found and stubbornly refuses all other names. So, Lord Murder (Never Lady, she hisses at that) it was.)

She blinked when she saw Damian walk in on her checking the Lord Murder’s prosthetic.

“Hey Damian.”

“Dupain Cheng.”

Marinette nodded in acknowledgement and hoped he didn’t catch her calling Lord Murder “the lord and master of murder, the most deadly kitty in existence, and yes, clearly the most cunning of kitties to manage to scratch Mean ol’ Jean with the new paw when it doesn’t even have claws, because you are The Lord Murder, kitty of cuteness and wrath to all unwanted bath times.”

He was watching her then. “Lord likes you.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow, as yes, her favorite rescue (sorry Chat) likes her. She’s the one who argued them into letting them try out prosthetics and handled the funding (officially as MDC) and may have gone overboard on checking everything from the fits and materials and… yeah, okay, she could admit that the giant fluffy Norwegian Forest home in a millisecond if it wasn’t for the health code violation (soon… Gina mentioned she might stop renting out her old house soon as the current group was only a quick temp and she didn’t want someone else living there that wasn’t like family… and something about her Lost Son using it for the moment. Maybe she could convince Maman and Papa to let her do house sitting is she breaks out the Kitten Eyes.)

“Yes. Yes she does.”

Then Lord slow blinked at Damian. She wasn’t sure if she sould be offended or worry her favorite might be adopted by someone else, or glad that it was a serial pet adopter that actually took care of their pets and would be just as nuts as her about making sure Lord Murder was happy and healthy.

“I see she likes you too.”

She could feel Tikki dying in her bag… yes, she was being… awkward. She got it…

“Anyways, I should get going, still have a delivery to do and all so…”

She didn’t, she just really had no idea how to broach the Awkward that was Damian Greyson at the moment.

“See you tomorrow.”

That got him to pause. “Tomorrow?”

“Uh, gymnastics for the rest of the day, making up for what I missed so…”

“If you see the Other Grayson, tell him he is not to hug you.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow. “I…” Brother, father, maybe cousin or legal guardian or friend of his father’s. Too many possibilities, too much to spiral on that she can’t right now. SO.

“O. okay then.”

“Good.”

Marinette waited for him to leave the room, looking at a Too Amused Lord Murder.

“Don’t you start with me, I know I’m a mess on a good day. And no, I’m not overthinking this time Lord, I’m planning, there’s a difference… And no, its not an Alya Plot.”

Those went sideways too fast.

She left with ease and froze at the text from Red Robin.

RR: Can we meet up tonight? No traces that way.

She sent a time and place and –If no akumas happen.

--

THANK YOU ALL FOR WAITING. it has been a hellish time at work and extra shifts and war-zone lately on top of Precious Puppy Bonding and Care. As always, edits when I can get there and any comments or things you'd like to see expanded on more, leave a comment and I'll try to work it in if it flows.

As you can see, Plot Lines are converging soon.

Big Question though--what kind of Lila Exposed By Class do we want/are angling for? I can go legal or social backlash, blacklisting from Agreste brand, or some combo, or keep it a background element as I don't like how cannon Lila is written and the characters altered to make her bad lies work, so...

Other inquiry--do we want Dick to see Marinette take down someone (probably trying to rob her) on her way out of her gymnastics place on her way home using a few Obviously MIxed Gymnastics and Specific Brand of Martial Arts that feels oddly familiar to Nightwing who tells Red Robin and for him to groan as 'Coffee Angel, Why!' and then the next day its 'oh. Coffee Angel is also That Woman's Granddaughter. It all makes Sense now.' (as i hc Gina as probably busting a few drug, weapons, and human trafficking rings on occasion as how she met Jason back in the day) OR for him to only see the end as Nightwing and stare as she took them down and used her earbuds as 'makeshift handcuffs' while she's calling Sabrina as "I'm fine, no dodged their hits and yes i didn't get gassed this time... yes I'll let the medics look me over and no i'm not going to vanish before they get here unless Akuma, Yes if that happens i'll go to the hospital after--Look, i think i saw a shadow just move. I'm going on Akuma-mode now so... Thanks!" before running to meet up with Red Robin and have it take meeting Gina and looking between Gina and Marinette and how she responds to Jason trying to spar with her and then it clicks? I can go either way, but... Tim figures them out quick and straight up says at one point "I mean, Queen Bee after Style Queen, inverse colors... I've seen the multiverse, I had her pegged after seeing her in the bakery last week." All while Not Telling The Bats as Marinette's team doesn't even know and he has a feeling (correctly) she'll react Badly if she isn't the one to tell him before he comes clean, and ears her bolting as 'no support, team leader, and often absentee and likely disabled mentor, civilian life was a wreck for two years and her civilian safety net is only JUST reforming... hm. That's Famil--Oh.... well... wait until trust is there and let her move on that front, try not to set her off and offer help in what she'll allow--or risk pissing off the demi-goddess of creation and his Coffee Angel. Which he'd like to avoid, please and thank you.

