#happy archaeologist noises

[freyjaofthenorth]

just wanted to share this because viking period-related media with historically accurate (as to the currently most agreed-upon understanding) clothing and cultural details <3 <3 <3 lookit all them beautiful tablet-woven bands <3 <3 <3 beer being represented as a ritual beverage in norse pre-christian religion rather than just “drunk vikings” <3 <3 <3

[my-name-is-apollo]

Another depiction of horned Apollo?? 👀

The full statue

"Cypriot Archaeologists through the use of epigraphic evidence from Tamassos and Pyla have linked this cult statue with the Apollo of Alashiya and the Horned Apollo (Karageorghis, 1989)."

I am making happy noises!!

[blueiscoool]

'Magical' Roman Wind Chime with Phallus Found in Serbia

Phallic objects like this were common in the Roman world to ward off evil.

Archaeologists have unearthed a Roman wind chime called a tintinnabulum — featuring a prominent phallus — at an archaeological site in eastern Serbia.

Such objects, which were hung near the doorways of houses and shops, were believed to serve as magical protection for the premises. This one was discovered on the porch of a large home on a main street in Viminacium, an ancient Roman city, the extensive ruins of which now lie near the Serbian town of Kostolac, about 30 miles (50 kilometers) east of Belgrade.

"The building was destroyed in a fire, during which the porch collapsed and fell to the ground," Ilija Danković, an archaeologist at the Institute of Archaeology in Belgrade, told the Serbian-language website Sve o arheologiji.

Tintinnabulums were designed to catch the wind, supposedly so their noise and unusual appearance would frighten off evil spirits and ward off the curse of the evil eye, which was greatly feared in antiquity.

Viminacium was the civil and military capital of Rome's Upper Moesia province from the first to fifth centuries, until it was sacked by the Huns under Attila in 441. The city was rebuilt under the Byzantine emperor Justinian, but it was finally destroyed by invading Slavs in about 535.

Magical phallus

This is the second tintinnabulum found in the ruins. The first is now in a private collection in Austria; nothing is known about its discovery, he said.

However, the newly discovered tintinnabulum was discovered in its full archaeological context. "As soon as we started uncovering it, we knew immediately what we had discovered," he said.

The latest tintinnabulum from Viminacium is made of bronze, but it is being kept surrounded by soil until it can be properly restored. As a result, its exact configuration isn't known. But it is centered on a "fascinum" — a portrayal of a magical phallus — with two legs, wings and a tail, he said.

"Judging by what can be seen … it had four bells and the chain from which it hung," Danković said, adding that there also seemed to be other elements to the design not seen on other tintinnabulums.

Roman beliefs

The symbol of a phallus wasn't always erotic or obscene for the ancient Romans, Danković said. "It was a bringer of good fortune and happiness, and an efficient weapon to combat the evil eye," he said. "For this reason, phalluses can be seen everywhere in the Roman world, from wine cups to the amulets worn by children."

He added that the symbol was often publicly displayed to summon prosperity and deter thieves.

The discovery of the tintinnabulum is evidence that Viminacium was "in every sense a part of the Roman world," Danković said.

Not only did its people share many Roman beliefs, he said, but it's likely that the tintinnabulum was imported from elsewhere in the empire, showing that there were social elites at Viminacium who were willing to pay a significant amount of money for such an object.

Ken Dark, an archaeologist and historian at King's College London who wasn't involved in the discovery, said the Viminacium tintinnabulum was a type of "apotropaic" amulet that was designed to ward off evil influences and give protection to people or their property.

Such amulets "were common in the Roman world, and these sometimes took forms which would seem very strange — or even comical — to us today," he told in an email.

By Tom Metcalfe.

[serenofroses]

Happy WBW! Have you created any unique settings or locations that differ from the canon world?

Actually I do have something that differs from swtor canon in regards to Tython.

To make Tython a habitable world that was rediscovered after many, manybyears abandoned. There will not be ANY Flesh Raiders on Tython. I am not vibing with them at all.

Instead of Flesh Raiders giving the Jedi and villagers trouble, it will be the Ancient Droids who were left alone but malfunctioned overtime that treated the "newcomers" as intruders with the exception of few friendly droids who were happy to see the Jedi returned after so long.

One day, while exploring the new territories, Gnost Dural accidentally triggered the droid apocalypse that prompted the droids turned on the current Jedi Order and their allies.

Gnost Dural: heh heh oops. If the Jawas or Master Destri ever ask, tell them I'm not here.

Jawas: (angry Jawa noises)

Liam: -_-

So the Jedi-aligned Jawas who were rescued from slavery to join the Order as allies, working with the archaeologists and Liam Destri to find a way to restore the Ancient Droids and save the ancient knowledge.

The areas you venture into Flesh Raider territories are changed in my vision of ruins sites and tombs surrounded by nature forestry scenery with several paths leading to the Jedi Temple to the Forge. Which take inspiration from ac Valhalla, ac Odyssey and Dragon Age's Emerald Grove for Tython.

The Kalikori village was not settled illegally on Tython. They were welcomed by the Jedi Order with open arms and provided a home to live with.

The village consists of not just twi'lek clans but also Jedi sympathisers, family of Force Sensitives, refugees who lost their home during the war, Jawas, Republic members who are not happy with the Senate and high command for throwing the Jedi under the rug and agreeingbto the Treaty. Think of it like the Eternal Alliance or Ossus.

(Matriarch Sumari is the village's leader, the Jedi Masters offered her a place at the council to represent the non force sensitives so she can offer her insight for their home and what the village can do to help the Jedi. Similiar to the Alliance advisors).

I think that's all I can remember.

[singledarkshade]

Lost And Found

Summary: The commissary was full when he hobbled through the doors, discovering a lot of new faces had arrived during the time he’d spent in the infirmary.

Author’s Note: Another fic I've had sitting for ages, so I thought I'd post. Enjoy

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

The commissary was full when he hobbled through the doors, discovering a lot of new faces had arrived during the time he’d spent in the infirmary. Grabbing some orange juice and an apple pastry he glanced round finding a familiar face hidden away in the corner table. He focussed on the empty chair across from the man and started for it, nodding hello to the people who greeted him.

“Hi, Daniel,” he greeted the man sitting there who looked up surprised.

“Ferretti?” wide blue eyes blinked at him behind what looked to be new glasses, “I didn’t know you were out of the infirmary.”

“Out but I have to go back in an hour,” Ferretti shrugged, “Doc Warner will come after me otherwise.”

A slight smile touched the younger man’s lips but disappeared quickly, the exhaustion clear to see on his face.

“So, how are you doing?” Ferretti decided just to go straight to the point, “I heard you’re bunking in the Colonel’s spare room?”

Daniel gave a slight shrug, “I need to find an apartment, but it’s not easy with everything we’re doing here.”

“And being back on Earth?”

Daniel’s eyes closed, and Ferretti worried he’d pushed just a little too much, but he was worried about the archaeologist.

“It’s too cold,” Daniel spoke finally with a wry smile.

Ferretti chuckled, although a little annoyed Daniel had avoided the actual question.

“I have orders to walk around the base,” Ferretti told him after finishing his breakfast, “Feel like keeping me company?”

Shrugging Daniel told him, “Sure. I’ll make sure you don’t fall on your face.”

~

Daniel walked with the man who had been seriously injured protecting the people of Abydos, happy to leave the noise of the commissary. In all honesty he’d only been there because Jack was on some kind of mother-hen mission to ensure Daniel ate, slept and didn’t spend all his time working. He seemed to have some spies working for him, but Daniel couldn’t work out who they were.

“How have your first few missions gone?” Ferretti asked as they walked slowly through the base.

“Okay,” Daniel answered, a little hesitancy filling his voice that he couldn’t stop.

Ferretti’s eyebrows rose, “Just okay? I thought I’d need to get a dictionary to keep up with your description.”

Unable to stop himself, Daniel let out a slight chuckle before pulling it back. He wasn’t here to have fun, he was here to find his family.

“You’re allowed to laugh,” Ferretti told him, “You know that.”

Daniel stopped walking, turning to someone who he barely knew and wouldn’t really consider a friend.

“They’re not going to hate you for taking care of yourself,” Ferretti reminded him, “Daniel, you can’t punish yourself for something you had no control over.”

Daniel stiffened but before he could say anything, or leave, the other man caught his shoulder looking exhausted.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked worriedly.

Ferretti nodded, “Just need to sit.”

Daniel helped him into the nearest room where he dropped into the closest chair. Ferretti caught Daniel’s arm and pulled him to the seat beside him.

“Listen to me,” Ferretti said softly, “I saw her taken and Sha’re, she didn’t cower in fear. Your girl was a tiger, fought every step of the way, be proud of her for that.”

Daniel’s mask cracked, and tears filled his eyes.

“I just want to go home,” Daniel sighed softly looking up at the other man, “And I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about everything that’s happening to her.”

“I know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better,” Ferretti said, “But when I’m back in the field, I will be looking for her too. Every mission. I promise.”

Daniel smiled slightly, “Thank you.”

“I should get back to the infirmary before the doctor sends out a search party,” Ferretti said, “Can you give me a hand to get there?”

Nodding Daniel helped the other man to his feet and walked slowly with him through the corridors towards the infirmary.

Doctor Warner gave them a nod as Ferretti headed back to his bed, grateful that Daniel took the crutches from him to sit them in the corner as he leaned back against his pillow.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Daniel told him.

Ferretti caught his arm, “Try and get some rest too. And if you need to talk at any time, I’m here.”

Surprised Daniel nodded, “Thanks.”

“You have friends, Daniel,” Ferretti reminded him, “You’re not alone.”

Daniel gave him another small smile before leaving the room. Closing his eyes, Ferretti fell asleep exhausted from his walk hoping he’d helped the younger man at least a little.

