#but the full excerpt intrigues me

[thestarsarecool]

PAUL McCARTNEY: There was some comment I read in the press recently where someone wrote “In the mood Lennon was in when he wrote this he certainly wouldn’t have wanted McCartney to get his mitts all over it”, you know, the old chestnut. In actual fact, the journalist has got his history wrong. What he means is, “In the mood John was in a couple of years before he wrote it, he might not have wanted McCartney to get his hands on it…”. Which brings me to something I remembered when reading that: John phoned me once to try and get the Beatles back together again, after we’d broken up. And I wasn’t for it, because I thought that we’d come too far and I was too deeply hurt by it all. I thought, “Nah, what’ll happen is that we’ll get together for another three days and all hell will break loose again. Maybe we just should leave it alone.”

Q: But the press, the media, outsiders, are always at least one step behind. We know what you’ve said in your last interview and so might think that you’re all getting on great, but last night you might have had an incredibly awkward phone call. Or, we might think you’re not talking to each other but last night you might have had a wonderfully happy phone call. We just don’t know how it really is between you guys. And the journalist you’re talking about certainly couldn’t have known what John was thinking.

PM: That’s right. That’s the point. In which case, why did he write it? He could have written, “I speculate, that possibly, from what we heard about John, around about that time he might not have wanted Paul to get his mitts on it…” In actual fact, I think John would have been very happy, but that’s a guess. And it’s my guess. And I think it’s an educated guess, and I’m pretty confident about that. As you say, I know what the last phone calls were about, and that is one of the saving graces, to this day, for me, that we had healed our wounds before he died. I really don’t know how we’d be dealing with it now if we hadn’t. I think it would be ten times more difficult.

— Paul McCartney, Interview for Club Sandwich, November 1st 1995

[blue-eyed-beastie]

A Closer Look at Belle's Book: Part II

In Part I, I went into some detail about the illustration inside Belle's book, but now I want to turn the page, so to speak.

Thanks to the magic of 4K, I was able to zoom in on some details in Beauty and the Beast that I had never noticed before, and this time I wanted to see what story Belle was reading. I've seen theories that it was either foreshadowing Aladdin or referencing Sleeping Beauty, and I myself noticed that it bears some artistic resemblance to Snow White... but it turns out that it has nothing to do with Disney, or its fairy tales.

It's something else entirely, and it's in French!

After zooming in and studying each frame, I managed to make out the following text:

une languissante sirene! Enfin, il sera bientôt heureux, si c'est là ce qui doit causer son bonheur. Je sais que je suis agréable à regarder, puisque j'y ai du plaisir moi-même, et de ce plaisir je ne priverai pas mon mari, au contraire. Je ne sais si je l'aimerai, je l'espère; mais je veux qu'il m'aime lui, et je ferai pour lui plaire tout ce qui lui plaira. Ah! chère Adélaïde, je suis pleine de rêves absurdes et de pensées contradictoires! Je songe à des choses qui me semblent à la fois douces et vilaines, et j'ai des imaginations qui me font rougir en même temps que pleurer! Au moins, je ne m'ennuie pas. Je vis plus en une heure de ces journées que l'an passé je ne vécus en toute l'année. Chaque heure me renouvelle, me grandit et m'épanouit. Je me semble un rosier qui fleur rirait à vue d’œil, je suis fraîche et parfumée; je suis légère et forte: j'attends le bonheur. Paul est plus beau que je ne l'avais encore jamais tu. Il est pâle avec de grands yeux pleins de fièvre et d'amour. Je le trouve sublime quand il s'agenouille près de moi pour me regarder comme en prière. J'ai envie de le prière aussi, parfois, et de coucher ma joue sur ses genoux, mais quand j'ai cette envie-la, je me fâché contre moi-meme et je boude Paul.

Which, roughly translated into English, means:

a languid siren! Finally, he will soon be happy, if that is what will make him happy. I know that I am pleasant to look at, since I take pleasure in it myself, and of this pleasure I will not deprive my husband, on the contrary. I do not know if I will love him, I hope so; but I want him to love me, and I will do whatever he pleases to please him. Ah! dear Adelaide, I am full of absurd dreams and contradictory thoughts! I think of things that seem to me both sweet and ugly, and I have fantasies that make me blush and cry at the same time! At least, I am not bored. I live more in one hour of these days than I lived in the whole year last year. Each hour renews me, makes me grow and blossom. I seem to myself a rosebush that blooms laughing before my eyes, I am fresh and fragrant; I am light and strong: I await happiness. Paul is more handsome than I have ever seen him before. He is pale with big eyes full of fever and love. I find him sublime when he kneels down next to me to look at me as if in prayer. I want to pray to him too, sometimes, and to lay my cheek on his knees, but when I have this desire, I get angry with myself and I sulk at Paul.

By the way, there is one more sentence (maybe even two) at the bottom of the page that is partially obscured by Belle's shoulder and right hand. It may or may not be important to the rest of the excerpt, but for completion's sake, I'll share it here:

Il est ... maintenir un homme dans les ...

Which translates to:

He is ... to keep a man in the ...

Intriguing, isn't it? What was she trying to say?

Overall, the author appears to be an unwed woman dreaming of her future marriage to a man named Paul. Her confidante is someone named Adelaide, but I suspect she is actually writing to herself. Regardless, she is either betrothed to Paul or she longs to be, since she calls him her husband. Perhaps it is an arranged marriage? She goes on to dwell upon his handsomeness, and how she longs to be close to him, but then she gets angry at herself for feeling this way. The last line of the passage is incomplete, but my best guess is that the author is saying that Paul is not to blame for her sulking, so it is not right to keep a man in the dark, i.e. ignorant. I could be wrong, though. In any case, she is conflicted about her feelings on the matter. You could even say that her feelings are "new, and a bit alarming".

I can see why the filmmakers chose this passage for Belle's book.

It may not be a fairy tale, but it certainly has elements from the film. There are references to beauty, roses, imagination, and eyes filled with love, and passion.

Belle:

"Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because—you’ll see Here's where she meets Prince Charming But she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter Three!"

Do the lyrics match the story hinted at on the page itself? No, but I really respect the filmmakers for going out of their way to include this kind of detail in the film. They could have taken the easy way out, by writing out something like "Once upon a time" to echo the opening narration, or used "Lorem ipsem" Latin filler, or even meaningless brush strokes just to fill the page... but they didn't. They chose something in French that Belle herself might have liked to read. And I think that's really cool.

[diamond-rozie]

excerpt from my fic (bio wayne danny)

“Sorry, am I interrupting?” Dick asked teasingly, slipping in next to Bruce. 

“I was just telling Danny how having a space station as a base of operation is a tactical call.” Bruce said, pointedly. 

“As if. It wasn’t a good idea when the JL was just the main seven, but after their expansion project, it’s a liability if not a straight out disadvantage.” Danny scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“How is it a liability?” Dick asked intrigued. 

“Whenever there’s a huge invasion or something, where do you think the evil aliens are going to attack first? The huge space satellite with at least a handful of heroes on it at all times, with state-of-the-art weapons and tech, full of information about literally everything worth having information on probably has no external defenses because no one would think to sneak into a space station, seems like a pretty good start.” Danny explained, Dick watched Bruce appraise his information. “I bet I could get in if I figured out how to get to space.” 

Bruce raised an amused brow at him, “You think you could break into the Watchtower?” 

“Easy.” Danny proclaimed, sporting a wicked grin. 