Yeah, Tim is definitely going to Project on Marinette in this.

Also, I see Jason or Dick as Getting Marinette is InvolvedTM next... and Damian being the one to confirm the suspicions.

Prefer Jason Big Brothering or Dick "New Sister Mode Engaged" to suspect she's a temp hero? (Jason via Have You Seen Her in a Spar--and it's Gina's Granddaughter vs Dick 'Her Moves are Too Familiar, Maybe Ladybug uses her as a Body Double and trains her?' as the first Suspicion Arisen among the Bats.

[dragonnan]

fanfic tag game

I was tagged by @disappearinginq​- these are the absolute best fun!

Questions:

Ao3 Name: dragonnan (same as everywhere: Psychfic, FFN, etc)

Fandoms: *cracks knuckles* You want, like, ALL of them?? Welp I’m obsessively listy so here we go:

Currently writing fic for: 

Sherlock

MCU

Psych

In the recent past wrote fic for (and may again as there are WIPs remaining):

SPN

HTTYD

Simon & Simon (as part of a crossover)

Lucifer

Wrote fics years ago but probably won’t write more:

Monk

Star Trek Voyager

Big O (as part of a crossover)

Wrote 1 or 2 fics but probably won’t write more:

Cowboy Bebop

Inuyasha

Lethal Weapon

Invisible Man (2001)

X Files

Quantum Leap

Fullmetal Alchemist

Haven’t published any fics yet but have (or had) ideas:

Doctor Who (specifically 10 and 11)

Burn Notice

Psych

Beauty and the Beast (1980′s series)

Moonlight

In Plain Sight

Star Wars

Haven’t had ideas but I love the fandom and may someday write fic:

Prodigal Son

Star Trek (TNG primarily)

MacGyver (1980′s)

Number of fics: Ummm.... It’s a little hard actually to parse that as some of my stories are posted as larger collections so let’s see what I can do...

Psych: 168 (give or take)

Sherlock: 8

MCU: 19

Other: 29

Total: 224

1. Fic you spent the most time on:  Can I even remember anymore?  I suppose Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth (Psych) which I think took me over 5 years to complete.  However, I wasn’t straight writing that entire time so not certain if it specifically qualifies?  Another contender is The Tiger and the Shark (Sherlock) which I posted pretty consistently and took about 2 years.    

2. Fic you spent the least time on:  I’m not counting those 100 word challenge fics cause, please.  I think the least amount of time I spent on truly legit stories would be one of these possibilities (cause fuck if I know for sure): Wibble Wobble Wibble Wobble To and Fro (Psych), A Good Heart (Psych), Making the Cut With a Squeeze of Lemon (Psych) 

3. Longest Fic: Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth (Psych) 104,522

4. Shortest Fic:  Promises to the Dead (again, not counting 100 word challenge fics), This Week on Psychfic - 280 words

5. Most hits: Just Pieces; Passion, Pain, & Parody (Psych fic collection.  Does that count?)

6. Most kudos: All Nighter (Psych)

7. Most comment threads/ reviews: Standing from Falling (Psych) 352 Reviews

8. Fave Fic you wrote: Ooohh screw this question!  Staawwwp!!! I can’t just pick A favorite but I gueeeesss I could narrow it to a few which out of over 200 damn stories you should be grateful I can narrow it down that much (of COURSE I love my own writing - that’s why I do it!).  I’ll also only include completed works: Psych - Suffer the Night, I Would Do Anything for Love; Even That, You Give Me Fever MCU - Just Another Day in New York, Did You Make it to the Milky Way to See the Lights all Faded, Simple Math Sherlock: The Tiger and the Shark, A Russian, Two Spies, and an Elephant

9. Fic you want to rewrite/expand on:   The Tiger and the Shark (expand) Fury (Psych) - rewrite

10. Share a bit of your WIP or share a story idea that you’re planning:  How about both?

Untitled Iron Dad and Spider Son fic:

It started with sand.  Benign. Sorta... tan...  Fucking sand and yet there he was, trembling like he'd just spent the last two hours in subzero temps wearing nothing more than a speedo and a grin.

"Mr. Stark?"

Tony gulped; curling his toes before looking up at the young man across from him... who was wearing an expression that mirrored the anxiety thumping in Tony's chest. "Hey... you okay, Kid?"