[lady-moriel]

15 questions

Thanks to @ethelgodehel for tagging! 🥰

Are you named after anyone?

In honor of the Virgin Mary.

When was the last time you cried? When I hit my finger on a sports equipment.

Do you have kids?

Nope. But one day I will.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sometimes I'm quite sarcastic and ironic. But I can only allow myself to behave this way with friends who know me well.

What sports do you play/have you played?

I prefer to go to the gym, although as a child I used to go to the swimming pool and karate class.

What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

This is going to sound weird, but those are teeth. Perhaps because as a child I myself had problems with my teeth and had a lot of complexes about this. Although most often I pay attention to human behavior.

Eye colour?

Blue.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy ending. I have a lot of horror and shit in my life.

Any special talents?

I don't think I have any special talents. I just know how to draw and I'm not bad at it, especially on miniatures..

Where were you born?

Ukraine💛💙

What are your hobbies?

D&D, drawing and draw miniatures (for D&D mostly), reading fantasy books and play games. I also like to just walk in nature when there are no people around and instead of the noise of a big city I hear birdsong.

Do you have any pets?

Two cats: Shaya (girl) and Marshmallow (boy). I'm really catlover!

How tall are you?

166 cm

Fave subject in school?

Geography, Biology and Astronomy.

Dream job?

As a child, I dreamed of becoming an archaeologist and looking for dinosaur bones… I still dream, although this dream is obviously out of reach. Now I would like to become a professional artist.

[i-am-so-normal-about-wildlife]

Enjoy this short story :)

You know, in millions of years' time when aliens come to inspect the wreckage of our world, I want to watch them. Maybe as an irradiated fly on the wall, maybe as a ghost of a long gone person, or maybe just as an idea.

I want to see these creatures arrive on our old land, wander the ruins of a city long gone, take small trinkets and analyse them. I would like to see the creature's first hypotheses be knocked down with every new sliver of knowledge learned, knowing all too well they could simply ask us. I want them to piece together religion from graffiti, literature and media from half-destroyed sculptures our biology from desecrated textbooks. I wish to see the wonder in their pseudo-eyes as they walk through New York City, questioning why our buildings pierce the heavens.

Following years of trial and error, they discover our technology. One astronaut-come-archaeologist spends countless days and nights tinkering with objects that are so familiar yet infinitely perplexing. After that brave soul rushes to tell their team about a new discovery. The crowd amasses around and this ancient device, every press of a button feeling as if it may break In an instant.

That day will be a happy day.

They will learn of our science, our art, our conflicts and wars, our recipes to cook animals that they've only seen fossils of, the ways in which business, politics and religion meld and mesh into one beating mass of flesh, our nature and geography, our humour and language, our deepest perversions that these new creatures cannot comprehend; all laid out over billions of documents accessible through the click of a button.

One ungodly time, long after the moment of being healthy, they stumble upon this post. But the term "post" means nothing to them. These words, these sights, these noises once meant the world to so many people. They click the video, letting the last memory of a dead world be replayed on a relic of a relic of a relic that once was everything.

I want to watch all of this, but I also wish to ask something. How do you view us? Do you view us as aliens, creatures so far removed from you that attempting to relate to us would be horrible? Would you view us as kings, people who ruled the world exactly as they wished until we died? Or would you view us as relics, fellow beings of the cosmos that would've been your equals, if we hadn't passed generations before your first thought?

I wonder.

And I continue my life, never knowing the answer

[AMV] Jon Arbuckle - You’re Gonna Go Far Kid

this is one of my favorite videos on the internet, and it kills me that the source has been silenced by youtube’s copyright system, so I’m putting it here!

I have seen a version of this on tumblr before, but the audio in that one is just a little bit off because that person edited it back in themselves

but today, I am proud to present the original video, sent to me by Crispy Crungy, who gave me permission to upload it here and share it with you all!

enjoy!

[lizzie-is-here]

🎃halloween with the avengers and co!🎃

summary: um. you can read so

warnings: this is literally me rambling, haunted places, animated bucky having like double d’s wtf, the most unorganized thing i’ve ever made don’t judge me

a/n: this is so messy but i had so much fun just writing whatever came to mind, apologies for jumping all over the place lol but hope you get a laugh out of it anyways 🤍🤍

OH MY GOD ITS BEEN A WHILE SINCE IVE DONE THIS

BUT YALL SHOULD KNOW THAT THE HOLIDAYS ARE MY FAVORITE THING

I MAY BE AN ATHEIST BUT CHRISTMAS IS THE BEST SHIT EVER

and i honestly spent halloween in my dorm bingeing movies and i’m rewatching werewolf by night and just realized i need to write for halloween so oops

halloween with the team is the best shit ever.

you want to wear a costume? no party like a stark party.

sure, some people are lazy and show up in their suits and call it a day (cough sam cough)

but it’s well made up for by peter and harley both going as tony (and arguing over who did it better) and kamala dressing as carol

yelena and nat would dress up as each other and make fun of the other

“i’m natasha and i’m an avenger and i love tight suits with no pockets so my ass looks good when i pose”

“i’m yelena and i have an addiction to sriracha and versace”

tony was going to show up as himself, but morgan wrangled the stark family into dressing as food. she’s a cheeseburger, obvi

steven convinced marc to go as an archaeologist, but when the latter fronts he instantly yanks off the funny hat and passes it to layla, who’s honestly just there to watch the chaos

wanda goes with her usual sokovian fortune teller costume, but the twins are more than excited to prance around the tower in search of candy

america brings a share of multiversal candy, some of which isn’t… exactly… edible

speaking of which, if you hand out candy instead, you end up setting up a trick-or-treating path in the tower for the younger team members, with each of the rooms serving as a stop

the eternals are split on halloween. ikaris, being the stoic dramatic hoe he is, thinks it’s overhyped. sersei’s happy to see little kids, sprite likes scaring people, you know

but with all of your experiences combined, none of you scare easily

the world’s greatest heroes can tank any horror movie with ease, barely startling at jumpscares or violent scenes

but they DO NOT handle haunted areas well

this is entirely based on my experience at the ohio state reformatory AKA the most haunted prison in the us. i went up for fall break since i used to live near mansfield before we moved, and HOLY FUCK YALL

THAT SHITS HAUNTED HAUNTED

i sat in the chair room :)

and it felt like someone punched the right side of my face :(

my right eye teared up and got super red :(((

but i got a piece of brick from the chapel :D

probably have an attachment now :((((

anyway, say you convince the team to visit. even better, you rope tony into paying for the ghost tour

every single noise will send the group jumping

bucky pulls a knife out of his pocket the moment you enter the west attic

steve starts out a skeptic but ends up refusing to even enter the chapel

peter freaking out bc “omg sam and colby and shane and ryan were here”

things are just made worse when wanda starts to mumble about “restless energy”

fuck that if the scarlet witch is nervous then you can be too

just finished werewolf by night moving on to the zombie episode of what if?

goddamn animated bucky has bigger tits than me

are y’all seein this shit

ok back on track

if jack and elsa are somehow involved there’ll be too many werewolf jokes made

but he’s too much of a sweetheart to really protest them

i love them so much and we only have like an hour of them 🥺

scott would dress up as an ant. i’m not taking criticism. he would try to make hope dress up as a wasp but when she refuses cassie does it.

bingeing halloween movies

arguing whether or not nightmare before christmas is a halloween or christmas movie

deciding the only right decision aka it’s a halloween movie stfu

shuri would come up with a slay costume i just know she would 😭

thor and jane would have a cringey couples costume cmon guys it’s literally canon

katy would show up as a hot dog

like the worst discount hot dog costume you’ve ever seen

shang and xialing would be forced to be ketchup and mustard respectively

once again argue with the wall

overall, you’ll have fun. it’ll be chaotic as fuck, but when it comes to the avengers, what isn’t?

hope everyone had a fun halloween! now go buy that discount candy bitches!

[chaotic-archaeologist]

Ahhhhh I am back in my happy place, the lab. *happy archaeologist noises*

[sslow-dancer]

heyy may I request a family fluff modren au oneshots with jonathan joestar? ty!

A/N: Since you said family... I thought I’d add the rest of Jonathan’s (and Dio’s bleh) kids with George II AND Danny! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank You For This.” (Jonathan Joestar x Reader)

Warnings: none!

Description: On the Saturday after the last day of school for your eldest boys, you invite the entire family to a picnic at the local park. Though you face some challenges before getting to that first…

NOTE: P/P/T stands for “preferred parent title.” This one-shot is gender-neutral, I want all to be comfortable! 💙

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Boyyys! Shoes. We’re leaving soon. We need to get a good spot to eat at the park so get ‘em on.” you call out from the kitchen.

It’s a Saturday afternoon, the sun is extra bright out in your beloved city of New York and summer is the season many students have waited for. Your sons just as excited.

George has just finished up his 8th year in middle school, Giorno’s 3rd in elementary and Donatello’s 2nd in elementary. Rikiel and Ungalo are yet to start. They’ll be going once the breezy fall/autumn season is back.

It takes a lot to take care of 5 boys in one household. Though luckily your job becomes a bit easier when your archaeologist husband, Jonathan Joestar, gets a few days off. And thus, you plan out family hang outs here and there. This time, spending a day at the park to celebrate your boys’ achievements.

You use a rolling pin to knead at the cookie dough on the counter. You had already baked up some double chocolate chip cookies but decided to make some sugar cookies as well as George, Girono and Donatello prefer them. The two youngest of the 5 having a sweeter tooth. And your husband of course not caring, the large man will eat everything his sons leave over.

You sigh as you don’t hear any noise from the top floor. You stop your kneading and go to wash your hands under the faucet. You dry them off on your apron and walk up the steps. Your ears are filled with loud noise and your eyes widen. You just walked into a chaotic scene.