Before Dick could say anything, someone came up to their table. “Danny!” The boy, Dick recognized as Tucker, said with an exaggerated fake surprise, “What a surprise seeing you here. At the Nasty Burger. Around 6 o’clock. Today.” 

“Tucker? Why- What are you doing here?” Danny asked surprised. 

“I was just passing by,” Tucker said, shrugging dramatically. Danny gave him an accusing and disbelieving look. “My, my who are these people here with you, Danny?” Tucker asked, sliding into the seat next to Danny. 

“Tucker, you know who they are,” Danny said exasperated. 

But it seemed like they had more guests. “Danny! Wow, I wasn’t expecting you here. Small world, huh?” Sam (?) walked over preppi-ly which didn’t match her grunge aesthetic. Her hands hooked with Val’s as they walked together. 

“Small world,” Val repeated with a fake smile. The two of them sat down next to Danny and Tucker. 

Danny put his head in his hands, “I should’ve known.”

“You should’ve.” Sam nodded. 

“But you didn’t.” Val chastised jokingly. 

Next another boy comes dashing into the restaurant wearing a basketball jersey. 

“You’re late,” Val says, admonishingly. Tucker and Sam shake their heads, and Danny sighs in exasperation. 

“I literally ran here.” Wes said in between huffs of air, slumping in next to Val. 

The group of teens who had been teasing each other, in a very strange synchronous action, turn their heads to look at Bruce and Dick. Dick was really regretting watching Anabell last night. 

“I think we’ll need more food,” Bruce comments lightly. 

---

“So, dick.” Sam started, munching on a fry. “Tell us about yourself.” 

“Like what?” Dick asked

Valerie (“Do not call me Val.”) answered, “What do you do?”

“I’m a cop in Bludhaven.” Dick was met with four pairs of dubious eyes. Danny sent him a small-lipped look of disappointment, he wasn’t sure whether it was for him or at him. Maybe Dick should look into getting a new day job.

“Write that down.” Sam gestured to Tucker.

“Already on it,” Tucker reported, scribbling something with a stylus. 

“You guys are taking this very seriously,” Bruce commented, smiling. 

“It is serious.” Tucker responded. 

“What if you guys are in some child trafficking ring?” Wes commented, 

“Why would they be-” Danny started, before Wes turned to him and very seriously said, 

“That’s exactly the question, Danny. Why would they?” Wes thoughtfully turned to look at Bruce warily. 

“Y’know let’s just dive into the important questions shall we?” Sam asked her preppy attitude from before gone, replaced by a hard glare at the two of them. It reminded Dick of Titus. “What’s your opinion on the basements?”

“Basements?” Bruce repeated, confused. 

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first eccentric billionaire to insist Danny be their son. And we’ve noticed a few patterns.” Tucker informed them as if they were talking about something completely normal and mundane. Though, Dick couldn’t really argue. Bruce was also an eccentric billionaire with a secret basement. 

“Well, we have a basement,” Dick said hesitantly. “Does that dock us points?” He asked Tucker, half-joking, half-concerned. 

“Tentative.” 

“So what do you do in your basement?” Wes asked, sipping on a milkshake. 

“Normal basement things.” Dick lied. 

“Such as…” Valarie implored, eyes suspicious. 

Dick hesitated thinking about what to say. Bruce hadn’t said anything either. But Danny took the time to tell his friends, “Guys I really don’t think that should be a problem. I mean, would someone like Vlad really go for the ‘let’s have dinner so my family can meet your family and we can get to know each other’ approach when the ‘let me drug and kidnap you and stick you in a cloning pod’ approach was right there.” 

His friends seemed to consider this before they all nodded and agreed. 

“Vlad Masters drugged and kidnaped you to put you in a cloning pod?” Bruce asked, concerned. 

“No,” Danny said, offhandedly, not bothering to elaborate. Someone should really look into that guy. 

“O-M-G, is that Paulina?” Wes said pointedly, a menacing grin on his face as he looked at Danny, who in turn looked alarmed.

“Aw, Danny you should go say ‘Hi’.” Tucker cooed, teasingly, Danny groaned, his ears flushing in embarrassment.

“Guys, stop.” Sam said finally, “We wouldn’t want another spoon incident.” A grin cracked on her face. Danny buried his face in his hands. 

Dick looked over to see who they were talking about. There were two girls, one was a blond girl with her arms hooked around Kwan from The Mall, and the other was a darker skinned girl wearing a pink crop top. Dick wasn’t sure who Paulina was, but it didn’t really matter, as he took his chance to tease his brother. “You have a crush on Paulina?” He asked teasingly. Bruce is smiling next to him. 

“No.” Danny denied it fervently. “I mean- I did. Like forever ago. But not anymore.”

“He’s since moved on to more attainable targets.” Tucker nodded. Received a smack from Sam and a spoon to the face from Valerie. “Ow. What? It’s true.” 

“Y’know what they say. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.” Wes added with a snicker. 

“Wes,” Danny groaned at the same time as Sam and Valarie hissed his name. 

“I sense a story.” Bruce commented, sipping his drink. 

“It all started when we were fresh little freshmen. Danny had his little crush on Paulina. I was just trying to get by, y’know. Not all of us have Wayne genes.” Tucker started pointedly. 

“What- we didn’t know about that till this week.” Danny pointed out. 

“Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, dude.” Wes spoke up. Sam and Valerie stayed suspiciously quiet. Dick’s smirk only grew. 

“As I was saying, we’re just doing normal freshman things, when Sammy here,” Tucker points to Sam with his head, “starts crushing. Big time.”

“It was not that bad.” Sam points out. 

“It was, in fact, that bad.” Tucker said, looking at Bruce and Dick, “But at the same time Danny and Val have a little enemies-to-lovers thing and then they both start crushing on each other. And they dated for a while, but then they broke up cause Val had a lot on her plate at the time. Danny was all mopey and heartbroken. And then Sam swoops in like his little knight in glowing armor, then they start dating. And all the while I’m here single and alone.” Tucker shakes his head mournfully. 

“I was not all mopey and heartbroken.” Danny defends himself. 

“You so were dude.” Tucker says.

“Yeah.” Sam agrees. 

“But then Sam and Danny decide that they’re better off as friends because Danny kinda had a lot to deal with. And now we’re all best friends.”  Tucker concluded, cheerfully. 

“Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, huh, Bruce.” Dick says slyly. Bruce huffs. 

“Then what about the spoon incident?” Bruce asked. 

“Oh, that was back when there were a lot of ghost attacks, and the school had my parents come in to run security. And this one time we were having lunch outside, and they just showed up out of nowhere. And I got kinda spooked and…” Danny’s voice trailed off into a mumble, and Dick couldn’t catch the last bit.

“Sorry, what was that?” 

“He said he swallowed a spoon.” Wes spoke up. 

“What?” Bruce asked, alarmed. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh yeah, I got it out.” Danny waved dismissively. 

“How?” Dick asked, confused.

“Uh, I just did.” He waved again. Before Dick could ask any more questions, someone else decided to show up.

“Oh good, I thought I missed you guys.” Another red-haired boy showed up. “Hi, I’m Adam, Wes’s brother.” Dick recognized the accent the boy had. He stuck out a hand for Dick to shake.

continue reading (ao3)

regular boy: daniel wayne - chap 9

[destielaureversebb]

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “Sugar” 

Author: coveryourheads Artist: @all6pistols

Rating: Mature Archive warnings: None Length:  19,000 words Tags:  Teacher AU, Mutual Pining, Castiel Is Claire's Parent, Roommates, Insecure Dean Winchester Relationships: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Jess

Summary:  Dean and Castiel have been roommates since first year of college, best friends, and now work at the same school. Dean has always had a crush on Castiel but could never tell him because he is his best friend. Oh, and he's straight. And he has a daughter.