Peter shrugged - his long fingers clenching and stretching.  "Y-yeah.  Sure!  I mean..." he swallowed, "not like anything bad happens at the beach, right?"

Tony tapped his teeth around his lower lip.  "It's just sand..." Not like sand ever hurt anyone...

Why were they there again?  Oh right; facing demons.  Because that shit never backfired.

The ocean was calm that afternoon. Behind them the sounds of the pier carried with shrill laughter and the cacophony of vendors, shrieking children, and seagulls.  Lots of seagulls - drawn to the scent of funnel cakes and french fries dominating the blend of scents that normally drew Tony, as well, but currently just twisted the pool of nausea threatening his pride.

Peter drew his focus back with a sharply drawn breath.  Then another.  Wind flicked the curls that had been pasted to his forehead with sweat.  Tony pushing his feet through the hot sand - too hot - a decade later and he still couldn't stand the feel of hot grains...  until he stood alongside the kid. Not looking away from the reflection of sunlight on water he nudged his elbow against Peter's arm.  "Not so bad during the day, yeah?"

Peter blinked rapidly - making something like a smile.  "No, yeah... way better." he nodded - looking about as convinced as Pepper would be at the prospect of birthing octuplets.

Tony pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose.  The most expensive shades on the planet and he still hadn't managed to stop them slipping down when he sweated.  He cupped his left elbow in his right hand and watched the para-sailors and jet skiis and swimmers splashing in the low waves.  No surfers; not that day.

He wouldn't have been there if not for Pete.  Kid's idea.  Apparently therapy was the new heroin.  Better come down, he supposed.  Even at that he'd tried for distraction, first.  Tony was nothing if not the Grand Master of distractibility. Offered everything from a road trip along the East Coast to helping the kid build a personal bot (who was he kidding, he planned both as a graduation present).  And, yet, here there were.  Revisiting trauma because what better way to spend a Saturday?

Story Idea - Doctor Who/ Doctor Strange crossover:

Plot: Stephen encounters a woman in a parallel world – a world protected, not by a Sorcerer Supreme, but by a man known only as “The Doctor”.  He soon finds out that this Doctor is unique among the worlds he's explored.  For all he has seen - all the beings he’s encountered, he has never met a woman with such energy coiled within the depth of her brain as the ordinary, redheaded woman he bumps into walking through a parallel London.  In fact, so powerful are the forces within her that he is immediately struck with a chaos of discordant images – of giant wasps and singing squid-like beings and screeching salt shakers and before he can even begin to understand it a face – eyes furious and dark – glaring from a raging fire. “GET OUT!  THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING! GET OUT, NOW, WHILE YOU STILL HAVE A CHANCE!”

Stephen figures out that Donna is slowly being consumed by the Time Lord energies locked inside her. The Doctor may have barred her memory but it still seeps through – with each exposure weakening the walls even more.  Eventually, it will consume her.    

This is not something he can fix alone, however.  He will need to track down the man who first created those mental blocks and left Donna behind to slowly go insane.  The Doctor.

Tagged: @sgam76 @silentsaebyeok @kitcat992 @mizjoely @villaniouslyawesome @itsjustdg @hanuko @jennberry1984

[wrotetheaboveoftoday]

1831 Fri. 4 February

Friday 4 7 1/2 3 F46º at 7 3/4 and fair but streets quite wet, as if lately drenched with water - out at 8 40/.. - walked to the Muette gate and back at 10 50/.. - raining more or less all the while with highish wind - dressed - an hour reading Le Temps - breakfast - at my desk at 12 3/4 - wrote (all but the first 2/3 page 1) 3pp. and longish ends to M- [Mariana] and sent off my letter at 2 50/.. - ‘Mrs. Lawton The Priory, Leamington, Warwickshire Angleterre’ - Letter from her Leamington dated lastly Sunday  3pp. the ends and under the seal -

Mr. C. L- [Charles Lawton] has been unwell - Dr. Jephson had thought the ‘squire would not live 6 months but he has rallied again and may by and by be well as ever again - their house at L- [Leamington] too low and near the river - disagrees with all but M- [Mariana] thinks my aunt will go back to Shibden this summer - sees no advantage in it but lessening my expense a little I replied this advantage was problematical - begs me to rummage myself up a little and get introduced to Lady Granville, and increase my acquaintance - said the latter was difficult under my present circumstances - it was very expedient to make some change, but difficult to decide what especially in the present unsettled state of politics - said nothing more fixed than when I wrote last - not necessary to decide this month or mo. [proximo?] and should wait till then and not pother and think of it in the meantime - mentioned the Vicomte de Noés match - very accomplished very clever very pretty girl with a good fortune - to take her to one of Cuvier’s lectures - perhaps we should by and by be good friends - to meet tonight at the ball - Lady G- [Granville] ill in bad cold, and not up when I called with Mrs. Hamilton about 10 days - returned my call the next day - to be introduced to her tonight - said I was to begin going to my little apartment again on Wednesday - the air better than here - would do me good - not that I wanted any good-doing for quite well - but we are seldom the worse for a little rummage -