There in the room in full view from the stairs lays a sleeping Donatello under a large pile of blankets. Giorno is in the bathroom brushing his teeth while Jonathan attempts to fix his messy hair. George’s door is closed and loud with the sound of video games inside. And the sight that has confused you the most- a naked Ungalo getting chased around by a Rikiel in pull ups with a towel. Danny barks behind the toddlers, Ungalo giggles as Danny reaches his side.

“Hey, what-“

You’re cut off when George exits his room and brushes past you with his face glued to his phone. You question your oldest as he approaches the stairs, texting god knows who.

“George, what the hell happened-“

“Don’t ask me. Dad only told me to get ready and I did that.” George replies in a blunt tone. He puts his phone in his pocket and pats the side of his leg, he mouthes a “come on” to Danny. The dog runs over and heaves happily as George pats his head. They both rush down to the first floor.

You place your hands on your hips and huff in disbelief. The youngest run past you, your face scrunching up as you grumble lowly. You manage to catch Ungalo by grabbing him by the shoulders and picking him up by the waist. You grab the towel from a dazed Rikiel and wrap it around your naked son. Ungalo wraps his little legs and arms around you as you direct Rikiel to go to his room and wait for you. The 3 year old pouts as he pads his way down. You sigh shaking your head as you approach Donatello’s room and knock on his opened door multiple times.

“Come on! Wake up, wake up. I told you to get enough sleep last night. And get those blankets off of you, you’ll overheat.” you exclaim aggressively. Your middle child groans, his arm reaches out as if there’s an alarm clock next to him. Ungalo giggles as he pulls at your apron and points over at a now ready Giorno walking down to join his older brother. ‘At least 2 of the 5 are ready’ you think ‘and the dog…” you add on humorously.

Half of your husband’s stature appears from outside the bathroom. He dries his hands with a small towel and walks out. He closes the door and looks at you. You lift an eyebrow.

“Jonathan…” you mutter frustratedly. A clueless Jonathan looks up.

“Yes, my love?”

You point at the naked boy in your arms, the boy sleeping under piles of blankets and the half-naked boy sitting on the bed carelessly swinging his feet. You place a hand on your hip.

“What is the meaning behind all this? Our youngest are practically naked-“ you lock eyes with Ungalo, you sigh “well…one is naked. And one is still asleep. Only 2 are ready! What’s going on? I thought you were good at controlling them while I’m busy…”

Jonathan laughs soundlessly, taking Ungalo from your arms and placing a kiss on your forehead. You groan.

“It’s no time to be lovey dovey here… I’m yet to prepare the sandwiches for everyone.”

“And I’m not trying to be, it’s just who I am. I want you to be calm. Let me explain.” he says with a sweet voice. You frown as you cross your arms and look down at your feet.

He walks over to Ungalo’s and Rikiel’s shared bedroom. He places Ungalo on the bed as he goes into their closet and picks out outfits for them. You stand at the doorway and watch him get your sons dressed.

“I was going to dress these boys first but Giorno told me he wanted to try a new hairstyle as he’s grown it out and plans to dye it blonde. So I helped him out with that. Donatello had already gotten up-“ he laughs a little, your mind wondering how he’s able to keep so positive as you’re worried that you won’t get the best spot at the park. “But he somehow fell asleep again after he played with Ungalo and Rikiel. He actually helped me shower them too so he must’ve fallen asleep before he dressed them fully.”

Ungalo happily runs out with his shoes in hand, telling his father that he can tie them himself. Jonathan nods in response and finishes tying Rikiel’s shoes. Rikiel giggles following after Ungalo. He smiles lovingly, you blink, a blank expression on your face. Your gaze going from Donatello finally standing up to get ready and back to him innocently smiling. You exhale through your nose.

“Okay, I believe you. Your story sounds- fine. But I’m still confused as to why you didn’t do anything about the boys and Danny chasing each other.” you ask with genuine uncertainty. Jonathan shakes his head.

“Well, that one’s on me. Which I apologize for. Even though I asked Donatello to dress them, I don’t blame him. All I did was tell them to go to their room while I helped Giorno. In truth, I feel Girono could’ve done everything himself but I wanted to bond with each of our sons before I go to work again. George and I even spoke before you were awake. I come home late often and don’t get to see all unless one or more of them are awake.” he places a hand over his heart “I swear an event like this will never happen again. Please do not stress, you know I don’t like seeing you that way.”

You hum, uncrossing your arms as you think. Well he only is one person, what do you expect? Your boys just got done with school too, they must be tired and desiring to sleep in most days.

Jonathan nears you and wraps his arms around your waist, he pecks the side of your mouth. You hum again, embarrassed at how angry you got. He knows you well, so he goes on to say,

“Don’t be embarrassed. You deal with them more than me. So it’s understandable that you got upset. Go downstairs and finish up. I’ll deal with Donatello, okay?” he caresses your cheek, his touch always soothes you. You hesitantly remove his hand and nod. You go down and become content when all your boys offer to help.

~Time Skip~

An hour later, you all arrive at the park. Lucky for you, a grassy area near a playground is open.

Jonathan lays out a large blanket for you all to sit on. You set down the two baskets of food and goodies and let your family get comfortable in their own seats.

“I call the PBJ!” Giorno calls out. Ungalo pouts and crosses his arm, he nudges at your sleeve.

“But I want that…” he says sadly. You laugh, searching through one of the baskets.

“Oh honey, don’t worry. I’m sure we have one more…”

You give him one and smile when he hugs your side. All the others ask of you and Jonathan for things and activities as the day goes on.

“Dad, can I go for a quick walk around the park?” George asks.

“P/P/T, may I have a cookie?” Rikiel asks shyly.

“Can I go play fetch with Danny? I’ll stay near, I promise.” Donatello asks.

“I want to look at the garden- can we go after they’re done playing?” Giorno asks as he points at Ungalo and Rikiel playing tag with the other kids at the playground.

You and Jonathan never said no to their questions. You love and trust them with all your being- them going against you is low in chances.

You collect your belongings and go to the garden Giorno asked to go to. You hold a basket in front of you as you watch Giorno educate his brothers about the different plants and insects. Your heart melts as George picks up Rikiel and Donatello pick ups Ungalo to help them inspect the taller plants.

Jonathan removes the basket from your hands and places them in front of you both. You look at him confused. He smiles as he takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

“Thank you for this.” he whispers. You rolls your eyes playfully as you mindlessly ask,

“For what?”

“For giving me a family… I wouldn’t ask for anything in this world aside from pure happiness for you and our boys. You all keep me going and I appreciate you the most for that.”

You’re a blushing mess as he leans in and kisses you. You kiss back, true love can be seen by outsiders. You locks arms with him and place your head on his shoulder.

You and your husband resume to watching your sons bond and blossom.

[inflammatory]

My Repin propaganda:

It’s actually a nice detail that this matchup was posted today considering it’s Ukraine’s independence day; [1] for context (that I regrettably didn’t add when I submitted), the Cossacks composed the “reply” in question to the Sultan Mehmed IV’s demand that they surrender, despite the fact that the Cossacks had just wiped out the entirety of one of the Sultan’s Janissary forces. [2]

So, in high spirits from victory, the leaders of the Cossacks got together and co-wrote a vulgar letter to tell him to sod off, which is the subject that Repin chose to paint. The detail is enough to keep you absorbed for ages:

The dog in the lower left corner disgruntled at all the noise, the Cossack in a white coat turned away to assess newcomers, from the main version alone. The blue of the distant horizon is so beautiful it wounds me. It’s in harmony with the smoke from their pipes and cigars (and a vessel that I can’t really identify).

If you read the Wikipedia page, there’s a very charming compilation of all the models with their bios. For example, the man penning the letter is Dmytro Yavornytsky, the historian and archaeologist who helped Repin depict the scene with historical accuracy. There’s a man he chanced upon at Alexandrovsk pier and captured studies of, and Kuznetsov the battle painter, and Glinka’s nephew, and the man with a “makitra” bowl cut, beside the serious man in yellow — who Repin never saw in real life. He was a student who had to leave the Academy of Arts because of his illness. They took a gypsum mask of his face and Repin referred to it. While they were taking the mask the young man smiled, and left a smile in the gypsum, a smile that carried all the way to Repin’s Reply. [3]

He also made several versions apart from the main one above, which I think should be accounted for; Repin’s process itself is the masterwork to me. Many drafts stand as whole works on their own, as they’re all complete with stunning grounding detail:

From a preliminary sketch [4] that is just as lovely. Repin is incredible at capturing fine human emotions (as evinced in the sublime horror of Ivan the Terrible and his Son Ivan), and he is just so good at laughter. You can almost feel the laughter from all the way deep in the man’s chest, or feel it wrack the second man until he’s wheezing.

From [2]: “That Zaporozhian legacy is very much alive today. Modern Ukrainians accord their Zaporozhian forebears pride of place in the nation’s history and culture. It’s a heritage which helps to explain how - right now, in the face of overwhelming odds - Ukrainian people up and down the country are displaying an almost inconceivable bravery on the battlefield.”

Dewar’s piece on the painting details virtually all the historical background you could want, with the gore and tragedy that you might not get from Repin’s painting. But despite the distance between now and the 1600s, the message of independence is very relevant:

A reenactment by Ukrainian soldiers. [5] Vote Repin!! Happy Ukrainian Independence!!!

[1] Åslund, A. (2009). How Ukraine Became a Market Economy and Democracy, Peterson Institute for International Economics, ISBN 978-0-88132-427-3 (page 185)

[2] Dewar, A. (2022). Ukraine’s Zaporozhian Cossacks.

[3] Wikipedia. (n.d.). Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks, Models. Accessed 24 August 2023.