Excerpt: 

Claire, with a little bear face emoji next to her name, had sent, ‘Can you remind my dad that he has to pick me up today? He’s not answering me or mom.’

Dean answered her, ‘Got it.’

He swiveled around, almost knocking over a few innocent students. He hustled towards Castiel’s class. He forgot to knock (they never knocked on each other’s door at home) as he entered the room and came to face a full class of stunned students. Castiel looked flustered as well, paused mid-sentence of his probably intriguing lesson on the history of taxation or whatever it was he taught this one about.

“Dean!” Castiel scolded. “I’m in the middle of—”

The bell was well-timed and all of Castiel’s students shuffled out.

“Sorry, man,” Dean tried. He meant it, but his apologies never sounded sincere, which was a trait of his that Castiel disliked. He called it the Winchester Apology. Dean never meant his and Sam’s sounded like a wounded puppy. So, Dean added, “Seriously. Sorry. You gotta check your phone. Claire texted me because you weren’t answering her.”

Castiel sighed and retrieved his phone out of his bag. It took a long time to turn it back on because he refused to upgrade it. Dean watched his friend stab at the screen until he got to the text messages, reading his daughter’s message.

“I… Yes. Thank you, Dean. I have to pick up Claire today and am supposed to have dinner with her.”

Castiel grabbed one of his sticky notes, writing with a marker meant for the whiteboard, ‘Pick up Claire from club at 4:50’ in big blocky letters. The sticky note immediately curled on itself because the school decided to cut cost on supplies and got generic ones that never stuck to any surface. Dean tore off a piece of scotch tape to press the note down on the desk. Among all the mess of books and papers and teaching aide and stuff. In the simple act of helping his friend with the simpler task of writing down the reminder and making it stick, Dean had stepped into Castiel’s space. Close enough he could smell the aftershave (they had separate bathrooms so Dean had no idea what brand) and the fabric softener used on his clothes (unlike Dean, who used the affordable, non-softening brand). Stepping into Castiel’s space was done unconsciously, but Dean kind of liked it there. Castiel had the most amazing blue eyes (which Claire inherited) and fluffy hair that never wanted to stay in place. If he were brave enough, he would have made a move fifteen years ago. 

He wasn’t, and Castiel wasn’t into dudes anyway.

Posting date:  February 18, 2025

[akashis-waifu]

Excerpt from It Takes Two to Tango

Chapter 2 of Beyond God and Evil (Aizen Sōsuke/Female Reader)

Canon-divergence set months after TBYW. Reader is the new Soul King, so is Aizen if you squint hard enough.

Tags: Romantic comedy, fluff and angst, enemies to old married couple, banter as love language, mutual pining, immortality, slow burn, political intrigue, Aizen is that co-worker who never stops yapping

WHEN YOUR EYES flutter open, your gaze expectantly turns towards Aizen, only to find his seat vacated. Dazedly glancing at the window, the scenery of the setting sun instantly knocks the lingering sleep out of your system, causing you to immediately sit upright. A low chuckle catches your attention and you find Aizen now sitting beside you, watching you with a smug smile.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” you protest, glancing at the neat stack of finished paperwork with a hint of guilt.

“It seemed like you needed rest, and I can work faster without deciphering your cryptic writing.”

You ignore his incessant jab at your penmanship. “Okay, thank you, but I still need to double check them.” In case he orders the Central 46 to off themselves or something.

“By all means.”

Much to your annoyance, Aizen remains seated beside you, observing you with his chin propped on his palm. After several minutes of enduring his stare, you turn your head to face him.

“Can you please go back to your seat?”

“Why? Am I distracting you?”

“No, you’re annoying me.”

He feigns hurt, though his shit-eating grin gives away his amusement. “Ah, you wound me. Is this how you treat someone who helped you with your share of work?”

“I already thanked you.”

“You didn’t sound grateful enough.”

You roll your eyes. “What do you want then?”

Pleased with your surrender, he fixes you with a suggestive gaze, his hand reaching out to play with your hair. “Come on now. You know exactly what I want.”

Visibly cringing at his innuendo, you slap his hand away. “Are you in heat? Because I wasn’t aware that men can ovulate.”

Aizen regards you with a deadpan expression before lowering his hand.

“You should spend less time with Sarugaki Hiyori and Yadomaru Lisa. I do not appreciate their vulgar influence on your vocabulary,” he remarks, voice so flat that he actually sounds disappointed for once. “Anyway, ignoring the fact that your mind is perpetually in the gutter—”

“It’s not.”

“—you can thank me by staying here in the Soul King Palace.”

“You already know I can’t.”

He hums in challenge. “Are you sure? What if I murder your little division and seize the palace in your absence?”

“Go ahead. If you have the luxury of time, that is,” you retort, tapping the pile of documents on the table. “While I'm in Seireitei, you will be the one handling all the paperwork here.”

Aizen barely stops himself from grunting. When he said he wanted to ascend to Heaven, he pictured something akin to sitting on an exalted throne—not behind a desk full of unfinished reports.

Glaring at you from behind the reading glasses that he has been forced to wear again, he mutters.

“Insufferable woman.”

[haztobegood]

⭐️ Annual Writing Self-Evaluation 2024 ⭐️

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 16

2. Word count posted for the year: 43,087

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction, BBC Radio 1 RPF, Music RPF (The Snuts)

4. Pairings: so many!

Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson

Louis Tomlinson/Jack Cochrane

OT5 girl direction

Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson

Niall Horan/Greg James & Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson & Zayn Malik/Liam Payne

Zayn Malik/Harry Styles

5. Story with the most: Kudos: Figure This Out Bookmarks: Figure This Out Comments: Louis and the no good, very bad day

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why): Stronger Than the Tide was written for the @1daroaceficfest this year. I started writing a different fic but that one got to be much longer than I had time to write, so I quickly changed course, found new inspiration, and wrote this one so fast. This one proved to me that my fics don't have to be long and complicated to be very meaningful.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why): I am honestly super proud of everything I posted this year. I feel more confident in my abilities and enjoyed writing so much that I couldn't single any out.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received: This year I took a writing course and practiced what I'd learned while writing a horror story. Sisterhood is so different than anything I've posted before, so I was a bit nervous to post it. The comments were really great, especially this one from @disgruntledkittenface, "Jinny, I'm so impressed! Your prose is so evocative, and the story gave me chills. You gave such a full, rounded picture of the setting and all of the girls' relationships that I felt like I was there. I admit, I hesitated when I saw the cannibalism tag, but I'm really glad I read this!"

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: This spring was difficult. March and April are always busy and stressful, and then I broke my ankle, had two surgeries, and moved back in with my parents while I healed. Toward the end of May I really wanted to write for @wankersday so I forced myself to try despite some severe writer's block. I drafted Louis and the no good, very bad day entirely on my phone while lying on a couch.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: The ace of clubs in Stronger Than the Tide was my favorite surprise. This wasn't a part of the original draft at all, but while editing it felt like something was missing to indicate that the cave was siren!Harry's home, so I added Harry's collection of human objects. Because this was an ace/aro fic it felt right to put an ace card in. I found out after that the ace of clubs can represent growth and tending to relationships, which fit the theme perfectly.