had my hair done - a little nap - wrote the above of today till 3 35/.. Köenig sent home my [isand?] skin this morning nicely prepared and lined and bound with scarlet - very neat - shall I give it to Lady S [Stuart] in memory of our journey? from 3 40/.. to 5 25/.. at mineralogy -

well it is well to go to to this ball yet my heart dies within me at the thought and I wish it was over? going by myself no agreeable thing at best and knowing so few people is terrible  how little people guess the real state but I am better off than I was eighteen months ago when I knew nobody but Miss H who never recognized me and I had had to hunt out the de Noes to go with!  well I am better off than then besides I know better how to conduct myself and there is a host of comfort in this  yes thank god times have improved with me a little  how I used to go with aching heart last winter longing to be back repeating to myself as I went along for consolation  In rebus angustis animosus atque Forlis appare; sapienter idem Contrahes vento nimium secundo Turgida vela. ode 10. lib. 2 Horace*  I shall repeat the same tonight but still with better heart  thank god for all his blessings -

Dinner at 6 10/.. - read the paper - came to my room at 7 55/.. - changed my stays then sat on my sofa sleeping and waiting for the coiffeur foolish because it made the blood rise to my head which was hot and my eyes reddish all the evening afterwards Mme. Decante came 2 or 3 minutes after 9 - by and by came the garcon to curl my hair - and about 9 3/4 came Edouard himself - ought to have come at 8 1/2 - my dress white crape with five white ostrich feathers hat had come from herbaults while I was at dinner  Madame Decante dressed me - not ready till 10 40/.. - just took a cup of coffee and off at 10 3/4 - about or rather more than 1/2 hour in going so long was the file of carriages -

On arriving asked Jean to see for Mrs. Hamilton  she could not be found so I walked in desiring not to be announced saying I must first find Mrs. H - in I walked all along looking about for her passed and bowed to her she was talking to some gents no lady near her and looked not very comme il faut? but I felt my loneliness and walked forwards saw Lady Isabella Blatchford just before me and Lady Mexborough  but avoided them as I was alone  at last spied all the de Noes seated and went up to them and then felt I had somebody 

Said I was looking for Mrs. Hamilton and Count de Noe walked about with me to find her  could not  then seeing Mr. de Hagemann walked about with him and found her  in the meantime spoke to Mrs. de H Hagemann and said I was very angry she had not told me they were coming we might just as well have come together  she said I had never asked if they were coming and laid the blame on me  she had Madame de Bourkes niece to chaperon I begged to be introduced to the girl  foolishly enough?  and never saw either of them after Mrs. H [Hamilton] took me up to Lady Granville and introduced me 

I just made my curtesy Lady Stuart was sitting by her and got up to shake hands with me and admired my blonde scarf and asked if it was the lyons satin and said nobody so well dress she must tell Miss Hariott all for some thing to say and pointed out Lady Mexborough sitting by whom I had seen and shaken hands with before as also with Lady Sarah (when with Mr de H- Hagemann or Count de N Noé) but somehow I thought they did not want me to sit down there and made off directly back to the de Ns [Noés]  foolish?  Lady had left her seat directly fancying I suppose that I should sit down by Lady S [Stuart]  who said oh pray come back dont leave your corner  I really had not looked at Lady G [Granville] enough to know her again and never came in contact with any of the party afterwards but was a hanger on on the de Noés  was this stupid  Lady S [Stuart] had refused to present me to Lady G [Granville] I thought of this  for Mrs. Hamilton was here and there and every where said she must go to the Miss Gowers  and was in fact a maitresse de ceremonies - had no opportunity of speaking to Lady Isabella -

Went to supper in the train of the de Noés  hung behind a little and let them get away in leaving the supper then wandered about a little by myself avoiding everyone I knew or would know me by sight and Jean who was really very attentive got me my carriage brought me my cloak and boots to the room door and I was happy to be quietly away -  never did ball give less pleasure to an individual - Lady S [Stuart?] and a nice party were at the next table to us with their backs turned  thought I it is my own fault or not that I am not there? might I not have managed better?  the de Ns [Noés] would wonder at my being so hanging on them and I was staring about all the while really and professedly  the bride pretty little person would think no great things of me  how could she?  never was more dissatisfied in fact I can not be said to have made Lady Gs [Granvilles] acquaintance and I did nothing that answered for pleasure or profit or eclat  what folly all this  to be thus the maker of ones own unhappiness for what and when with better management .......