[4] Repin, I. (1880-1890). Sketch for Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks. Place: Tretyakov Gallery.

[5] u/thewyspa (2022). Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks. In r/ukraine. Can’t find a more original source so Reddit will have to do. Accessed 24 August 2023.

SET FOURTEEN - ROUND ONE - MATCH SEVEN

"Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks" (1880–1891 - Ilya Repin) / "Garden of Earthly Delights" (1490-1510 - Hieronymus Bosch)

REPLY OF THE ZAPOROZHIAN COSSACKS: Uuuuuuooo I’m pretty sure somebody has submitted the world famous Repin with the fella holding his dead son, and yeah that one is truly harrowing and I think it should be in the final bracket cause it would sweep but Repin has such a range and it’s all very deeply felt and sensitive stuff. For this one he did a couple of versions - you could pick either because they’re both rich in a really immediate sense of humanity. Again on the technical side this is a truly bonkers piece of work because he stitched its elements together from countless studies of people he knew and the result is still somehow a Realist masterpiece rather than the patchwork amalgamation you’d expect.

And each figure isn’t just irresistibly human - he gives all of them so much tangible warmth (the riotous laughter! The attention paid to detail in their clothes! The irritated dog in the bottom left corner) and the fact that theyre all his friends and colleagues is really charming. Dunno if its like “molten lava” kind of evocation of emotion but it certainly makes me feel something. ( @idiotpalespiral )

GARDEN OF EARTHLY DELIGHTS: think it's one of the greatest odes to human imagination and it's insane that it was painted around 1500. it's hard to overstate how innovate and unique bosch's art is. besides, he probably hadn't even ever taken acid in his life, so i don't know how he did that (@cuties-in-codices)

(The "Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks" is an oil on canvas painting by Ukranian born Russian artist Ilya Repin. A large number of the "Cossacks" are modelled after either friends of Repin or people he saw around him, including the bald head belonging to the Grand Chamberlain of the court of the Russian Emperor who declined to be added and Repin painted in anyway. This painting measures 203 cm × 358 cm (80 in × 141 in) and is located at the State Russian Museum in Saint Petersburg. The submitter originally submitted the preliminary version of the piece.

"The Garden of Earthly Delights" is a triptych oil painting by Hieronymus Bosch. It measures 205.5 cm × 384.9 cm (81 in × 152 in) and is located in the Museo del Prado, Madrid.)

[spell-cleaver]

No. 31 A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL Comfort | Bedside Vigil | “You can rest now.”

Read it instead on AO3 or on FFN!

The moment Luke rolled aside the stone from the cave entrance, he sensed the reverberations it sent through the whole structure. Artoo whistled nervously beside him.

“It’ll be alright,” Luke soothed. “It’s fine, just a little spooky.”

Artoo replied that Luke was going to get them both crushed.

“That’s what you said about working with Doctor Aphra down in those mines,” he chuckled, lifting his lightsaber as a glowrod as they edged farther down the cave tunnel. “We got some pretty good Jedi stuff out of that, didn’t we? Those texts—”

Sure, if Luke was happy getting literally stabbed in the back by a terrible archaeologist in order to acquire them.

“She’s a very good archaeologist, she’s just a terrible ally.”

That didn’t mean they had to ally with her several times, just to get a silly Jedi artefact. Nor did they have to go into this creepy looking cave right now.

Luke snorted. “You don’t have to, that’s true. You can stay with the ship if you’re scared.”

He was not scared—

“But I heard that one of the oldest surviving Jedi libraries is on this planet, in this cave system, and I’m going to find it.”

Luke was worse than his father.

Luke paused, swallowing. “Am I?” he asked. “Was he stupidly reckless as well?”

Artoo paused, not responding. He just chirped sadly after a minute.

It didn’t matter. Luke didn’t need an answer—he could ask his father the next time he saw him, even if, judging by Ben’s frequency of appearances, that could be years away. He’d got that impression that it took a ridiculous amount of focus and strength to manifest physically in the living world, one that his father probably wouldn’t have gathered in this year since Endor, but…

He had so many questions. About him, about his sister, about his mother. About Artoo! And… he just missed him. He had never had a father before. Sometimes in the last few months he’d thought he recognised a flicker of his presence, but then it was gone.

“Let’s go,” he said, pushing it out of his mind. He needed to focus, if he was going into a mysterious cave system just with Artoo for backup. He couldn’t let himself be distracted. “I’ll push aside that rock as well, and we can get going.”

Artoo made a doubtful noise. Luke rolled his eyes and shoved the rock out of the way with the Force.

The ceiling rumbled. Luke jerked back, snapping his gaze to stare up at it, but too late: it collapse, boulders the size of his astromech tumbling towards him, accompanied by their smaller colleagues. He threw up his hands, tried to draw on the Force, but there was no time—

The rocks stopped just before they flattened him, hovering in mid-air.

Luke opened his eyes and lowered his hands. With a flick of his mind, he deposited the rocks to the ground, out of the way so that Artoo could trundle through. He hadn’t thought he’d be fast enough to catch those. He wasn’t sure it had been him. But it must—and this had happened a few times in the last few months. More than a few. He’d just trained his instincts more thoroughly than even he had realised.

The Force was always there. It always protected him.

“See? We’re fine.” He dusted himself off, ignoring Artoo’s sceptical warble. “Let’s find that library.”

*

The cave system ran deep, but thankfully it didn’t get too small in places; he could walk, stooped over, and Artoo could roll along beside him bleeping random anecdotes about when he’d gone on a mission and things had gone wrong. Luke hadn’t thought that droids could be programmed to have an imagination as vivid as Artoo’s. “You know that if everyone had starved to death in a cave system ten years ago, you wouldn’t have escaped to tell me about it, right?”

Artoo responded that of course everyone didn’t include the droids. The droids were the smart ones who hadn’t gone into the caves in the first place.

“And yet you know what happened to them,” Luke teased, swinging his lightsaber around when they came to what looked like another dead-end. “Strange. And also strange that you still you followed me in.”

Of course. Luke would definitely die without direct supervision.

“I appreciate your faith.”

Good, because Artoo didn’t believe in many people’s cosmic abilities to have things go wrong for them and still survive, but Luke and his father were two of the most resilient people he had met.

Luke paused. “Thanks,” he said, then busied himself even more thoroughly with examining the dead end. Definitely dead. “We might have to turn around again.”

Hadn’t Luke said that he sensed the right way was this way or some silly Jedi nonsense?

“I did sense that, but…” He lowered his lightsaber. “I still sense that. I don’t know—”

The blaster shot caught him off-guard. He spun around, flinching, but it stopped two inches in front of his nose, the blue rings wobbling in the air. Staring, he could peer through it, the light tinting everything periwinkle, as a figure in a long, shadowy robe jumped out of the wall—a secret passage?—levelled their blaster and fired again.

This one stopped as well. And the second. And the third. They hovered like stars for three, two, one seconds—then they all released at once. Luke ducked; they shattered against the dead end behind him. His lightsaber lit and spun into guard position, deflecting the barrage of stun bolts into the floor, the walls, the ceiling, back at the figure firing at him. He stepped forwards, getting into it, letting the rhythm of the Force guide his movements.

His attacker backed away. They stank of darkness in the Force, like artificial rot, but they weren’t Force-sensitive at all; he couldn’t trace where that darkness came from. They retreated from him slowly, irritably at first, then he closed the distance between them with a fury of green fire and they were backing away much more desperately, their blaster pumping a continuous stream of blue—

He hit them with their own stun bolt. They crumpled to the floor. Before he could deactivate his lightsaber, two more shadowy figures leapt out of the walls. One of them fired more stun bolts at him; he deflected it. The other dived at him but was pulled up short. He barely had the space of mind to spare for them, it wasn’t him doing it, but an invisible force flung them back. They cracked their head on the wall.

Luke flung out his hand. The last figure’s blaster flew into it; he pointed it at them, deactivating his lightsaber. “What is this?” he demanded. “What do you want?”

The figure fell to their knees. “You, Skywalker,” they spat. Luke frowned.

“What—”

A stun blast shattered through his back.

His knees hit the ground. Gasping, he reached for the blaster, his lightsaber, tried to spin around. On trembling legs, he turned to see the dead end he had been puzzling over slide open, to admit another figure, this one in dark robes lined with gold. They pointed their blaster down at him.

Luke lifted his. It was too late. They sent another ring through his skull; his head bounced against the hard floor, and then there was nothing.

*

When he woke up he was bound to an altar, and his right hand was missing.

“What—” He yanked at the binder holding him there, but it held firm. When he tried to reach for the Force, it was… fractured… and slipped out of his fingers, burning like molten glass. He gritted his teeth and tried again. Every time he did, his chest squeezed until he thought his heart would crumple like aluminium foil. He panted for breath.

The altar he was handcuffed to was such a smooth black stone that it couldn’t be stone at all. He reached out to run his flesh fingers along it, gasping at the cold pinch in his chest. It was obsidian. The surface was so bitingly cold that it seemed to suck the warmth from his skin, his flesh, his blood, dragging it away from his core. He yanked his hand away, but only after several long seconds of trying. The moment he thought about it, something stilled his arm, and he couldn’t make himself do it until he overcame that.

He pushed himself upright, staggering to his feet. It took some of the strain off his arm: the altar was shaped like a birdbath, with a sink at its top, where the other end of his cuff looped into the side and held firm. He leaned on it for a moment, before gasping and instantly regretting it. The cold sucked at the space between his ribs, teeth leaving indents in the bone. He pushed off with his right hand and tried not to look at the red, angry stump there.

“What is this?” he snapped. Then he said it again, louder. “Hey! What the hell is this?”

“A resurrection, Skywalker.” He spun around, as best he could with his hand still chained, and saw that figure with the gold-lined robes standing there, flanked by others. How many of these people were there?