Louis looked around the empty cave awkwardly. The bright sunlight illuminated some shiny objects laid out on natural ledges in the stone walls that he hadn’t noticed the last time. He slid his hands into the pockets of his red trackies and wandered closer. Shiny agates, broken seashells, smooth sea glass. A fork with a bent tine, dried wildflowers, a bobbin of old thread. A collection of jewelry. A large scallop shell filled with coins from all over the world. A corked bottle with a piece of paper rolled inside. Louis reached out and picked up a single red playing card. He turned it over: the ace of clubs. “That’s my collection. When I find something unique I save it.” Louis had been so intrigued by the items he hadn’t heard Harry come out of the cave. He set the card down carefully where he'd found it. “You keep your collection here in a cave?” “The cave is my home.”

More under the cut.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: Niall naming Louis' soulmate goose after Bruce Springsteen in Louis and the no good, very bad day will always make me laugh

Niall and Louis walk down the pavement, with the goose strutting a few feet behind Louis, beak held high. “Did you name him?” Niall asks. “What?” “The goose. Did you name him?” “Why would I do that? He’s not a pet.” “Because he’ll be with you for an unknown amount of time. Seems like he should have a name. Like Horace. Or Lionel. Or Bruce! Bruce the Goose.” The goose lets out a short burst of little honks in what Louis can only describe as a happy goose noise. Louis shakes his head. “No. I’m not naming my Soulmate Goose. He’ll hopefully be gone in a few days and then I can get on with my life.” Honk! Niall says, “Maybe. But I’ve heard that some people are stuck with their Soulmate Goose for almost a year.”

12. How did you grow as a writer this year: This year I took a writing course because I wanted to intentionally work on writing as a craft. I learned a lot from the course and enjoyed dedicating time to practicing and improving my skill.

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I am working on a Pride and Prejudice adaptation and learning a lot from studying the source material. Taking a deep dive into such an iconic novel is teaching me a great deal about what makes that story and its characters so compelling.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): @lululawrence's @wordplayfics was a huge inspiration. I wrote 5 fics, 3 of which had been sitting in my drafts folder for years. I had so much fun seeing where each random word would take me each week.

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: Greg twisting his ankle in The Grundy County Corn Maze Incident was inspired by breaking my own ankle. Unfortunately the strong Irish man that helped me get to a car was not Niall . And The Kiss of Sleep that I wrote for @1dtrickortreatfest was inspired by the one and only time I tried melatonin.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Keep all your unfinished drafts, even if it seems unlikely you will ever finish them. You never know when the inspiration will strike.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I signed up as an author for @onedirectionbigbang for the first time this year! I am also an artist for two others and can't wait to see what these collaborations will bring

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I tag @disgruntledkittenface @lululawrence @allwaswell16 @voulezloux @red-pandaaa @reminiscingintherain @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @homosociallyyours @justanothershadeofblue @uhoh-but-yeah-alright and anyone else that wants to do this!

Past years (2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023)

[redcomet-stims]

Would it be pawsible for me to request a stimboard of the spore version of Mushroom from the webcomic Objectified, and if needed, with a theme of light pink, cutesy, and/or fluffy things?

It's this thing, it only appears like 2 times within book one so far. The end of episode 35 and the start of 42, specifically. There's a bit of gore in both of those, though, so just warning you in case you look at them.

Of course it would be ^w^ Here you go!

🎀🩷🍄 Spore ver. of Mushroom (Objectified) stimboard with themes of light pink and fluffy/cutesy things for @woopersuper :3

Thank you for your request ^w^

I decided to look at the chapters/episodes this character appears in (so far) to get a little bit of context for her- and I just have to say, I'm not usually the biggest fan of object show-related content, but the excerpts of this comic I read got me intrigued into the story, so I might read the full thing! And the artstyle is SO ADORABLE, even though the story is kinda dark....and I love it. :3

Also, pink is probably, like, my 2nd favorite color, so I love how this looks and loved making it ^_^

Anyway, I hope this suits her and I hope you like it ^^

Sources:

x | x | x

x | x | x

x | x | x

[onedappercat]

Why Does the Ortolan Sing?

Chapters 17 - 19

Rating: Explicit

Summary:

Following his mother’s death, Azira sets out to prepare his family’s bookshop for reopening. While appreciating the shop’s new sign, he hears the beckon of a siren’s song sounding from the coffee shop over the road. He succumbs to temptation to find the source of the hypnotic voice is an auburn-haired songbird. Intrigued by the singer’s beauty and haunted by his apparent loneliness, Azira is determined to introduce himself. There’s only one problem: the musician’s menacing, jealous, and possessive partner.

CW:

Domestic abuse, loss of a loved one, adultery, toxic relationship, murder, blood, organized crime, loss of virginity, explicit sex

Excerpt from chapter seventeen:

The book of love is long and boring. No one can lift the damn thing. It’s full of charts and facts and figures, and instructions for dancing. But I love it when you read to me. And you can read me anything…

Azira smiled, losing himself in the sound of Crowley singing for him alone. How often had he sat in the coffee shop and daydreamed of this very moment?

The book of love has music in it. In fact that’s where music comes from. Some of it’s just transcendental, some of it’s just really dumb. But I love it when you sing to me and you can sing me anything...

There was still a slight dryness to Crowley’s voice causing certain notes to catch in his throat, but if it made him uncomfortable, he didn’t let on.

The book of love is long and boring and written very long ago. It’s full of flowers and heart shaped boxes and things we’re all too young to know. But I love it when you give me things. And you ought give me wedding rings…

Crowley’s eyes glanced up from his guitar, locking Azira in his golden gaze. The corners of his lips twitched upward, forming a nearly imperceptible smile.

And I love it when you give me things. And you ought to give me wedding rings. You ought to give me wedding rings…

Continue from chapter seventeen on ao3…

Or start with chapter one.

[cuffmeinblack]

Garreth Weasley masterlist

Ao3: cuffmeinblack

Buy me a cuppa 🖤

Full masterlist for all characters is here

Reader inserts female unless specified otherwise.

If you're here you might be interested in the Weasley's Wizarding World discord server...

NSFW alphabet headcanons 🔞

Garreth in a relationship headcanons

Weasley family headcanons

Garreth Weasley x f!OC

Salvation

read on ao3 | moodboard | cinematic trailer

angst, friends to lovers (166k)

Garreth Weasley is the first prisoner to walk free from Azkaban in centuries. As he tries to pick up his life from where he left off, he soon realises that his imprisonment has reshaped the man he once was. Battered and broken, he draws on the strength of a friend to right the wrongs he's suffered. In matters of justice and those of the heart, will truth finally out?

Who Else But You? - fluff, Yule Ball, 11k words

The news of a Yule Ball sends ripples of excitement throughout Hogwarts' seventh years, though Garreth Weasley is less than enthused. Mandatory dance lessons are also an unwelcome distraction from his experimental brews and upcoming exams.

Closing time - suggestive drabble, 500 words 🔞

After hours in their shop, Garreth finds himself tempted by Adanna.

Garreth Weasley x reader

Game On (ao3 link) - smut, modern AU, 3.3k words 🔞

Garreth draws attention whenever he plays, but you've had enough of the spectators' ogling and decide to show them who he belongs to.

A Library Defiled (ao3 link) - smut, 1.7k words 🔞

An tense encounter in the library shatters the barrier between friends and lovers.