never was more dissatisfied with myself or more glad to be away - could not not get it out of my mind and now that I am writing this (on Saturday morning) the annoyance and mortification still uppermost but writing my journal does me good - spoke to and shook hands with Mr. Gregory and Henry Stuart and spoke to Mr. Frisell  but the feeling alone and the whole thing had taken away all pleasure -

The supper not near so handsome as in the Stuart time - all Lord S-’s [Stuart’s] magnificent plates sadly missing - hardly any plate at all on the tables - Jean and all the upper servants in scarlet with broad gold lace and white waistcoats and smalls - other servants in blue and silver, and 2 or 3 in drab coats with scarlet facings as if they had not had time to get dress shirts - 800 people there according to Mr. Henry Stuart - did not see the Miss Gowers or Lady Granville - home at 2 10/.. in less than 1/4 hour - fine day -

* [translation from Latin:] wisely show yourself spirited and resolute when perils press you; likewise reef your sails when they swell too much by a favoring breeze (Horace)

[zeetasposts]

Could I get a Ikésen matchup please? Ravenclaw, INFP 4w5, love language is physical touch, and my intelligence type is naturalistic. Rail-thin 5’6 Bi trans man with tattoos, stretched ears and a fauxhawk. Punk/Goth bookworm with a dark and crass sense of humor. I can come off aloof/detached due to social anxiety, but once comfortable I’m the chatty mom-friend. Fave genres are horror/fantasy/trashy romance. Random fact machine. Hobbies are cooking, video games, gardening, crochet, and X-stitch.

Hi, there love! Thanx so much for the request!<3 I had so much fun writing this! I hope you enjoy ^_^

I match you with................ Kenshin

So, when you first arrived via the wormhole, you basically ran for your life from the Oda forces. Hells Nobunaga was scary, and don’t even get me started on the way Hideyoshi was glaring daggers at you. Luckily for you, you came across Sasuke and the squad. Once Sasuke explained that you were both from the same village, they invited you to stay with them. They were all extremely warm and welcoming well, all but one. Kenshin was sulking in the back and scowling at Sasuke for inviting yet another person to stay with them. First Shingen, than Yoshimoto and now you, what’s next, are they going to come across Shingen’s monk friend and invite him too. He scoffed and walked away.

Weeks to follow you had settled in nicely, you, Sasuke, and Yuki became super good friends. The three musketeers. You hadn’t seen the lord of the castle since the night of your arrival. Yukimura assured you it was a blessing rather than a curse, but still, you felt terrible for squatting without pulling your weight. And so, you decided to do the upkeep and maintenance of the castle’s garden. You loved to garden and spend time outdoors. You loved to feel the grass beneath your feet, the wind through your hair, sun kissing your skin, and the dirt between our fingers. All of a sudden, something ran at you and hopped right into your lap. A Bunny? He is so freaken soft, and fluffy, and you were in love. You loved animals and found that you could easily understand them and decipher their different behaviors. You heard a gentle, soothing voice and gazed out to where it was coming from. NO WAY! Is that infamous god of war surrounded by rabbits? To say you were shook was an understatement. You decided to go over and return the stray little bun to him. The closer you got, the more shocked you were, the rabbits were nuzzling, cuddling and licking him. Few understood the meaning of a rabbits lick; it was basically a sign of affecting their way of saying, “I love and trust you”. Perhaps Kenshin wasn’t so bad, after all.

The second this ice prince took notice of you, it was as if the temp had dropped by 20’C. You looked at those mismatched eyes and saw something interesting, loneliness. Ignoring his icy glare, you plopped yourself beside him, and immediately half of the bunny army was on your lap. It helped that the remaining rabbits on his lap glared at him as hard as he was death staring you, as if to say, back off, you can be trusted. The rabbits nuzzling into definitely helped your social anxiety as it brought forth that “chatty mom friend” part of you. To break the ice and lighten the mood, you started giving out fun facts about rabbits. Kenshin couldn’t help but raise a brow and be slightly amused. You noticed a small smile gracing his handsome face. WOW, that smile of his made him look absolutely gorgeous. He took the opportunity of you being distracted by the bun-buns to really look at you, and omw, you were breathtaking, and those tattoos of yours just did something for him. He can’t help but show a bit of interest.