“A resurrection? Whose?” Luke yanked at the chain. “Where’s my hand? Where’s Artoo?”

A shrill shriek answered that question. He glanced around: they had trussed up Artoo in the corner of this wide cavern, nestled between two off-white stalagmites. They formed the crude bars of a cage, keeping him in.

“Who are you?” Luke asked, calming himself down. Staying calm had helped best with the Ewoks. But with the Ewoks, he had had the Force, and here every time he touched it, it seemed to drain away from him.

“TK-578,” the leader replied.

“You’re a stormtrooper?”

“Was a stormtrooper,” he snarled. He stepped closer, drawing a knife from his dark robes. “We all were. Vader was our god.”

Luke blinked. “Oh?” What did his father have to do with this?

“He protected us when no one else did. Now, he is dead, and the Empire has fallen. No one protects us. No one protects the galaxy—no one spreads law and order to where it is needed.”

Luke swallowed. “The Imperial Remnant—”

“Do not jest. They have forsaken us. They care only for petty power, not the men under their command.”

“I know a lot of leaders like that,” Luke said, commiserating, but his mind was whirring. From what he’d heard, Vader hadn’t exactly cared for the men under his command, either. But maybe that was just officers… “I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do—”

“We need Lord Vader back. You killed him, but that need not be permanent. You have the same magical abilities; we can drain you to reanimate him.” A pause. “Are you afraid, Skywalker?” The tone was mocking. “Your tears betray you.”

Luke chuckled wetly, bitterly. “Oh, they’re not tears of fear.” For one moment, he let himself wish his father was still alive as well. It was a beautiful lie to indulge in. They had never had a conversation that wasn’t overshadowed by violence. “I wish I could bring him back too, you know.”

The lead cultist stilled. “You mock us—” he began.

“I don’t. I wish it hadn’t ended like that.”

“He is almost with us!” the leader shouted, rather than listen to their enemy sound human. “We can feel his presence! The cold that followed him everywhere! We have sacrificed dozens of Force sensitives already on that altar, and you will be the last and most powerful. There is no Jedi library here. We spread that rumour to lead you here!”

Luke’s mouth dropped open.

That was why his search for Jedi students kept running dry?

These bastards kept slaughtering them?

“How many people have you killed?” he demanded. “How many have you sacrificed in this stupid quest—”

“It has been months of work, Skywalker, and it will not be in vain. Vader will return to protect the galaxy—to protect us.” The leader waved his hand sharply. “Bring the armour!”

What?

But there was no denying what it was that they pulled out and assembled on the opposite side of the altar from Luke. He stared at it: grey and ashen, twisted and burnt, but certainly recognisable. They had taken his father’s remains from where he’d burned and buried them on Endor. They had dragged them here for this horror show, disturbing his rest, they had—

“What have you done?”

“We,” the leader said grandly, “have brought about the galaxy’s salvation.” He toyed with the knife of black glass he had pulled out of his robes and held it out to one of his acolytes. “Add his blood to the bowl.”

Luke stared at the knife, then back to his father’s remains. Artoo was shrieking. “You’re going to cut my throat?” he asked, forcing himself not to shriek as well.

“You are the Jedi who killed him. He is almost with us now. It is fitting that yours should be the greatest and final sacrifice.” The leader smiled as his acolyte approached Luke. “Do not fear. It will not be the throat. You will die far more slowly than that.”

The acolyte grabbed Luke’s left hand, his grip cold as Hoth, and raised the knife. But before he could slice down, he started choking.

Luke stared, horrified. “What is this?” he asked, reaching towards him. He stumbled back, grasping for his throat, dropping the knife to the floor. He fell to his knees. “I’m not doing that—”

“He is here!”

The leader whirled around, searching the air as if he could see him. Luke couldn’t deny it; he could feel his father’s presence here, now, as well—cold, familiar, comforting despite those two strikes against it. He wanted to weep.

His father was the one choking him to protect Luke.

His father had been the one—

“Already!” As the acolyte choked out his last breath and fell to the floor, dead, the leader pressed his hand to his chest. “TR-662 clearly displeased him, as so many of those arrogant officers did. He was the one of us highest in line for promotion to officer.”

What the hell? What the actual—

“TX-308, pick up the knife and finish the job.”

Luke didn’t have time to react, and apparently neither did his father, when TX-308 stepped forwards, seized his hand, and slashed it open. Blood splattered the bowl on the altar.

Immediately, Luke fell to his knees, gasping for air. His heart pounded faster and faster. A suction pump fastened over his chest and wrenched, something streaming out of him until his muscles screamed, bending away from the force of it. He fell to his knees again, the chain around his hand pulling taut, yanking. A few ruby droplets of blood scattered outside of the bowl, across his face, across the floor.

Vader’s burned and twisted armour began to twitch.

“It’s working!” one of the acolyte hissed, only to be abruptly silenced by their leader’s gesture. The armour kept twitching, trembling, like lightning was shooting through it all over again, the Emperor making Vader dance to his tune. The durasteel limbs—and stars, Luke hated that they’d dug those up, even if they were intent on bringing his father back couldn’t they give him a better suit—and his mask and his chest box shuddered, rising. It was like someone had picked them up.

It was like someone was reassembling themselves.

The mask came last. The clumsy assemblage of Vader’s metal limbs, armour, suit, and the last remaining scraps of his cape stood up. They weren’t attached: the limbs were only the bottom of his legs and arms, but the Force held them where they should be; he moved as deliberately and inexorably as he had in life as he bent down, placed his mask where his head should be, and the helmet slotted neatly over the top.

When he turned his blank gaze on Luke, there were no eyes behind it. Nothing. Only the dark gaze of the Emperor’s Fist.

Every moment trailed power, energy, life from Luke to him. He thought the Sith ghosts of the galaxy must be grinning.

The leader stepped forwards, shaking, and knelt. In his hands, he held his offering. “Your sabre of light, my lord.”

Luke wanted to cry. He had buried that. He had buried all of this.

Vader turned his mask away from Luke, the motion too smooth to be his father, and looked down at his kneeling apostle. “What… is this?” he asked. His voice didn’t boom; they hadn’t been able to salvage the vocoder, it seemed. “What have you done?”

“Your empire is in shambles, my lord. We knew that you were our only hope. Now that you have been freed of the shackles of death Skywalker bestowed upon you, we can retake the galaxy from the scourge of Rebel scum.” He waved sharply, and all the other acolytes knelt. “We are at your command. The Imperial Remnant would bow before you, once they knew you still lived. You can take back your sabre and strike down the last Jedi, returning order to the galaxy!”

All he had to do was pick up the lightsaber.

Was this Luke’s father? He couldn’t tell. He knew nothing of how resurrection worked, but these were no Force adepts, no experts, and he did know there were far too many Sith ghosts out there for comfort—he and Aphra had run into quite a few. Any of them would be thrilled to be given a new body, thrilled to extinguish the Jedi, thrilled to seize the remains of an empire and make it their own.

Vader took the lightsaber in his charred, twisted metal hand, and Luke bowed his head in defeat. His vision was beginning to go dark, dark red. His head spun. He blinked several times, then gave up and closed his eyes.

“That is not what I meant,” he said.

“We are at your command, my lord. Anything you wish to know, we will tell you.”

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber yanked Luke’s head up again, just in time to see Vader stand there, lit by the crimson light, looming over his lead apostle. The light caught on the gold of the leader’s robes. In the shadows of Luke’s poor sight, it looked exactly what the leader wanted it to be: an apostle swearing fealty to their god.

“What have you done,” Vader asked, and now his voice was booming, “to my son?”

“My lord?” The leader looked up, looked from Vader to where he was staring at Luke—Luke, bent over double on the altar, wheezing his last breaths, too weak to stand.

Vader slashed his lightsaber through his torso. It landed on the ground with a wet thunk.

The acolytes started screaming, but Vader had no time for dramatics, for once. He stalked forwards and beheaded them, one by one. It was over in less than a minute.

“Luke.”

Luke’s vision was still unclear, but that was because he was crying properly, now. “Father,” he croaked.

Vader severed his binders, deactivated his lightsaber, and rested a ruined hand on his head, the gesture too gentle to be from anyone but him. “Luke,” he said again.

“It was you—the whole time, you—” He hiccupped. Strength was fleeing him, but he needed to say— he needed to say—“They brought you back months ago. You’ve been forced to waste your energy manifesting like this. And you spent it to hang around protecting me.”

Vader’s thumb stroked Luke’s sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. “Where else would I be?”

“I miss you.”

“You have never known me.”

“I have missed you every day of my life.”

“And I am here,” his father replied. “I always will be. Even when I do not have the strength to tell you that in words.”

“I’ve missed you,” Luke said again, then choked. His heartbeat was growing agonisingly slow.

Vader looked like he almost drew back, but couldn’t bring himself to let go of Luke. “You know that I must leave.”

Luke was dying. Of course Vader couldn’t stay without consequences. But for one stupid moment, Luke considered it worth it for these precious moments.

They never had managed to have a conversation without war or death hanging over their heads. This time was no different.

“I will see you again soon, Luke,” Vader promised. “This is not a goodbye.”

It felt like one.

“You can rest now,” Luke said. “I’m sorry they disturbed you. You can rest now.” He sucked in a shaking breath… and smiled. “I’ll be alright.”

Vader rested his hand on Luke’s cheek, and then he was gone. His armour collapsed into pieces. His mask bounced across the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

Life flooded back into Luke, crystal clear and intense as his first time touching snow crystals on Hoth. He could not stand up. He lay there at the foot of the altar, his own blood dripping from its bowl, listening to Artoo’s mournful beeps, and tried to find the strength to handle losing his father all over again.