Out of bounds - collection of smutty fluff with loose plot, 18.6k words 🔞

You agree to help Garreth sneak into his aunt's chambers to retrieve some confiscated notes. First part reads as gn!reader.

Dreamful Sleep (ao3 link) - fluff, smut, 3.5k words 🔞

Garreth's habit of sleepwalking is driving his friends and roommates insane, until you start to find him in the midst of his dreaming.

Needless Apologies - light angst, hurt/comfort, gn!reader, 1.2k words

Garreth comforts you after a run-in with goblins.

Seek me (ao3 link) - fluff, gn!reader, 2.4k words

Garreth comforts you after you have nightmares

Just a little tingle - smut, explicit, 1.4k wordsn🔞

Garreth has you try an experimental potion.

Love-drunk - fluff, gn!reader, 2.1k words

You have a crush on Garreth, but your pursuit is complicated by Sebastian-fucking-Sallow.

Tamed - smut, 1.4k words 🔞

Garreth is your little Gryffindor bitch boy.

Spills and thrills - smut, 1.6k words 🔞

Detention smut.

Strands of copper - fluff, gn!reader, 1.3k words

You end up idly playing with Garreth's hair.

Guilty pleasure (ao3 link) - smut, pegging, 3k words 🔞

Behind closed doors, Garreth has no qualms about indulging in his guilty pleasure.

Encore (ao3 link) - smut, 2.2k words 🔞

Garreth always gets worked up after a gig, and tonight is no exception.

Painted Canvas - fluffy drabble

Sharing - fluffy drabble

Unexpected - mildly spicy poem

Garreth Weasley x Ominis Gaunt

You need only ask - fluff, smut, 36.1k words 🔞

Garreth Weasley has admired Ominis Gaunt from afar, offering his secret assistance in their shared potions classes. Ominis finds out and wants to know why.

Audio excerpts: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Lost and Found (ao3 link) - fluff, angst, 5.4k words 🔞

A love story told in five scenes.

Repercussions (ao3 link) - smut, 2.4k words 🔞

Ominis is driven to distraction by Garreth's voice.

My own

'Ominis and Garreth adopt a baby' drabble. Audio.

Garreth Weasley x reader x Ominis Gaunt

Proposition (v1) (ao3 link) - f!reader, smut, 4.3k words (audio excerpt) 🔞

Proposition (v2) (ao3 link) - m!reader, smut, 4k words 🔞

You've always held an affection for your best friend, Garreth Weasley, but he is very much taken by Ominis Gaunt. You weren't expecting Ominis to come to you with an intriguing proposition.

Garreth Weasley x Sebastian Sallow

A dress to remember (ao3 link) - smut, 2.5k words 🔞

Sebastian surprises Garreth with an outfit he knows will get the Gryffindor's attention.

Garreth Weasley x reader x Sebastian Sallow

Uneasy arrangement (ao3 link) - smut, 2.5k words 🔞

Sebastian allows you to indulge your fantasy of sleeping with Garreth, as long as he's there.

Garreth Weasley x Sebastian Sallow x Leander Prewett

Friendly competition (ao3 link) - smut, 5k words 🔞

Garreth and Leander find out that Sebastian has been fooling around with both of them; he thinks he can have his cake and eat it, but perhaps the two Gryffindors are eager to show him the perils of overindulging.

Garreth Weasley x Andrew Larson

Helping hand (ao3 link) - smut, 3.7k words 🔞

When Andrew finds Garreth sneaking ingredients from the potions stores, he lets him go instead of throwing the Gryffindor in detention. That second's hesitation will be his undoing, to his great delight.

Garreth Weasley x Natsai Onai

Potions Prodigy, Romance Genius - fluff, rom-com, 2.4k words

Garreth and Natty find themselves the victims of Ministry bureaucracy whilst exploring their fledgling relationship. After a revelation of the heart, Garreth decides to take action.

No pairing

These Days Worth Living (ao3 link) - fluff, 1.6k words

Part of the Weasley Wednesday Christmas collaboration

As the first wizarding war draws to a close, Garreth spends time with his extended family and reflects upon his long and fulfilling life.

Audio

Making you breakfast

Garreth and Ominis adopt a baby

[taylitruther]

So, I wrote a full fic for the first time in forever (almost a year since my last published fic)!! Thank you Doctor Odyssey for bringing me back from the dead, I was in desperate need of a pick me up and a canon threesome on its way to throuple/triad is exactly what I needed. Enjoy!

we could all be the best kind of friends (AO3)

Rating: E

Pairing: Ody3 (Max/Avery/Tristan)

Selected Tags: Dom/sub undertones, hair-pulling, oral fixation, coda, consent is sexy

Summary/Excerpt:

Avery took a beat, glanced sideways at Max as Tristan repositioned himself, hand moving to hold his glass more securely. He looked more intrigued than eager, but she could work with intrigued.

She set her glass down, and brushed her hair back ever so slightly. Tristan leaned forward, setting his glass on the table in front of him. ‘Gotcha.’ She thought, as she slid her eyes over to Max.