In the days to follow, the two of you started spending more time together, and strangely enough, every time you were around, the voices in his head would disappear! During this time, you noticed that his diet only consisted of pickled plums and sake. You made up your mind; you were going to start cooking for him. He loved your cooking and your ability to make so many different dishes containing his precious pickled plums. He loves it so much that, one time when Shingen tried to sneak a bite of a tart that you made, he found a sword at his neck attached to a very unamused Kenshin at the other end. You couldn't help but giggle at the whole scene. Kenshin really is too cute!

After a long in-depth conversation with Kenshin’s about his past, the two of you landed up in a relationship. He loved to call you his little bunny, which was amusing, considering he was the bunny lord. The two of you were inseparable. And could always be found together in his room. He would be working on some official documents, and you would be crocheting a little jacket for one of the bunnies. You loved it when Kenshin had some time off because he would always take you to your favorite flower field for a picnic. The two of you would spend the whole day there playing with the bunnies and making flower crowns.

If its physical touch you’re after, Kenshin will be more than happy to comply. Luckily for you, his giving love language compliments your receiving love language of physical touch nicely. The two of you can often be found cuddling and sipping on some sake. Kenshin loves to kiss you and give you little touches to remind you of his love for you. Whenever he goes off to war, he will always take his most prized possession with him, which is a little crochet bunny made by you, to remind him of your love. He can never wait to return to his little bunny cause he knows once he enters the gate, you will be there waiting. Ready, to envelop him in a big hug and kiss his beautiful face.

Other potential matches........ MItsunari

[erinaceina]

20 for 2020

Thanks to @notasapleasure for tagging me. :D

Tagging anyone who feels like it.

1. Do you make your bed? Most of the time, yes, except when I’m running late or there’s a cat in the middle of it.

2. What’s your favorite number? 7.

3. What’s your job? Oh, this is a bit complicated. Job #1 is reading academic articles about the Middle Ages, writing synopses of them and cataloguing them in a database that allows researchers, students etc to find articles relevant to their interests. Unfortunately, they don’t have enough money to employ me full-time, so I also have job #2: working for the civil service administering payments to farmers and landholders for doing environmentally useful stuff. Most of the money comes from the EU, so who knows what will happen after Brexit?

4. If you could, would you go back to school? Oh yes, especially with the same caveats @notasapleasure gave (full time, for the pleasure of learning, no financial worries). Think of all the dead languages out there! But, to be honest, I’m reaching the point where I’d even be glad to do a professional qualification because I need to learn something new.

5. Can you parallel park? Nope. 

6. A job you had which would surprise people? McDonald’s? it was my first job and I smelt of burgers continually for an entire summer. It’s not really that surprising, though. The next summer, I worked a bunch of temp jobs including packing medical supplies, which was actually really fun.

7. Do you think aliens are real? Yes, in the sense that I think it’s highly likely that there’s other life (intelligent or otherwise) out there in the universe. I don’t, however, think that they’re wandering round cornfields in the middle of the night with a lawnmower making crop circles or interfering in the government. Humans are quite strange enough all by themselves.

8. Can you drive a manual car? No. I can’t drive any kind of car. I really need to learn, but other things keep getting in the way.

9. What’s your guilty pleasure? I’m trying to feel less guilty about stuff and I’m not going to apologise for reading romance novels or singing along to the Lord of the Rings soundtrack or any of my somewhat cheesy tastes in entertainment. I guess if I had to choose something... so-bad-it’s-good takeaway pizza. I like the fancy, authentically Italian kind with sophisticated toppings where you can taste the freshness of the tomatoes and the charring on the crust, but honestly on a Friday night, often what I most want is cheesy takeaway pizza with toppings that would send an Italian into a screaming rage (not pineapple though because that’s terrible).

10. Tattoos? 12, I think. On my legs, a jar of pansies, a mouse with some oak leaves and acorns, some fox-and-cubs (Pilosella aurantiaca) flowers and a sparrowhawk with lily of the valley (which is a symbol of hope renewed but also very poisonous, a combination that I find very satisfying, symbolically speaking). On my left arm, a star of David (something of a personal fuck-you to the far right after the Charlottesville shit storm), a strawberry and leaves, wildflowers (blackberries, foxgloves, poppies) and forget-me-nots. On my right arm, a traditional swallow, a bee, a wild strawberry plant and a bigger overgrown-garden-themed piece with a weasel, dog roses, hawthorn and a great tit. Basically, I’m turning myself into a wildwood, but I really want my next tattoo to be Lymond-themed.

11. Favorite color? Purple. I also really like colours like burgundy and dark petrol blue. I’m surprised to find that I like the ochre yellow that’s everywhere at the moment a lot because I usually hate yellow.