[novemberhush]

17 Questions, 17 People

Thanks for the tag, @foreverthemomfriend 😘

Nicknames: I’ve had several over the years, but I go by Dee these days, at least on tumblr (or Nove, if you’re @all-or-nothing-baby !)

Zodiac: Scorpio

Height: 5′10

Hogwarts house: I’ve never read the books or seen the movies, but I’m informed by friends who have that I’d be a Ravenclaw and from what I do know of the series I’d say that feels right.

Last thing I googled: The cinema nearest my mum’s house (I’m down home for a few days) to book tickets for her, my uncle and me to go see the movie Belfast this afternoon.

Followers: 1095 (don’t ask me how, I have no idea)

Song stuck in my head: Mahna Mahna (or however you choose to spell it), after it popped up on my dash again earlier. So I guess it’s now technically the last thing I googled.

How much sleep: I tend to be either feast or famine with sleep. Some nights I might get 2 or 3 hours, others I could be out for 10 (although I will usually wake up a few times and then just roll over and go back to sleep during those times).

Lucky number: I don’t know if it’s particularly lucky, but I like 23. Oh, and 37 as well.

Dream job: Archaeologist or writer. Psychology also appeals to me. I like digging under the surface, I guess!

Wearing: Black jogging bottoms and a navy t-shirt (which is actually my mum’s, lol)

Favourite song: I don’t have just one.

Favourite instrument: I quite like listening to the piano. I myself, however, am a very accomplished air drummer!

Aesthetic: Laidback style, no chill attitude.

Favourite Author: Again, I don’t have just one.

Favourite animal noise: The happy purr of a contented cat or our family dog ‘singing’ along with my uncle.

Something random: I was terrified of dogs as a child, but I made myself get over it when I saw my little brother was starting to develop a fear of them too just because of my fear. Also, despite this fear, I still loved Scooby-Doo, Snoopy and Sweep, all dog characters!

Tagging: @smowkie @farfarawaygirl @fireladybuckley @princecharmingwinks @kiti-the-warrior-poet @halespecterwinchester @snarktacular-grumpbeast @prettyboyandthekid @mistmarauder @oneawkwardcookie @katries @siflovesbuddie @redamancy-eunoia @tabbytabbytabby @matan4il @all-or-nothing-baby @firstdegreefangirl and anyone else who wants to play. No pressure on anyone who doesn’t!❤️

[moscnios]

                                        NOVEMBER THIRTY ━ﾞ

⁺◟   PROMPT . . .           “you’re an idiot...my idiot”

⁺◟   CHARACTERS . . .           roronoa zoro           fem!reader           the strawhats

⁺◟   GENRE . . .           fluff           drabble

⁺◟   SYNOPSIS . . .           it’s been a few weeks since           ( y/n ) had run away from her           homeland to join the strawhats.           leaving chaos and destruction           in her wake, leading to some           “good” news.

⁺◟   CONTENT WARNINGS . . .           n/a 

⁺◟   WORD COUNT . . .           0.7k.

⁺◟   COMMENTARY . . .           this is a continuation to the           fourth. and the final prompt           fyn. thank you for this LONG           ride. i really appreciate it.

“200...200...200,000,000 BELI?!” Usopp screamed, looking down at the wanted poster in his hands. The large number grabbed the attention of his crewmates abroad the Sunny.

Nami, Chopper, and Luffy ran to his side, looking on with him, their eyes widening at the sight. While Nami and Chopper’s eyes widened with horror, Luffy’s had widened with a sense of excitement.

( y/n ) peaked out of the window facing the deck from the crow’s nest, wondering what all the noise was about before focusing her attention back to the notebook in her hand and the open book beside her that she received from Robin just days prior.

The sound of weights being put down sounded, followed by the sound of a heavy sigh, “What are those guys doing down there?” The green-haired swordsman questioned. He earned only a shrug from her, her head still deep into her studies.

It had been like this since she ran away from the kingdom a few weeks ago. She’d spend all of her time in the crow’s nest, head in a book as she supervised over her boyfriend’s extensive workouts that made her question if he was even human or not.

Zoro loved her being there. Her presence filled him with a sense of glee he felt too embarrassed to explain, boiling it down to, ‘I don’t know, it just makes me feel good.’ Even asking her to serve as a weight on his back sometimes when he needed to do push-ups. Or when he asked her to spot him while he bench pressed just in case.

The swordsman walked over to his lover, letting his head fall into her lap, over her materials. She shook her head, “You know that notebook is important to my studies, right?”

“I’m important to your studies.”

“I’m a Historian, not an Anthropologist,” She laughed, as her hand found his. He intertwined their fingers, bringing his free hand up to stroke her cheek lightly with his rough hand, “So like Robin?”

She shook her head, “Robin is an Archaeologist, not an Anthropologist.”

“They sound just about the same,” He pointed out.

“They may sound the same, but they’re different in their own way. They all have to do with human behavior and human history,” She tried to explain.

Her lover blinked, “How can they all deal with human history, so basically dead people, but not all be the same thing? Why do you guys even study history? You can’t change it.”

"Great point, however, we don’t study history to change it. We study history to better understand the world we live in. The world around us is full of things undiscovered, there are things that happen here that we can’t even begin to possibly understand. And that’s what we study history. Does that make sense?”

“Nope. Not one bit.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re an idiot...my idiot.” She leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, only to be interrupted by the door to the crow’s nest opening suddenly, followed by a cry over her name.

“( y/n )!” Several of her crewmates yelled, standing at the entrance of the crow’s nest. A familiar love-struck blonde made his way to the front. His heart-shaped eyes becoming red at the sight of the swordsman, resting in her lap.

“YOU DAMN MARIMO GET OFF HER!”

Zoro rolled his eyes, “She’s mine, ero-cook. I can do whatever I want.”

Sanji looked to ( y/n ) for a second answer, seeming unbothered. She turned to her captain who was among the crewmates standing at the door. He held a brownish paper in his hands with one of the brightest smiles she had seen since she joined.

“Anything I can do for you, Captain?”

“( y/n ), look!”

Luffy showed her the wanted poster. The former princess coming face to face with her own wanted poster. A picture was taken from the night she had denounced her kingdom before setting riots in the streets as she ran away hand in hand with Zoro, and setting the seaport of her nation and the docked ships ablaze so they couldn’t chase after her.

Her first bounty amounting to 200,000,000 Beli.

It brought a smile to her face.

She was finally a pirate. She was finally free from the kingdom. Free to be herself, travel the world, achieve her dreams, and love whoever she desires.

Zoro gazed lovingly at her, “You’re stuck with all of us now. No more Princess ( y/n ).”

“And I’m happy with that. I don’t need any royal title when I have you guys...when I have you.”

“Gross...” Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp whispered under their breaths as Sanji sulked in the corner of the room on his knees, “Lucky bastard.”

⁺◟   BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

[pleasereadmeok]

Can you help me please? I'm sure you had an English translation of Matthew's interview with Style Italia (2017?) on your blog however I can't find it. Can you help? Thank you. A Goode fan x

Hi Anon - yes of course. This one right? ⬇️

It's such a great interview with some lovely personal details from Matthew. @di-elle kindly did a translation for the matthew-goode.net press archive a few years ago so that follows ⬇️. Enjoy. : -

Matthew Goode is one of the most recognizable British actors of his generation. 38 years old, tall, slender, handsome, with a face composed of classic proportions and precise features that lends itself to both modern settings and period dramas.A look that’s allowed him to dive immediately into the world of Match Point, Brideshead Revisited, The Imitation Game, and A Single Man. In the last season of Downton Abbey, he was one of the most beloved characters as Lady Mary’s husband, a role that brought him popularity with the television audience. Now he appears with Brad Pitt and Marion Cotillard in Allied.Skill,talent, determination and a bit of luck (essential in this business) have made Goode a sought-after and versatile actor, without affecting his overwhelming pleasantness and playfulness onset and off that serve as useful talents as well.In the penthouse of the London hotel where he is being photographed, he strokes the oval marble bathtub sitting in the middle of the room (‘So cool!’), gets enthusiastic by touching the clothes, the collars of the shirts, and the wool of the jackets.

Do you like design?I love it, even if it is my wife who has the eye for it.In front of the mirror, in the barber’s and makeup artist’s hands, he is a bundle of energy.  He is worried about Brexit (‘What’s happened? Where are we going?’) but happy to be able to buy a house. He is a little anxious, too, about the last phone call from his bank: ‘Being an actor means  living day by day. Banks don’t like it.’

Psychologically what does it entail?During dry spells you can lose confidence and believe that you will never work again. It’s not easy.

However you are not lacking jobs. How  was working  on Allied?Movies are strange beasts. You come, you spend two days on the set, you shoot your own scenes and you go. Despite this it was electrifying as it can be a film of these proportions. There was an atmosphere of great professionalism and harmony. Brad Pitt is a great person. He welcomed me fondly, as did Marion Cotillard. I had already met them both, but they are always like that, even with those they don’t know.

Is variety important to you?It’s the essence of life, isn’t it? At the end  the face and the voice are always those and if you specialize in a genre, it’s not easy to come out of it. It’s hard for me to resist period movies, it’s a great temptation. Costumes and interiors have a very strong charm.

Your name was made for the Bond role…I’ve sabotaged myself. Barbara Broccoli  (the film producer) called me and I didn’t realize it was an audition. I thought it was just a chat. She asked me what I thought of Bond. I was honest , I told her that the way it is today doesn’t work. They need to scale down the budget, and make the character more complicated, go back to the origin from the books: a dark, difficult, incomprehensible man. At the end she said goodbye and I didn’t hear from her again. Maybe sometimes it’s better to keep your mouth shut.

Do you like going to movies?There’s a little bit of jealousy to overcome but generally yes. I’d like to see Tom Ford’s new movie, Nocturnal Animals. He is a genius, he has an eye like no other. A Single Man should have won more awards. Ford was born as a stylist but he is a real artist.