Again, he was harder to read. He hadn’t moved as much, at least not towards her, but the eyes are the keys to the soul or however that saying goes, and Max’s pupils were steadily growing wider with arousal as he turned his head in her direction.

~~~~~

A look at one way that threesome might have gone.

[raining-tulips]

hi! i just found your blog :) love your commonplace book scans! if you don’t mind me asking, could you give a more in-depth explanation of what commonplacing is exactly and what your process is? i’m intrigued and considering getting into it but i wouldn’t even know where to start! thanks a lot xx

Absolutely! So my commonplace is specifically all movies, qoutes, articles, tumblr/Instagram posts, book excerpts, etc. that either resonated with me or I think I'll want to reference later. That is the heart of what common placing is - saving things for later physically rather than digitally.

Some of these just pop up in my feed, and I'll hit the like or save button. If it's an article, it usually first pops up as a preview on my Instagram and I'll open the full article on my desktop than bookmark it in a specific folder for common placing.

Sometimes, when I want to actively find something out (say, about if perfume is really bad for the environment, or I want to look at author interviews because I just loved a book) I will go out and search for that information.

Then, usually once a week I compile everything I'd like to print - i print the sources bc my handwriting is messy - into a word document formatted for two columns. I try and hold off printing until i have a full page worth, or two full page worth.

For images, I have another word document (these are printed in color, and i usually have to jigsaw to fit as many images on the page as possible, so different word document). Same thing, I try and wait until I have a full page to print. Usually x2 a month. I sometimes will print with an HP sprocket but the quality is really bad and the pictures are thick so, it's for when I'm out of printer ink or I think a photo will look okay with a sorta...uneven look.

I use just a Staples brand journal, TruRed. Cheap and easy. I draw a line at the top so I can write the date, and in the future if I want to tag it with a colored sticker or something, I can. My layouts usually include divided space on either the left or right of a page. The article goes in the bigger open space, and then the source (always write your source!!) and any commentary goes in the smaller margins.

Commentary is usually why I wanted to print it, what it reminds me of or makes me think about, etc. What I think the argument was missing, etc. Can be as little or as much as you like. As emotional and deep or as plain-jane as you like. There are no rules!

I trim printed text and images with a 12 inch trimmer bc I've got wobbly hands, but some people just use a little (blanking on the name) exacto knife? Any 12 inch trimmer will do mine is expensive but I also scrapbook so I use it all the time.

I paste things in using a tape runner (again, because I scrapbook and found a tape runner and my mom sells scrapbook supplies they're very accessible to me). Some people use tape, washi tape, glue sticks (liquid glue I've never seen).

And yeah, then I just decorate and play around. It doesn't have to be pretty. It can be really pretty if you want - I'm motivated by aesthetics, so, I like mine to be a little pretty.

If you'd like to see how I actually put it together and why I print certain things, my YouTube channel is the place to go.

Some people tape in movie tickets, receipts from where they shopped or ate, pictures from daily life. Some people mix common-placing and journaling, so including diary entries about their day or about a topic they love, or their thoughts and feelings (I keep mine in a separate journal, explained in this video). Some people mix common-placing with bullet journal or planning. Some combine all three!

At the end I just use a printer scanner (HP Envy 5500, cheap) and post them online that way bc I love the look.

People who have other styles you might try and look at are @petite-gloom (an OG who inspired me and many others) @fakelavender , @teddybearsticker .

[roberttaylorsleeps]

The sound of creaking metal broke the silence of my cabin. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence on the old oil rig I had been stationed at, but it still never failed to lift the hairs off my arms. You would think they would at least modernize the structure of these ancient metal frames before sending us out here to repurpose them. Although, I suppose even the freshly built desalination plants have been falling under lately. What's the point in refurbishing this old hunk of junk if it's gonna collapse regardless.         We had been sent out here to start the operation of another desalination plant for the Atlantic. It was part of a worldwide initiative to create a "cheaper" source of freshwater. Personally I never subscribed to the idea of destroying the massive ocean ecosystems, but a source of income was a source of income.         Our job was to install and begin operation of the machines used to remove the salt from the ocean's water. It was no easy task, considering that these abandoned rigs weren't designed to have hulking machines attached to them years after their operation, but within five days we had already gotten one of the machines ready to the point that we could start i's operation. All we were waiting for was confirmation from higher ups to begin.         I had received a relatively small, but significant job within the process. My responsibility lied with starting and controlling the operation of the desalination machines. In fact I was the only one on the rig who knew how to do it. So it wasn't exactly shocking when the old intercom system sparked to life with a call for me.         In a harsh staticy voice the captain spoke to the crew, "Jason report to my office IMMEDIATELY!" sounding unexpectedly angry. "Again, I want you up here in five minutes or else I'll throw you off this rig myself!" He finished, leaving me with nothing but the faint click of the intercom shutting off.  

That was a small excerpt of Desalination!    

Unfortunately due to character limits I could not post the entirety of the first part, but if you are intrigued on reading more or even finishing it you can find the full short story on basically any platform you find web novels and the such (direct links can be found on my linktree if you want to know exactly where.) Any support is greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading :)

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Stephen Strange...and a special Blue Morpho butterfly

(Excerpt from my fic,'Friday in the Park with Stephen'; takes place pre-Infinity War. Posting it now simply because it makes me happy to do so.)

...Stephen missed Hope's call again late Sunday morning, growing a bit frustrated that they were left to play phone tag, but within the hour he’d had to assume the full mantle of Master of the Mystic Arts and join several others in the Basque countryside of Spain, to beat back an incursion fire-breathing Wormes; he’d ended up staying there two days longer as the Sorcerers searched for and finally sealed their point of entry into Earth’s dimension.  Stephen returned from that foray slightly singed, and in need of a hot shower and a cold beer or two.

He found a large manila envelope waiting on the desk in the study he had commandeered as his own. It was marked in one corner ‘Please Do NOT Bend’, addressed simply ‘Stephen Strange’, and had to have been hand delivered, for there was no stamp or postmark—and in place of a return address was the inked image of a small but vibrantly blue butterfly, leaving him without a doubt whom had left it for him.  Intrigued, Stephen carefully slit beneath the sealed flap and pulled out two pieces of 11 x 14 cardstock that had a piece of sketch paper sandwiched between them.  

He thought that it must be the portrait Hope had done of him, as they sat on the grass in Washington Square Park, and he smiled broadly despite his exhaustion, recalling the pleasant way they had whiled away the day, of their evening stroll to Hope’s place in Brooklyn, of the starlight kisses they had shared—and most especially of how reverently she had held his hand against her cheek, gingerly kissing his scarred flesh, and of the image that had flashed through his mind of her with her hair undone, looking very like she was ripe for his taking.  

Stephen let out a slow breath, and with hands that tremored from his old injury, removed the sketch from its protective cover.

"Whoa,” was all he managed, thunderstruck by a new image which Hope has so faithfully rendered.  The paper itself was similar to that in her sketch pad, but  even to his untrained eye, of higher quality.  She had titled the piece The Nature of Beauty--and had depicted a beauty he had honestly not believed was there. Her Artist’s eye was truly keen, for she had captured his every minutia from memory alone.  

The back of his left hand was displayed as though on its side, with his right hand draped across that wrist.  She had added both his bracelets (fashioned of bead and leather, gifted to him by the elders of an Indi village after he had vanquished a Blight Demon that had laid waste to nearly half their fields) and his watch; he recalled her curiosity at him wearing a broken timepiece, and how she had only nodded in understanding when he replied it held sentimental value beyond any question of time, respecting his privacy enough not to press for more. Hope had thoroughly filled in the details, even down to the cracks on the watch face. His fingers were relaxed, though his right index finger was held just slightly bent—and upon it sat the Blue Morpho, it’s wings and body so meticulously portrayed that Stephen could almost see it flutter slightly.  