12. Things people do that drive you crazy? Listen to music out loud on public transport. It’s so rude and it makes me feel like someone’s peeled my head and is just poking my brain incessantly. Also, and I know this is weird and specific, people who feel the need to tell you continuously how much they hate cats when they know you’re a cat person. There was one woman in work who literally told me that she’d rather have a taxidermied cat than a living one. Great? Thanks? Because I don’t live in dread of coming home to find that one of my cats is ill or dead or anything. Thanks.

13. Any Phobias? Spiders. Why do they need so many legs and eyes? Why? I hate absolutely everything about them. Possibly a fear of heights, but that may just be vertigo and really poor sense of balance. I also have a phobia about death that has literally left me sitting up in bed screaming in terror in the middle of the night - and, because I tend to overthink things anyway, this extends not just to a fear of my own death and the death of my family/friends but literally to utter despair at the thought of the end of the universe in however many billion or trillion years. I read an article that said that most people have a sort of filter in their mind that stops them associating images of death with themselves and I guess my brain just doesn’t have that filter. So that’s always fun. On a lighter note, as a small kid I was terrified of chimneys.

14. Favorite childhood sport? Does swimming count? Because I loved swimming and still do, even though I don’t get the chance to go very often. If you mean team sports, I guess hockey. I have very poor spatial awareness (premature baby with a slightly miswired brain) and I’m not a natural team player, so most sports at school were an utter nightmare.

15. Do you talk to yourself? Pretty much continually, unless I’m talking to the cats.

16. What movie do you adore? The Lord of the Rings trilogy, obviously. Death of Stalin, although it’s much, much darker than my usual tastes. Pride (2014).

17. Do you like doing puzzles? I mainly like doing map puzzles, so I guess I just like fiddling round with maps. Otherwise, I’d rather sit in the same room as people doing the puzzle and read a book and occasionally move a piece around.

18. Favorite kind of music? All sorts, really (folk, classical, metal, cheesy pop especially). I’m enjoying @notasapleasure’s folk recs, particularly Offa Rex.

19. Tea or coffee? Mainly tea (English breakfast with milk) but I usually have a latte in the morning when I’m at work.

20. The first thing you remember you wanted to be when you grew up? An astronaut, I think.

[mhdiaries]

Diary of Clawdia Wolf

I’ll make you a villain if you read my diary.

August 25th

Today I was walking through the streets of Londoom I just wanted to howl and do a little dance because I’m so excited to be here. I didn’t, of course, do the dancing part, since I’m the one with the “clumsy gene” in our family and I didn’t want to fall through an open monster hole cover. It has never bothered me that I’m not as athletic as the rest of the pack, because I think it was pretty apparent even when I was a cub that I was better at writing stories about my brothers’ and sisters’ athletic exploits than participating in them. It’s not that I didn’t try, but my mind and body may have been in concert but they were not playing the same tune. I remember the last organized soccer game I played: the coach put me in the goal partly because I was tall for my age and partly because he thought that perhaps the prospect of a ball being rocketed toward me might keep my attention. It worked for a bit, until the ball stayed at the other end of the pitch for a while, and a butterfly landed on the net. All of a sudden I became a ferocious were-spider who decided to give the butterfly a reprieve. So I climbed up in the net to shoo it away when I heard my dad yell, “Clawdia, turn around!” A ghoul was on a breakaway, and the only thing between her and me was open pitch and the ball. I tried to turn, and my spikes caught in the net, so I just closed my eyes and leaped toward the front of the goal. Somehow the ball ended up in my claws, and I kept the ghoul from scoring. It was my one and only athletic achievement, so I retired with my legacy in check and got a good story out of it, which, I’m sure, will end up in one of my screamplays some day.

September 8th

I was sitting in the lecture hall today not really paying attention like I should have been, partly because I was working on a not-for-that-class writing assignment and partly, okay, mostly, because symbolism in ghost-modern, neo-realist goblin cinema is only slightly less painful than rolling in flea-infested wolf’s bane. Honestly, I have no idea what a goblin miner wearing a red hat and pushing an empty ore cart says about the state of modern goblin-kobold relations. I’m sure it is profound and important, but well... it doesn’t matter. What did matter, howere, was that the professor asked a question that he wanted all of us to answer, and I didn’t hear the question. I could have asked him to repeat the question, of course, but then I would have had to acknowledge that I had not been paying attention, and since this particular professor hates that, I knew I was going to have to wing it on the answer. Which made me nervous, which made me look for something to chew on, which meant I wasn’t listening to the other answers, which meant I didn’t have a clue when he got to me. So when he said, “Ms. Wolf?” I said I didn’t think I could add anything to the discussion that had not been more profoundly stated in the answers my classmates had already given. This caused the rest of the class to burst out laughing, to which the professor said, “While I appreciate your humility, your answer leaves us no closer to knowing how many siblings you have.” I was mortalfied, but even more so when he said, “Please do try and pay better attention going forward.” Unlive and learn, Clawdia, unlive and learn.