Are you not tempted to move to the USA?I have three children and I want them to grow up here. I don’t like to go too far away. I told my agent I don’t want to work in the US for a year.

Is Matthew Goode a good father?It depends on the days. The noise stresses me. If there are two children crying, or screaming, I panic. In those cases, my wife takes care of it.

What do you do at home?I cook. It’s less tiring than playing with a one-year-old child… I can do a little of everything: my father taught me the first recipes when I was about to start university. Over the years I have made a leap in quality, from scrambled eggs to stews.

Your best recipe?Beef and Guinness stew. Two or three parsnips, a couple of carrots, two onions, some mushrooms. Two pounds of meat, a little flour. Mix it up, then slap it in the pot. Salt, pepper, some herbs and some beer. I love it. You put it on, you go get the kids from school, and when you come back, the house smells of dinner.

The role you’ve always wanted.Sherlock Holmes. Damn it, Benedict Cumberbatch has stolen it from me! Joking aside, it’s Jeffrey Bernard in the comedy Jeffrey Bernard is Unwell, by Keith Waterhouse. Many years ago I saw Peter O’Toole in it and I’ve never forgotten. But you need to be 50 or 60 years old for it, so I’ll have to wait a little longer.

Did you want to be an actor as a child?My mother would say yes. Actually I discovered my path later in life. For a while I wanted to be an archaeologist, because my father was a geologist. One day one of my university mates went to audition for an acting school and I said: Why not, I should try it too. Finding an agent was a stroke of luck. Then the fight for survival began. It’s a slow and complicated road.

From the outside you look like someone who made it.(It may look that way) now, but like with everything when you start you are at the first step, you look up and say: I’ll never get there.

What’s your secret to overcome difficult moments?I have stopped watching the films I make. This has helped me a lot. You can’t control how they cut and edit your character. You can only control the experience, what you give and what gives to you. The result is almost insignificant. After a few years it can be fun watching yourself because you seem very young.

Do you practice sport a lot?I go to the gym in the morning, to start the day well. Twice a week I go out for lunch with my wife: and since I like to eat, and occasionally even drink, the gym is imperative. I also play golf but it takes time, it’s not an activity that fits well with a big family.

Your ideal holiday?I have fond memories of my childhood, camping with my father, the fishing rod, the green. I’d like to take my children. My wife resists for now.

What do you read?I hate to admit it, but I read very little. By the time I go to bed, I’m too tired.

A luxury?We’re planning how to sort out the house. If I could afford it I’d buy one of those enormous american washing machines with a tumble dryer.  It’s not what you’d expect from a star, is it?

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 1 ~Stories She Wrote~

PICTURE SOURCE

PART 2 OF  WONDERWALL SERIES

Hey guys, I'm back and thrilled to give you part 2 of WONDERWALL series, Miles Between Us. It is a continuation from my holiday ficlet, All I Want For Christmas Is You. If you haven't read the first part, I suggest you do if you wish to get an insight into Jamie and Claire’s history (Here is the link) Otherwise, this ficlet can also be read as a stand-alone.

I know All I Want For Christmas Is You ending was bittersweet, but it had to be done. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been a Part 2 in this series. I had to leave the story open to possibilities if it is to have a chance of growing. And besides, making this into a series allows me to take breaks from writing and refresh my brain in-between ficlets. So I hope this next part of the story will make up for leaving you hanging all these weeks.

Anyway, before you continue, I'd like to thank you for reading, commenting and giving feedback to my stories. They're all very appreciated even if I sometimes don't comment back. As a hobby writer, I always look forward to your response, and they spur me to continue writing. Without the readers, I wouldn't be here. So thank you for being part of my writing journey.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

So now everything is said, without further ado, I wish you all happy reading. ❤️

 Previously ...

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Fraser met and fell in love during the Holiday Seasons. Unfortunately for their budding relationship, after two weeks of a whirlwind romance, Claire has to return to London to finish some work commitment that could take a year to fulfil. It doesn't help matters that Jamie's PTSD condition prevents him from visiting her as loud city noises can trigger panic attacks. They are both in love with each other and are willing to find out where their relationship will head to. But can they find a compromise to bridge the gap of hundreds of miles to give their love a chance?

    After sitting on her bed most of Saturday working on her laptop, Claire Beauchamp rolled her neck and stretched her back, her arms extending above her head. She flinched when her joints cracked. 

Over the past few days, her boss, John Grey, forwarded manuscripts and drafts from the author she was working with. She hadn't eaten anything all day, and her stomach was beginning to grumble, and her eyes blurry from reading.

She'd read so much in the past hours, she was practically cross-eyed, and the bridge of her nose hurt where her specs rested. Words upon words had sifted through her brain, but now the lines were beginning to blur together.

She glanced back down on her laptop and opened a file in her document folder, her eyes scanning through lines she knew by heart. She'd been going through her own work lately wondering if she had what it takes to be a writer. Someone who would give her an honest opinion ought to read it before contemplating getting herself a literary agent if she was to start a new chapter of her life and take that leap of faith in her dream career.

A sudden urgency took over, and she needed Annalise to read her work, like right now. Which reminded Claire, her friend was away with Willie, shopping and sight-seeing. He was staying over their place for the weekend for the first time since she and Annalise left Lallybroch. After declining their invitation to join them earlier, the loved-up couple left her to her work with the promise of dinner when they returned.

She was about to reach out for her cold coffee from the bedside table when Raiders of the Lost Ark's theme song blared from her phone. At the same time, a picture of her uncle Lamb appeared on the screen. He was wearing a high-crowned, wide-brimmed, weather-beaten fedora hat and had a lopsided grin plastered to his thickly stubbled face. Rugged, she thought, just like her favourite pair of distressed leather boots, and very Indiana Jones.

Smiling, she tapped the answer button and put the phone on speaker. "Uncle Lamb! Long time no speak!" 

"Sweetheart," he started in a deep familiar voice, "how are you?"

She frowned and pushed her laptop aside. Something was off. "Oh you know, same old ...just finishing work and ..." 

"On a Saturday?" he asked, cutting her off.

"Look who's talking."

He chuckled. "You're young. You should be out. There are so many things to do in London ...especially on a Saturday. "

Claire rolled her eyes but opted to change the subject instead. She wasn't ready to give her reason for working overtime nor share her future plans nor talk about the handsome Scot she met during her holidays. Not just yet, anyway. "So ...to what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice, dear uncle?"

"What?" he said gruffly, pretending to sound offended. "Can't I call my favourite girl in the world and check up on her?" 

She mentally sighed. Something must be up since her uncle never called. It was always she who usually phoned, and when he did call on a rare occasion, it was either because something had happened or he was in London. She dismissed the latter since she knew he was in Papua New Guinea. The next conclusion she landed on was his health but thought it absurd. Her uncle was strong as an ox, ate healthily, only smoked the occasional cigar and regularly went for doctor's check-up, a requirement in his job as an archaeologist travelling to remote places.

Unless. "You sound suspiciously chipper. Let me guess ...you met someone. There's a woman in your life." 

He coughed like he was choking on a drink. "No! Why would you say that?" 

Alright, he sounded repulsed by the idea enough. Or was that denial? "I don't know. You seem so ...how shall I say it ...unlike yourself. You normally skip the niceties and get to the point." 

He lets out an impatient breath. "Claire, darling, am I really that awful?"

"No," she replied, ignoring the ache in her throat. She missed their time together but tried not to make it apparent in her tone. He was a busy man, and the last thing she wanted was her uncle worrying. "You don't seem like you're rushing off to anywhere. It's rare you sound this relax."

"It's way past my bedtime already," he sighed. "And besides, work is on stand-by at the moment until we get the license to start digging on site. People here are so damn laid back, and nobody seems to be in a hurry to process the paperwork. I'm not about to hand out cash to speed things along even if bribery is rampant here."

"I see. So you're in Port Moresby then?"

"Yes. As soon as we have the license sorted out, we'll be flying to Lae first thing tomorrow. Hopefully, anyway." He cleared his throat. "Speaking of paperwork, I received an email from my lawyer. Your trust fund has matured, dear. I'll send you the details where to go to and who to contact, and maybe you can start planning your life. Perhaps take a sabbatical and travel with me if you wish."

Ah yes, the trust fund. 

After her parents died, everything they had owned was put into her trust fund by her uncle to secure her future. She'd already received a small lump sum when she turned eighteen, and the money had afforded her, though small and cramped, a decent rental two-bedroom apartment in London with high windows, which was premium in this expensive city. And Annalise, her best friend and roommate made enough money to help pay the ridiculous expensive utility bills. Her own wage just about covered the other expenses with almost nought left for savings, but she hadn't worried knowing there was money in place in her name. She was counting on it to support herself when she pursued her dreams of writing.

"About that, I think I'll let that sit in the bank for a while. It's not like I need the money right now, nor do I have the time to spend it."

"As you wish," her uncle replied. "And another thing I need to discuss with you ...South Lodge ..."

"What about South Lodge?" South Lodge should have been her family home if her parents hadn't died, and she knew it was a highly coveted property because of its historical significance. It was never put into the market for sale since her uncle thought it wasn't his place to decide. It was put on a twenty-year lease to a high profile politician, its payments going towards her trust fund.

"The lease is up, and the occupants will be moving out soon. Unfortunately for you, that information made it to the local news and you were mentioned as the legatee. So don't be surprised if you're bombarded with offers now that your name is out. I'm willing to bet, property investors and developers will be itching to get their hands on it."