She had drawn the piece in blacks and greys, with the subtlest hints of color at the his beaded bracelet and his watchband--though the butterfly held the echo of it’s true color, in sky blue chalk (so like the color of the sky that afternoon) which she had treated with a some kind of fixative to keep it from smudging.  He found the sketch reminiscent of DaVinci’s detailed, realistic style, in his multitude of studies of the human form—the perfection of the human form which he had ever worshipped. Lastly, Hope had placed the date in the lower, righthand corner, and her initials bordered on the sketch itself.

But his favorite detail—one he never would have guessed he would find pleasing—was her depiction of the scars upon his hands. Hope had not stinted in depicting the weals that marked them, but she had given them an unexpected softness that left him with a soft appreciation in the center of his chest.  Stephen decided on the spot that he would have it framed right away, to hang above the small desk in his quarters; it would be a gentle reminder of that old axiom ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder ’—and of an extraordinary soul whom fate had somehow sent in his direction on a sunny, spring afternoon. Hope had taped a note loosely on the reverse of the sketch, which he removed with care. It read:

Dear Stephen,

I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I have enjoyed creating it. This is the original, of course--but I have kept a scan of it for my portfolio. At the least, perhaps it will remind you that beauty is well beyond skin deep, and that others often see what we think of as our flaws in a kinder light than we see ourselves. You may not know this, but in many cultures blue butterflies symbolize joy, beauty, and good fortune--most appropriate when I think how lucky it was that our paths came to cross that day. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of trying my best to capture the unique beauty of your hands...scars and all.

Sincerely,

Hope

PS   I promised patience, and I swear I am a woman of my word.  But please do keep trying, Stephen—as I’m certain that our paths are meant to cross again. xx

Energized by her astonishing gift, Stephen didn’t hesitate.  He grabbed his cell from the shelf where it sat charging, sending a silent request unto the universe ‘please—let her pick up in person this time’.  And perhaps because his prayer was fervent—perhaps too, because he’d earned himself some good karma—Hope picked up on the third ring.  “Stephen,” she exclaimed brightly, “I just knew it would be you this time!”

“I just got back in town, I’m looking at your gorgeous sketch, and I’m thinking we have to get together this afternoon.”  Before something calls me away again. “You game?"

“Absolutely,” she averred, “And what do you have in mind?”  The note of mischief in her voice caused his pulse to speed its pace.

“There’s this great little pub on East 4th Street, The Four-Faced Liar. Some of the best burgers in the city…”

“Got it…”  She sounded as eager as he felt, “Hey, that’s about halfway between our places.”

“Yup.”  Stephen was already planning his route—well, where he could discretely portal to, giving him adequate time to shower and get dressed first, “Let’s say an hour, I’ll meet you there?”

“It’s a date, then?"

“You bet’cha it’s a date,” he promised, “And Hope?”

“Yes, Stephen?”  He could swear he felt her smile across the miles between them.

“Wear some comfy shoes, okay?  There’s no telling what adventures we might get up to today.”

The sigh she gave at that sounded as full of possibilities as his heart was hoping for.  Of course, only time would tell—and as a master of time (in his unique way) he knew that time, in this case, was surely on his side.

Hope & Stephen ~ probably my most popular, most widely read, pairing...

Thank you from the bottom of my ❤️ for creating this @fanartka❣️It's a huge and indescribable thrill to see them together outside of my imagination!!😍💙❤️🦋

[safrona-shadowsun]

{Excerpt from some ongoing rp with @duraxxor that we laughed at ;))

Plop.

The old fisherman had taken notice of the new arrival to the Tavern of the Mists, given him a long stare, then returned to his cast of his fishing line, content to watch his little cat-shapped bobber make ripples in the water. The younger Pandaren on the porch took longer notice at the crimson clad visitor, stopping mid-beat of a welcome rug. He turned to briefly yell inside the tavern in preparation. “Ah, new visitor! Put on more tea!”

The masked stranger watched carefully as the local folk didn't seem to mind even his appearance the slightest. Of course, who really could with the variety of people that came in and out of this remote area of Pandaria? There was a twinkle in his singular eye as the young one made a note to start new tea for him.

Duraxxor's voice picked up smoothly as he said, " I appreciate the hospitality but I seek the one you may call the Courier, Safrona Shadowsun. Have you seen her?

No eyelash was batted, no stare was given beyond the welcoming one the young Pandaren gave as he nodded indelibly, before stopping mid nod, and cocking his head with performative thoughtfulness. “I may, I maaaaay, traveller,” he spoke, stroking an imaginary beard as he ‘mused’.

He then grinned and in a most striking impersonation of Illidan Stormrage, boomed, “You are not prepared!” A packaged bean bun was suddenly tossed, and hip bumped to Duraxxor. “Now you are prepared! Maybe!” he stated with a full belly laugh. “What do I call you?"

There was a stiffness about Duraxxor in that moment as the child approached with his impersonating banter. That singular eye winced a bit, giving signs that beneath the masquerade was a smile. " You know, that was pretty good, young one. "

With an idle bending, he knelt down and procured the bean bun, softly opening it to apply it just beneath the mask. " I am a man of many names, but I wonder... what is it you wish to call me, friend? "

After finishing his statement, the bun vanished from sight, almost as if it were immediately consumed into the void itself.

The Pandaren blinked at the magically vanishing beanbun and then guffawed. "MagicMan! That is what I will call you!"

He leaned forward in a cartoonishly bold gesture, animatedly speaking with the cadence of a Southshore Pirate now: "Or do I call ye "HungryMan, lad?"

The masked stranger rubbed his protected chin in thought. Magicman or Hungryman? Hmmmm. Those were certainly traits that he possessed outside of what was best described as his identity.

This child was quite entertaining.

" Hungry Magic? Mungryman? " It seemed he was willing to play along with the vivid imagination this Pandaren had.

" Ahoy lad, there's treasure to be had. The Courier be hiding the stash of Rum on her flagship! " His own pirate came out in him, swinging his arm in his own cartoonish nature.

The boy had another hearty laugh for “Mungryman” as he started up the misty path from the humble tavern, pausing a moment to let his company catch up.

“She be doin’ no hidin’ of anyting, mon,” he smoothly shifted to another syntax, perfectly emulating the often musical accent of the Zandalari, or another tribe of troll.

“De lady be generous to dem who prove dey wort’, eh?” He then hunched over and stretched out his arm, pointed 3 furry fingers in Dura's direction, much how a troll might point.

“Ya be nice, don't make trouble when y'step inta her parlor, she may be givin’ ya a taste o’ de Rum, or any nectar ya like.”

A wide grin, and the Pandaren stepped into a swirl of mist that seemed to enshroud him.

“But de first test? Dat be gettin’ up de mountain to ‘er in de first place! Hah!”

And with that, the mist seemed to take Seon away, disappearing entirely.

The following of this strange Mungryman was fluid in steps. It was as if he were a bit of a shadow attached to the boy's back. He stared through his masquerade, finding the child to be intriguing with his own impersonations. What a coincidence, he was quite the impersonator himself. But to see this child going from pirate to Zandalari was quite the feat.

"Hmmmmmm. You seem to know the lady quite well. And dare I say, that is good to hear. " He bowed his head, feeling as though the truth of the matter was coming out and when Seon disappeared and made it a note to tell Mungryman that he was needing to journey up the mountain. A dramatic pause was offered before he howled out in laughter.

" Hahahahahah! Good show! Welp.. it seems it's time I made my way up the mountain then. I suppose I should not be surprised... "

And so, Mungryman went on his way up the first elevation in his step.

In the absence of his young host, the cold fog of the Veiled Stair seemed sharper, cloudier, inhospitable. It obscured Dura's path, directionless, a mist buffetting what seemed a stalking intruder rather than the invited.

Foreign noises haunted the cold mountain fog, threatening to lead him to a steep drop, should it see fit to lead a monster astray. Some percussive beat could be heard around him, alike a wardrum, and a voice boomed from that pattern heartbeat: a gravelly, strong voice of a famous orc Shaman.

"You stalk the elements like a hunter, but seek to sit at the table as a guest? If you think for a moment to draw blood, you will want to turn back here and now. You will not find what you want."

As playful as his host had been, clearly this 'game' was dead serious in delivery. The "Courier" was well-protected.

When the voice of a shaman made a note to call him out on how it is he approached, there was a pause in his step. Duraxxor's senses arose from their depths and began to pinpoint where the voice was at least coming from to some degree. For every sound had an echoing source.