September 15th

I’ve been using my iCoffin tablet to do some of my writing lately, and I really like it. I mean, I like the tablet. It’s great for doing video chats, and there are some really cool Londoom based apps that have helped me find my way around the city better. As for the writing part, I still prefer my chewed pen and leghoul pad. It may be old-fashioned, but there’s something about a blank sheet of paper that’s less intimidating than a blank scream with a blinking cursor.

October 1st

The only thing that’s coming down faster than the temperature in Londoom right now is the rain. I’m not sure what the real temp is, but you know it’s cold when a werewolf has to put on her fuzzy wool socks... brrr... fortunately, dad did a good job preparing me for this climate by never allowing to turn the thermostat up past the “I can see my breath” mark during the winter. We would say, “Dad, the house is freezing!” to which he would always reply, “You can either have heat or you can eat.” Followed quickly by, “We’re werewolves, for ghoul’s sake, put on a sweater if you’re cold.” Then we’d all look at mom, who would just shrug her soldiers. It was one of the only things she couldn’t change his mind about. So we’d all just sit snuggled together on the couch watching bad TV, complaining about Howleen’s sharp, unclipped paw nails and making promises about what we’d do when we all moved out and got our own places. I distinctly remember saying that I would turn up the heat so high that it would make Gloom Beach seem like a Yeti cave. So the first time it got cold here, I did just that, and it was every bit as amazing as I imagined it would be, until I got my first heating bill. Let’s just say that grocery shopping for the next few weeks gave me a completely different perspective on dad’s old saying. I’m pretty confident that saltines and marmite will never darken the shelves of my cupboard again after having that formerly tasty combination as my only breakfast and lunch option for a fortnight. I’m really missing being able to snuggle up on the couch with my pack of siblings, and I wouldn’t even complain about Howleen’s uncut paw nails... well, maybe not a lot.  

October 6th

I had a great video chat with the fam tonight, and they could not stop talking about Draculaura being chosen as queen of the vampires. They were in complete shock, and I have to admit it was quite a surprise to me as well. The vampires haven’t had a queen since the last chosen one, a young vampire ghoul named Elissabat, disappeared some 400 years ago. What is really curious about this, as if Draculaura being chosen as the new queen right out of the boo wasn’t curious enough, is that Clawdeen told me Draculaura’s choice was confirmed by the Vampire’s Heart. I have actually been doing quite a bit of research on the heart, which is really just a massive jewel with magical properties, for a screamplay I wanted to write about the mystery of the missing queen. There are many scholars that believe the jewel disappeared at the same time the ghoul who would be queen did; so either the scholars are incorrect, or there is more here than meets the eye. I didn’t want to be the one to rain on the funeral though, until I had a little more proof, especially with Clawdeen being so excited about attending the coronation. I did notice that Clawd wasn’t in the room with everyone else, and I’m wondering how he is dealing with this news.

October 7th

Clawdeen has sent me at least 30 texts and emails since last night detailing the fashions she’s thinking about taking to the coronation. I can see her now running around the room with absolutely every piece of clothing she owns spread out so she can mix and match fashions. She’s probably also been through Draculaura’s closet several times as well. I love her so much and I wish I could be there to make her laugh when she starts getting too serious. She’s so beautiful, though, that whatever she chooses will probably steal the show. I finally got an IM from Clawd asking if we could talk. This wasn’t unusual, since Clawd prefers one-on-one conversation to fighting for face time in a group. When he popped up on the screen he looked terrible, almost like he’d been crying, although it might have just been bad lighting. As usual, Clawd didn’t want to talk about himself and instead wanted to know every little thing I was doing. I finally had to say, “Stop howling around the moon and talk to me, little brother.” So he did. He told me that he didn’t trust the Lord Stoker character that showed up with the Vampire’s Heart claiming it led him to Draculaura. What’s more, neither did Draculaura. They both thought Draculaura would be miserable being queen, but that she would feel honor and duty bound to take the throne. Even so he was trying to be as supportive as possible and went on for a few more minutes about things that were worrying him. When he stopped I said, “You really love her, don’t you?” He looked down for a moment and swallowed hard, “She’s my best friend, sis, and I’m about to lose her forever.” Now it was my turn to swallow hard, and then he made an excuse about having to leave for practice and said a hasty goodbye. I’m going to do some more digging into this, because something doesn’t pass the smell test here, and a Wolf’s nose is always right.