Claire took off her specs and pinched the bridge of her nose. God, she hated adulting, paperwork and dealings with lawyers. Maybe she should just sell South Lodge and be done with it, so she could concentrate on her future plans. What do I need a five-bedroom house with one acre of garden in Oxford for? "I'll think about it, uncle. I just have a lot of things going on at the moment. I'm quite sure those things can wait."

"Of course dear."

"Thank you for letting me know." She thought of Jamie, and the Highlands and how much life was a lot simpler there. She really needed to double her effort to tie up loose ends in London and have a heart to heart talk with Annalise. Is her relationship with Willie serious? If not, her friend would have to eventually find a new roommate. After quickly glancing at her bedside clock, she realised they would be here soon and hopefully with a takeaway. Annalise did mention something about sorting dinner out tonight.

"And Claire?"

"Yes?"

"Your upbringing hasn't been the most ideal. Enjoy the money and treat yourself. Don't spend your life doing things that don't bring you joy."

She smiled. Her uncle must have had a rude awakening of some sort to sound so philosophical. Or probably, he did meet someone special. Either way, she wasn't going to push for any answers for now. She really needed to get out of bed, do a few stretches and have a shower before Annalise, and Willie arrived. "I'll try," she finally said.

"Good. I'll let you get back to whatever you're doing."

"Sadly, yes." She shut her laptop and got out of bed. "Take care of yourself, alright? And I'll phone you sometime next week after I've figured out our time differences." 

"Absolutely, sweetheart. Talk soon." 

"Love you, uncle Lamb." 

"Love you, too." 

She terminated the call with a swipe on her screen and rubbed her eyes. She'd been working for seven hours straight, and her eyeballs felt like they're made of sandpaper. Glancing at the corner table, she smiled when she saw Jamie's gifts. Willie had brought them with him when he arrived last night from Inverness. She knew Jamie was making up for his absence, but it couldn't be helped when there's the danger of his PTSD condition worsening in the city. To her delight and surprise, he'd sent her a leather-bound journal, a framed selfie photo of them together, driftwood bookends he made and a box of her favourite Lindt chocolate.

With a contented sigh, she made a mental note to call Jamie after dinner. And to ask her boss first thing Monday morning if she could take her work to Scotland the following weekend to surprise her boyfriend. After all, she was just taking her uncle's advice, and after the work, she'd put in the last couple of weeks, and the extra hours she planned to do the next few days, she deserved a little joy in her life.

..........

Claire leaned forward, and nervously examined her best friend's face. Annalise was hunched down, scrolling her laptop, tongue darting out as she read the paragraphs on the screen. 

What's that look for? Doesn't she like it? She couldn't tell. It was the first time she's showing her work to anyone, one of the stories she had written during her spare time before embarking a career as an editorial assistant for Dreamcatcher Publishing Company. She needed to hear her friend's opinion to know if she even had a small chance of becoming a writer.

Annalise took her sweet time, and Claire wasn't sure if her inscrutable expression was a deliberate act to prolong the suspense, or if she genuinely had no reaction to what she's reading. If it was the latter, Claire would definitely kiss her dream of being a writer goodbye. If it's the former, she's going to strangle her friend for making her suffer. 

She heard the door to the apartment open and close, followed by the sound of keys jangling and heavy footfalls, announcing the arrival of Willie. He'd stopped by to order some food at a local Indian takeaway while Annalise headed straight home to prepare the table for dinner. Instead of calling out to him, she held her breath for Annalise's response. 

Just when Claire was starting to accept her hope of being a writer would never amount to anything other than a pipe dream, she saw the reaction she impatiently waited for. Annalise's mouth formed a comical O, followed by her eyes' widening and random shallow sighs. 

Yessssssss! 

This was massive. Despite Annalise having seen works from established authors Claire had edited for, she'd never witnessed her friend looked this excited. Annalise simply couldn't hide her gobsmacked expression, even if she tried.

"Oh, dear Lord," she whispered, her gaze flicking to Claire and then back to the screen. "Why didn't you tell me you had this? I knew you wanted to be a writer, but this ..."

"So?" 

Annalise took a massive deep breath, her fingers almost shaking. "Oh my God, Claire." 

"Oh my God, wot? Oh my God good or oh my God, bad?" Claire asked, even though she already knew deep in her bones, what the answer was. But she desperately needed to hear the words.

"This is bloody good," she said, as she went back to a previous page, and reread it all over again. After a couple of minutes more, a slow smile started to spread across her face, as she stole a few cheeky glances over at Claire.

Claire knew she could rely on her friend to tell her the truth. If her work had been bad, friend or not, Annalise would have been forthright and told her the hard facts. Nevertheless, she tamped down her own growing excitement. "The question is though ...is it good enough for the mass?" 

Without hesitation, Annalise nodded vigorously, her blue eyes big as saucers. "Oh, Claire, are you kidding me? You really have no idea, have you? Of course, it is! I need to read the rest. Please tell me it's finished." 

Claire relaxed for the first time and slumped back against the headboard of her bed, relief soothing her wild heartbeat. "It's finished."

Annalise let out a whoop as she gripped the laptop tightly. "Oh my God! Give me everything ...I won't be able to sleep tonight if I don't read at least one more chapter of this story." 

"I've got ten more finished materials."

"Oh my God, oh my God! You're killing me. I want it all."

Willie poked his head by the frame of the doorway to her bedroom and eyed them suspiciously. She wasn't sure what he expected to find, but his eyes narrowed when he saw Annalise's flushed face. 

"What are ye both up to?" he asked, frowning. "Ye sound like ye're looking at porn on the internet." 

Annalise grinned and motioned him over. "Sort of." 

Willie hesitantly entered the room. "Sorry?"

"In actual fact, much better than porn ..." Annalise announced, smirking at Claire.

"Annalise!" Claire wheezed when it dawned on her, her friend must have been reading the sex scene part.

Annalise reached out and reassuringly squeezed Claire's hand whilst looking at Willie. "Take a look at this. Claire wrote it."

Annalise handed the laptop to Willie, and both of them earnestly watched his face to gauge his reaction. As he sat down on the edge of the bed and read, Claire knew he would be the real test. Willie being a bloke, she didn't expect him to have the same reaction as Annalise, but she hoped he would appreciate the storyline and plot. Claire already understood, if her story was going to be good enough to be published, its success would be based on women's purchasing power. If he liked her style of writing even a smidgen, then she would be laughing. 

Claire held her breath in anxious anticipation, and approximately a minute and a half later, she got her response. 

His eyes bulged out, and then the tips of his ears glowed with red. In all sort of ways, he was so similar to Jamie but yet so different. But there's no mistaking how vibrantly their ears always lit up when they're embarrassed. Or moved. 

"Kind of explicit," he commented hoarsely, before tucking a tongue into his cheek as if trying to find the right words to say. "But it is an intriguing story with great flow and interesting characters. It's no' the genre I would typically read, but the first few paragraphs of what I've seen so far are riveting. It makes me want to read more."

Annalise, enthusiastically nodded in agreement and waved a hand in the air. "There it is." 

"Ye have a gift, Claire," Willie added, eyes still fixed on the screen and working overtime as his focus became more intense. "The dose of mystery ye've woven into the lines is remarkable and intelligent."

She felt herself beaming in vindication. "Thank you." 

He briefly glanced up at her. "Now that I remember, Jamie did vaguely mention ye wanted to be a writer."

"That's the plan," she beamed.

"Good. Because if ye can produce something like this, then yer talent is wasted on editing other people's work."

"She's got ten more finished stories," Annalise piped in.

Willie arched an eyebrow at Claire and continued reading, and when he finished, he shook his head and let out a low whistle. "Is Jamie the inspiration for this story?"

Her face heated. "I ...ah ...wrote that years ago. And ...um, I've revised and edited it a million times in the past. I wanted Annalise to read it first and find out if it's good enough to be published."

Annalise grinned at Willie, still looking a little flush like she was having a physical reaction to the few lines she'd read earlier. "So what do you think?"

Willie didn't miss Annalise's excited reaction to the story. "It's verra good but I didnae realised graphic scenes affected ye so much. Ye're beet red!" 

"Only when it's very well written," Annalise smirked, taking the laptop from his hands and moving towards him to sit on his lap. 

Willie pulled Annalise closer and kissed her, and Claire sighed. It's both beautiful and terrible being in the presence of people, so in love. While she's ecstatic to see her best friend smitten and happy, it made her sad that Jamie couldn't be here with her. She missed him terribly, and it's only been a fortnight since she had last seen him.

After a few seconds of watching them unashamedly snogged in front of her, Claire clapped her hands, and they both immediately pulled away. "Right, that's enough you two. So, where's the dinner I was promised?"

Suddenly looking self-conscious, Willie promptly lifted Annalise from his lap, plonked her down onto the bed and jumped up, and Claire couldn't help but grin at him.

"Right on it," he muttered, before disappearing from her bedroom.

Annalise laughed and playfully shoved her shoulder. "Passion killer."

Claire ignored the jest. "So you really think I should publish my story?"

Her friend nodded excitedly. "Absolutely! You should have let me read it sooner. From what I've seen so far, you have good, solid material, and I'm convinced, when I read the rest, it will not disappoint." She stood up and smiled. "Come on, in as much as I'm all fired up after reading your story, I'm famished." She got up and left the room.

Instead of moving from her position, Claire stared at her work for a few seconds and just breathed. Although Willie and Annalise were sincere with their praises, she couldn't help but still feel nervous. This next step in her life could either turn out to be huge, or it could get her mocked out of a dream career she loved. 

Pushing aside her doubts and thinking of Jamie, she quickly compressed a copy of her story's file and sent it to him via email to read, hoping he would like her written work too. Who knew, maybe, after reading it, he would be as fired up as Willie and Annalise. 

After hearing the whoosh of the email sent, Claire launched herself off the bed to join her friends, looking forward to Jamie's reaction later and daydreaming of a future in Scotland with her love.