However, considering that the orc was not directly attacking him, he ceased going on the offensive. His stance loosened and his head tilted to the side.

"Sharp eyes and rightfully so. However, I did not come to battle or to commit violence. I have come seeking an audience to exchange words and perhaps even an apology for an error, so to speak.

" His sincerity shown, possessing a calm that the mist itself could often bring another. But the Lord would not leave it at that.

". . . I will only continue if allowed. But if I am denied, then I will discontinue wasting everyone's time. "

The 'orc's voice could not be pinpointed from one source, awash on waves of mist that slipped from all directions of the obscuring fog.

"The elements judge you, and find you wanting..." the voice boomed again, and some crackle of jade lightning cascaded from the right, then left of Dura's periphery.

And then ...the mist cleared for the large ball of fur that rolled out before him, perfectly balanced in a martial pose that imitated a dragon. Just as it seemed the young Pandaren might strike, he shifted to a slumping casual stance and shrugged.

"--Wanting a drink probably! Hah! Okay, yeah buddy, you're clear!"

Seon laughed as the mountain mists further cleared for a pair of intricately carved gates, topped with the regal wooden heads of cloud dragons. Beyond that, a neatly curated garden cut an entrance way for a traditional Pandaren retreat.

"It's been real, Mungryman. Just, y'know. Don't bring in any weapons or cast offensives or other funny business, or they'll throw you off the mountain."

Seon bowed, both paws clasped in front of him in a prayer-like pose, then switched one of his hands to deliver a sideways peace sign. "PEACE BRO."

And again, the mysterious young Pandaren seemed to be enveloped in mist, disappearing from sight.

Duraxxor, aka Mungryman, had passed the test, and the Elysium Sanctum awaited.

[praxcrown5]

Carstober Prompt #16: Boneyard

Little excerpt from a side story I've been working on. The characters involved are a self-employed delivery truck named Thomas Gustavson Lane (everyone calls him "Gus") and A1A77275, a "young"--87 year old--angel from the Oldsmobile factory.

I'll probably post the whole chapter at some point, tho it gets quite spicy.

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

"Gus?"

A white and blue Dodge pickup jumped high enough that all four of his tires got off the ground, and once he landed he spun, tools mounts raised to defend himself.

The scrapyard was empty.

Well, empty except for a dozen or so piles of spare parts, everything ranging from bumpers to drive trains, and three husks in various stages of dismantling.

He blinked, confused.

"Up here!"

Gus looked up and was surprised to see Aia, his liaison to the Oldsmobile factory, hovering about twenty feet off the ground, her lovely chrome wings flapping in a steady rhythm to keep her airborne.

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Erm…what are ya doin' here?"

"I'm here for a hookup."

Gus just stared. "Y-you…what, now?"

Aia laughed and adjusted her wings so that she could land, gently, in an open area of gravel nearby. Then she rolled over to him, smiling slyly. "The last time you were at the factory…you told me that if I was ever curious about hooking up that you'd be willing to 'show me the ropes.'" She flared her wings. I've decided to take you up on your offer."

Gus' shades widened to their limits and his mouth hung open. "Oh…" He managed after a full minute.

Aia chuckled. "You seem…surprised."

"I…" He paused, and cleared his throat. "Well…I was…" What could he tell her, that he was joking. He recalled the interchange in question, and there was no doubt in his mind that he was flirting from a place of genuine interest: how many folk have had the opportunity to hook up with an angel, after all?

But…that was part of his trepidation. Aia had chosen to use feminine pronouns for his sake…but she was a genderless being by her own admission. Population control was a big thing in the factories.

She was also highly intelligent, and maybe, even, clairvoyant. And…that was all very intimidating.

How could he, a lowly delivery truck, hope to compete with the legion of heavenly options available for her to choose from.

A gentle touch on his front left tire made him look up, and he was surprised--and awed--to find Aia idling in front of him, intense purple eyes focused on his. "I…hope you don't think yourself unworthy of my affection." She said through a gentle smile.

"I'm…just a truck." Gus offered, gruffly. "I ain't particularly smart, and I don't got much to offer…" He gestured to his shack and the attached scrapyard. "You could…" He sighed and looked away. "You could do so much better…"

A pained look claimed her face. "You…do not see yourself as being desirable?"

"Naw…not really."

"Why?" She pressed closer.

"Well…folks tend to look down on scrappers. Think we're un-clean for takin' from the dead."

Aia recoiled, eyes wide. "The dead no longer require their parts. Leaving them to time and the elements denies those parts to others."

"Exactly."

The angel looked confused, and she fluttered her wings, uncertain. "I…still have much to learn about your culture, it seems." She considered the truck, purple eyes seeming to bore through his windscreen to stare directly into his brain. "For what it's worth, I do not think you to be unclean."

Gus chuckled and met her gaze. "Urm…thanks."

The angel smiled and flapped her wings, happily. "And…if I might add. Your profession is looked upon favorably by my community."

The pickup looked surprised. "Really?"

She nodded and flapped her wings hard enough to get airborne. She flew over to one of the husks, a Ford Coupe, that he had been in the process of dismantling before her arrival. She landed gently beside the body and waved him over with a tire.

Gus followed, intrigued.

"Despite what people think…factories are not self-sufficient. Yes, we make much of the fuel we use for propulsion and food, and we can harness sunlight for almost limitless energy…but…" She caressed the Ford's door with a reverence that was unexpected, and Gus found himself pressing closer, intrigued. "Metal is a limited resource in this world," Her gaze became distant. "There are some places where virgin ores still exist…but they are located in the remote wastes…or buried so deeply that our equipment melts."

"So…all the metals that exist…?" Gus began, realization dawning in his brown eyes.

Aia smiled, sadly. "…exist within us, and all mechanical life." She made a half turn to consider him, fully. "Scrappers like you provide my community with resources that would otherwise be lost to the elements, resources that we use…to create new life." She fluttered her shades. "We are taught, from the moment we become self-aware, that the creation of life is essential to The Plan…" She rolled forward, eyes still fixed on his. "Your parts, alone, have been used to create three thousand, four hundred and twenty three new vehicles." She arced her wings forward so that the chrome feathers caressed Gus's hood and front fenders. "You are a father to many…and I find that very, very, VERY admirable."

A shudder passed through him from radiator to tailpipe at the suddenly suggestive tone to Aia's voice, and before he could think better of it, he'd closed the distance between them so that he could kiss her full on the mouth.

...to be continued.

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

I don't have proper refs of these two, yet. Gus is modeled in the likeness of an Old World, 1938 Dodge Pickup truck, like the one below...except that his fenders are blue and not tan.

A1A77275 (aka Aia) is an angel modeled in the likeness of a 1991 Oldsmobile Cutlass Calais 442, like the one below, except that she has a maroon paint job.

And chrome wings attached to her rear fenders.

[nejjcollectsbooks]

I took these pictures myself. Some of these books are old, some were just poorly handled over the years, and all were thrifted across the second-hand stores of Dublin.

Some classic Asian literature I own:

Monkey: The Journey to the West by Wu Ch'eng-en, translated by Arthur Waley.

The Romance of the Three Kingdoms by Luo Guanzhong, translated by Martin Palmer.

Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories by Ryunosuke Akutagawa, translated by Jay Rubin.

The Romance of the Three Kingdoms summary:

A Chinese historical fiction piece that seamlessly weaves together the fictitious and legendary aspects of the historically documented rise of three powerhouses vying for total control of the country. Full of treachery, court intrigue, ambitious characters and deceptive ones alike.

Some lovely quotes from The Romance of the Three Kingdoms:

“To kill deliberately is very wrong,” said Chen Gong. “I would rather betray the world than let the world betray me,” was Cao Cao’s reply.

"A man plans. The heaven decides the outcome."

"Let me ask, my lord. Would you rather give yourself to the world, or would you rather make the world yours?"

"Work hard and even harder! Do not carry out the evil just because it is small, and do not hesitate to do the good just because it is small. Only virtue and benevolence can move the people's heart. Your father lacked virtue, hence don't emulate me as a model."

"In peace you are an able subject; in chaos you are a crafty hero!"

I made another two similar posts, one for Monkey: The Journey to the West and one for Rashomon and Seventeen Other Stories.

I reblog bookish content and since I have a home library I also make bookish content myself; aesthetic book pics, reviews, recommendations, quotes, excerpts, hauls and cats.